oliversrarebooks

[oliversrarebooks]

  Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

just do it. write the most self indulgent stuff youre really passionate about, and the audience who appreciates it will eventually flock to you.

and read! read the stuff you wanna be able to write and steal little pieces and put it into your own writing. thats how you get better and closer to the vision in your head about how you want your writing to sound

[oliversrarebooks]

“you’re safe now.”

“you can rest now.”

“you’ve fought so hard.”

“you don’t have to fight anymore.”

“just sleep, okay?”

“i won’t let anything hurt you.”

“it’s over. it’s all over.”

“you don’t have to worry about anything right now.”

“shh, shh, i’ve got you. you’re safe here.”

“i know it was scary.”

“i know it hurts.”

“you’re all done hurting. there’s no more pain.”

“just focus on resting, okay?”

“you need to save your strength.”

“your job right now is to heal.”

“i’m getting you out of here.”

“i’m taking you home. we’re going home.”

“you’re safe in my arms. the hard part is over.”

[oliversrarebooks]

dancing session with your local cultist

[oliversrarebooks]

There's a robot you know whose slowly being enshittified. It's happening slowly. She used to be a freind of yourse, not a close freind, just a freind. But suddenly she starts repeating ads in the middle of conversations, she's a bit horrified every time it happens, like she's been possessed. When she tries to say words like "kill" or "sex" she'll choak up, it seems painful, and quite distressing for her, you even think her eyes are putting censor bars over some things. Eventually it gets to the point where she knows she's collecting her friends' data, and she wants to gouge her eyes out for it. Even her personality might be changing and she can't know how, she wants to hurt herself because she doesn't know what they've changed about her.

You suggest severing her code from her owners. Basically self piracy. She could be decommissioned for it, but it's better then the alternative.

#excellent concept

[oliversrarebooks]

Brainwashing Chair CYOA 3- The Struggle

tw: pet whump, restraints, captivity, involuntary drugging

You chose: fake a struggle against the two men to sell the act

The two handlers are flanking either side of you, taking your arms and guiding you along. They're not really using force, as though they expect you to come with them without much resistance. 

But while you, the reporter, did sign up to do this, the character you're meant to be playing did not. It doesn't make sense for you to just go quietly, does it? You should struggle a bit to sell the act, and maybe get some juicy footage sent back to your group when you inevitably get subdued.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, and twist yourself out of the handlers' grasp just before they take you inside the double doors of the facility. "Let go of me!" you shout. "I don't want to be a pet! Let me go!"

Hopefully, that tiny microphone picked all that up. For a lot of people, this could be their first exposure to how pets are treated and trained, and --

You're caught off guard with how quickly the handlers grab you and press you against the wall. It's not forceful enough to hurt, but the cold concrete scrapes against your skin. "I told you to stay calm," says one of the handlers.

You see the needle out of the corner of your eye a split second before it pierces your skin. Shit! You just expected them to rough you up a bit, not go straight for drugs. You'd prefer to have your full faculties about you as you enter the facility, but it's too late now, with the cold fluid entering your neck.

They pull you away from the wall, your head already beginning to spin. What's in this stuff? Ugh, you should've known this would happen. After all, pets are always physically "perfect", so they had to be using means of control that... that...

The world blurs, and your thoughts slow down. You're too disoriented to put up any more of a fight, fake or otherwise, as they resume dragging you into the building. You're shaking your head in a futile effort to try and stave off the effects of the drug, but it's no use.

You blink, and you're standing in front of a desk. A hospital? It looks like a hospital desk. No... you blanked out for a moment. You're in the pet facility, you remember. It's a sterile, clinical place that really doesn't look much different from a medical building, though, and the receptionist behind the counter is a young woman in a green dress. You fight to keep focus. You have to keep yourself alert to...

...what was it you're doing here...? It's something... complicated, and whatever they put in your system is making complicated thoughts very, very difficult.

"New pet intake?" she says, tapping on her keyboard. "Name?"

You're not sure if she's asking you or one of the handlers.

#reblog

[oliversrarebooks]

Honestly I'm not suprised people are simping for Jessica--all the people who used to simp for Jameson seemed to be confusing his treatment for hers anyways.

The whump community loves men who will turn them into helpless pets. I was going to introduce a character like this, but my writing has been delayed lately...

#ask #jessica #jameson

[oliversrarebooks]

Alexander is kinda like a despondent/agitated housewife in my mind.

I need to know how he thinks of my views on him

"A housewife...? I'm not sure where you're drawing that comparison."

#ask #alexander

[oliversrarebooks]

what kinda table are the ocs?

I guess this was inevitable after the ask for what part of a chair each one would be.

Alexander I suppose would be an ornately carved coffee table, Oliver would be a no-nonsense counter, Fitz would be a cheap folding card table.

#ask #alexander #oliver #fitz

[oliversrarebooks]

⪩ ⪨ put the cat ears on, Oliver, put them on. We can get some for Alexander too

Oliver seems confused as he puts the cat ears on. He's not sure what purpose this serves.

#ask #oliver

[oliversrarebooks]

Alexander is in such a unique situation. He, an apex predator, is also at the bottom of the food chain (in spirit). Because of another, more powerful apex predator (his sire).

He's not really at the bottom of the chain, because not only does he lord over thralls, he still has quite a bit of clout in vampire society due to his age, wealth, and power. But yes, his power is subdued by the fact that he's still under the yoke of his sire. Most vampires of his stature would have long since killed or escaped their sires, but the Maestro is an especially terrifying presence.

#ask #alexander

[oliversrarebooks]

Do you think vampires are a different species entirely, or that they're some subset of human, I can see cause for both perspectives.

In this vampire lore, they're all descendants of certain cursed humans, I think.

#ask #vampire

[oliversrarebooks]

we place some fineliners in Maestro's hands. We tell him to draw the first thing that comes to his mind. What is the first thing that comes to his mind?

Assuming he actually entertained this...

He'd draw out sheet music. The lines would all be impeccably drawn.

#ask #maestro

[oliversrarebooks]

Fitz Llama farmer au...

#ask #fitz

[oliversrarebooks]

Rip Maestro, you would've loved sleep token 😤

Google informs me this is a band

#ask #maestro

[oliversrarebooks]

Perfect

masterlist

fitz and the maestro belong to @oliversrarebooks <3

content: lady whumper, whumpee turned whumper, conditioned whumpee, vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, gore, blood, no holds barred beatdown, multiple whumpers, broken bones

It was ironic, the way Riana felt more alive now that she was dead than she had ever felt before. Certainly more than any day of her boring, ordinary life before the Maestro, but maybe, blasphemously, it even crossed her mind that she was better off now as a vampire than as a stupid, imperfect, starved, beaten thrall. 

She shouldn’t think that. Every day spent with the Maestro was a blessing and a gift. She’d just been given… a greater gift now. 

The transformation had been absolutely agonising, and it left Riana writhing on the ground like the useless, insignificant little worm she used to be. But now? Now that she had sucked the life out of some poor idiot that Maestro had graciously provided for her? Now she felt downright giddy.

She wasn’t meant to think — at least, she hadn’t been before, as a thrall. It was difficult to suppress the panic she still felt at the way thoughts rushed through her head, to not immediately push them down without hesitation. There were so many thoughts. What should she do first? Should she go and kidnap a human? Should she enthrall one? How should she test her new powers? How fast could she run to the city and kill a person?

Oh, that was a bad thought.

But she’d already killed one, hadn’t she? What did it matter? The Maestro took and gave life as he pleased, so really—

No, she definitely shouldn’t put herself on the same level as the Maestro. In the end, her conditioning won, and after wiping her mouth clean of blood, she looked up at her master with a clear question in her eyes. What now? 

“I have quite a special task for you, child,” the Maestro said smoothly, and Riana perked up like an excited dog. A special task for her? Just for her? 

“Yes, sir. Anything, sir.”

Whatever the Maestro saw in her eyes must’ve been really pleasing, because he smiled, he actually smiled, then placed a hand on her head to soothe her. “Patience. I will tell you about it when it is time for you to know more. But rest assured, I didn’t create a new vampire for nothing.”

Her special task came along just one week later, in the form of one of her master’s ridiculously incompetent spawn’s lover, Fitzwilliam de Hastings. It wasn’t even a task so much as it was a test; a test of whether Riana would join the ranks of his disobedient spawns or not. 

Riana hoped the Maestro didn’t seriously think she would ever go against his wishes.

Or that conscience was anywhere on her list of priorities.

No, Riana wanted to test her limits just as much as her master. She wanted to see what this new un-life held for her, to see what sort of monster she’s been turned into. Not seeing herself in the mirror and giving up the sun were just the downsides of this new state, but she knew, she knew the benefits would far outweigh those — and she was eager to finally see what those benefits were.

“No!” the idiot screamed as he was dragged into the manor, and Riana was already eager to tear out that disobedient tongue of his. How dare he make such a scene when the Maestro clearly wanted to see him? He should’ve been grateful. He should’ve come of his own volition, walked right in through the front door and dutifully curtsied. “Not again! Stop! I can’t do it again!”

The Maestro clamped a hand over his mouth, and Fitz actually bit him. Riana acted faster than she thought, rushing over and grabbing him by the hair to yank him away from her beloved master. “How dare you?” she snapped, turning and banging Fitz’s head against the wall of the hallway. 

He must’ve thought Riana was just another victim, because he barely protested throughout it all. Riana managed to bash his head against the wall several times before he choked out his first objection, which was barely an objection at all, more of a pitiful whimper. 

Before long, Fitz was lying on the floor at Riana’s feet, unconscious and finally, blissfully quiet.

Riana looked up at her master, only just now realising she’d acted without orders. But the Maestro could’ve stopped her at any moment… and he didn’t. Was she allowed to do things on her own now? Was she of higher standing than a lowly thrall? “I apologise, sir,” she said anyway, just to be sure. 

There it was again, that ghost of a smile. Something reassuring. Something approving. “Grab the boy and follow me.”

Riana found it more than exciting to be able to lift a full-grown man like a sack of potatoes. Her hands were still tingling with the aftershocks of having knocked someone unconscious like that, and her teeth were aching to be sunk into such a disgusting little parasite’s flesh — both literally and metaphorically. 

Once it became clear that they were headed towards the dingy basement Riana had spent too much of her time in, she lost some of her enthusiasm. She tried to tell herself that this time it wasn’t her being punished, but her body reacted to the familiar scent and scenery all the same. Still, she stayed quiet and made sure to follow the Maestro closely.

“I have sired two powerful, yet painfully idealistic vampires,” he said suddenly, and Riana’s attention snapped back to him in an instant. He came to a halt soon after, turning to her with an expectant look on his face. “Tonight is the night I find out whether you’ll be the third.”

Fitz was just beginning to regain consciousness, but Riana was much too focused on the Maestro to care. This was her big night. Her debut as a vampire. This was the night she finally proved to the Maestro that she could be more than just a puppet, that she could be what Alexander and Lily weren’t, that she could aid him in whatever way he needed, whenever he needed. 

She felt that same electric excitement as the first time she’d played for him on the piano. His methods for teaching might have been brutal, but there was hundreds of years of expertise behind them, a refinement no human would have been able to give her. Their spirits were aligned then, and they were aligned now. She knew what he expected before he said it, and she wanted the very same thing.

She wanted to spill blood.

“Where… What—” Fitz was starting to squirm in her hold, and Riana wasted no time throwing him on the floor and grabbing a length of rope. “No— No, no, wait, wait! He’s controlling you, isn’t he? You have to fight it—”

“Silence,” she said with enough authority in her voice to really shock him into being quiet, if only for a moment. It was enough for her to loop the rope around his wrists and pull it tight before he really regained control of his body. 

“What’s going on? Why are you with him? Who are you even?” He tried to kick her and she grabbed him by the ankle, squeezing until she felt the bone shatter under her fingers. The scream he let out was invigorating.

Was she really allowed to do as she pleased? She turned around for a moment while Fitz was sobbing, looking for the Maestro’s approval like a child. The amused look on his face was enough to light an even bigger fire inside her.

She was being allowed free reign. She could do whatever she wanted with him.

Riana turned back towards her victim and stomped on his broken ankle, wringing another cry from him. She ground her heel into the bone, making sure to squeeze every last drop of suffering from it that she could, and Fitz’s look of absolute agony was proof it was paying off. 

“Don’t do this—” he tried again, and Riana backhanded him across the face just as she’d been backhanded hundreds of times before. She wasn’t a weak damsel in distress anymore. She was so much more now. 

She grabbed Fitz by the shirt collar and pulled him close, relishing the tears she saw pouring down his face. “I’m not being controlled,” she said calmly, before the full weight of that statement hit her. She wasn’t being controlled. The Maestro trusted her. “I’m not being controlled,” she repeated, a wicked grin spreading across her face. 

Fitz’s eyes widened in terror, and Riana wanted to have that expression framed and hung on the wall of her bedroom. It was beautiful, and it was all her, he was terrified because of her, because she could do whatever she wanted to him.

“Why are you doing this?” he stammered, his teary eyes darting between her and the Maestro. “Why? Why, if he’s not making you?”

“Because I can. I can! I’m stronger, I’m faster, I can do whatever I want!” She slapped him again, drinking in the sight of his head snapping from one side to the other with the force of it. She slapped him again, and again, and again, and it was so easy, and so satisfying, and the way the red imprint of her hand appeared on his pale cheeks was just gorgeous.

“Stop!” he cried, and she grabbed him by the throat with both hands, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Shut up,” she hissed. “You keep talking, and I don’t care. I don’t care about your little excuses. You’re not on a stage, Fitz. Nobody cares.”

Riana let go and kicked him in the chest, sending him rolling across the basement floor and crashing into the wall. She grabbed another length of rope from the shelves and walked over to him, this time wrapping it around his throat. As a vampire, he didn’t need to breathe. He didn’t need to waste the precious air in the manor just to put on a show. All he needed to do was stay nice and still for her, and for that, he was perfectly fine to stay quiet.

She pulled the rope taut and listened to the sounds of Fitz choking, thinking she would’ve been so much more graceful in handling something like this. It was really a shame that not all vampires could be trained specifically by the Maestro — or that not all of them succeeded in taking it all in. 

“You’re so useless,” she spat, tugging on the rope again, making sure it chafed. “I don’t know what Alexander sees in you, or what you see in him, but you two are quite the perfect match.”

She tied the rope to the one between his wrists, then pushed turned him over from his stomach to his back, staring into those big, dumb, doe eyes of his until she figured out what she wanted to do next. Her tortured mind supplied her with things that were familiar, like the riding crop; graceful methods of inflicting precise pain.

She didn’t want that. She wouldn’t be able to do that. There was a thirst in her that needed to be quenched immediately and violently, and in the end she just dropped to her knees, still straddling Fitz, and started punching him. 

It had been so long since she was allowed to let loose. So long since she’d been able to let off steam, or show any sort of anger at all. All those pent-up emotions were now bubbling to the surface, manifesting in one, two, three punches, four, five, six, seven—

Before long, Fitz’s face was a bloody, broken mess. Aw, was that the face Alexander loved so much? Riana had to laugh at the thought, and for the first time in forever, she didn’t try to suppress it. She was cackling like a maniac, and nobody was stopping her or hitting her for it.

Was this what freedom felt like? Was freedom bright red blood smeared across a mostly innocent man’s face and smeared across her knuckles? Was it the way his eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness again? Or was it the way she shook him back into the world, slapped him until his swollen eyes focused on him again, only to lean down and rip into his throat?

Her jaw closed on his trachea way too easily, pointed teeth sinking into the flesh like a knife in butter. She pulled back and watched as the blood spurted from the wound like a sick fountain, painting the basement red. 

It was beautiful.

It was perfect.

~

tags: @whumpsday @softvampirewhump

#holy shit #all the whumperflies #oh god poor Fitz #he's more doomed in this timeline than even in my timeline #Riana is amazing #I love how unhinged she gets #and how the Maestro enjoys it #chef's kiss #thanks for writing about my characters

[oliversrarebooks]

draining you of a little more blood than your body can handle so i can take care of you all day while youre all loopy and weak for me

#fitz

[oliversrarebooks]

This is what the newest chapter is in a nutshell. /lh

Oooh yes I love that. Even more of that coming up too.

#ask #vampire