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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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Well if I'm gonna do anything with this blog it may as well become writing tips and character creation tips I guess so fuck it

Ways to name a character that aren't "Top [nationality] baby names [insert year here]"

Please do keep in mind this is mostly intended for use in fantasy and sci-fi, but hey, if you wanna write your realistic fiction with some fun names who am I to stop you?

Now then, I have a lot of characters. Like.

A Lot

of characters.

Sure, a fair few have "normal" names (i.e. Ryker, Jake, Tori, Alicia), but overall, most of the names I use are complete and total bullshittery made by using one of my many naming tactics. Some of these can also be applied to naming towns, and some can be mixed and mashed to get some cool names, so here we go.

1. Take 2 normal names and shove them together

Not even joking, I've done this a few times. Leoseth, Rosella, Tomran (Thomas + Brendan). You can get some interesting names based on how you approach this. It's pretty simple, and you can just kind of do your thing with it.

2. Word Association...and Google

Take a word you associate with your character, plug it in to google translate, and start clicking through languages until you find one or two words you like. Now, pull some parts of those words out and add your own syllables. Voila! New name. Example: Fiana, derived from Fiainana (if I remember right this is Malay for Life). You can even use the first tip and just mash the same word with itself in another language. An easy way to get crazy sounding names that actually mean something.

3. ...Homestuck

Sadly, I have to put this here because I use it horribly often and it works disgustingly well. Homestuck features a naming scheme referred to as the 6 Letter Rule. Essentially, if you have a troll, their name must be 6 letters long. That is the only requirement. Jjjjjj is a perfectly valid name. Sound out some syllables and you'll probably do alright. Some examples I've come up with: Arkiel, Jundig, Toniam.

4. Keysmash and simplify

Not even kidding. Lemme show you.

Vejdisheirjei

Vej di sheir jei

Vejdi Sherje

Oh look I have a dope name

(Side note: If making an elven character, an apostrophe never hurt, it's how I got Eli'seolan)

5. Make sounds until good

Start with a consonant or vowel immediately followed by the other. (EL)

Now do a consonat followed by a vowel. (DE)

Add any consonant. (R)

Pick a suffix. (AN)

Elderan

Make the funny noises. It works. This works especially well if you already have a design in mind for the character because often we attribute certain sounds to certain physical features, so the right sound may just come to mind.

If you have any other naming conventions you like to use, reblog and add yours! Sometimes naming is just the hardest thing!

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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Okay so on friday I was going home and it was really cold so.....I have some cold whump ideas:

Whumpee left out in the cold for a long time

Numb fingers

When caretaker is warming whumpee up it feels like they are burning them (you can add a nice flashback or smth)

While warming up (whumpee feels like they are burning ofc) , caretaker telling whumpee to just bear it a little longer

Whumpee chained outside in the cold, wrists bleeding because of the restraints

Falling asleep (or fainting) in the snow and caretaker arrives not long before it would be too late

Having a bath and the water is set to just barely warm but it still feels like its burning hot

Sitting in warm blankets but still feeling like they're still outside in the cold

Feel free to add more ideas if you want!

Also, please tag me if you use these because I would like to see some good cold whump

#cold whump #freezing #burning #whump ideas #my post #also #sorry for not really posting anything #i dont have any time to write #but if I can #i will #sorry #lmk if you want me to put warnings at top of the post

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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No one tagged me but here I am

Anyone feel free to hop in bc I can't think of anyone not already on the list

PiCrew Game~ https://picrew.me/image_maker/188948 I found this 8-Bit Picrew maker and it’s just too cute– I made myself 💀

Taglist: @whatgoeswhumpinthenight @madrono-but-i-am-not-a-fruit @cowboy-anon @straight-to-the-pain @peachycookies @myst-in-the-mirror @whumpers-inc @jojothepanwithoutaplan @thats-my-type-writer @happy-whumper @whumpasaurus101 No pressure and anyone feel free to hop in!

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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Chapter 2 - Dinner

Mekra kneeled next to my chair, forehead almost touching the floor.

She's a Pet. Remember that. I reminded myself bitterly. But she's human too. Just trained to be a mere slave. No. Worse.

"Sit next to me." I gestured to my right.

She looked up slowly, as if unsure if she heard it right. I watched her cross her legs on the floor.

I'll have to get her some clothes.

"No, on the chair."

Shit, I'll have to be very specific if I ask her to do something.

Her eyes lit up with fear and also.....happiness?

The meal went by quietly. Any time I looked at her, she stiffened and looked down. Our elbows brushed together once and she let out a whimper reflexively, sliding farther away on the chair.

Her movements were starting to slow and she kept glancing at my food. My spoon clinked against the empty bowl. I looked down, surprised. Mekra jumped up to take it.

"Would you like more, Master?" She asked.

I don't even have more. I split it into two. But she doesn't know that.

I mentally facepalmed. She doesn't know that.

"No. Thanks."

I cooked so she can do the dishes, right?

"Can you do the dishes?"

"Yes Master." She brightened.

My expression darkened. Master. Yes, she is a Pet. Why did I even get myself into this?

She picked up her own plate (that still had some food on it) and after a little thinking, started in the direction of the kitchen.

Clever girl. I smiled.

Sorry for the short chapter but I don't have time to do anything so.....sorry

Also let me know if I should use 1st or 3rd person POV (i like 1st person a bit more because i have more practise with that but.....)

Taglist: @onlybadendings

Thanks for your time! <33

#Nico and Mekra #Nico #Mekra #pet #female pet

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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Born a liar

(Okay so second piece for Kiḷi right after he met Thumla! You guys are lucky I’m trying to maintain some sort of chronological order. Comment if you want to be tagged☺️)

Tw: burns, implied past abuse, conditioning, manhandling

Tag list: @firewheeesky @rizzamacka-whump @myst-in-the-mirror @crimson-wrld @mammonsemptycreditcard @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @scared-and-crying @ohlookthelittlegirlwrites

“Good evening, Sir,” Kiḷi murmurs, edging into the office. It’s the center room of Sir’s manor, where he usually takes his clients to.

Sir lowers his newspaper to look at him. Glasses perch on his nose and gray streaks through his hair, but for a man of forty, people say he ages well. A cigarette hums between his lips, painting an orange glow on the startlingly pale patches on his otherwise dark skin. The white skin on his face spans from his left ear, dipping close to his eye but never touching it. A few more on his neck too. “Hello.”

The smell in the air… it’s not the usual sweet scent that Kiḷi has grown to seek out. It presses into his eyelids by its novelty, raising loud alarms in his head. Did he forget a meeting? Kiḷi was to attend all of them; Sir says it’s a show of strength, but he isn’t sure how strong he looks to others when his heart hammers away at the slightest mistake.

Sir must have read Kiḷi’s thoughts. “A friend stopped by, if you’re curious.” He folds his newspaper to put it aside on the couch. “Did you see a friend recently?”

The chance meeting had been yesterday and though Kiḷi hadn’t expected Sir to be oblivious, when he wasn’t confronted yesterday, he allowed himself a shred of hope. “Pia and I went out to the bar, Sir. With some of her friends too.”

“No one else in particular?”

Kiḷi takes a deep breath, letting the lie sit in his mouth for a moment. He hates lying because Sir hates liars. His dark gaze sends a shiver down Kiḷi’s spine; he could call it fear, shame, or both. “I didn’t, Sir.”

Sir’s thick eyebrows lift, the only indication of surprise before he taps his cane with on the ground next to his foot. “Come here.”

“Sir, I didn’t—“

“I said, come. here.”

Sometimes he thinks his mind is gaping open, like he’d somehow fallen to the floor and shattered his skull for Sir to scan the contents of his brain. Like a crow picking at a ripe mango. His legs move forward, then knees bend and kiss the ground. Kiḷi doesn’t remember doing it. He does it because he knows Sir doesn’t like what he sees at the moment. And that hurts more than any punch ever would.

“I’ve taught you not to lie,” Sir says, switching the cigarette to his other hand and away from Kiḷi. The cane is laid on the couch carelessly, the wooden staff threatening in its silence. “It’s very disheartening that you want to hurt me with these lies. Have I not given you enough?”

Kiḷi shakes his head. “No, Sir. I don’t want to hurt you. You have to believe me. I would never do that.”

Sir curls a hand around Kiḷi’s jaw and yanks his face into his lap. He shushes the recoil with a thumb caressing his cheek. Kiḷi settles in the awkward position, knees crowding into Sir’s leather shoe and chest leaning on his thigh. The touches on his face continue for a minute, skimming back and forth along his jaw. If Sir stretches his index finger and waits for Kiḷi’s pulse, it would be racing, the tamarind smell of tobacco and gentleness throwing him off. He closes his eyes, avoiding the reflection of himself in Sir’s glasses. “My little Kiḷi.”

The nickname takes his identity away, kneading out the horrifying lumps of grisly till it’s something worth looking at. That’s why he’d grown to accept it from Sir, because then at least he’ll be shown the way to be good. Without Sir, Kiḷi would be himself, down to every loathsome lie and thought. He’d be a monster.

“I wouldn’t have hurt your friend if you told me the truth.”

Kiḷi looks up, hands clenching in his lap. “Don’t—she didn’t—“ he cuts of his stammering when the grip on his chin tightens. Sir will punish him if he comes clean now, but he will rip his jaw off if he continues the feeble charade. It’s been years, and Kiḷi still can’t predict Sir’s moods. “Are you going to… bring her back?”

“Do you want me to?” he asks, taking a cigarette and holding it low. Kiḷi doesn’t miss the order.

Grabbing a lighter from his back pocket, he mumbles, “No. I… I don’t know, Sir. Whatever you think is best.” Kiḷi holds the flame over the small stick’s glow and brightens it.

“I had high hopes for that one,” he muses, knuckles dancing on the side of Kiḷi’s neck. “But it’s just not possible. Taking that one back is not logical. A bad investment, in fact. Do you understand, you stupid boy?”

“Ye-yes, Sir. Thanks to you,” he adds, hoping it’ll soothe out the earlier lie that’s left a bad taste in his mouth. Thumla’s screams in this very office are now screaming at Kiḷi for betraying her so easily. She’d always been the stronger one. Him? Sir broke him like a twig and put him back together better. Dreading the answer, he asks anyway. Better if he’s allowed to carry out whatever that will befall Thumla. A small mercy. “S-so, what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing today. I know you must be as sad as I am.” He draws in a long inhale with the help of the tobacco. Stares into the plume of smoke afterwards. “Oh, the ways you children grapple with my heart.”

Kiḷi whines, craning his head to nuzzle into Sir’s palm. He’d rather feel fear than this hollowness. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He can be good for Sir. He’s trying. “Sir, I’m sorry.” It doesn’t gain attention from him. “Please, Sir. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” His heart beats frantically and his chest heaves against Sir’s thigh, begging for a morsel of mercy. “She’s my friend, and I didn’t know any better—“

“No, I have taught you better,” Sir snaps, silencing Kiḷi instantly. Yet, like a gunshot in a mob, Kiḷi’s thoughts are frantic, tripping over themselves to apologize because he is so sorry. So so sorry. Sir continues. “I’ve told you good people don’t lie.”

“Y-yes, Sir. You have. I’m sorry.”

“Open your mouth,” he says, letting the apology dissolve in the grey smoke. There’s a glint in his eye, unforgiving. His tone is clipped, like he couldn’t bear to talk to Kiḷi for one more minute.

“Please, Sir. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

“I believe you. You didn’t mean to,” he mimicks. He shoots Kiḷi a razor glare as he slips a thumb into Kiḷi’s mouth, daring him to bite. “It’s in your nature. I’ve been trying to teach you, but the filthy habit seems to have its hooks in you.”

Kiḷi shakes his head, then halts when Sir digs his nails into his cheeks. He knows he’s made a mistake, but he’s not a liar. He can change, he can be good. “No, Sir.” The words wobble and tremble by the single finger in his mouth. “No, no, no. You taught me better. Please. Sir, please. Give me another chance. I ca-can do better.”

“It’s too late, stupid boy.” He maneuvers Kiḷi’s mouth to open up, ignoring the shudder that rips through him like an earthquake. “You should have told me yesterday. I don’t know what to make of this insolence. You will wear your trackers again by tonight.”

“But—“

“Don’t push it. I’m too tired to pick up my belt, but I might change my mind. Open your mouth wider.”

A shaky nod, shallow breaths. A hand creeps onto the couch to hold himself steady, while his other digs it’s fingers into his own thigh. Kiḷi would apologize again except he knows the drill. Hesitantly, he puts his tongue out, revealing the burns at the back, like sewed-in buttons.

Sir doesn’t waste time pressing the tobacco into his mouth. He doesn’t break his gaze as Kiḷi screams, open mouthed. He tries to escape, but the hand that held his jaw slipped behind his head. Held him prisoner as the stick end charrs. Churns ash in his mouth. Crying doesn’t help. It clogs his nose. Breathing with his mouth feels like drinking in lava instead of air.

Kiḷi doesn’t want to tug at Sir’s wrist, in case it leaves a trail of new burns. He pleads with his eyes. Please. Please. Please. He thought he was being silent, but when his own tongue jerked, he realized he’d tried to the screech words.

Sir let’s go. Kiḷi reels back, hands rush to his mouth but clasp over his lips helplessly. Violent sobs attack his body as he kneels on the floor. The agony— the agony just wouldn’t stop.

His head is [slammed] into the stone ground. A heel drives his face in, almost breaking his nose. He cries out, crumbling into himself further.

“If you ever lie to me again, I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it to my dogs. Am I clear?”

Kiḷi snivels, shaking under Sir’s weight. The foot drills into him harder and Sir beats him with the cane. A shriek tears out of Kiḷi’s throat, tongue flopping uselessly in his mouth.

“Answer me!”

“Sirrrr,” he moans, lower back on fire from the single strike. “Sorr-sorree,” he gurgles the words the best he could. More tears wet the floor. “‘M sorree.”

The weight on his head lifts, letting him scramble to sit back on his ankles with wide eyes. He won’t make the mistake of lying on the floor again. Pressing his lips together to stop from weeping out loud, Kiḷi waits. He’d taken the punishment. He won’t lie again. He stares up at Sir, heart straining for something.

“What?”

Kiḷi flinches at his impatience, then shakes his head. He wipes his face while fresh tears make tracks the moment he dropped his hands. Such a fucking crybaby. Disgusting, small and full of lies. It’s crystal clear what Sir sees when he looks at him. “Sorry— so-sorry, S-s-sir.”

The broad face of Sir’s looks scarily still. “You disappointed me. Get out of my sight.”

The searing pain on his tongue drags him out of the room. If not for that, he would have stayed and begged because he knows what his heart strains for. It lies in the creases of Sir’s palm, the dimple in his smile and the love when he calls Kiḷi “son.”

Forgiveness.

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#this is so #vwiwnwkabeh #i like #poor kili #mouth whump #whumpblr #manhandling #conditioning #tw burns #punishment #conditioned whumpee #tw conditioning

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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Reunions will hurt

Prompt: Whumpees expressing their frustrations only to be shot down with “other people have it worse.” Superior angst if Whumpee internally agrees and makes a conscious effort never to speak of their problems again. (From this post X)

I know you guys expected villain whump, and quite honestly me too, but my ocs wouldn’t leave me alone! sorry if this isn’t quite what you were waiting for.

TW: implied and referenced past abuse, implied future abuse. not much except for emotional whump.

Tag list: @insaneinthepaingame @firewheeesky @vuvulia @myst-in-the-mirror

One could call it a fated coincidence. Their meeting that is.

Kiḷi was doing his Saturday morning drill. He drove by each of Sir’s factories to check on the accounts none of his thick-headed mates could understand, and finished by two o’clock in the afternoon. Which was around the time the rest of them woke up with a brain damaging headache from the previous night’s partying. No wonder Sir prefers him. That day, he stops to change a tire after the third factory, stomach rumbling for some tea and a good ol’ bun.

Kiḷi needs this done quick and calls on the lady squatting at the front of the store with her back to him. “Miss,” he starts, climbing out the of jeep. “Can I trouble you—“

Thumla’s face greets him as she looks over her shoulder. The Al-Amira around her head hides all the curls of blonde hair. She stills, hazel eyes that sink into brown in the middle flit to his ears. Sir used to make them wear trackers.

Relief trickles into her lips and lifts into a grin to see them gone. She hops to her feet, a water bottle in hand. She’s grown taller than him and casts a lean shadow over him. The scar along her left eyebrow disappears into the scarf, what used to be bright pink now a dull white. “You and your posh manners, Kiḷi. I didn’t have to turn to recognize that.”

Kiḷi stares.

“What? Got grease on my face?”

“Five years,” he rasps. Five fucking years. He narrows his eyes to keep the tears out of his eyes, though the tension in his chest couldn’t be denied. He skips past the first three questions that come to his mind. Where have you been? How are you still alive? How did you have the guts to get away from Sir? Kiḷi settles for “You look old.”

“Punk.” She shoves her hands into the pockets of her denim overalls that must be too much for this hot weather. “I look fine, some would say great—“

“You owe me an explanation,” Kiḷi says, stripping any light air in the conversation. He doesn’t feel light. He could smash a wall with all the frustration he’s holding in. This woman—who helped him join the most nefarious gang in the country, made a partner out of him, taught him how to kill and not be killed—ran. Took her things and ran with the night.

How could she?

Thumla’s observant eyes clocks his temper before it comes. She could read him as much as he could read her. That was how they used to be. Thumla places a hand on his shoulder. She doesn’t try again when he jerks back. Thumla steps back, lips hardening into a straight line. “We can talk, if you’re ready to listen. Stand down.”

He scoffs under his breath. Shakes his head and snatches the water from her. “One bun.”

They silently decide to move out of public eye, a small space between the drain and the door which leads to the back of the garage. The stench is thick, guzzling down any appetite Kiḷi has by the time Thumla comes back with food. He still takes the bun offered to him. Sewage, puke, blood. It doesn’t matter. Kiḷi’s nose is immune to all of it.

“I assumed you were still the boring person you were. Butter and bread,” she glances at the bun with a teasing look.

It took energy to be mad at her. “Shut up, okay?” Kiḷi dampens his uninvited smile, though it’s already too late. “Shut up about my food choices, and tell me why you left.”

“Why do you think I left?”

“I’m serious here,” he says.

“I am too.”

“So what happened?”

“I got a passport, a proper one, stole a few things—“

KiḷI rounds on her. “I know all that. You think I’m fucking dumb, Thumla?” His voice hitches at her cool stare. The piece of bread he choked down must have lodged in his windpipe because he couldn’t breathe.

“So what do you want to know?” she asks. Thumla grabs his collar and yanks him close. “Stop spinning words and ask the right question.”

“Why… you…” he hates her. Almost. “I thought we were friends.”

Her throat bobbles. The grip on Kiḷi’s shirt loosens. She didn’t expect that, he realizes. Big, bad Kiḷi doesn’t acknowledge feelings and friendships. Her breath is hushed, the way it was trained to be regardless of emotions, injuries, loss. “Getting soft on me.”

“I should have said it long time ago.” KiḷI looks away, taking interest in his hands. They’re tanned, with too many scars to count.

“I guess you forgot.” Thumla clears her throat. “We wouldn’t have made it. We wouldn’t have made it out if we went together. So I, I, I didn’t tell a soul. I didn’t even think about it unless I was alone—“

“I would have helped.”

She cracks her knuckles, a little sheepish, a little disbelieving. “Maybe, maybe not. At least you didn’t, you didn’t come after me. Thank you. For letting me have that chance. You did help that way. And, uh, sorry. I’m sure Sir gave you one good beating for that.”

He almost killed Kiḷi for that. He digests all those words, picking and pulling them apart. Why would she think he wouldn’t have helped her— he would have joined her. He tries to plaster a smile; the bubble suffocating him doesn’t let it stay. “I would have helped,” he repeats weakly. “I don’t like being with the gang. Sir— he— he hurt me too. He still does.”

Thumla shrugs, but the casual gesture is loaded with wet envy. Her glance strays to his clean, more-than-what-he-can-afford jacket, then back up. “Okay.”

“He did,” he insists, hunching into himself. The judgement prickles, like a thorn under his skin. Kiḷi couldn’t understand why he needs to convince her. Frustration crushes him in its fist. Thumla used to care about what he said.

“You weren’t his protege back then. I was. You took my place when I couldn’t take more.”

Kiḷi glares. “And you’re going to put that on me?”

“My point is”—she rubs her forehead—“your work was simpler. Follow orders, reap rewards. You don’t, then you take the punishment.”

“Look who’s spinning words now. You think I had it easy.”

She ignores him entirely. “I’m not here to argue with you. You asked why, and there’s the reason. I’m here for a day and talking to you is cutting it close.”

“I’ll be on my way then. I wouldn’t want to ruin your free life by imposing my luxuries on you.” Kiḷi isn’t certain what he’s saying makes sense, but he’s scowling hard enough to make up for it. There’s a roar in his ears as he stalks out of that narrow space and back to his jeep. He could change tyres elsewhere.

Thumla follows him to the front, calling him back with a shaky laugh. “Hey, come on. Don’t be mad—“

“I’m not.” He climbs into the front seat, tossing her a final look. Resting one hand on the steering wheel, he starts the vehicle, letting its growl swallow what Thumla says next. He couldn’t care less.

The answer to the question he’s been toying with for years came as a slap to the face, delivered by none other than Thumla. The usual anger he’s felt ever since she left withers, spitted on and stamped down by humiliation. That’s what the roar in his ears is. Hot, searing humiliation. Kiḷi’s face crumbles and he only manages a short “I’m running late” before he steps on the gas.

He drives away, keeping his eyes peeled for another tyre shop. The glint of his watch fixes a pointed stare on him. His jacket feels too soft, leather seats too comfortable. Even the last of pieces of bread in between his teeth accuses him. Food on his plate, clothes on his back; he shouldn’t complain. Kiḷi shudders. Is it so wrong to want more?

Kiḷi exhales. He wishes he never went to that stupid store.

[ Next ]

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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#not writing #important

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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Someone help me think of a species name......they age roughly 3 times slower than humans and some of them have magic but they basically look human although they have some animalistic behaviours

#help me #ohlittlegirl

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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Ummm......so the thing is I have no idea what to do with my story right now so I think I'll just start writing down some of my existing OCs....

(I have a lot and none of them are human lol)

#sorry

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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Hello! Do you have a tag list? If so, could you please add me

Hii!

I don't have a taglist yet bc I just started this blog but I can tag you. What would you like to be tagged in?

#ask #onlybadendings

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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If you're a creator and you needed to hear this today:

You have no idea how many people lurk on your work. No idea how many times people go back to revisit your work. How big they smile when they simply think about your work. How fast their heart beats, how excited they get when they see that you posted something.

People are shy with their feedback. Sometimes it’s because they’re simply shy. Other times it’s because they assume you already know how great and talented you are. Could be both.

My point is, even if you barely have any likes or reblogs, don’t get discouraged. You have a lot of silent fans, but they are still your fans. Keep on creating. Because there is always someone out there who will love what you have made.

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ohlookthelittlegirlwrites · 2 years

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Chapter 1

(Probably)

Nicolas opened the door to the Pet shelter. He always got goosebumps from the cages filled with broken people: Pets. But this time he needed to see his friend urgently.

"Liam?" He called out.

Some of the Pets huddled towards the back of their cages, some went limp, and some didn't react.

A brown-haired man approached him with a smile.

"Hey Nick! Haven't seen you around lately. Liam's out of town but if its important, I can forward a message."

"Ben! Yeah, I've got a lot of work to do. Can you tell Liam to call me when he can?"

"Sure thing man."

The two men stopped to watch as a plumb man dragged in a small, black-haired girl on a leash. A Pet. Ben put on his customer's smile and went to greet him. Nicolas couldn't seem to take his gaze off of the girl. He'd never seen a Pet this terrified. She was shaking on her knees, staring at the ground, breath hitching.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ben gesturing for him to go over.

"Hey Nick? Can you take it with you for a few days. A week or two at most. We don't have enough room for it here." Ben asked.

His cold mask was getting sloppy so he quickly agreed, not really listening, concentrating on keeping his face emotionless as they exchanged papers. He took the girl's leash from the man's chubby fingers and walked out the door, pulling her with him.

At first he almost had to drag her but after the third corner, she walked exactly one step behind him on his left hand side. Like a good Pet should.

As they arrived home, Nicolas quickly took the girl's collar off, along with the leash. Angry red marks greeted him and he fought to remain expressionless.

"My name is Nicolas. What's yours?" He asked.

"You can call me anything, Master." She whispered.

"Call me by my name." He ordered.

"Yes, Master Nicolas." She flinched.

He fished out the papers from his pocket and scanned them, looking for a name. Nope. No name.

"Alright then. I'll call you Mekra. Is that okay?"

The girl seemed to lighten as she nodded, still looking at the floor. Nico sighed. That seemed to frighten her though so he ordered her up. She was short. Like, really short, and thin. She only barely came up to his shoulders. Her black hair hung loose just below her shoulder blades in a tangled mess.

"Alright follow me, I'll show you around."

The girl obediently followed her new master around the house, nodding every time he showed her a room. Finally, they arrived at the bathroom.

-------------

"I want you to clean yourself up. I'm going shopping so I'll be back soon." Master told his pet.

It nodded. Is this a threat? "I'll be back soon" Master had said. Master left and pet still stood there like the stupid thing it was. "Clean yourself up." Master's words echoed in its head. But- surely Master didn't mean the bathroom. But Master hadn't shown pet its place. Pet decided to risk it. It wouldn't have time to find where it can clean itself anyway and Master would be mad.

Pet turned the shower to cold, not wanting to waste Master's warm water. It hurried as much as it could, washing its hair and body with only water. After it was finished, pet looked around for something to dry itself with. Not Master's towel of course. That would result in a good beating. Finding nothing safe, pet decided to wait until it dried. It had been in a similar situation before so it can endure it again.

A knock at the door had pet leaping out, almost slipping on its wet feet, scrambling to open the door and kneel at Master's feet.

"Ah I see you washed your hair too. Good. Here, I bought you a towel. Dry yourself and meet me in the kitchen, okay?"

Why did Master ask pet? Pet nodded on instinct. Something dry landed in front of it, and it flinched away, silently cursing at itself. It was a pale red towel but it was the first thing pet has ever owned. Pet couldn't really process it. It can't own something! Its just a pet. Pets can't own anything! Master nudged the towel towards pet with his foot and pet took the towel, scrambling to dry itself as Master left.

The towel was soft. The softest thing pet has touched in a very long time. And it was pet's? Yes! No, it can't be. Its just a trick. Master wants to punish pet later for using Master's things? Pet's thoughts were interrupted by Master suddenly appearing in front of it with a big shirt. He stuffed the shirt into Pet's hands, ordering it to put it on. But pets aren't supposed to wear clothes! Especially not Master's clothes!

_____________

The girl slowly reached out with a shaking hand.

Come on. Just take it already!

She slowly pulled it over her head, glancing up at the tall man.

"Good. I have lunch ready. Come on." He told her.

__________

And here is my first attempt at posting my writing lol

#Mekra #pet whump #pet #fear #conditioned whumpee #uhm...idk what else to tag #pls dm me if you want me to put specific warnings #Nico

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