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sasuga-whump · 3 months

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Whump list: MARS～ただ、君を愛してる～・MARS - Tada, Kimi wo Aishiteru

This list features the drama and movie!

Genre: High School setting, Psychological, Plot twist

Whump themes: trauma, fighting and injuries, defiant whumpee, obsessive whumper/whumpee, whumper becomes whumpee, villain whumpee

Summary: Set in a high school, Rei is an outgoing playboy with a frightening violent side from his troubled past. Kirishima, another student at the school, has a connection to Rei's violent past and enters Rei's life to try to force Rei to return to the person he used to be.

Whumpees:

Kirishima

Rei

The List:

Drama

Ep 4:

Rei - found unconscious ... ambushed, in a fight, distracted, gets beaten up, weak, concerned loved one ... "what happened to your face" ... struggling to breathe, panic attack, collapsed, concern for him, barely conscious, cradled

Ep 5:

Rei - in hospital bed ... angry, threatens assailant with a knife ... slapped

Kirishima - concerned for Rei ... threatened with a knife, "if you think you can do it then stab me", saved by Rei

Ep 6:

Rei - saves someone from being ran over, injures his arm, bloody hand

Ep 7:

Rei - bandaged arm ... recalling traumatic memories, head pain, struggling to breathe, concerned caretakers, hyperventilating, collapses into Kirishima's arms, comforted, intense panic attack

Ep 8

Rei - in bed, feverish, concerned caretaker, "I'm okay", taken care of, emotional anguish, crying

Movie

16:40 - Rei is slapped

24:10 - Rei is in a fight

35:30 - Rei is ambushed, repeatedly punched, kicked, saved by Kirishima, concern for him

55:07 - Kirishima is manhandled, thrown to the ground, "hit me", punched in the face, falls to the ground, choked, struggling to breathe, defiant, smiling, saved from being strangled, coughing, laughing hysterically, breathing heavily, stumbling and coughing

1:10:30 - Kirishima is bitten on the hand, wincing in pain

1:11:03 - Kirishima is punched, falls to ground, repeatedly kicked and punched, bloody face, crying, punched to the ground

1:13:25 - Rei is slashed with a knife

1:17:05 - Rei has his injury treated, wincing

1:25:05 - Rei is stabbed, doesn't tell his lover, collapses on her shoulder, falls unconscious, lover sees his stab wound, bleeding heavily

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whumpshaped · 6 months

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tw nonhuman whumpee, framed for murder, death threat, held at knifepoint (swordpoint?)

"Okay– okay, let's not– let's not get carried away here," Whumpee forced out, pressing their back into the wall even more. They had been running from the hunter for weeks, and just when they thought they were finally in the clear...

"Do you think that's an appropriate request to make?" They dug the point of their silver-covered sword into Whumpee's neck, and they hissed when it started burning. Great. There was no way to explain that, even in their human form. "You've been murdering innocents everywhere you went, terrorising entire villages."

"I wasn't! I wasn't, please, that wasn't me–"

"Wasn't it?"

Whumpee was very aware of just how cornered they were. They could barely think with the scent of their own burnt flesh filling their nose, but they tried anyway, because there had to have been a reason the hunter hadn't chopped their head clean off. Yet.

"I only ever take livestock," they said sincerely. "I'd never hurt a human. I was human once! Before the bite! And I know it's still terrible, I'm still a thief, but I'm not a murderer."

The hunter's face was unreadable. The only reason Whumpee knew they were even considering their words was because they still weren't dead. "Someone has been murdering people. And the victims line up perfectly with sightings of a werewolf."

"I don't know who it is... I don't know. Someone, someone's following me, trying to get away with murders by using me as–"

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

Whumpee swallowed. It was the truth. How were they supposed to prove that? "Why am I still alive if you don't believe me?" they asked quietly. "You must have at least some doubts. I mean, surely, you don't want to make a fatal mistake like punishing the innocent, right? So take me captive, then! Take me and see whether the murders continue. If they don't– if they don't, then..."

"Then I'll kill you," they finished coldly, and Whumpee knew they meant it. If the copycat were to suddenly stop, they would be murdered in cold blood.

"Th-then you'll kill me."

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty

#whump #whump drabble #nonhuman whumpee #framed for murder #death threat #held at knifepoint

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whumperofworlds · 27 days

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(SPOILERS) BARNEY & FRIENDS WHUMP LIST

(NOTE: this is a joke post, in case it's not obvious enough. April Fools!)

(Also gonna do just season one because fuck that not gonna do all 14 seasons)

1x01: Kidnapped, held hostage, bank robbery, tied up

1x02: Barney gets fucking shot, bleeding, passing out, wake up in the hospital

1x03: kidnapped, used as bait, bound and gagged, comforted after rescue

1x04: BJ betrays Barney, stabbed in the back, gets brought back to life by Baby Bop

1x05: Crying, argument with Baby Bop, torture

1x06: Drugged, forced to watch, crying

1x07: Barney is fucking dead, grief, funeral, gets brought back to life by Baby Bop

1x08: Kidnapping, used as bait (again), hostage situation, near death

1x09: got caught snooping, tied to a chair, tortured, threats of life

1x10: Crying, forced unmasking, betrayal, blood loss

1x11: Gagged, captivity, near drowning, experimented on

1x12: Lab whump, needles, blood loss, rescued

1x13: Displaced by time travel, kidnapped by cowboys, tied to a pole, left out in the sun

1x14: Baby Bop's blankey ripped out of her hands, beaten up, rescued, thief tortured for information, escaped from bonds by breaking hands

1x15: Broken bones, left to die, crying, traumatic flashbacks

1x16: Drugged, nearly shot

1x17: Forced to watch someone die, shot in the head, brought back to life by Baby Bop

1x18: Argument between BJ and Baby Bop, parting words regret

1x19: Captured and thrown in separate cells, forced to listen to others get tortured, escaped by breaking the bars but broke hands, finding friends bloodied and beaten

1x20: Threats of life, threats of torture, forced to give up blankey

1x21: Screaming, bloody hands, crying

1x22: Trapped in a video game, captured and put in a cell, forced to leave behind an ally, returned to real life bloodied and beaten

1x23: Traumatic flashbacks, past torture, nightmares, comfort

1x24: Sick, kidnapped while sick, rescued

1x25: Swept away by the river, near drowning

1x26: Hostage situation, held for ransom, gun to head

1x27: Running fever, coughing up blood

1x28: Capturing the thief who stole Baby Bop's blankey, thief begs for his life to no avail, broke free by slipping through his bonds, holds Barney hostage via knifepoint to make the others back off before fleeing

1x29: broken leg during chase, knife thrown and hitting Barney on the chest

1x30: The thief (Keme) is the final battle who caused all the suffering, holds Baby Bop at knifepoint, gets shot in the leg by BJ, begs for his life, Barney stomps him to death

#whump #whump humor #crack whump #blood #captivity #hostage situation #kidnapping #held at knifepoint #held at gunpoint #guns #injuries #keme #...i'm sorry

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letthewhumpbegin · 1 month

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Shadowhunters, s2e19

#shadowhunters #jace wayland #dominic sherwood #shadowhunters spoilers #whump #whump gifs #held at knifepoint #stabbed #blood #bloody face #pain #ltwbshadowhunters

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whumpdaydreamerx · 1 year

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A Stoic Whumpee captured, and once back at the the Whumper’s home, they're injected with a special paralytic agent. Whumpee is still able to move their head, feel and speak, but the neck down is unmovable.

Whumper lays the Whumpee down on a rug next to the fireplace. Eyes scanning their prey up and down. Whumpee struggles in their current state. "What did you do to me?" they breathe when they realize they don't have control of their body. They grunt with discomfort trying to move an arm, a leg, anything – to no avail.

Whumper decides to taunt them, stalking closer. They loom over them with a sinister smile, looking forward to seeing the normally collected Whumpee unravel.

"Don't." Whumpee growls. "Don't fucking touch me!" They hated not being in control, and Whumper knew that. Whumpee needed to be in control at all times, and this made them feel exposed and vulnerable. They were.

Whumper kneels down to straddle Whumpee and hovers a hand over them. "Get off me!" Whumpee shouts. They groan as they attempt to put all their energy into shifting, but they fail and Whumper grabs their arms one at a time and positions them above their head.

Whumper pulls a knife from their belt and Whumpee's eyes widen. "S-stop…" Whumpee gasps. "Don't. DON'T!" they begin to scream wishing they could kick their captor off of them. They shut their eyes and turn their face, tucking it away into their arm as Whumper lowers the knife eagerly.

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befuddled-calico-whump · 10 months

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Figuwhump: Day 10

The Shadow King has fallen.

(for more information, check out @figuwhump 's pinned post!)

#someone got the cuff on him and then it was over #he was already magically exhausted and at that point he just couldn't go anymore #penumbra: shadow king #figuwhump #whump art #tw blood #held at knifepoint #me experimenting with lighting like

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ziptiesnfries · 4 months

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The Party

Roux & Ambrose masterpost

tag list: @theelvishcowgirl @transgender-scout @gala1981 @laniakea0100 @spectral-whumpy-writer

Takes place later on in Roux's captivity

CWs: held at knifepoint, death threats, captivity

Roux tugs at the collar of their shirt, feeling suffocated by their stupid outfit and Ambrose’s arm wrapped around their waist. He gave them a choice of what to wear, but they didn’t trust his taste in dresses, so they went with a tux. Now, overheated beneath the layers of their outfit, they regret it. They’d feel much more exposed in a dress, but maybe they’d be able to breathe easier.

As the two of them cross the ballroom, Ambrose squeezes their waist, and Roux stiffens. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice.

If they tell him the truth—that they’re miserable and sweaty and they despise having to hang off his side while he makes conversation with his business associates—it won’t matter. He won’t head home early on their account. “I’m fine,” they say dismissively.

He smiles and pauses to tuck a loose curl behind their ear. By now, they’re beyond flinching at his touch, but there’s still an uncomfortable tingle left behind where his fingers brushed their skin. “It’s only a couple more hours,” he murmurs. “You can make it until then, can’t you?”

Well, they don’t really have a fucking choice, do they? They fake a smile back at him, and he doesn’t seem to mind their lack of verbal response as he leads them across the ballroom.

It really isn’t stately enough to be called a ballroom—more like a fancy conference room, scattered with tables and waiters serving hors d’oeuvres to rich, self-important people. Being among them makes Roux feel nauseated. Once upon a time, they would’ve only attended a function like this to do a job—rob someone, steal information, things like that. The thought makes their chest ache with longing. They miss working, and they miss being a person rather than a decoration.

They force themself to attention as Ambrose encounters a new cluster of people. He seems to know most of them, greeting them by names that Roux doesn’t quite catch and doesn’t care to remember. The inevitable question is asked by a woman with dark hair in a sophisticated dress, turning her eyes on Roux: “And who’s this?”

“This is Roux,” Ambrose says simply. That’s how he’s introduced them to everyone tonight, with no further elaboration. It’s starting to grate on Roux’s nerves.

The woman tilts her head, and Roux tries not to blush. They wish Ambrose would just come up with a lie to appease people, instead of drawing more attention to them. “And Roux is your …?” the woman begins, her voice trailing off. Business associate? Romantic partner? More like purse dog.

“My companion,” says Ambrose, giving their shoulder an affectionate pat.

Roux forces a smile as they make eye contact with the woman. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

The woman gives them a tentative smile back. “Likewise.” They’re relieved when she turns her attention back to Ambrose. “So we were just talking about …”

By that point, it feels safe for Roux to tune out, looking like they’re listening without really paying attention. Ambrose doesn’t expect them to participate, nor does he want them to. They nod at the right times, but otherwise lean against the wall and let their eyes wander.

The party isn’t very interesting, and their eyes start to glaze over as they scan the room. But, suddenly, a face across the room catches their attention—a very familiar face. They’re not even sure it’s him, but their heart starts racing anyway. They try not to get hopeful. It could be any tall guy with dark, slicked-back hair. Lots of guys look like that. But they’re almost sure …

The guy turns just right, giving Roux a clear look at his face, and their breath catches. His showy, bright smile falters as his dark eyes meet theirs. They almost can’t breathe. It’s Cruz.

Instinctively, their eyes dart over to Ambrose. He’s engrossed in a conversation, barely paying attention to Roux. When they glance back, Cruz is still standing across the room, staring at them. A surge of hope and anxiety flutters up in their chest. He tilts his head at them, probably dying to ask them where they’ve been all these months. But he doesn’t, and they immediately understand why: he’s on a job. He can’t blow his cover—and they can’t let on that they’ve recognized him, either.

Not knowing what else to do, they blink at him twice, hard, hoping he picks up the signal. That used to be kind of a joke on their team—blink twice if you need help—until they realized it was a useful way to send a message. They don’t use it often, but Roux hopes that Cruz understands.

Just to cover themself, Roux ducks their head and rubs their face, like they had something in their eye. When they look up, Cruz is gone.

They’re not sure what to make of it. But one thing is clear: they have to lose Ambrose.

When they turn back, he’s still invested in the conversation. They tug at his sleeve. “I’m going to use the bathroom,” they mutter. “It’s just over there.” They incline their head toward a side hallway they passed on the way in.

He frowns. Roux knows he doesn’t like the idea of letting them out of his sight, but it would be rude for him to abandon the group so abruptly. He keeps his voice low as he says, “You have three minutes.”

Three minutes. They’ve worked on worse time limits than that. They just hope the timing is a good enough excuse for how quickly they leave him.

They’re rushing, but a sense of relief washes over them as they step into that side hallway, out of Ambrose’s sight. How long has it been since they’ve been out in public without him breathing down their neck? It feels like they can finally breathe.

But they don’t have time to enjoy it. They move quickly, past the bathrooms, their eyes scanning the empty hall. They startle as a hand darts out of a darkened alcove and grabs their sleeve, pulling them in—and then they’re face-to-face with Cruz.

“Roux!” He looks elated to see them, gripping their shoulders like he’s afraid they’ll disappear. “I didn’t expect—where have you been?”

They want to hug him, but— “There’s no time,” they say. “He’ll start looking for me in two minutes. We have to get out of here.”

The look on his face hardens, all business, and he releases them. “I’m here on a job, but I’ll cut it short. The getaway is waiting out back.” A small, relieved grin sneaks onto his face. “The team will be so glad you’re okay.” Tentatively, they allow themself to smile back, hope bubbling up in their chest. God, they can’t wait to get back to their team.

Cruz checks both ways before leaving the alcove, and Roux follows close behind him. The hallway is deserted as the two of them make their way down it, their footsteps barely making a sound. Cruz turns a corner—

He lets out a choked noise, lurching forward and out of their sight. Roux’s stomach drops as they hurry after him, and they freeze.

Ambrose has an arm wrapped around Cruz’s chest and a knife pressed to his throat. Cruz stays perfectly still, his eyes wide—but Ambrose isn’t paying any attention to him. “Now,” Ambrose says quietly, pinning Roux with his gaze. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

Roux swallows, their eyes darting from Cruz’s panicked expression to Ambrose’s stony demeanor. They feel a surge of rage at Ambrose for ruining this so quickly. They want to swear at him, lunge and attack him—

But he would slit Cruz’s throat, and Roux would never forgive themself. A moment ago, all they could think about was getting the hell out of here. Now the only thought in their mind is how to save Cruz.

Ambrose raises an eyebrow, pressing the knife ever so slightly into Cruz’s throat. Cruz makes a small, choked noise, his eyes on Roux. He’s expecting them to attack, yell, threaten—act like themself.

They can’t. Not if they want him to live.

Tears spring up in Roux’s eyes, and they welcome it. Ambrose loves it when they cry; he says the tears bring out their eyes. Roux’s hands tremble, and they focus their watery gaze on Ambrose. “I’m—I’m sorry,” they choke out as the tears spill over their cheeks. “This is my fault, it was my idea—please, please don’t hurt him.”

They try to ignore the horror on Cruz’s face, try not to think about what must be running through his head, seeing them like this—because he’s never seen them like this. He’s seen them go through hell, but he’s never seen them cry and plead. They can’t help the shame that burns their cheeks at having to do this in front of him. They hope it makes them more convincing.

Ambrose’s gaze softens a fraction, but he keeps a tight grip on Cruz, the knife still pressed to his skin. “Tell me,” he says softly, “why I shouldn’t just slit his throat right now.”

Their stomach lurches, and the distress that surges through them isn’t an act. “Please don’t! It was my idea, I’m the one to blame, I’m sorry!”

Ambrose considers this, then says, “You wouldn’t have even tried to leave me if it wasn’t for him.” He presses the knife in deeper, drawing a bead of blood that trickles down Cruz’s neck. Roux gasps, but they force themself still.

Cruz flinches and takes a shuddery breath. “Bastard,” he breathes. “You fucking—”

The knife presses deeper, and Cruz shuts his mouth. Otherwise, it’s like he never spoke in the first place. Ambrose’s eyes remain glued to Roux. “Well?” he prompts.

“Please,” Roux whispers. “I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll—I’ll be so good. Just please, let him go.”

Ambrose hums thoughtfully, tilting his head. “I’m not sure if I believe you,” he says, dragging a thin red line across Cruz’s throat.

Before they can even think about it, their knees hit the floor. “Please!” they cry, tears streaming down their cheeks. “Please don’t hurt him!”

Ambrose’s eyes light up, and the knife goes still. He’s not smiling—of course he’s still angry at them; they’ll face the consequences later—but he’s pleased with their performance, and right now, that’s all that matters. He leans in to murmur in Cruz’s ear, “Why don’t you get back to the party, then. Before I change my mind.”

Ambrose releases him, and Cruz stumbles away, brushing a hand against his throat. But he’s not as worried about himself as he should be. “Roux?” he asks.

There’s a world of confusion and horror and pity in his voice, and they can’t stand it. They duck their head to hide their tear-stained face, burning with shame. “Go,” they whisper. “I’ll be fine.”

Cruz hesitates. “You heard them,” Ambrose says. He’s probably brandishing the knife, a silent threat. Roux doesn’t look up to check.

Cruz lets out a shaky exhale, and then they hear his footsteps retreating. A mix of relief and soul-crushing disappointment floods Roux’s chest. They didn’t escape. Cruz gets to walk away, but … they don’t.

They flinch as Ambrose approaches, but he only holds out his hand. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

They take his hand. Once they’re on their feet, they keep their head bowed, scared to even look at him. He wraps an arm tightly around their shoulders and leads them down the hallway, away from the ballroom. This must be the way he came when he cut Cruz off. Roux should have thought about alternate routes; they should have realized that Ambrose noticed them acting strange. They know better than to make mistakes like that. But maybe they’re rusty after spending all this time with Ambrose.

Ambrose squeezes their shoulder. “I need to keep you on a tighter leash.”

They nod as if they agree, feeling empty, and they let Ambrose lead them away.

#whump writing #whump #captivity whump #captivity #zipwrites #held at knifepoint #threats tw #roux & ambrose #oc: roux #oc: ambrose lacrosse #oc: cruz #okay unofficially: that concludes the backlog of stuff i haven't posted for these two #idk if there'll be more but we'll see!

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sowhumpful · 9 months

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#whump #knifepoint #at knifepoint #held at knifepoint #whump gif #The walking dead: Dead City #S1 Ep1 & 6 #jeffrey dean morgan #negan #negan smith

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sasuga-whump · 11 months

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Whump List: Love in the Air

Themes: BL, trauma, love/hate relationship

Summary: Considered by many to be a cute guy, Rain shouldn’t have any trouble getting a girlfriend. Unfortunately, the only girl to ever truly capture his heart likes senior student Phayu, with his devastating good looks and his bad-boy biker persona. Hoping to ruin Phayu’s reputation among the girls at school, Rain decides to make Phayu fall madly in love with him. Meanwhile, Rain’s best friend Sky, struggles with his own set of problems. Having been in a toxic relationship, Sky has no desire to find love ever again. But when he crosses paths with Prapai, he seems unable to escape the fate that seems to inexplicably bind them.

(The first half of the series focuses on Rain & Phayu’s arc, the second half focuses on Sky and Prapai’s arc)

TW: sexual assault and trauma related to it is a major theme in the second arc of this drama, so please be careful! Major TW for ep 13*****

Whumpees from left to right: Phayu & Rain, Sky & Prapai

The list:

Ep 2:

Rain - chased, grabbed, nervous, spanked by Phayu

Phayu - anger born of worry, concerned for Rain

Ep 3:

Rain - doesn’t submit his work on time, scolded, sad, standing in the rain, concern for him, crying, comforted

Phayu - concerned for Rain, comforting Rain

Ep 5:

Rain - caught a cold, feverish, coughing, concern for him

Ep 6:

Rain - attacked, chloroformed, gagged, kidnapped

Ep 7:

Phayu - concerned for Rain, anger born of worry, stressed ... forced to kneel, humiliated, defiant, kicked, punched, beaten up, bloody, repeatedly kicked, hand crushed, yelling in pain, concern for him, saved by the mafia, lying on the floor, concerned Rain, held, helped to stand ... in bed, bandaged, bruised

Rain - tied to a chair, gagged, threatened, defiant, slapped, held at knifepoint, distressed, crying, forced to watched Phayu beaten, saved by the mafia

Ep 8:

Sky - Feeling sad, “shit things always happen to me”

Ep 9:

Sky - uncomfortable, flashbacks, dissociating, concern for him ... angry and upset when ex is mentioned ... having a nightmare about past abuse, wakes startled, shaky breathing, anxious, self-soothing, doesn’t go back to sleep ... concern for him, “you look very pale” ... pulls an all nighter, berated ... nightmare, tossing and turning, heavy breathing, crying out in his sleep, wakes startled, self-soothing, crying, breakdown ... weak, using the wall for support, pale, concern for him, blurred vision, collapses, concerned friends ... in bed, sleeping, looked after by Prapai, concerned Prapai, emotional, “don’t leave me”, comforted, cradled

Ep 10:

Sky - having a nightmare, distressed, comforted, crying, cuddled ... reluctant to receive help, helped to walk ... has a nightmare, wanting to be held, comforted ... shivering, exerting himself, looked after, “don’t tell my friends”, medicated, leaning on Prapai’s shoulder for support ... watched over

Ep 11:

Sky - pulled an all nighter, sleepy, concern for him, looked after

Prapai - concerned for Sky, upset

Ep 12:

Prapai - cuts his finger, bleeding, concern for him, wound tended ... upset, frustrated, told mean things, crying

Sky - misunderstanding, thinks Prapai is cheating, trauma triggered, flashbacks, crying, distressed ... crying, breakdown, “please don’t leave me”, slight trauma reveal

Ep 13*****:

Sky - (flashback: bruises on his body, hiding injuries, cigarette burns, abusive relationship, burnt, crying out, manipulated, scared, shaking, sexually assaulted), wakes from a nightmare, hyperventilating, calling Prapai for comfort ... comforted, cuddled ... runs into abusive ex, scared, shaking ... grabbed, neck grabbed, manipulated ... shaken, telling his friend he’s fine ... ex lures him into a trap, grabbed, manhandled, punched, slapped, de-humanised, manipulated, belittled, very frightened, crying, implied sexual assault ... very concerned friends, terrified, dissociating, spaced out, in shock, can’t cry ... bursts into tears, comforted, held ... helped to walk, treated very gently, full trauma reveal

Prapai - major concern for Sky, angry, punches someone, anger born of worry, forces his anger down to care for Sky, being gentle, soothing Sky ... beats the absolute shit out of Sky’s ex and rips his eyebrow piercing out ... crying for Sky, emotional, reassuring Sky ... upset for Sky

Rain - concerned for Sky, soothing Sky, feeling guilty for getting tricked by Sky’s ex

Phayu - concerned for Sky, angry at Sky’s abusers

Thoughts:

I am genuinely surprised that to my knowledge there isn’t a whump list for this drama out already. This series is packed full of whump, both physical and mental, with very protective caretakers!! My gosh, Prapai and Phayu are the most protective caretakers I have come across in a LONG time. Both of them are willing to physically put themselves in harm’s way to protect their partners and it’s so sweet. The way Prapai is so gentle with Sky as the series progresses, and the absolute fury in his eyes to anyone who tries to hurt Sky. For someone who starts off as a major playboy, Prapai truly is a gentleman through and through by the end. Sky has really been through some shit, and is incredibly traumatised from his ordeals, it takes him a while to warm up to Prapai due to his trust issues. But when he eventually does let Prapai in, Prapai treats him with the utmost care. The scene in episode 13 where Sky opens up about his abuse was so beautifully done imo, and the actors did an amazing job, particularly for Prapai’s actor, who’s eyes are so emotional, it’s an incredibly moving and sad scene.

Phayu also is suuuper protective of Rain and even allowed himself to be beaten up so he could protect him. He’s also very dominant over Rain, keeping his cheeky (read: Bratty) nature in check, as well as being highly respected by his peers in the motorcycle racing community.

As mentioned in the TW, this drama does have triggering themes to do with SA involving Sky, so please proceed with caution. If you need any more information in order to decide whether this is appropriate for you, please feel free to send me a message and I can help you out.

As always, my favourite/whumpier episodes are highlighted in bold, see you next time!

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jinxquickfoot · 8 months

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@badthingshappenbingo: Knife to the Throat

Find the fic on Ao3

“There she is. Took you long enough, Bishop.”

Kate figures that walking into her apartment with all the lights turned out isn’t a good sign. When Clint goes to bed early, he usually does it by just passing out on her couch, New York light and noise pollution be damned.

An ominous voice calling her last name from the darkness isn’t a great omen either. Already calculating just how quickly she can get from the front door to her bow, Kate flicks on the lights.

First the darkness, then the ominous voice, and now her partner pinned to the couch he likes to nap on so much with a knife at his throat. Three signs Kate's pretty sure mean danger.

“Don’t,” Madame Masque warns her as Kate prepares to dive for her bow, still hanging up next to her impromptu archery range. Damn, she really needs to take Harley Quinn’s advice and put a baseball bat by the front door or something. “Put down your bag and lock the door.”

Kate does neither, dropping her gaze to meet Clint’s eyes. There’s a trickle of blood drying on one cheek, a split lip, and even from his seated position Kate can see he’s favoring one leg. He winces as he takes in her expression, exasperation and resignation in his next words. “If I tell you to run, you’re not going to listen, are you?”

“Of course not.” Masque leans further over the back of the couch so she can press the knife even closer against Clint’s neck. “The baby hawk is going to do everything I tell her to do, or I’m going to ruin her couch.”

“Sorry, Boss.” Kate drops the bag and locks the door, before turning back to face Masque. “I’m really fond of my furniture.”

“Cute. Shed the coat,” Masque orders.

Kate does as she’s told, raising her hands to show she’s unarmed. Unfortunately. “You know, it’s usually polite to call ahead before you visit someone’s home.”

“And usually it’s impolite to steal what isn’t yours,” Masque snaps back. “Come here. Now.”

Slowly, Kate makes her way across the room, taking in the rest of the apartment. It’s far too quiet. “Where’s Lucky?”

Kate can’t see Masque’s face behind the golden mask, but she can hear the satisfaction in her voice as she says, “Your idiot predecessor decided it was more important to get the mutt out the door than defend himself.”

Of course he had. Well, that’s one less factor to worry about.

Clint shifts slightly under the knife, but that just gets his head yanked back by his hair. Kate starts forward in alarm, only to slam to a halt as Masque presses down, cutting skin. “Stay right where you are. Next time it goes deep.”

Clint tips his head back to meet Masque’s gaze. “If you're looking for the tape, it’s already with Hill,” he says, far too calmly for someone being held at knifepoint. “It’s over.”

“It’s over when I say it’s over,” Masque snaps back. “And this isn’t about the tape. This isn’t even about you, Barton.” She lifts her golden face to glare at Kate. “It’s about her.”

Well, Kate has always wanted an arch-nemesis. She’s not a fan of the part where the villain threatens her loved ones though.

Clint sends her a look, suddenly far more worried than before, knife be damned. “She didn’t do anything,” he insists. “Hill and I set the whole thing up, not Kate.”

“She embarrassed me,” Masque hisses, actually hisses, Kate didn’t even know that people did that. “You think I care about some lost tape? No—I care about putting some dumb brat back in her place.”

“Hurtful,” Kate mutters. “I actually have a GPA of 3.8, so…”

“You will lose something tonight,” Masque cuts across her, and Kate feels her heart pound a little faster. Not Clint. Anything but Clint. She’s already lost her father, her mother, she can’t lose him too. She won’t lose him too. “It will be your choice what it is.”

“My choice?” Choices are good. Choices mean that there’s an option other than watching Clint get his throat slit right in front of her. “How generous of you.”

“Kate,” Clint warns, but he’s cut off when Masque angles the blade right under his Adam’s apple.

Kate can hear the unconfined satisfaction in Masque’s voice as she says, “Go get a knife. The sharpest one you have.”

“The sharpest one I…” Kate trails off, doing a mental scan of the apartment. “You want me to get a knife?”

“I thought Barton was the deaf one.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Kate backs into her kitchenette, careful to not take her eyes off Masque. She slaps her hand along the cabinets until she finds the cutlery drawer.

Masque cocks her head to one side. “What are you doing?”

Kate locates what she’s looking for, pulling out the plastic knife she keeps mostly for spreading peanut butter on toast, and grimaces. It’s still a little sticky.

The reveal is met with twin sounds of incredulity from the couch.

Masque winds her hand tighter in Clint’s hair. “Do you really want to be making jokes right now?”

“You said the sharpest knife!” Kate protests. “This is it! It’s kind of the, um, the only knife?”

There’s a beat of dumbfounded silence before Masque says, “Why do you only have one knife?”

“I’m one person! Why is this such a hard concept for home invaders to understand?”

There’s a flash of silver, and then blood is streaking down Clint’s face.

Kate starts forward with a shout, only to freeze when the knife is shoved back against her partner’s throat.

Blood continues to spill from the fresh cut, far deeper than the one on his neck, and way too close to one of Clint’s eyes.

“No more games,” Masque says, slowly and clearly. “You fight with a sword. I’ve seen it. So go get the sharpest one.”

Swallowing back the horror that she’s just gotten Clint unnecessarily hurt, Kate pads over to the archery range, locating the katana she never uses. It’s more ceremonial than practical—a gift from her mother on her eighteenth birthday. Even after everything that had gone down on Christmas, Kate hadn’t been able to part with it.

There’s a sharp intake of breath behind the gold mask as Kate brings the katana closer. “You own a Master Yoshihara blade?”

“It was a birthday present.”

“That’s sweet. Take it out.”

“Kate, don’t,” Clint starts, but breaks off again when the blade bites into the already existing cut.

Kate slides the katana out of its sheath. “What, are you challenging me to a duel or something?”

“A duel is carried out to defend your reputation. You’ve already cost me mine. And now, that same action is going to cost you, Bishop. Completely your choice. Barton’s neck, or one of your hands.”

Kate blinks, sure she’s misheard. “I’m sorry, what was the second choice?”

“One of your hands,” Masque repeats, as though that’s a perfectly reasonable request. “It was going to be just a finger or two, but I’d hate you to use a blade that masterful on something so small.”

“She’s not doing that.” Clint’s words open up his wound a little deeper, but he doesn't stop. “Kate, just go.”

“Then you’re going to die, Barton. Which is perfectly fine by me.”

Kate lifts the sword so it’s pointed straight at Masque’s face. “If you kill him, you have nothing left to stop me from fighting you.”

Masque huffs. “Please. You are not going to kill me. The best you could do is get someone up here to arrest me and I assure you, if you do that I will be free and clear within the hour and your precious partner will be rotting in a morgue somewhere. So make a choice, Bishop. Chop, chop—pun intended.”

“Of course it’s intended.” Kate forces herself to breathe, meeting Clint’s eyes again, trying to ignore the blood still dripping down his face. Her fault. She’s not going to let this get any worse. I have a plan, she tries to project at him.

Clint’s shoulders stiffen in the way that means he definitely understood her, and he definitely wishes he hadn’t. Still, he gives her the slightest nod, showing her he’s ready.

Kate flips the sword over in her hand, rallying herself. “Okay, I can’t just…” She makes a vague swing at her wrist. “I need a hard surface.”

“Then get on the floor.”

“Right, yeah that’s…. that’s a big surface.”

“Stop stalling. Or I’m making the choice for you and it’s Barton’s neck.”

Kate sinks to the floor, holding her free hand out in front of her. “Don’t. I’m doing the hand one, alright? I’m doing it.” She makes a show of psyching herself up. “Rand Enterprises still makes cybernetics, right? I think my not-stepdad might actually have some contacts there he could—”

She throws the sword.

If it had been anyone else, it would have sliced right through their face. The sword pings off the golden mask just as Clint wrenches on Masque’s wrist, disarming her a second before he dives out of the way of the ricochet.

He needn’t have bothered. Kate’s aim is true. The sword pings off the mask at an extreme right angle, embedding itself in the far wall and far away from where it might have hit Clint.

Masque stumbles, trying to right herself, but Clint’s faster. He drives across the couch, tackling her out of sight. There’s a thunk that sounds suspiciously like a knife handle hitting a skull, and then— “Kate? You alright?”

“Still got two hands.”

Clint’s head pops up from behind the couch, taking her in before he slumps over the cushions in relief. “I can see that. Anything else we need to worry about?”

“You’re the one who’s bleeding all over my furniture.”

“And you’re a superhero now, you should get used to bloodstains.”

“Gross.” Kate clambers to her feet, making her way over to where she can see the unconscious Madame Masque for herself. “Think she meant what she said about getting off scot-free?”

“Probably,” Clint admits. “That’s rich people for you, Miss I own a Master Yoshihara sword.” He dabs at the cut under his eye, wincing. “Find the first aid kit, I’m going to call Hill. Maybe she can stick Masque somewhere she can’t buy her way out of. And Kate?”

Kate pauses, waiting for the speech. God knows her mother gave it to her enough times. You’re reckless. You’re irresponsible. You need to do better.

Clint offers her a crooked grin. “Nice shot.”

Kate’s shoulders drop in relief, a warmth spreading through her chest. “Yeah, well, I have a somewhat decent mentor.”

“That you do.” Masque stirs with a groan, causing Clint to kick her in the head, knocking her out again. “First aid kit. Phone Hill. Then go get Lucky back and call it a night?”

Kate smiles back at him. “Sounds perfect, Boss.”

#bad things happen bingo #bthb card #knife to the throat #hostage situation #held at knifepoint #hawkeye #kate bishop #clint barton #madame masque #whump writing #marvel #mcu

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pigeonwhumps · 1 year

Text

Knife to the throat

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 4: knife to the throat

@febuwhump

Note: For avoidance of confusion over pronouns, Blue is genderfluid, and is using he/him pronouns in this piece. This takes place a couple of weeks after Flinching.

Blue accidentally triggers Morgan's conditioning, with Rhian as the target.

771 words

CWs: dehumanisation, self-dehumanisation, conditioned whumpee, living weapon whumpee, held at knifepoint, bad caretaker (one of them), caretaker new whumper, gun

"Morgan, put the knife down," says Rhian softly, hand in the air, trying to avoid cutting their throat on the sharp knife held against it.

She silently curses Blue. She and Morgan had been talking, and then Blue had barged in, not even looking at Morgan, and said something to Rhian. Rhian's not sure what it was now, it's not important, but some part of it triggered Morgan.

And now Rhian has a knife at their throat and Blue, the idiot, is pointing his gun at Morgan. As if any of this is Morgan's fault.

"Blue, put the gun down, please."

"Not while the weapon's an active threat."

Rhian closes her eyes, praying for patience. "Morgan. Please, put the weapon down. It's only Rhian, I'm not going to hurt you."

Morgan's arm trembles slightly but it doesn't waver, their gaze blank. They've entirely been taken over by their conditioning.

Rhian hears the click of Blue's gun. "For the love of god, Blue, don't you fucking dare shoot them."

"It's a tranquilliser. And I won't let you get knifed in the throat."

Well, at least Morgan won't die if he shoots. She decides to try a different method.

"Sweetheart. It's Rhian. There's no danger, nothing to attack. I don't want you to attack. Let go, sweetheart." Morgan trembles harder, tears welling. Clearly, no-one's tested their conditioning by being kind before. But it's not working enough. Rhian swallows. There must be a phrase to stop it. What would they say in the military? What did the guards used to say, in the mandatory exercise yard at the re-education centre, during their escape, every time they wanted something to stop?

Stand down. Stand down, student 7583, or I'll shoot. Shoot to kill, no prisoners.

Rhian breathes out shakily and hardens her tone, imitating the guards easily after all the practice she's had.

"Stand down. Morgan, stand down." That doesn't work. She grimaces. "MD-264N, stand down."

Morgan drops the knife immediately, hand swinging down, and Rhian steps forward, shielding them from Blue. "I'm going to touch you, Morgan, don't panic." She takes another step forward, and once Morgan's within arm's reach she reaches out, pulling them into a tight hug. "Come back to me, sweetheart, come on. You're Morgan, remember?" Morgan shudders. "That's it. You're doing it. Come on, sweetheart, I've got you. You're doing so well."

Morgan gasps, clutching Rhian's upper arms tightly as their knees start to buckle. "This weapon is– it is–"

"Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe."

Morgan takes a deep breath, copying Rhian. "This weapon is malfunctioning. Its eyes are leaking and its heart rate is still increasing and–"

"Shh. It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay. That's okay, I'm not mad, not gonna correct you. Just breathe, concentrate on calming down. Blue messed up, you did nothing wrong, it's okay. It's okay to cry, sweetheart. You're not leaking, you're crying, and that's okay."

Morgan looks helplessly at Rhian for a second and then throws themself forward, burying their head in her chest, shaking with sobs. Rhian's breath catches at the look in their eyes, the speed at which they threw themself at her for comfort.

"Hey sweetheart."

"I, it is sorry, it apologises, this weapon injured you and it is displaying aberrant behaviour, it is so sorry, it–"

"Shh, you're okay. The cut doesn't hurt anymore, it's not even bleeding. Cry all you like, let it out. Yeah? You're okay, you're safe."

They clutch Morgan tightly, hearing Blue's footsteps finally fade down the corridor. Morgan's so distressed, Blue was so quick to act that Rhian suspects he's nowhere near trusting them yet, and Rhian herself is still shaken. It's the first time they've really appreciated that their friend was an actual weapon, the first time since Morgan woke that they've thought that way about them. If someone ordered Morgan to, even by accident, they could do a hell of a lot of damage.

Rhian doesn't believe they ever would of their own free will. They were wavering even with the conditioning today. But still. It's a hell of a lot of training (torture) to put someone through, to make them react like that to a few words. She didn't realise it was so thorough. She didn't realise they were so dangerous. Calling themself I, if only for a moment, was progress, but they're still conditioned, still so easy to trigger.

Still so damn small, as well.

And now that same person is soaking her t-shirt with sobs, clutching her like she'll disappear if they don't.

"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart. You're going to be okay."

They can only hope that it's true.

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