he would not fucking say that, but with disability.. he would not fucking be able bodied. sick n tired of characters walking away from multiple life changing injuries without a scratch. let’s get some natural consequences in here.
give that knife/sword fight survivor nerve damage. give the character who was shot in the gut a stoma. give that fire survivor lung damage and an oxygen cannula. give that leg injury survivor a cane. give that starvation survivor gastroparesis. give that spinal injury survivor a manual chair or powerchair.
while we’re at it, give your characters congenital disabilities too, just because. give them intellectual and development disabilities. give them acquired and postviral illnesses. dare to make somebody bedbound. for me.
it's good enrichment for The Character(s) when one of their friends gets possessed and they have to find some way to bring them back. great friendgroup bonding activity. especially if they have to do some exorcism bullshit and it's traumatizing for everyone involved and there's collapsing and sobbing afterward. great thing for The Character(s) to do. highly recommend.
i think when representing trauma and PTSD in media we should explore hallucinations more. not the ones where they imagine talking to the person of their trauma because usually that’s written unrealistically but for example:
auditory hallucinations like small sounds, voices that both seem unreal and real, etc. but also tactile ones. touches, skin crawling, all that crap. the feeling of someone being right there in the room with you is also something that i’d like to see represented more because it can be written sooo well. and last but not least the classic flashes compared to the constant hallucinations. the flash of a shadow or a figure or a face that’s gone before you can truly grasp it ykwim
Hey there! Just a friendly reminder/PSA from your friendly neighborhood Pixiemage!
“Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” is too often (incorrectly) used as a cover-all tag, on fics ranging from Vaguely Uncomfortable to Serious Shit, as a replacement for any intense tags relating to the story. People will use it to say “Holy shit guys some INTENSE SHIT happens in this story” without actually saying what that Intense Shit™ is.
In actuality, the “Dead Dove” tag is meant to be used in addition to other warning tags. Pulled from a scene from the show Arrested Development (look it up on YouTube!), it means “Hi! Hey! I labeled this fic to warn you of what’s in it, so you might REALLY want to read those labels! This fic is exactly what it says on the tin! The tags are accurate! Don’t say I didn’t warn you, because this is me warning you! Read the tags!”
So before you accidentally use the “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” tag without context, here’s your preemptive lesson for next time. Please tag your fics accordingly! Ta!
you guys can blame @anomalys-taxonomy for this one as they gave me this idea which then instantly rooted itself into my brain.
this is an AU where Kane took a human Bellamy instead of taking Jim (who is a vampire in this AU and helped Bellamy escape but otherwise isn't that important here). Bellamy is a very cooperative whumpee, unlike the defiant Jim, and made efforts to "get on Kane's good side". as such, Kane was a much less severe whumper in this AU, not hurting Bellamy outside of bites. they had a much lighter / less-whumpy dynamic than Kane & Jim do in canon, due to Bellamy's general diplomatic nature and Kane's incredible weakness to shallow flattery.
-
Kane looked up through teary eyes after the hunter left. There he was, Bellamy.
He used to be embarrassed of how much he missed the human after he ran away, but not anymore. All his pride had been washed away, and he just couldn't bring himself to feel embarrassed anymore. All he could feel was a deep despair that Bellamy would be the one hurting him now. He never should have gotten so attached.
He could still see the bite-marks etched into Bellamy's neck, a reminder of all the pain he'd caused.
Bellamy cupped his face, and Kane squeezed his eyes shut with a whimper, expecting pain that didn't come.
"Oh, dear," Bellamy breathed. His hand was gentle, stroking along Kane's cheek, and Kane couldn't help but lean into the first kind touch he'd felt in years.
Bellamy's soft fingers hooked around the muzzle. "Let's get this off you then, shall we? I don't believe you require all this fuss, do you, Mr. de Sang?"
It was odd to hear a human use such a formal title for him after all this time. He shook his head in confirmation. No, I'll be good.
Bellamy lifted the muzzle off his face, wincing at the sight of burnt skin. His voice lost that calm, measured tone he nearly always had, pitching up a bit in barely-contained distress. "Oh my."
Kane wasted no time. He knelt, pressing his forehead to the ground. "I'm s-so sorry, Bellamy, sir," he sobbed, overwhelmed with fear of the unknown. "I'm sorry, p-please have mercy, I'm so sorry, please-"
"Shush. That's enough."
Kane snapped his mouth shut immediately at the proclamation, tears running into the ground. Bellamy didn't even want to hear his apologies.
Bellamy crouched and reached a hand toward Kane's chin, then seemed to think better of it and rested it on his back instead. "There will be time enough for that later, when you're not so out of sorts. Could you look up at me, dear?"
He'd never called Kane dear before. Back then, Bellamy had always called him either Mr. de Sang or my good sir, in what almost seemed a jovial mockery of the title Kane required of him, but too good-natured and generally respectful for Kane to really take as an insult.
Kane looked up, as ordered. "Y-yes, sir."
Bellamy gave him a smile that Kane might describe as soft if it were not so obviously forced. "I will indeed grant you mercy. I am not the violent sort, and you are in such poor shape that I could not fathom anything else. You may relax."
He couldn't possibly relax. Kane remained tense, wondering what exactly Bellamy meant by mercy. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.
"You're very welcome. Come now, then." Bellamy stood, motioning for him to do the same.
Kane followed suit and Bellamy to his car. It looked luxurious, even more so than his own car. Humans did rely on them to get around, after all. He fretted about dirtying the seat as Bellamy ushered him into the passenger's side, but Bellamy didn't seem to mind, strapping him in with some sort of fabric restraint. His confusion only grew when Bellamy strapped himself in with the same restraint.
"This is a seatbelt," Bellamy explained, noticing his confusion. "Simply an invention designed to protect the fragile human body. You may undo yours, if you like."
Protect. Why would Bellamy want to protect him?
"I'll keep it on," Kane decided. "Thank you, sir."
Bellamy hummed at that, starting to drive. "I think I'll refer to you as Kane from now on. We're on a first-name basis by now, are we not?"
"Yes, sir." No one had called him by name in years. It made him feel warm, like he was almost a person again.
"You may call me Bellamy, if you wish. Though I don't mind if you continue with the 'sir' business."
"Yes, sir." Safer to stick with the more respectful title.
"I suppose you wouldn't be the most talkative tonight. Why don't I put this on for us?" Bellamy turned on the car radio, which immediately started blasting catchy pop music. Kane perked up at that- he hadn't listened to music in so long. His excitement only grew further when Bellamy switched the station and soft classical music began playing instead.
"Thank you," Kane said emphatically, starting to tear up again.
-
It was a long drive home, and Bellamy was about one millimeter away from losing his absolute marbles.
He hadn't been sure what to expect when he went to visit his former captor, but it certainly wasn't this. He certainly hadn't expected to be taking Kane home. There would be no catching up through cell bars now that his freedom could no longer be stolen away. Kane was not merely a prisoner. Bellamy didn't want to know all of what had happened to him: he wasn't sure his heart could take it.
Of course, Kane had been horrible to him. He'd stolen two years of his life away, bitten him nightly, and was terribly rude nearly the entire time, especially in the beginning. But this? This was too far, by miles and miles. Honestly, with how sensitive Kane's ego was, the mere act of being bested by humans would have already wounded him enough to teach him a lesson. This was monstrous. He couldn't even bring himself to feel intimidated by the vampire, especially after ten years and ample therapy.
He was good at keeping calm under pressure. He could handle a vampire so weak he could barely stand.
Bellamy parked- too much driving for his taste, tonight- and went around to get Kane out of the car. Still looking up at him with those big, desperate eyes, like he was ready to burst into another fit of pleading for mercy. He looked so utterly weak and terrified, it was a wonder anyone could think to hurt him.
"Alright, then. Inside we go." Bellamy took the executive decision of scooping Kane into his arms, given the man looked like a light breeze could knock him over. He weighed so little that if he were human, he would surely be dead.
Kane rested in his arms without protest. "Yes, sir."
Bellamy had a feeling he wouldn't stop hearing that phrase anytime soon.
"What'cha got there, Mr. Verta?" Hayward asked as he approached, eyebrow raised.
Kane tensed in his arms, bright-red eyes focused squarely on the hunting gear on Hayward's belt. "Sir?" he squeaked, voice full of new terror.
"Oh, this is Kane de Sang!" Bellamy introduced. "Kane, this is Hayward. He stands guard at night just to make sure I stay safe." Hiring a retired hunter to this position was still one of the best ideas Bellamy's ever had, in his own opinion. His presence has helped dramatically with his anxieties.
The situation seemed to be taking the opposite effect on Kane, who began to pull in short, panicked breaths, clinging to Bellamy's shirt.
Hayward also seemed to not be a fan of the situation. "You sure this is a good idea? You need help?"
"Please," Kane whimpered, starting to cry again. "I'll be good, p-please, please no more, I promise I can be good."
"No more," Bellamy agreed, holding the trembling vampire close. "Thank you for the concern, darling, but I believe if my guest spends much more time in the presence of vampire hunters, he'll perish from fright alone. He's been through an awful lot, you see."
Hayward nodded skeptically. "Uh-huh. And what's the plan here?"
"I am winging it," Bellamy announced with a wink.
Hayward sighed. "I'll be here if you need me. Be safe."
"Oh, the safest," Bellamy assured. "Worry not, worry not. That goes for you too, you know," he added, looking down at Kane. "Hayward is here to ensure my protection. So long as you do not intend to attack me or whisk me away, you needn't be afraid, and it's quite obvious you intend neither."
Kane nodded frantically. "I don't, I would never, sir."
"Of course you wouldn't. Well, let's be off, then." Bellamy mouthed a thank you to Hayward before carrying Kane into the house, setting him down on the nice, soft couch. Kane seemed to melt into it, some of his tension disappearing. Bellamy wasn't sure whether it was due to being out of the hunter's presence, or the couch itself.
"I'm sorry if I dirty your furniture," Kane said sheepishly.
"Oh, pish posh. Don't worry about that of all things." Bellamy could see that Kane was in obvious need of a bath, but there were other things that must be prioritized. He'd been thinking about it the whole drive home, and determined he was ready. Hayward was outside if things went south, though he was reasonably sure he could handle things himself, what with Kane's current state. "You look positively famished. Would you like a drink, for old times' sake?"
-
That certainly got Kane's mind off the fact that a hunter was stationed outside. He'd been expecting Bellamy to take revenge on him for what he'd done, but instead, he'd offered blood. Blood. Kane hadn't fed in so long, he'd forgotten what it felt like to not be hungry.
"You would let me feed?" he asked, eyes practically sparkling with hope.
"What else am I meant to do? Force you to starve? Invite you to feast on fruits and veggies as I do?" Bellamy shook his head at the ludicrous idea.
"Thank you, sir!" Kane exclaimed, suddenly overwhelmed with joy. When it did eventually come time for Bellamy's revenge, he would be okay with anything if he could have blood after the hurting. "Thank you so much, I can't believe this is really happening!"
Bellamy sat down next to him. "It is indeed. Though, I must be clear, this will not be a permanent arrangement. I shall not serve as a source of blood for any large portion of my life," he said firmly, suddenly serious. "Do you understand?"
Kane wanted to ask so many questions. How long would he be allowed food? What happens after? Would he be forced to wither in starvation again, or would Bellamy find another human to provide blood for him?
But he was too afraid to question the generosity that is any blood at all. "Yes, sir. I understand."
Bellamy smiled, his brief seriousness gone. "Wonderful." He rolled up his sleeve, extending his arm. "The neck is a bit cliché, don't you think?"
"I can bite?" Kane asked with bated breath.
Bellamy reclined back on the couch, arm still extended. "You may."
Kane wasted no time. He was being given permission. He bit into Bellamy's forearm- slowly, gently, trying to cause the least pain possible.
It was like a rich, flavorful explosion in his mouth. He had never tasted anything so wonderful, so delicious. All other thoughts slipped from his mind, replaced only with the desperate need to get as much blood in him as possible, as fast as possible.
He was distantly aware that Bellamy was saying something to him, but he was too entranced to process it. He needed blood. There was nothing more important than getting blood, it was the only thing in the world that mattered-
Bellamy tugged firmly at his hair, though slowly enough to avoid a sharp yank. He pulled Kane out of his arm, blood gushing out after.
His voice wavered a bit as he spoke, a hint of anxiety breaking through. "I've asked you to stop."
A wave of horror crashed over Kane as he snapped back to reality, realizing what he'd just done.
"I'm sorry!" he yelped, terror seizing his heart. "I'm so s-sorry, sir, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! I don't know what came over me, I was just so hungry I didn't realize what I was doing!"
It was a horrible excuse. Kane was the monster the hunters always said he was, trying to drain his old victim even after Bellamy was kind enough to feed him. He wept brokenly, knowing that it would be the last time. He'd be lucky if his only punishment was getting food taken away forever. He'd easily earned being put in the sun, or even being sent right back to his cell. No more comfortable couches, being gently held, listening to the radio. His reprieve over in a matter of hours.
He couldn't stop crying, mourning the soft life he'd never get to earn. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "Please, mercy, please, I can be better! I-"
"Kane," Bellamy interrupted softly. "I am not going to penalize you for drifting off a bit. It's clear that you are trying your very best." He extended his bleeding arm. "If you wouldn't mind, dear?"
"Oh!" Kane swiped his tongue over the wound, stopping the bleeding and licking up the excess blood as the relief settled in. "S-sorry. Thank you, sir, thank you so much for your kindness."
"Yes, I do believe you're in need of a little kindness after your ordeal," Bellamy said. "Now, why don't we get you cleaned up and into some proper clothing?" He smiled. "I will admit, I've always wanted to dress you up. You always wore such plain things back in the day."
Clothes. Bellamy was going to allow him clothes, like a reward even after he'd earned a punishment.
Kane nodded, finally letting himself give in to the hope that maybe things could be okay. "I would like that very much."
-
kane and bellamy do end up developing feelings for each other and getting together romantically as their relationship progresses, despite their troubled past. all of bellamy's friends share the sentiment of "bellamy, you are well-known for your bad taste in men, but this is a little far even for you." bellamy tells them it's just like beauty and the beast! :) to which they respond "no."
vampire whumpee accidentally gets drunk on a drunk persons blood (they found em passed out). maybe they’re newly turned and didn’t even know this was possible. now they’re drunk And confused and maybe even scared about it and caretaker has to care for and comfort them
^ courtesy of @honeycollectswhump in my search for the perfect vampire prompt
"What... What's going on with me...?" Whumpee stammered. The world was slowly becoming more blurry as their vision spun. They had just taken their first drink after having been turned. The guy was already passed out in the bushes, it was easy prey. But now they were feeling weird.
"Oh dear," someone said from behind them, and Whumpee spun around, almost losing their balance. "You didn't drink from that, did you?"
Another vampire. A strange vampire. A vampire who had likely been a vampire for far longer than Whumpee. An enemy vampire?
"Who are you?" Whumpee barked.
"Don't get your hackles up," the stranger said with a smile. "But seriously, your nose should be better by now. That guy on the ground is blackout drunk. You drank their blood?"
Blackout... Whumpee sniffed the air. They could smell alcohol. How did they not smell it on his blood before?
"How old are you? Have you ever had a shot before? Doesn't look it. But I know looks can be deceiving with our kind."
"I've only been a vampire for a day," Whumpee admitted, embarrassed. They were slurring their words now. Great. They'd never drunk before. They weren't legal. "I'm 17."
"A child," the stranger said with a faraway look in their eyes.
"I'm a vampire nonetheless!" they said, trying to stand their ground and not freak out now that they were drunk and in the company of someone who looked like they'd seen mankind rise and fall.
"I'm not your enemy," they said, and Whumpee could finally relax a little.
"So why are you still here? To laugh at me?"
"I'll help you," they said. "You'd be prime target for hunters like this, inebriated as you are."
Whumpee blinked. "Help?" They... hadn't had a lot of help recently. Their friends abandoned them when the vampire attacked their group. They'd been drained and woke up turned. In the past day, no one came looking for them. When the sun finally set, they set out alone, and now they had drunk from this stupid drunkard...
"Yes, help," they said, bringing Whumpee back to the present. "My name is Caretaker."
"Whumpee," they said, still in a daze. "What do I do to get... less drunk?"
"Come," Caretaker said, extending a hand. "We'll go back to my castle and help you sober up."
Kane stood in the kitchen in the middle of the night as Jim slept upstairs, the light of the open fridge illuminating the room like shining golden treasure, packs of blood stacked neatly in one of the drawers. He’d never had access to this much blood at once. Well, of course he had, but that was before. Before he knew how much it was really worth.
His hunger was a different beast now, a new kind of hunger, always present in his head even when it wasn’t present in his body. Years of starvation had awakened something in him he couldn’t put back to sleep. And as he’d tried, tossing and turning restlessly in bed, the blood was all he could think about. Here, seeing it with his own eyes, he knew it was safe, and that was better, at least.
He took them all out. Twenty-seven left, three less than he’d come home with three days ago. It made perfect sense, and Bellamy was going to come restock him once they were gone. It was basic subtraction. It was normal.
So why did it make his stomach drop to see the number dwindle?
Kane took one out and bit down into the flexible plastic, sucking out the blood within. He could have an early breakfast if he wanted. He wasn’t waiting for Jim anymore. It was just unfeeling, uncaring plastic.
But the pit of dread inside him didn’t go away when he finished his meal, and it didn’t go away when he tore the packaging open and licked the inside clean so not a single drop remained. So he grabbed another. And another, and another, and another, and then his stomach ached with more than just dread, and he grabbed another and another still.
He kept going until twenty-seven torn-open, licked-clean pieces of packaging laid scattered on the floor beside him.
And then he threw up.
Kane had never vomited before, not once. It was a sign of illness, and vampires didn’t get ill, but his stupid fucking body decided to reject his precious gift anyway. He pursed his lips shut, slapped both hands over his mouth, pressing down with a force that threatened to crush his jaw, and swallowed down what blood and bile he could, the rest seeping between his fingers despite his best efforts.
He didn’t hesitate for a second before bending over and trying again.
-
Distant sobbing woke Jim from his slumber, though not as distant as usual. It always gave him a moment of panic before he remembered he’d freed Kane, who was well within his rights to have a 3 A.M. breakdown wherever in the damn house he pleased. Not like he couldn’t relate.
He groaned and dragged a hand up his face and through his hair, trying to wake himself up enough to be coherent before he went to see what that was all about.
“Kane?” he called blearily, heading downstairs. “You alright?”
“Don’t come in!” Kane shrieked.
Jim froze like Kane had total command over his body, his hand gripping the stair rail tight. Blood rushed in his ears, and he could feel his heart pounding hard in his chest, well-awake now.
He stood there and waited, the only thought that could form amid the terror being that it was night, Kane was unrestrained and stronger and faster, and there was nothing stopping him from doing anything he wanted.
“I’m sorry,” came Kane’s teary voice again, a few moments later. He wasn’t screaming this time. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean–I’m sorry. Please do whatever you want. I-I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I’m so sorry, Jim. You’re safe, please don’t be scared.” He was silent for a bit, then added, “But, um, you… you might get scared if you come in the kitchen. I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” Jim strained out. He sat down on the steps, willing his racing heart to go back to normal. “Just–You alright? You’re not hurt or something?”
“I’m fine! And, um, I’ll clean up everything, so please don’t worry!” Kane stammered.
Well. That wasn’t promising.
Jim sucked in a breath through his teeth, and forced himself down the stairs and into the kitchen.
It was a total bloodbath. Kane looked like a rabid animal, on his hands and knees, eyes wide and frazzled, face streaked with tears and blood. Blood ran down his chin and shirt, he was fucking covered in it, but that was nothing compared to the floor, where a huge puddle of it laid.
Jim spun around with a gasp, hugging himself, eyes squeezed shut tight. “What happened?”
“I’m sorry!” Kane cried. “I’ll fix it! I’ll clean it up! I-I was in the middle of cleaning it up, I was going to have it ready by morning!”
“Whose–” Oh god, he couldn’t breathe, the whole room smelled like it. “Whose blood is that?”
“No one’s! It’s just my blood packs! From the fridge! I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry!”
He couldn’t deal with this, not here, not with the stench. “Kane, come with me to the bathroom, we gotta get you cleaned up.”
Jim started up the stairs without turning around, but he could hear Kane’s little shuffle following after him, biting back a yes, sir. He grabbed a garbage bag from the closet on the way there, and only once he was in the bathroom did he dare to turn around.
Kane hiccupped with sobs behind him, hugging himself. “You’re going t-to throw my clothes away?” he whispered.
It was easier to breathe again, away from the bloodspill covering the kitchen, even when Kane was soaked in it. It was hard to be intimidated by him like this, crying his terrified eyes out. “No,” Jim assured softly. “Of course not. Just don’t wanna drip blood everywhere when we take ‘em to the washer, right? C’mon. You’re not… in trouble. We don’t do that here, remember? I’m helping you clean up.”
Kane nodded slowly and started disrobing, reluctantly placing his soiled shirt and pants in the bag. At least he hadn’t managed to get blood on his boxers. “The blood’s still good,” he said a little defensively.
“What? The puddle on the floor? Uh–”
Kane pointed to the bag. “That too! But also this. I can wring them out, I won’t make a mess, it’ll be different this time.”
“Oooookay.” Jim put down the bag. It was abundantly clear that him holding it was making Kane wildly uncomfortable. He grabbed one of Kane’s washcloths and wet it in the sink. “Let’s worry about that after. Can you tell me what happened? I promise I won’t be mad.”
Kane stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry. I drank all the blood. I’m sorry.”
A month’s worth? Jim didn’t say. Kane didn’t need to hear it. “Okay. We can work on that. No one’s hurt, everything’s chill.” He sat Kane down on the lid of the toilet and wiped at his chin. “How’d it get all over the floor?”
“Vomited,” Kane mumbled.
Jim pursed his lips. “Kane,” he said slowly, “You have to know that blood’s no good anymore.”
“Yes it is!” Kane jumped to his feet, eyes suddenly wild again. “I don’t mind, I’m not picky, I’ll eat anything! Please!”
“It’s puke, man.” Jim tried his best to say it gently, wiping it from Kane’s neck. “We can do better than that.”
Kane shook his head vehemently. “I don’t need to! I’ve had way worse! The hunters made me eat dirt, and cigarettes, and my own eyeball, and silver, and so much more. This is mostly blood! I shouldn’t waste it! Please, Jim, please, I can’t go back to starving, please don’t make me, please!” he sobbed.
“Shh, you’re not gonna starve, that’s not an option.” Don’t think about the eyeball thing. Just don’t. “I won’t let that happen. We can get you new blood. We can call Bellamy, and if that doesn’t work you can go get it yourself, and if that somehow doesn’t work I’d feed you. That’s three plans deep and, hey, ‘starving’ and ‘eating vomit’ are nowhere on the list. You don’t have to do this.”
Kane rested his head in his hands, elbows perched on his thighs, and cried. Jim put the washcloth down and rubbed his back, the scars of starvation still evident months later, every notch of his spine and the backs of his ribs all jutting out beneath his hand. No wonder he was that desperate.
“What’s wrong with me?” Kane wept.
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Jim said confidently, rubbing slow circles into his back. “You’re just scared. Sometimes we do stupid shit when we’re scared. Your brain’s just doing its best to survive, y’know?”
He kept going until Kane picked his head up out of his hands. He’d gotten the worst spots of blood, there was still more on his chest and knees, but his clothes had taken most of it.
“Take a nice shower,” Jim instructed, picking the bag up again. “I’ll put these through the wash. When you’re done, clean up the kitchen. With a mop. And trust me when I say you won’t go hungry for it. Can you try to trust me?”
Kane hesitated, but nodded. “I trust you,” he said firmly. And then, less so: “I’m really sorry I scared you.”
“It’s alright. I get scared easy too.” Jim elbowed him lightly. “We’ve got this.”
Somehow, that drew a little smile out of Kane, his fangs still stained red.
Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist
content: recovery, comfort, starvation, body image issues, fear of torture, whumper turned whumpee
sorry for the long wait! i really do want to write more this year :)
-
Before Kane could get a single word out, he was tackled.
He just barely managed to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling to the ground as Bellamy’s arms wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him in warm and tight.
“You were dead.” His voice came out squeaky, thick with quick-forming tears. “There was that incident last month, but everyone thought that must have had to have been an impersonator. You’re truly here! Truly!”
“I’m here.” Kane hugged him back, but they only stayed like that a moment before Bellamy pulled back to see his face, still looking quite as though he couldn’t believe Kane were real.
“Where on Earth were you?” he asked, hands still clutching Kane’s arms with the grip of a man who imagined those arms would vanish if he let go.
“It’s a long story.” Kane took a deep breath. “Bellamy, I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I know–”
“Oh, don’t worry about that right now,” Bellamy did free one hand then, requiring it to gesture flippantly and then wipe the tears from his face. “Appreciated, to be sure, but there will be plenty of time for that after more pressing matters. Please, do come in, darling.”
A soft smile grew on Kane’s face. Bellamy wasn’t angry with him, at least. “Thank you. I would love to.”
It was only after he’d crossed the threshold of the doorway that Bellamy dared to let go, though he didn’t let his eyes off Kane for a moment as he made his way to sit on a plush couch in the living room.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, all politeness, though Kane knew exactly what he must look like. What Bellamy must see. Perhaps if Bellamy had seen him months earlier, he would have been unable to maintain such composure.
Not that Kane really minded at all. He was being offered food. “Yes, please.”
Before he knew it–Bellamy having dashed the whole way to the refrigerator and back–there was a pack of cold blood in his hands. “I’m able to warm it up for you, of course, but I do recall that when we were boys, you’d always said the pre-packaged never tastes as good reheated.”
“I don’t mind either way, nowadays.” Truthfully, Bellamy could have tripped and spilled the blood all over the floor and he would have gladly licked it up without much thought. He had before.
He bit into the soft plastic casing and drank. The cool blood was a bit stale, though nowhere approaching spoiled. He wouldn’t have cared if it was. It was delicious nonetheless, and after he’d exhausted what he could suck out through the holes, he tore the packaging apart and licked up every remaining drop clinging to the sides.
“It’s really good! Can I have another?” Kane asked before he could stop himself. He’d never been able to indulge before, not since his capture. He was grateful for what Jim had given him, of course. Grateful would be the understatement of the century. But Jim was one human, and he could only give so much at a time.
“Of course!” Bellamy clapped, just once, delighted. And when Bellamy returned, he had two.
Kane downed both, in the same manner as the first. Three meals, just like a human.
“I don’t mean to pry,” Bellamy started slowly, despite that it was very obvious he quite badly wanted to pry. His voice got a touch lower, gentler. “But Kane, my dear. Have you been… eating well?”
Kane crinkled the empty casings, something to do with his hands. He’d really been very proud of the progress he’d made. When he’d first seen himself in Jim’s bathroom mirror, he looked almost like a skeleton, every available bit of fat and muscle his body could spare cannibalized in its attempt to find something to keep him going, until there was nothing left.
He did look better now, after six months of regular meals. He was still far, far skinnier than he was before the hunters, but he had some meat on him now. His cheeks only sunk in a little bit. His collarbone jutted out in a way that just barely bordered ‘passably normal’. You could see the bones of his arms from the inner arm, but not the outer, so as long as he took care to hold his arms just so, no one could tell. Not that he ever really made an effort. His hair didn’t have bald patches anymore, didn’t shed every time he touched it. If he wore layers, which he always did–and not even for that reason–you couldn’t see his ribs. So long as one didn’t look too carefully, he could pass as a regular man.
But Bellamy always looked carefully.
Bellamy didn’t look starved at all. He didn’t have to try not to, of course. His skin was smooth and his face was full. His hair was thick and lucious and styled. He had the figure of a healthy man, one who had food available to him every single day of his life. He only wore one shirt and his abdomen didn’t fall inward from under his ribs like Kane’s did. He smelled like lavender cologne. He practically glowed.
“I… went through a period where I hadn’t been eating very well at all. But as of the past few months, I have,” he answered honestly.
Bellamy sat beside him. “Truth be told, I do mean to pry this time. On account of my increasing worry, you see. Where have you been all this time?”
“Human territory.” Kane looked down at the empty packaging in his hands. The label used the same phrasing Bellamy had–Free, willing humans! “I was captured by vampire hunters when I’d, I’d, ah, hunted f-for a new human. Things were not, um, good there. I wasn’t fed, as you’ve gathered. Then Jim, you remember Jim? He came and got me out. I’ve been living with him for the past seven months. Not owning him!” he clarified hastily, looking up then. “As roommates.”
“I see.” Bellamy’s eyebrows had slowly drawn together in concern more and more the longer Kane had talked. “Well, I’m certainly glad you’re out of there now, dear. I did always like that Jim boy.”
“And I’m sorry,” Kane tried again. “You were right about everything. About humans, about me, about our families, all of it. And I was a bad friend. Even before we parted ways, I always acted like I was better than you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. I really am sorry.” And then, before he could stop himself: “Do you think we could try again?”
Bellamy smiled. “Well, I really am right about everything,” he mused. “I’ll admit, it’s all true. It took me a time to see as well, that you really were dreadful, though I never imagined I’d hear an apology from you.”
Though Kane had expected worse to start, it still tore a hole in him to hear Bellamy call him dreadful. Even if he knew it was true.
“That said,” Bellamy continued, “We were children. I was never the one bearing the brunt of your wrongs, and you’ve clearly turned over a new leaf. If even Jim has forgiven you, I see no reason not to. Absolutely, we can rekindle a friendship.”
Jim has not forgiven him: he’d made that clear. But he moved forward anyway. Maybe he could do that himself, too.
“I would love that.” Kane let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding, like a weight had been lifted from him after a century. “Maybe–maybe you could visit sometime. If you want to. I’d have to get permission. Do you ever go to human territory? I mean, you shouldn’t, but if I got permission, Jim’s sister is a hunter, you see, so it should–”
“Oh, yes, the sister! Elizabeth, if I recall? Yes, I’ve spoken with her, though well over a decade ago,” Bellamy cut in. “I do imagine she’s quite pleased to have her brother returned.”
Kane blinked. “You know Liz?”
“Oh, Jim and Caroline had exchanged phone numbers that night we met, you see. Caroline and the young girl had had a few conversations, but the girl had stopped at some point when she’d realized we had no way to affect Jim’s situation. I do not mean to imply I know her, I’d merely answered the phone and handed it off to Caroline a time or two. She’d always sounded frightened when I’d been the one to answer, so I did not linger,” he explained. “My, she must be grown by now. How time flies!”
“Oh. That’s–she never mentioned,” Kane stammered. “Is Caroline still…?”
“Alive and well, I assure you, though she has moved on to greener pastures. She’s found love, you see. She lives with her boyfriend nowadays, though she’s over often enough that my kitchen is still stocked with human food.” Bellamy reached to collect Kane’s empty packages, which he reluctantly released.
“So she’s back in human territory?” he asked.
“No, just across town. Her boyfriend is no human.”
Kane’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh my.”
He supposed he shouldn’t be too scandalized by the thought of a human and a vampire together. Humans were people, he knew that now, he’d accepted it long ago. Still, it felt… odd, in a way he could not adequately explain.
Bellamy laughed. “You must get with the times, darling.”
-
They sat there chatting for hours, and Kane had almost never felt lighter. It was like he was someone else, a version of him he’d never been before, where he was not horrible to anyone and no one had ever been horrible to him. Bellamy didn’t know what happened, not really, and with him, it was like he could forget, too. Just for an evening.
Just until he happened to glance at Bellamy’s clock and notice the time.
He startled out of nowhere. “It’s late,” he gasped. “I’m not–am I going to be able to get home in time?”
“Well, I’m not sure, as I’ve no idea where you live,” Bellamy points out. “Will you?”
It was the wrong thing to say. Kane grabbed Bellamy’s sleeve, terror striking his heart. “Please don’t make me go out there,” he begged. “I can’t–please, Bellamy, please.”
“What?” Bellamy put his hand over Kane’s, though he made no effort to remove his hold. “Of course, dear. You may spend the day if you wish. Why on earth would I force you into the morning?”
It was all crumbling apart. Of course he couldn’t be normal.
“I’m sorry,” Kane squeaked out, tearing up, but before he could say more, he found himself enveloped in a hug.
“It’s alright.” Bellamy held him as he struggled to collect himself. “You needn’t explain. Or you can, if you’re ready, or once you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Kane breathed.
It was silent, then. He didn’t want to explain. Not yet.
When he’d stopped crying–not that long after, by Kane’s standards, to his pride–Bellamy pulled back. “You know, I was wondering… how you’re getting blood? Is it still Jim?”
“Oh, yes,” Kane sniffled. “He’s very generous. But he’s actually just recently stopped, and I’m to provide my own from now on. I was meant to go to my parents and clear my status as deceased, but at the last second I decided to come here.”
“I’m flattered,” Bellamy said haughtily, a hand on his chest. “You’d mentioned my going to visit you. What if I were to bring you blood? The kind you’d ‘sampled’ tonight.”
“You’d really do that?” Kane asked. The idea was beyond tantalizing–he could have all the blood he wanted, and not have to run across human territory, even the part with friendly hunters.
“I do. I would so like a chance to visit human territory without scaring the locals, besides!” Bellamy enthused. “A win for us both!”
The next night, Kane returned home with a bag full of blood packs. For once, he could see a future for himself.
-
…
He reviewed the grainy VCR footage captured by the security cameras at the de Sang estate. It was the strangest thing: he just ran up to the gate, stood there for a moment, and ran away. And everyone else was ready to write it off as if it had never happened, all hush-hush. The boring lot of them.
Can you please please please write some more things about a robot whumpee. Perhaps it is forced to obey by its own systems (maybe it hurts to disobey), and it can't be turned off, but Caretaker tries finding ways around it? Doing everything to give choice to something that is quite literally not built for it?
content: robot whumpee, conditioned whumpee
“But I don’t want to order you around,” Caretaker said, frowning. “You really… can’t make choices for yourself?”
“I haven’t been programmed for it,” Whumpee replied, its robotic voice not betraying any emotion. “And it… hurts when I try.”
Caretaker sighed. “Can we try anyway? I don’t want to hurt you, but I just… I can’t believe there’s no way around it.”
“It is your choice whether we try or not. I’m ready for whatever you decide.”
“Can you decide that? Whether you want to try making a simple ‘yes or no’ choice?”
Whumpee fell silent. When it next opened its mouth, its voice came out glitchy. “I— I— I— I don’t know. We can do whatever you want. I’m here to serve.”
“But I want you to make that choice. Isn’t that a direct order?”
“I— I— I— I haven’t been programmed for this. C-C-Can’t make choices.” Whumpee looked like it was in genuine pain, like every word it forced out hurt it.
“Okay! Okay. No choices. We’re not trying that again.” Whumpee seemed relieved by that at least. “Then, I guess… I guess I’ll be making the decisions until we find a way to disable that. Or program new stuff into you. I don’t… really know how this works.”
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