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#I didn't know the word whump yet
kenobihater · 1 month
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you ever write up a combination of words you're really proud of at the time bc you think it's vivid but it's actually so atrocious that you remember it eight years later bc it's burned itself into your long-term memory? just me?
#i'm literally laughing my entire ass off rn. i can't believe i found this fic i wrote at 15 and orphaned when i came to my senses abt both#my complete inability and total aversion to writing first person as well as the fact that the english language should never have been#subjected to its words being done dirty like this 😭#also i straight up fucking LIED in the authors note??? i said i'd broken my knee as a kid which is categorically false. i fell down some#stairs and banged it up and it's a tiny bit weak ig but i didn't break it? all any teens born after y2k know is eat hot chip and lie...#still not over the first line... the flip flop bit i remembered but i'd COMPLETELY forgotten 'a shriek seeped out of my throat'. girl. what.#how does a shriek seep exactly? the world may never know...#and the use of 'groped' is also sending me 😭 AND 'crash bash whump thump' girlllll send help holy shit i can't stop coughing & laughing#the rest of the fic isn't quite this bad but it's very purple yet ineloquent and rough. it's a good reminder of how much i've improved and#honestly i'd rather read this utterly amature fic bc it's at least charming in its lack of skill rather than infuriating like some of my#oneshots that are still on my page bc they're more comprehensible but just bad enough to make me cringe. getting mad at this oneshot would#be like getting bad at a kid's stick figure drawing. like. it's just kinda cute to see someone starting out on their creative journey#my old sw oneshots on the other hand are like the awkward growing pains of puberty. you just can't help but wince at the reminder#this is okay to reblog btw bc it's objectively hilarious and i don't mind ppl finding humor in it#len speaks
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a-crumb-of-whump · 2 months
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Content: Alcohol, addiction, recovery, relapse, experimental whump, lab rat whumpee (kind of), non-con drugging (kind of), mentioned withdrawals, mentioned multiple whumpers.
"Have you been drinking?" Caretaker asked as they sat down their bag beside the living room couch. Much to their disappointment, Whumpee's slurred speech was enough of an answer without even having to listen to what they were saying. "Whumpee..."
"I've heard it all b'fore," they mumbled. "I don't care anym're."
Caretaker crouched down in front of them, resting a hand on their knee in an attempt to gain their attention. "Hey, we're gonna get through this, okay? It's just a little setback. That's to be expected."
"Shouldn't have t'get through it." Whumpee's voice broke as they said it. "Was doin' well. Had a job, 'n' friends 'n' family. Then- then they had to ruin it."
They knew it was wrong to ask. Whumpee had been so secretive about what they'd gone through, it was hard to pinpoint why they'd developed a lot of the behavioral habits that they had now. They clearly didn't want anyone to know, and yet Caretaker couldn't help it.
"How did they ruin it?" they asked gently. "What did they do to you?"
There was a small pause as Whumpee seemed to have an inner fight with themself over what to say. For a moment, Caretaker thought that they might refuse to answer, like they'd done so many times before. However, the words eventually started to tumble out one by one before they could stop.
"They gave me this f-fucking addiction." They held the half-empty beer bottle close to their chest, staring down at the floor beneath them. "Kept usin' me as their little lab rat. Feeding me different alchohols t'see how I reacted to it. There were three of 'em... They only wanted me gone when my withdrawals b'came too much t'handle."
Caretaker remained silent, gently stroking Whumpee's knee with their thumb as they waited for them to continue. The weight in their chest was getting heavier, the moisture in their eyes getting more noticeable. They hated the vivid images that played in their mind. It was hard to tell whether they regretted asking or not.
After a few long moments of obvious consideration, Whumpee sniffled and shakily placed the bottle down on the side table closest to them. "I can't sleep without it. I can't feel anything without it. It's- it's not that I w'nna be dependent on it, b't..."
"You don't have to keep talking about it," Caretaker whispered. "Thank you. Thank you for telling me, and I'm so, so sorry that you had to be there for so long before someone found you."
Whumpee rested their head back against the couch, shutting their eyes for a moment as a few tears fell down their cheeks. "I w'nna try again tomorrow. To- to stop, I mean."
"We can do that." Caretaker took a deep breath, as though trying to rid themself of the weight of the conversation. "I don't think you're going to remember a lot of this tomorrow, though."
They gave a sluggish head shake. "Y'can tell me all about it when I wake up."
Caretaker nodded. "I will."
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whumpshaped · 5 months
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a rather specific prompt for you :)
whumpee is/ was trained and used a a guard dog. during their time with their master they sustained an injury that causes them to not be able to fulfill their job properly anymore. still wounded, they get thrown out, chained in some allay. whumpee expects to die alone and cold, when caretaker comes along and accidentally stumbles across the abandoned whumpee. they (caretaker) think whumpee is just a regular pet and don’t realize they have a still dangerous guard dog at their feet and decide to rescue them and help them recover. whumpee has never experienced anything like this kindness, especially after becoming so useless, so (after having lost their old master) they immediately bond to caretaker as their new master, and would do anything to protect and please them
tw pet whump, amputation, abandonment, past trauma, broken bones, medical setting, caretaker new master, murder, gore, dehumanisation
"Oh, dear..." Caretaker crouched down by the shivering figure, putting the back of their hand against their forehead. They looked... half-dead, honestly, so the feverish warmth eminating from them was almost a relief. "Who did this to you...?"
The poor thing whined, and they reminded Caretaker of a wounded dog; but maybe that was just from how they were chained up. This was all so horrible.
"Okay, don't be scared. I'm gonna get you out of the alley and to a vet, alright? We'll get you all fixed up."
Another whine, and Caretaker suddenly realised there were other issues apart from the visible sickness. The pet's ankle... it was twisted in a way they'd never seen before. It was swollen, a mix of deep red and purple, bent in a way no healthy foot was supposed to.
"Oh... Oh, this is way worse than I thought, isn't it?" They immediately regretted the comment when the thing looked up at them with those wide, fearful eyes, probably expecting them to just give up now and leave them. "That's okay!" they added hastily. "It's okay. Nothing that can't be fixed! I... I hope... I'll call someone for help."
-
So they'd been wrong. Some things were in fact beyond saving, and Whumpee's foot turned out to be one of them. Amputation, prosthetics... Whumpee was handling it badly.
"I know," Caretaker soothed. "I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But it'll be better later on, I promise, the doctors know what they're doing."
Whumpee let out a soft whimper, a scared one, and Caretaker thought their heart was going to shatter even further. The pet hadn't uttered a single word yet, — maybe they couldn't? — but their face was expressive enough to make Caretaker tear up.
"I'll be here," they said gently. "Every step of the way, yeah? I'll be here for you. I'll help. We'll figure it out."
How? Caretaker didn't know. They weren't planning on adopting a pet, but... they couldn't just leave Whumpee alone after all this. They had an obligation, a responsibility.
If anything, Whumpee's awe-filled eyes just made them more determined.
-
"One foot in front of the other. Slowly. There you go."
Physical therapy was a lot, but Whumpee seemed dead set on achieving every goal weeks earlier than planned. The staff had said it would take four to eight weeks for Whumpee to be able to walk again... and many more before they fully got used to their artificial foot. They were out and about within two weeks, much to the dismay of said staff.
"They'll hurt themself," they'd said. "They should be resting."
"They're very eager to come home, I guess," Caretaker had replied awkwardly, but Whumpee had nodded along, completely serious.
So now they were walking along the corridors, Caretaker supporting Whumpee's weight less and less as they learned the ways and limits of their new life.
-
"I know it's not super fancy..." Caretaker opened the door and stood aside, motioning Whumpee inside. "But I guess it's... homey."
The pet surveyed their surroundings curiously, then turned back towards Caretaker with a bright smile. If they'd had a tail, Caretaker wagered they would've been wagging it.
It made them smile, too. "You like it?"
Whumpee nodded enthusiastically, walking over to the new pet bed Caretaker had bought just a week prior. They carefully set their belongings down next to it, — a shirt, a pair of pants, a pair of socks, and a collar — then made themself comfortable. Testing it out.
"I think we'll get along nicely," Caretaker commented absently. "I mean, I like you a lot. And you seem to like me. I don't see how this could go wrong."
-
Caretaker couldn't believe their eyes.
This couldn't be real.
Was that blood? Was that blood on Whumpee's clothes, and hands, and... face?
When the pet spotted them they immediately fell to their knees, whimpering in terror. They tried to wipe their hands on their victim's shirt, to no avail.
"Whumpee, what– what's– what's going on...?"
Whumpee was crying now, getting more and more desperate about ridding themself of the blood, as though that was the only evidence as to what they'd done. As though they could erase it all, if only they managed to erase the stains.
Caretaker walked closer, eyes wide with shock and horror. So much blood. So much gore.
Their sweet pet had done this?
"Why...?"
Whumpee scrambled to pick up some sort of equipment, struggling to hold it between bloody fingers. A lockpick, Caretaker noted distantly. They put it down on the floor in front of their feet, then quickly grabbed something else: a knife, this time. They put it next to the lockpick. Then they crawled back, flattening themself against the floor like a dog who knew it'd done something bad, whining as they waited for the verdict.
The stranger had been a burglar. Was it... self-defence? No, this had been a brutal murder.
"You're– you're a guard dog," Caretaker said softly, because they didn't think their voice could handle anything more. They got but a whimper in response. "This... Oh, dear. This is not... This is not good."
~
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
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sleepyangelkami · 1 year
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INDIGNATION (j.t)
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a/n: sorry i haven't posted, i'm going to try getting into the habit of it, hope you enjoy! lmk if theres any mistakes please! warning: this was written in the beginning of 2023 when my writing was not that great !!
pairing: redhood!jason todd x reader summary: the joker has tortured jason enough so he moves onto the thing he knows he loves the most. warnings: angst, torturing, whump, blood and gore, ptsd, crowbar lol, beatings, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread💞
words: 3,080
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it was supposed to be a good night, one filled with laughter and excitement, those nervous grins across the table because even after so long, jason still managed to make you so utterly timid especially when it came to flirting. you loved the boy with your life as he did you, so the plan had been to spend the evening at a restaraunt of your choice though he knew anything you picked, he would adore.
but while it was supposed to be a lovely night spent with your boyfriend of three years, though you had been friends much longer than that, everything turned to a change. he knew he was a little late though you would hardly blame him for having to help dick grayson get ready for his own date, instead you'd smile and tell him it really wasn't a problem. you were always kind like that. so you waited for him, outside of the restaraunt by yourself.
you supposed, looking back on it you perhaps shouldn't have waited outside alone in a summers dress within the black amiss of the gotham streets, it wasn't safe and the vigilante had warned you of such over and over, you supposed it was your fault after all that you were now in the situation you were in.
it all happened so fast, he approached you on his motorcycle, a sloppy grin on his face as it matched your own, you remembered kissing him softly and that was one of the last things you remembered before a sharp blow to the back of your head.
and now, as the man sat strapped to a chair the only thing on his mind was the unconscious girl in front of him, he didn't care for what would happen to him for he knew nothing could be worse than loosing you, his love. he knew who it was, the joker, he'd never truly leave even when jason prayed to any sort of god above that he would. he was always watching, like a stalker behind a camera, lurking though the man supposed it wouldn't be too hard to find out about you seeing as it had been all over the papers, the son of bruce wayne, supposedly died, dating the daughter of his fathers best friend.
"c'mon, princess, you gotta wake up." though he wanted to reach out, to push the hair away from your bloodied cheek that it was sticking too, you had fallen and cut your face yet nothing happened to him, why had the joker kept him if he weren't going to do anything aside from knocking him out and dragging him to your whereabouts. he cursed as he looked down at the restraints, holding him into the chair so he couldn't lift his arm.
it was the splutter of a cough that had his head instantly springing up from where it hung, eyes instantly surveying your form as you, weakly, attempted to sit up though with great difficulty due to your own restraints, chaining you to the stone wall behind you, it was damp on your back like a cloth dipped in water. the first feeling was confusion, the next was fear, and after that you weren't too sure what came up albeit you were sure it was more than five emotions mixed together. "jay?" a feeble rasp, the back of your throat felt like sandpaper.
"i'm here, baby, right here." confused, hazy, eyes glancing towards him where he sat wishing for nothing more than to allow himself out of the restraints, to hold you in his arms. he was a vigilante, he had seen a lot of fear in his life but on your face, he was sure that the emotion was enough to make a grown man cry, enough to make him swallow the lump at the back of his throat, apparently. "I'm gonna get out of here, 'kay? just gotta hold on." attempting to scratch the restraints against the seat he was shoved into, hoping they'd rip open but the attempt worked to no avail.
a night supposed to be filled with laughter and happiness, so why did tears coat your eyes? why did you back yourself against the wall only to glance up at your wrists, tied in some sort of cuffs that looked to be something one would only see in a tv werewolf show, then you remembered it was real life, that the blood surrounding your wrists from accidentally pulling a little too hard.
the sound of loud doors creaking had both the lovers heads turning, fear written all over them. "I see you have both awoken, good, it was getting a little boring all by myself." and a shrill laugh that had your body sinking into the wall further. you had always known of the joker, the man that had taken away the love of your life once but never, had you seen the man, sure on tv or on the newspaper but not in real life, not so close to you. "and what do we have here, a scared little doe?" You tried to back your face away when dirtied, calloused hands came in contact with your chin, holding it in place sternly. you were scared, terrified, even but even so you did everything you could to hide it on your face, unfortunately, you were never a great actress.
"let her go." the words gritted through the mans teeth, he was furious, he had never had a bigger indignation for someone other than the man in front of him, his hands on his loves face. "do whatever the fuck you want to me but let her go." but he wouldn't beg, he never did before and he certainly wouldn't begin now. he didn't miss the way your eyes flickered with distress because as utterly petrified as you were, you were double times for the love of your life. you had lost him once, it would never happen again.
this didn't seem to frighten the joker nor did he halt, instead, he roughly let go of your jaw in which you stared up at him in terror. it had occured to you that you were never often scared for yourself, usually, you were worrying about your lover and now as you sat on the cold ground, all you could do is stare. your mouth didn't open nor did your eyes blink, you just stared. you always wondered if you'd have a fight or flight instinct but never would you have guessed it would be to freeze. "how romantic, the knight ready to give himself up for the princess." a grin on the mans face, his makeup almost embedded into his skin.
"she's not a part of this-" but the joker was quick to shut the man down.
"oh, but she is." seemingly more serious than before, you didn't like this look, suddenly his laughs and grinned seemed so much less scarier than his serious, stern expression. "you knew she was as soon as you asked her to be yours." the jokers eyes moved from jason's to yours. "and now she'll pay the price for your idiocy. i mean, the papers, the news, you didn't really think no one would find out?" and his shrill laugh back, a giggle but not one filled with joy or happiness, one with a set goal to strike you with terror. "you're the reason she's here, you're the reason she's going to die, not today, maybe not this week, this month, maybe not even this year but the girl will die." turning his stern glance back to your boyfriend. "and her blood will be on your hands." and suddenly something struck jason todd, a strong, careless vigilante that people looked to when they needed a cold opinion, now he sat in the chair and his own stomach doubling over because for once in his life, the joker was right. jason todd would be the death of you, and he couldn't prevent it. "now... where were we?"
the sight, joker standing above your body, unmercifully beating your limp body with something sat in between his fingers, gripped harshly. but for a second, jason couldn't hear your pleas for him to stop, he couldn't hear your whimpers and attempts to get away from the man that so cruelly beat your body for his eyes had attached to something else. a crowbar, sitting harshly in his hands. a crowbar, possibly the very same one. but it didn't matter to jason for the only thing on his mind, he wouldn't let what happened to him happen to you, he couldn't. he wouldn't.
"hey! get the fuck off her!" but his shouts working to no avail. "don't fucking touch her!" attempting to shove his leg out, trying with everything he could to hit the joker in some way but he couldn't, he was too far away and all he could hear was your whimpers and sobs, begging the man to stop. "stop it!" but he couldn't help the glass that coated his eyes. he remembered this all too well, he couldn't re live the past but he gladly would if it meant you being safe. you were yelping, gasping and crying, but your body could hardly get away from the man covered in makeup, standing in a purple suit as if he were anything important.
it was jason's fault, all his fault, he should have left you out of this, you never should have been involved yet here he sat, his own voice choked, he couldn't do anything, he wasn't in control and there you lay, getting a beating for simply being in love with him. it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair in the slightest. y/n l/n the sweetest soul on the planet, according to jason, anyway, the girl with the gentlest of touches and the softest of voice, and the worst about it as he knew you lay, weeping and hyperventilating, he knew that in the back of your mind. you were relieved. because your lover was safe, a beating would hurt but nothing could beat the pure agony of the night jason todd was taken away from you.
your cries had begun to slow down, all jason could hear was the sharp intake of breaths as one landing followed the next, he couldn't see you, the joker being in the way of your body but he could only imagine the damage done to your pretty skin. "She won't die to today." the joker appeared to be out of breath as he raised himself from the previous position, his back still facing the man. "but she won't live forever, we both know that." jason's face twisting into some expression to keep himself from letting out the lump that had gathered at the back of his throat though his eyes still covered in tears that had been for you, the sound of your sobs echoing the room. "keep her guarded, while you can." and the joker had the impertinence to laugh. "sorry about that, dollface, nothing personal." as he bent down to stroke your hair from your face, jason heard you let out a whimper, he jolted forward in his chair. "just needed to teach the big boy here a lesson, a gift for your co-operation." as he dropped two keys on the ground in front of you.
for some sick, twisted reason the joker was merely expecting.... a thank you. so he waited, his face watching yours expecting for you to praise him, to adore him for letting you live. you were the kindest in the world, for the man that had killed your husband to be, you could spare nothing but honesty. "fuck you." and for a second, jason had been the proudest of you he had ever been, that was when his face twisted once more, realising that the joker wouldn't have taken such words lightly.
"bitch." slashing your face with something that jason could not see. he held your face up by your hair, pulling harshly on the roots. "you're lucky to be alive now, don't make me regret my decisions." but he needed her to stay alive so jason todd could live in fear, the fear that one day she would be snatched from his grasp, now, however, was not the time because he was sure that jason todd simply wasn't scared enough yet. jason watched as the joker slowly stood, turning to face him. "we'll meet again, the next time i won't be so kind." and that was all he had said before leaving the cold, damp room, the two lovers sat atop stone themselves, alone.
jason couldn't wait to look, he needed to see, he had to apprehend the damage. but as soon as his eyes laid on your body, he was almost upset with himself for looking. you were propped up against the wall, your long chained hands on the ground, your head hanging low but what jason could see from his angle, there was blood, too much blood. yet two keys sat in front of you, the jokers 'gift' had been your ticket straight out of there. "princess, fuck, okay you're gonna be okay, i- fuck." he was stressing, the keys so close to your body yet you were too feeble to take them, to unlock you both but if you stayed still any longer you were sure to pass out. "baby, listen to me, can you hear me?" the panic rising in his voice. a raspy hum in response but your vision completely blurred. "you need to get the keys, get us out of here and let me take you to the hospital, can you do that, sweetheart? c'mon i know you can, you're strong, angel, we both know that." that was something you certainly not, but he was trying to be encouraging, after all you supposed it was your fault you were here in the first place.
your hand reached out, slowly, wearily but nonetheless it reached out. jason could barely see the blood that coated your hand as you grasped the key into your hand, shoving it into the lock of your handcuffs. you unlocked yourself and just as you did so, your arms felt slightly limp. if there was one thing jason knew about you, it was that you were determined, so much so it annoyed him at times how utterly stubborn you were but in the end he loved it with every inch of him. "good girl, c'mon angel can you bring the other key over here? fuck, i'm so proud of you." but you knew it was nothings, to attempt to coax you into freeing him of the restraints.
you had the other key in your hand and somehow, you had made it to his chair, you weren't sure if you had crawled or staggered, you couldn't remember how your body moved from the wall to the centre of the room where jason todd sat in a chair, tied in restraints as you had, and you certainly weren't sure how you had managed to get a key stuck straight into his handcuffs.
it was now that you were close, now that your proximity defied you, you couldn't run, he could see every bruise that tattered your face, a large gash running across your cheek, and all up your arms was more bruises and grazes but he didn't miss how the blood soaked through your dress. your fragile, gentle body littered with so much danger, jason todd had never hated himself more and he could only assume you hated him the same, judging by the way you had not yet met his eyes, not yet said a word.
when his hands finally fell free they came to grab you, gently yet firmly as you practically fell limp. he shoved himself off the chair in an instant, crouching down to the ground with your body, holding you oh so close. he wrapped his arms around you, holding your head to his chest. he would save you but for a second he needed to hold you. to remind himself that you were here, alive, he wasn't sure if it would be the last time he ever would. how could you not hate him? it was all his fault, he was sure that after tonight, he'd never see you again, and how could he blame you?
he was expecting you to shove him away with the little strength you had left, maybe stay silent or perhaps you would raise your voice, he would have if be it he was in your position. however, what he hadn't expected was another whimper as you shoved your head into his chest and the next words to fall from your lips. "i'm sorry." sorry? you? why would you possibly be sorry? "i shouldn't have made you come to dinner, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, s-so stupid." but nothing could ease your sobs as you clung to the larger man.
"hey, hey, sweetheart none of this is your fault." as he pushed your face out of his shoulder with his hands, staring right into your beautiful eyes that looked so saddened, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you scrunched your brows together. "okay, i fucked up, i never should have left you alone and i won't do it again okay just please- fuck just dont- dont leave me." and he knew how selfish it was to ask of you, to stay with the man that was sure to ruin your life but he wouldn't, not as long as he could help it for he would cling to you for the rest of your life, if you let him.
you shook your head, allowing the silent tears to continue to make their way down your cheeks. "'won't leave. 'wont ever leave." and once again your hands clung to him, like he would disappear if you had let go. he left once, you would never allow that to happen again. "jay, e-everything hurts." everything burned, right through your skin and you couldn't help but shake in his hold.
"fuck- i know baby, i'm gonna save you 'kay? promise." and he did just that. jason todd. some said he was a hero. others say he's a villain. some say that he was once a hero and turned bad others say he was never good to begin with.
but with you? jason had never done anything but save you. an everlasting hero.
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main masterlist/jason's masterlist
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pastelbunnelby · 1 year
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Blood On My Hands (Alex Keller X Fem!Reader)
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Summary ~ You're injured on a mission and Alex rushes you to safety.
Disclaimer ~ I do not own Call of Duty or any of its characters.
Word Count ~ 1.5k
Warnings ~ blood, stab wound, stitching, angst, whump, undefined relationship, no use of Y/n
Call Of Duty Masterlist
A/n ~ I wrote this in like two hours, it probably sucks, it's unedited. Please enjoy
• I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here, it has been reposted without my permission•
UNEDITED
••••••
“How you doing back there?” Alex called back to you from the driver’s seat of the truck to where you were laying sprawled out in the back seat.
A sharp wince was the only answer you gave him as you pressed your hands down on the stab wound on your side.
“Just peachy Alex.” You groaned and dropped your head back against the cushioned seat.
The truck jostled around as Alex hit yet another pot hole in the dirt rode he was speeding down, “A few more miles, just stay awake for me alright?” He glanced back at you in the rear view mirror.
Each time you inhaled a breath it sent a sharp pain through your body that felt like you were being stabbed all over again. Your breath hitched in your throat as you shifted your body, the movement causing another wave of pain to flare out from the wound.
“Talk to me.” Alex’s voice was level but you could hear the worry lacing it.
You squeezed your eyes shut, “Where are we going?” You asked him through gritted teeth as you stared up at the headliner of the truck and followed the pattern of the mildew stains with your eyes.
“There is a village a few miles away, I have friends there that will let us lay low there as long as we need to.” He looked back at you again.
You lifted your hand off of your side and looked at your red-stained hand, the blood glistening in the dying sunlight that made it through the window.
“You just have friends everywhere, huh?” You let out a poor attempt at a laugh that sounded more like a labored cough.
“Hey,” Alex’s voice wavered for just a moment, “Keep pressure on your side, we’re almost there.”
A short nod was all you could manage as your eyes continued you grow heavier, “‘m tryin’”
That was the truth too, you really were trying your best to keep your hands pressed to your side and keep your eyes open. But the longer you lay in the back of the stolen pickup truck, the harder those tasks grew.
Alex continued to talk to you from the front seat, rambling about anything that came to his mind from his favorite football team to the snack he had been craving for days; anything to keep you awake until he could get you somewhere safe enough to patch you up.
The more Alex spoke, the less you would respond.
Where before he would at least get a short grunt or groan from the back seat when he would crack a joke, now he only got silence.
“You still with me?” He raised his voice slightly and looked back at you in the mirror, his heart sinking into his stomach when he saw your eyes were closed.
He cursed and pressed the gas peddle clear down to the floor, the village was within view so all he had to do was get there.
It was another five minutes before Alex had the truck in park and was tossing the keys to the man he knew he could trust, a local he had met a few years back when helping him on an op. The man had promised that if Alex ever needed anything he would be there, and today was the day he was cashing in that offer.
Your unconscious body hung limp in Alex’s arms as he carried you into the small run-down house that he had been directed to, a safehouse of sorts. His friend had run into his house to find any medical supplies he could while Alex got you inside.
The building was dark, the musty smell letting him know it had been a while before anyone had been inside. He didn't care though and carried you into the small kitchen area where he gently placed you down on the table and pulled out his knife to cut off your tactile vest and shirt.
“Come on, you can't die on me.” He muttered while slicing through the thick straps of your vest and moving onto the long sleeve shirt you wore underneath it.
The door behind him burst open and he didn't ever turn to look as he pulled your shirt off and moved to your side where the stab wound was.
It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out intel mission, the building was supposed to be abandoned. But it wasn't, you were both outnumbered and you ended up getting separated and injured.
It was his fault you were bleeding out on the table in front of him.
“I brought anything that I thought could help.” The man said as he set down a box of first aid supplies beside Alex, “What can I do?”
Alex’s eyes moved frantically as he worked to assess the damage, he cursed himself for not getting here faster. It was too dangerous to stop anywhere else to try and patch you up, but he should have found a way.
“Needle and thread, I need to close this up.” He made a sewing motion with his hands, “and water, I'll need water.”
Soon enough he had a need in hand and was hunched over your side working to stitch you back together as best he could. It wouldn't be pretty, and there would be a scar when it was all said and done, but it was the best he could do.
It could have been five minutes or it could have been five hours, he had no idea how long it had taken him to finish stitching the wound up. He only knew that it felt like an eternity before he was carefully pressing a clean gauze pad to your side and finally allowing himself to breathe.
He stepped back and let his shoulder drop, any adrenaline rushing through his veins had worn off long ago and he now felt the full weight of exhaustion. But, he couldn't rest, not yet, not until he was sure you would be okay.
After his friend brought him some blankets and a change of clothes for you—courtesy of his wife—he pulled up a chair beside the table and tossed the thin blanket over your body.
And then he waited.
He waited with his eyes fixed on the slow rise and fall of your chest that signaled to him that you were still alive, that there was still a chance you would wait up.
His leg was bouncing up and down as his eyes remained glued to your body, in a way you looked almost peaceful. Alex could almost convince himself that you were just sleeping, all of the damage to your side was blocked from view by the blanket covering your body, so in a way, you did look like you were sleeping.
And then your eyes opened.
The second your head moved Alex was on his feet and at your side where he could be in your line of sight.
Your eyes looked around as you tried to take in your new surroundings, you were dazed and confused.
“Hey, easy there.” Alex placed his hand on your shoulder when you tried to sit up, your eyes still bouncing around the unfamiliar room as you tried to figure out where you were.
A sharp wince and a pained expression were what made you stop fighting against him, your harsh movements making the pain in your side spike and halted your movements.
“What?” You closed your eyes and dropped your head back against the table, “What happened?” your voice was quiet.
“You passed out on the way here, you lost a lot of blood but I patched you up as best I could.” Alex grabbed your hand and squeezed it, the blood staining his hands making his stomach turn.
A few tears escaped your eyes as they remained shut and your breathing evened out, “Everything hurts.” You whispered and squeezed his hand tight.
“I know, I know I'm sorry.” he sat back on the chair, his hand never releasing yours, “We’re safe here for a few days, just until things calm down and we can get across the border,” he explained while leaning forward and pressing his forehead to your hand, “Then we’ll get outta here and go home.”
The smile you gave him was a weak one, but it was still very much there and was enough for him to smile back.
You were gonna be okay.
“Home sounds nice.”
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artistsfuneral · 10 months
Text
part 15 - sorry it took a while
When he turns, Geralt is standing right behind him, golden eyes wide with something like shock as he rings for words. "Ciri. Her name is Ciri."
Jaskier gasps, a frsh wave of tears falling from his eyes, "What- ?" Once again it's all too much for him. The constant mix of hurt, pain and confusing hope makes his head feel weird and fuzzy. He just wants his husband back. His Geralt, his sweet lovely Geralt, who always says he cannot bear to see Jaskier in distress, who panics when he cries, who hugs him, holds him, tells him he's safe and that everything will be alright. He misses him so, so much. Never- never having that again, never having his Geralt again, makes him-
He tears his wrist out of this Geralt's grip and wipes away the salty tears that just won't stop streaming down his cheeks. "What?" He repeats again, more stammering than actually pronouncing the word.
Geralt isn't doing much better. "I uh-," he looks just as helplessly shocked as Jaskier feels, "I don't know, why I- Her name is Ciri, isn't it?" Jaskier nods, hiding his face behind his hands for a moment. He has no idea what on earth is going on. This has never happened before. At this point in time, Ciri shouldn't even be a thought and yet somehow Geralt knows her name. "She likes to dance," the witcher speaks slowly as if trying to piece something together in his mind. "She made Lambert slow dance with her. I- I don't know-," he lets out a long shaky breath. "Why do I know that?"
Jaskier shakes his head. "I don't know," he whispers, voice hoarse from his emotional outburst. "You never remembered anything before."
Geralt frowns. "How many times have you done this?"
"I don't know."
"Have you done anything differently this time? Said something, or done something? Playing around with Chaos is a terribly stupid idea!"
"I'm not stupid, okay?! Just because I have no idea why you can suddenly remember Ciri's name doesn't mean I jumped heads over heels into this mess!"
Geralt sighs again, looking at least somewhat remorseful as he apologizes quietly. "It just feels like you must've done something differently for me to... remember these things.
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serickswrites · 4 months
Text
The Yule Goat
Warnings: pet whump, collar, branding, burns, conditioning, cruel whumper
"Kneel," the Master ordered as they stood in front of the Pet.
The Pet quickly dropped to their knees. It had only taken getting slapped a few times for them to realize if they didn't do as the Master ordered, there would be pain. "Yes, Master. Anything you say, Master," the Pet added hurriedly, trying to remember everything the Master wanted to hear.
"Good. You learn fast, my Pet," the Master reached down to stroke the Pet's hair.
"Thank you Master. You are too kind, Master." The Pet leaned into the Master's touch.
"I think I will keep you, my Pet. I wasn't sure at first, but you learned. And you are just so lovely to look at," the Master fisted the Pet's hair, bending the Pet's head back so they could stare into the Pet's eyes.
The Pet struggled to contain their cry. They struggled to remain pliable in the Master's grasp. But they did not struggle to avoid the Master's gaze. That had been one of their more painful lessons. The burn on their side was still painful from where the Master had slapped them with the hot fire poker.
"Don't move, my Pet," the Master said as they released the Pet's hair. "I have something for you."
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." The Pet held themself as still as possible as the Master circled them.
The Master placed something around their neck. "A beautiful collar, for my beautiful Pet." The collar was tight, but not too tight. It was heavy and felt thick. "The gemstones match your beautiful eyes, pet."
"Thank you, Master, you are far too kind, Master." The Pet tried to keep their eyes wide open to disguise the tears that filled their eyes. They were collared. How could this have happened? How will they ever be free?
"Oh, I'm not done yet, pet. I have one more thing for you."
"Thank you, Master. You are--"
But the Pet couldn't finish. The words died on their tongue as a scream wrenched from their throat. The Master pressed a burning hot branding iron to the side of the Pet's neck. "Hold very still, pet, I would hate to have to do this again."
The Pet screamed and wailed as their flesh blistered and burned. The world became a blur as waves of nausea and dizziness overwhelmed them. The Master's strong arms kept the Pet upright. "This is so lovely, Pet. Now everyone will know you belong to me. Forever."
"Y-Y-Yes, M-M-Master," the Pet whispered as they struggled to keep awake. "Th-Th-Thank you, M-M-Master."
The Pet's tenuous grip on consciousness began to fade as the Master removed the branding iron from their neck. They slumped against the Master. The Master's strong arms wrapped around them as their world grew dark. "Sleep, my Pet. Rest. You and I will resume your training once you wake."
The Master's voice was distant. The Pet knew they should respond. Knew they should thank the Master. But they couldn't speak through the heavy darkness that consumed them. They only hoped the Master would take mercy on them once they woke.
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Text
Content – vampire whumper, sadistic whumper, intimate whumper, vampire whumpee, ex-bloodbag whumpee, mentions of past dehumanization, pet whump and degrading language, non-con touch and kissing, fear of mouth whump (pulling out fangs), which doesn't happen, fear of being manipulated
They could feel Whumper's finger touching their upper teeth, one by one, as they tried not to move and keep Whumper's gaze. Whumper was smiling and their pretty red eyes looked like they were shining and Whumpee couldn't understand what in this weird situation made them feel this way. This wasn't torture, not yet, Whumper was just glaring at their teeth without a single word, as if they were deciding what their next move should be, but the prolonged waiting got on Whumpee's nerves.
"You have such beautiful fangs, you know?" Whumper broke the silence, their words made Whumpee frown involuntarily, as they tried to understand what Whumper meant by this.
Whumper removed their hand from their face, although Whumpee thought they could still feel their unwanted touch, allowing them to speak.
Whumpee closed their mouth and gulped, their face showed only pure confusion.
"What? What... did you say??"
Instead of expected response, they only got a scolding gaze and it didn't take long for them to realize what a mistake they had made.
"I apologize, I really apologize, Master, I was just... I was just surprised by your words and..." Whumper interrupted them, closing their mouth with their hand.
"You had all the right to be surprised, darling." Whumpee was sure they heard laughter in their voice. "I won't punish you this time."
Whumpee frowned again, new word couldn't leave their mind, they couldn't stop repeating in their thoughts how their Master called them. What was happening, really? Was this some kind of a new, sick game, using pretty words to describe them, making them feel so nice, even loved to destroy their stupid hopes shortly after?? They didn't know and it was slowly making them anxious.
Whumper catched their gaze and moved their hand to their hair, making the distance between them too small.
Whumpee didn't dare to lower their gaze, even if they felt increasingly claustrophobic, not just because of how close they both were right now, but because of the constant touch and the look that Whumper kept directing at him that they couldn't really identify.
"You said that... my fangs are... beautiful" they felt strange saying words like that, so unusual, like a fever dream. "What does that mean, Master?"
Whumper smiled.
"Exactly that, darling. They're beautiful. You are beautiful."
Whumpee ignored the irrationality of the whole situation, put aside the questions swirling in their head and tried to focus on what Whumper was going to do next instead. It was more important than why the hell they started calling them "darling", using such a sweet tone reserved only for lovers.
"Are you going to... pull my fangs out?" they said quietly, sudden realization made them shiver.
That's why Whumper had touched their teeth before, that's why they were in such a good mood, because Whumpee was going to be tortured. And their pain was the only thing that made Whumper ecstatic before.
They closed their eyes, unable to continue to look at the monster sitting just in front of them.
"Why do you think so?" Unexpected words made them look at Whumper again. "Of course I'm not, your fangs looks prettier in your mouth, sweetheart."
They couldn't stand it any longer.
"What's with those names?!" they dared to say, forgetting to use the word "Master" again. "I'm sorry, I.. I mean, why... why are you calling me that, Master?"
Whumper smiled.
"What, don't you like it?" they teased, confusing them even more, if it was even possible.
"I... I do, I guess? But... I wonder what in my behavior made... made you change your approach to me, Master. I... used to be your pet, right? Your bloodbag, your... your filthy, disgusting human" they spat out the words as if they were burning them. "And now you're calling me darling..." they mumbled, too lost in their thoughts to try to understand them on their own.
Whumper placed their other hand on their cheek and brought Whumpee's face even closer to them. And although their unwanted dirty touch made them want to move away as far as possible, they were grateful that they could feel it instead of the pain.
"Yes. You were exactly like that."
Whumpee grimaced.
"But you aren't a pitiful human now. I turned you. You're more than that."
Whumper brought their face even closer, so that Whumpee could see the small black spots in their bloody eyes.
"I made you so perfect."
Whumpee felt the first kiss on their cheek. They tried with all their might not to move away, to please their Master.
"I destroyed you, made you into a perfect pet, just to turn you into something even better later."
The second kiss was closer to their mouth. Whumpee trembled involuntarily with disgust.
"It was all my precious project, to make a wonderful vampire like you, so full of power and still afraid, so strong and yet unable to say something wrong without the paralyzing fear of punishment" they whispered their sickly-sweet words while kissing them closer and closer to their lips.
"You are my art."
Whumper finally reached their lips and lost themself in a too long, intimate kiss.
Whumpee almost threw up.
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chromatic-lamina · 11 months
Text
chapter 1081 spoilers—okay, angst is fun and all but...
Shachi literally means orca in Japanese. Ikkaku means narwhal. They can dive deep (Narwhals, deeper than most submarines go, I think) and survive. Penguins are pretty good underwater for a while (though I don't know about depth). The ocean is the home of sea urchins and sea angels (Uni and Clione). And have we forgotten how hardcore Penguin and Shachi went here?:
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And do you think that Jean Bart looks a little fishman here? ( A little Namur-like).
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Now, I don't know about snow geese, but we'll give Hakugan some magical properties. So while it is heartbreaking that the Polar Tang
will no longer sail the seas (and, yeah, the boys had had it forever, but this is the sub's own Going Merry moment, perhaps), I think we should believe Bepo here:
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where he urges Law to have faith in the hardiness of his North Blue crew in the depths of the ocean. His concern is more with Law (but we know he'll be okay):
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Bepo urges Law not to die, but the Hearts will continue to overcome. I don't know that they'll be captured either, but they must've almost escaped because Jean Bart was on land, right? In chapter 1064:
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But look at this instruction (also from 1064):
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where Law urges Penguin and Shachi into the water. The Hearts are fine, but I understand the angst (it's glorious, isn't it?!). I think Law's worried, obviously, but I also think he picked his crew and mode of transport for a reason beyond just remaining hidden.
But, the Polar Tang:
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the Victoria Punk
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the Jewelry Margerhita?
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Although, the Wiki says they don't know what happened to it after Bonney was captured by Blackbeard way back when, but in Egghead Jinbei does ask her:
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where her ship and crew is. She states that her ship (which might be the Jewelry Margherita) was eaten by the monsters (controlled by Lilith, right?) outside of Egghead, and that she came alone.
The wiki says: (according to Vivre Card - One Piece Visual Dictionary (Card #0511), Information about Bonney is revealed), that:
Bonney seems to prioritize her own safety over her crew's as she managed to escape Marine detainment but chose not to rescue her subordinates.
That's stark contrast to Law, and we've mostly seen her operate alone, but I'm not gonna believe the Vivre cards just yet.
Also, Kid's obviously alive if Law is and if their losses were similar in wording and visuals. I think Kid's crew have saved him, if not Shanks' crew.
BUT, once Law recovers, he'll not be sequestered in a cell for ten years before he becomes relevant again (poor Kid. Damn!).
As @purplehairedwonder pointed out, the Polar Tang was carrying Law's poneglyph copies, and I bet that the crew is carrying them. Hope so. He'd be wise enough to have them waterproofed. BUT it makes more narrative sense to have them destroyed.
Now, someone was talking about how a Klabautermann is only seen when a ship is doomed (this wikipedia article supports it, but that's as far as my sources go) and therefore they didn't include images/stories/prompts about it for the Polar Tang. I can't remember who it was! Ahh, well it seems that the Klabautermann of various ships have been very busy lately.
Kuzan, too. Kuzan is cool (haha). I'm glad we saw him. And the dialogue with the Blackbeard pirates and Kuzan. OH, I almost forgot, this angst:
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where Blackbeard taunts Law with the fact (yes, fact!) that there are a hundred pirates on Pirate Island still without their hearts, due to Law, and BB would be thrilled to punish Law for the fact, can't help but stir the whump-writer's heart (I'm sorry, Law).
AND, Koby and Law were in cahoots in some way, I'm sure of it (probably be disproven). Something similar to Luffy and Smoker at Alabasta, perhaps? Anyway.
Side note, do you think that Chopper used Caesar Clown's science and ego to help produce the rumble-ball like power-up he gave Bepo? If so, I wonder if this will come to play in the future when Caesar and Judge enter the fray again, if they do.
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yet-another-heathen · 2 months
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The First Ember - IX
1,921 words. Original work: The Jackal of An Nadr
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Content Warning | unintentional drug overdose by captors (bad side effects but not life threatening), fever whump, the very first signs of pneumonia, undressing while unconscious (medical reasons), heavy bruising, evidence of past noncon, wound/scar reveal, mention of unsanitary bodily fluids, [Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings]
Tag List | @killtheprotagonist @secretwhumplair @ink-and-salt @kixngiggles @brutal-nemesis @thebewilderer @whumpsical @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whimperwoods @shydragonrider @pizzasthengym @thecyrulik @ceph-the-ghost-writer @mylifeisonthebookshelf @ohwhumpydays @redwingedwhump @whump-queen @scoundrelwithboba @suspicious-whumping-egg
The human looked like it might not survive the night.
Yeezumon had been cradling it for the last fifteen minutes while Odrai climbed down the side of the ship to gather sand from the dunes. It was already several hours into the night, but below the topmost inch of sand, the dunes were nearly as warm as they had been during the day. He returned to the deck and passed the bags down to Ifyaa. As he did, he cast a somewhat worried glance at the human. "How bad is it?"
"...I don't know yet," Ifyaa admitted, creating a nest on their cot with the bags. "It's running a bad fever, and...." He paused, sharing a worried look with Yeezumon. "And I think we may have overdosed it on the eadh."
The little thing was showing every sign of it there was. Breaths clouded with heavy mist, despite the warmth of the cabin. Excessive tears. Cold sweat. Everything across its body that could produce water was doing so in abundance. On its own it wouldn't have even been that concerning; eadh overdoses weren't fatal. But with the fever already ravaging its system? That changed everything.
Odrai seemed to realize as much. But all he could offer was, "If anyone can save it, it's you."
Ifyaa said quietly, "Thank you, Odrai."
"We'll call on you if we need anything, but you should go," Yeezumon said gently. The human was starting into another fit of incoherent crying. "It isn't safe."
Odrai just nodded, giving the human one last, lingering look. Then he was gone, the trap door shut behind him.
The Husbands shared another look, then turned their attention back to the human. It was clinging onto Yeezumon like a lifeline, face pressed flush against the heat of his chest. Every inch of it was violently shivering against the cold. Its clothes were nearly soaked through with sweat, even to the outermost layer of its robes. Long hair had come loose from its braids and gotten tangled from tossing and turning beneath the sheets. Tear tracks, snot, and saliva smeared parts of its face. It was entirely a mess.
It was crying. Sometimes letting out incoherent jumbles of words as it dreamed, but mostly just crying. Every whine sent waves of glowing, orange pain through their chests like embers being caught by a breeze. It felt like a barb tugging on the wrong side of Ifyaa's sternum, as sharp as it was disturbing. 
He sat down on the edge of the cot, wringing out the cloth in warm water. Its eyes barely opened at all, and when they did there was no coherent thought at all behind them. Drifting, unseeing. Wherever it was in its dreams, it was lost there. And still, when Ifyaa brought the cloth to gently dab at its face, it immediately twisted away. Gasping. Taking in deep, clouded breaths like it was struggling to breathe.
There was every chance it was. The only time that an eadh overdose could be dangerous was if the lungs began to fill with fluid. That usually took weeks of constant overuse before it became a problem. But Ifyaa could hear the crackling of its lungs when it breathed too deep. Just because something was safe for the ifrit didn't necessarily mean it was for a human.
It took a while for the wave of crying to pass, the human already so burnt out that it simply couldn't continue. Yeezumon continued murmuring reassurances against its temple, running hands over it to try to give it more warmth.
Both of them were worried. But the look on Yeezumon's face was heartbreaking. 
"Habibi, if I've killed it—"
"No. No, love." Ifyaa laid a hand on his cheek. "It won't be because of the eadh. If it doesn't make it, it will be because of the fever. You haven't done anything that can't be fixed with time."
"It might not have time."
All he could do was manage a small smile. "Have you met this thing? Don't give up on it just yet."
That managed to get a huff of air in lieu of a laugh. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"Here. Help me get it out of its robes."
They moved it to the bed, Yeezumon settling in behind its back. His fingers started on the lacing of its robe. The little thing barely even stirred, boneless aside from the rhythmic strain of its breaths. 
They worked its clothes off in effortless tandem. First the burnt sepia-orange of its outer robes. Then the long pants it wore beneath, and finally the soaked-through fabric of its kurta. 
Both of them stopped entirely when they saw what was underneath. 
Bruises, mottled all across bronze skin. Across its stomach. Its knees. Rope burns spun around its wrists and ankles. A massive, red-purple blotch colored its hip most of the way down one thigh. But they were nothing compared to the dozens of bruises along the inside of its thighs and encircling its upper arms. Many the still-recognizable shape of hands.
Its chest had been wrapped with a long length of bandaging, nearly covering its entire ribcage. Just beneath its collarbone on the side of its heart, an angry red brand lay scabbed and broken. The symbol was nearly the size of the boy's own palm. It looked like calligraphy, the kind that the Qa'imrani merchants along the east edge of the desert used for trade. 
Ifyaa recognized the script before Yeezumon did. 
"The boy has been branded a thief."
It took several long moments for the implications to sink in for both of them. The horror of it wasn't even that it was a criminal. They were on a pirate ship, after all. It was so much worse than that.
"So that's why we found it all alone out there." Yeezumon wiped a hand down his face. "Its own people left it out there to die."
Over something that as an ifrit would, at worst, have lost a hand over. The two of them already knew what little regard humans had for each other's lives, but staring down the evidence of it was sickening.
"The mark can't be more than a week or two old."
"No wonder it reacted to the iron as badly as it did. And all this...." He was still staring at the bruises that disappeared all the way up under its innerwear. "It didn't even show other signs that it was hurt."
Ifyaa probed gently over the bandage on its chest. "Help me lift it up a little. I need to see how bad the wounds are." 
They readjusted, and Ifyaa began unwinding the linen starting at the bottom of its ribs. He was careful not to press too firmly, no idea what he was going to find. 
But with every unwound coil, he found only more unbroken skin beneath. A few mottled bruises, but no cuts. And his gentle probing only produced the faint winces that he'd expect of tender bruising. Nothing that indicated broken ribs. 
Ifyaa's eyebrows furrowed. And then with one more undone loop, his face lit up with surprise. "Oh."
The jackal wasn't hurt. 
It wasn't a bandage. 
Beneath the soft, brown waves of chest hair he'd been expecting, there were breasts. It was clear they'd been intentionally softened and made flatter over time, either by the repeated compression, or by hand. The boy wasn't hurt. He'd been binding. And by the looks of it, he'd been doing so for a very long time.
The Husbands made a flash of eye contact over the top of him. Then after a pause, Ifyaa's hands moved to carefully check over the rest of its ribs. It had a rather spectacular bruise on its shoulder to match the one on its hip, but aside from that he found nothing.
"Well....that's far better than I'd expected to find. At least nothing is broken. Here, lend me your hands."
Yeezumon helped him to work off its innerwear. He'd been planning to do so anyway, it needed as much skin-to-skin contact as possible for warmth. But it was the final confirmation of what they both suspected. While he certainly was a man now, he hadn't been born that way. He was one of the Inan.
And there was even more evidence of what had been done to him all the way up his thighs. Layers of bruises, in addition to scratch marks on his hips. This couldn't all be the work of one man. It was brutal. 
"Gods..." Yeezumon whispered. "No wonder it's so terrified. If its own people did this, imagine what it must think is coming for it now."
Its shivering had badly worsened with its skin exposed to the air, and its unconscious sounds of distress were as sad as they were painful. Yeezumon spent a moment working down his own pants, then lay down and drew it closer against his chest. 
He was careful to keep it away from his own bandaged shoulder, but was able to position a sandbag between its thighs where the arteries ran beneath. Then he wrapped it up in all his remaining arms, a loose embrace that it sank into immediately. A few more tears raced down its cheek. But its breaths were already coming easier now that the pressure of the binding was gone. And soon what sounds it was making were ones of exhausted, boneless relief.
Ifyaa spent a while longer cleaning the worst of the sweat from its skin, then undressed and joined them. Half his arms braided themselves between his Husband's, while the other set about gently teasing the tangles back out of the boy's hair. 
"It's going to be so angry with us in the morning," he said.
Yeezumon chuckled. "Without even the faintest doubt." A moment of quiet. "I'm almost afraid to give it more eadh at all, come tomorrow. Is there anything in the infirmary we can use as an alternative?"
"Nothing with so few side effects. We'll just have to start in much smaller doses, and see how it tolerates it." 
"Mm."
He fit his hand into one of Yeezumon's, and gave a small squeeze. They'd been married for three centuries. He knew the sound of his husband's guilt. "He's going to be alright, Habibi. Don't spare your regret on something that hasn't happened yet."
Yeezumon sighed, but gave a small nod.
Softly, "I'll take first watch. Get some sleep."
Another nod. Then as was their way, "I love you always."
"I love you longer still."
They lapsed into silence. Ifyaa spent the time carding gently through the human's hair. He enjoyed the feeling of loose waves that were so different from the curls he was familiar with. And though his mind drifted, he continued to listen as the human's heart evened out and slowed. It was falling into deeper sleep at last. 
....but after a while, something caught at the edge of his senses. The rich smell of incense, edged with a coppery tang that made his head start to spin. Pheromones as familiar to him as the number of his hands. His mouth twitched up. 
He knew exactly what his husband was thinking about—because he'd been thinking it, too. "Don't get too tempted," he said, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. "I know full well how you get when you're around them."
Yeezumon didn't open his eyes, but his mouth twitched. "You're just as guilty as me."
A chuckle. Yes, that he was. “We're still selling him.”
“Wouldn't even dream otherwise.”
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entomolog-t · 6 months
Text
Bite Me - Chapter 8
Aedes struggles with conflicting feelings. Right on time for the Promptober prompts Quiver and Regret.
Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias @soapysoap69
- - - -
Previous Chapter: Chapter 7
Next Chapter: Chapter 9
Word count: 2113
CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, Dehumanization, Minor injuries, Whump, Panic (onset panic attack), Conflicting feelings of consent
No. 
No. No. No.
Why had he said that? He was in her hand for fuck’s sake. The thought of her fingers closing around him pushed itself into his mind. Despite him no longer being restrained, in her hands he was still just as helpless, no matter the position. He needed out. He needed to get away. The space was far too small- and yet far too open. He felt exposed in front of her… No, he had been- laid out on her palm, shaking and crying- he winced, pushing the thought from his mind. Pathetic. This was all so humiliating; His fear, his powerlessness, but above all it was the bitter and undeniable truth that he had enjoyed it that sickened him the most. The way it felt to be overwhelmed… overpow- he refused to finish his thought. 
She did this to him
Made him like this
Made him like this
No. His mind winced at the thought, bucking against a reality he so desperately needed to deny. He did not like this. He refused.
Somewhere far above him, she spoke. Her voice a muffled rumble amidst the pounding of his heart and the frantic thoughts ringing in his ears. 
How could he have liked any of this? He was in danger. She was dangerous- and what had he done? Provoke her?? She had him sat in the palm of her hand and he chose to insult her? Throat tightened. She could do whatever she wanted- she had made that clear.
You’d like that though, wouldn’t you? 
His face twists, contorting with revulsion at the unwelcome thought. This was wrong. So very wrong. A sickening feeling of dread pours over him, mixing with every other agonized emotion that had bled into him- fear, anger, shame, disgust. The festering concoction wells up within him, filling him- overflowing. It clouds his vision, spilling forth as tears stream down his face. His hands shake. His legs shake. His voice shakes. Like a spool unraveled- he comes apart. 
“Please.” 
That fucking word. 
That pitiful fucking word seemed to live on his tongue. 
He chokes on it. Stifling another sob- and again- and again. He can’t stop himself-  his throat tightening, his chest heaving. Each sob felt as though it was being pulled from him against his will, as if this woman was pulling on a thread and it was he himself coming undone at her fingertips. 
A pressure, soft and light, traces slow circles at his side.
Aedes stiffens under her touch - the soft pad of her thumb grazing against his arm. Her touch was gentle, her skin warm against his own. There was a sickening temptation to lean into the touch- a yearning to let her pull at that thread, to come undone in her grasp. His gaze casts up to meet hers and he immediately wishes it hadn’t. His stomach drops. She stares at him, mossy green doe eyes brimming with concern- no. 
Pity. 
He loathes that look- the softness in her stare, the worry knit between her brows. He hates the sight of her gaze looking down at him…seeing him like… like this.
Undone.
Unraveled.
Small. 
Pathetic. 
Fuck this was so humiliating. His brain conjured up glimpses of the pitiful sight she must see- some small, frail, tear-stained creature trembling in her hand. God, why couldn’t he stop shaking?
"I-I... I'm so - I don't know why- I didn't mean to..." She can barely articulate herself. He winces as she coos to him, hushing him, apologizing. Her words strung as if they were salt in his wounded pride. Was he so frail- so fucking fragile- that he needed this? To be treated like some sort of scared animal?? He grit his teeth. 
The look of pity on her face was almost worse than her teeth on his skin- at least then he could take some twisted pleasure in the act. He resented how she looked at him… like something needing to be coddled and comforted. Even more, he hated that he understood why she would think that. 
He drew in a breath. 
Everything felt numb. There was so much noise- so much emotion buzzing around in his head that the cacophony had just become a baseline. White noise that could be shoved away to the back of his mind. He needed quiet. He needed to pull himself together.
He needed to get away.
"Put me down." Aedes voice is cold and stern- a command. As strange as it is, looking at her crying face he has no doubt she’ll follow his demand. 
A choked sound escapes her- but nonetheless, she nods, her cupped hands shaking as she lowers them. 
The moment the ground is within a safe distance, he jumps. 
There's something deeply cathartic about the sensation of his feet hitting solid ground- true to the word- it’s grounding. Stable. Certain. Predictable. 
The feeling of solid ground under his boots alone makes him feel so much more in control- That is, until he looks back towards her. 
When she’d held him at eye level she’d been big.
But now as he stood beneath her, she was utterly colossal.
Aedes watches as the human wipes tears from her eyes. There was something truly horrific about seeing emotions at that magnitude. Sadness had always seemed to shrink others- the emotion seemingly making others smaller in its wake. Yet, the sadness he witnessed at that scale felt volatile- desperate. 
“Aedes, I-” 
He runs. 
The sound of her startled inhale only makes his legs pump faster as he races past her. 
“Please.” She croaks, her hand reaching- not to grab, but instead to block his path. 
Fuck.
Aedes doesn’t slow, instead he jumps, vaulting over her hand and continuing his sprint toward- what? Where could he run to? There was no time to scale back up toward the window. Could he fit under her door? If so, then what? He couldn’t out run her- he had to hide. 
Her other hand comes down in an attempt to corral him back towards her. Aedes plants his right foot down, driving into a sharp left as he swerved to avoid colliding with her palm.
“Leave. Me. Alone.” Each word is harsh and sharp, spoken in staccato. 
She freezes, and Aedes finds himself met with silence- nothing to be heard save the pounding of his feet and the pounding of his heart. After a brief pause, she speaks.
“I’m sorry.” 
Though she had uttered countless apologies, this one felt poignant- weighing heavy in the air. There was no cooing, no hushing. Just… remorse. Before his mind can make sense in the tonal shift he hears the sound of her colossal form shifting as she stands. The sound makes his heart leap in his chest. The ground shudders with her steps, but to his shock not in pursuit. Instead the rumble of her footfalls grow farther away. 
Against all better judgment, he looks back. 
He’d taken for granted how much easier it was to look at her while she had been kneeling. The sight of her standing sent a chill through him so powerful it could nearly freeze him in place. She towered above him, the sheer difference in scale staging to behold. But no, it wasn’t her stature that made him falter- it was her actions. The woman walked away- back to her bed. Aedes watched as she sat on the edge of her bed, her head falling into her hands. Head bowed, she stared at the floor. She didn’t move, didn’t look at him, didn’t utter a word. 
Not risking his chance at escape, Aedes head swivels, looking for an apt spot to hide until he can slip out the window once more. His eyes fall on her dresser-it's wooden legs holding it a couple inches off the ground. 
He darts towards it, bending at the waist to scramble beneath it. Once under, Aedes doesn't relent, pushing further and further back until he's pressed against the wall. He wills his breathing steady as his ears adjust to the quiet. 
He hears her in the distance- Her breaths, soft and shaky, and the faint beating of her heart. Aedes frowns. He hadn’t drank enough. The pulsating call was nowhere near as compelling, but it was there nonetheless. He knew he’d have to feed again soon. Aedes rubs his hands over his face, as if he could rub away the mounting stress he was facing. 
A peculiar sound pulls him from his frustrated thoughts. Ears twitching, he listens -  sharp, almost like tapping, repeated at sporadic intervals. The sound was vaguely familiar- like the first few drops of…rain…
His lips pull into a frown as realization settles upon him. Realization turns to annoyance, and annoyance to anger. Oh, sure. SHE was upset. I’m sure SHE felt awful. He sneered. What did SHE have to cry about?
He lets his back hit the wall and his body goes limp, knees nearly tucked against his chest as he slumps down, burdened with an exhaustion that only just barely began to rear its head. 
Drip.
He stifles a groan. After this, after all of this, he had to wait for her to stop sniveling before he could make his escape? Just how long was she going to sit there and cry?
Drip.
He found his hands tracing the fearsome outline of where her teeth had been- the sting of raw skin burned under his touch.She was really crying? After all he had been through, she had the gaul to sit there and cry for - For what?? Herself?? Aedes let his head fall into his hands. He was tired. So very tired. 
Drip.
With his head hung low, out of the corner of his eye, he can see it- the purple and red speckled bruises peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. The lines from where her teeth had dragged along his skin trailing outward. Even where his shirt hid them from his view, he felt them. The dull throb of swollen tissue, the sharp sting of raw skin- he felt her touch as if he was haunted by even the memory of her. Heat rose to his face- cheeks growing hot.
Drip.
Thoughts of her filled his mind. Her soft lips softly caressing the bare skin of his midsection- the tingle the touch had left. Her eyes- hungry and half lidded- boring into him as if she could devore him with her stare alone. Her gaze flickering about him as if to savor every detail.  The way her breath hitched when he spoke - how she’d grown speechless at his words. The ghost of her touch teased him- aching in a way he most certainly shouldn’t.   
Drip.
No- He did not fucking like this. The feeling of warmth pooling in his cheeks made him sick. Despite his revulsion, despite his anger there was no willing away the sickening manner in which his heart fluttered. His claws dug into the meat of his palms, and for the life of him he wished he had something he could throw. What was wrong with him? Why.. why did he feel… like this? Why couldn’t he rid himself of the thoughts of her mouth on him, or the taste of her blood on his lips. The sight of her flushed cheeks… He drew in a shaky breath, mind drawing back to the sight of her plump lips wrapping around his torso. The feeling of pain, warmth, and excitement. His heart beating wild in his chest, her breath rolling over him, washing him in the sweet scent of her. 
Drip.
It was as through his insides writhed against him- his stomach in knots, his heart in his throat. He didn’t want to think about any of this- Fuck, he just wanted to leave- to move, to do anything but sit here and listen to her cry. How could he push all these fucking thoughts away if he had to just sit here and listen to her sobbing. He had liked it- he had fucking liked it. Her words echo in his mind- some strange little creature. He grits his teeth. Why couldn’t he just hate everything she had done? She called him a pest - a mosquito! She didn’t see him as a person. Even clothed it had felt like he’s been laid bare before her- stripped to something so disgustingly fragile. Her eyes had devoured him- taken in every little detail- and yet he was still just some strange little creature. His cheeks feel slick as his frustration boils over- the sound of his own tears mingling in with her own. 
For the second time that night, Aedes unravels.
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sneezeplease · 22 days
Text
Angel Undone
Hello fellow queers or Haz/bin enjoyers, and welcome to the results of my poll!! I had a ton of people choose option 2, and while I'm such a sucker for Huskerdust this fic kind of got away from me and this is mostly Angel whump.
Tw: Cannon-compliant Valentino Abuse, slight mess, references to ep. 4
Enjoy 2k words of Angel with a bad cold, although he does get some help in the end//
“Amorcito! Dressing room, now!" Despite how lightheaded he felt, Angel struggled to get up out of the bed, grateful that he was just doing a simple gangbang. His hands were shaking far too much to be able to untie anything, and he doubted the other “actors” were anything but disgusted with him right now. The spider tried his best to seem unafflicted, but it was rather hard when even standing up caused the room to spin. He ran a hand through his hair, and must have looked pitiful enough that some new actor helped him to stand. 
“Are you okay?” the guys voice was deep, and although he had long since made an effort to forget the name and face of the dozens of people he worked with daily, he remembered starkly where the guy was from, his breath catching in his throat and causing him to cough weakly. 
Charlie getting yelled at, looking so apologetic and teary-eyed. Valentino turned back to Angel, Angel knowing he had caused her so much pain for no reason, that he had led another one of his friends to be hurt by the cruel man who used to be so kind to him. That was when Angel really knew he couldn’t stay like this anymore, that he needed to fight back in the smallest ways so Val could lose interest. 
“Not really, can you- help me to the wall?” His voice was quieter than it ever was while he was performing, but he really didn’t want to get the man sick after he had been at least decent to Angel. He knew that the only person in the industry who really liked him was Valentino, and he was fucking fine with that. He had to be, there was no way he could change that when Val was so fucking controlling. 
[in the back of his fever-addled mind, Anthony was able to recognize that he had never wanted this life. The sinner was manipulated into it, and his feeling of helplessness is what caused his deeply rooted desire to forget everything, to numb the pain of his bleeding heart for even just a moment]
"Here… you look way… out of it. Did ya start using again?” Despite his aching throat, Angel scoffed loudly. 
“Of course I didn’t! It’s just- some cold I picked off from the prin— from where I live, alright? it’s nothing else!” He didn’t bother to say that he had sworn to his best friend that he could stay away from drugs and didn't feel the need to explain something like that in such an open environment. Instead, Angel tried to stumble forward to the door. He was so- so close, when that terrible tickle got even worse in his head. His stuffiness switched to a twitching, lingering itch, and despite rubbing it slowly, it did nothing to help. 
The spider felt his breath catch, almost like a moan, as he began to sneeze? No, he wasn’t sneezing yet, but it felt like he had to sneeze so much that it was making him gasp and whine, teasing him much worse than an orgasm ever had. “Uhhhhh’kSHIEEwww!! Uhhhh’PTChhh!! Ehhhhh’Tshihhh!” he managed to bring an arm up to sneeze into, only moving it down to grab the doorknob. “It doesn’t sound like any cold, but if that's what you want it to be it can-” the man shrugged before walking away from Angel, leaving the spider sinner to take a deep breath in. he knew what was waiting in the dressing room, but he also knew that he had to face Valentino. Hopefully, it would be quickly over with, but Angel Dust wasn’t going to count on it. 
He opened the door nearly silently, then winced as he saw Valentino sitting down on his chaise lounge, smoking like he always did. “Angel Dust, someone isn’t looking too good. Tell me, did you finally come to your senses? Or is this just the consequence of being around such filth at that damned hotel?” Before Angel could even speak, Valentino’s face twisted into something sinister and angry, the rage he usually concealed displayed as he stood up and walked closer to the other. 
“Perhaps… you’ve gotten terribly close to Lucifer’s bimbo daughter, haven’t you? Or the old-timey overlord that Vox can’t stand? You probably got sick from whoring yourself out again, without my permission!” Angel winced at the accusations, his arms crossing over his body to defend himself. Despite how much progress he ever thought he had made, it always faded away in this forsaken dressing room, where his confidence and self-esteem had been destroyed so many times before. 
Still, Angel knew the repercussions of not filling the silence, knew the blows he would be getting for being cowardly if he didn’t even attempt an excuse. Between the fever and the panicking, all Angel could manage was a shitty, overused excuse: 
 “Val, I didn’t mean to get sick, I swear!”
“Really? You didn’t leave me just so you could find some other bitch to control you? To make you feel good?” His leash materialized suddenly as Valentino yanked him closer. The pressure from the collar on Angel's throat caused him to cough harshly, whining as he finally got his breathing under control. 
“I haven’t! I just help out at the hotel, that’s all! Someone probably wandered in while— while!!” He tried every trick he could think of to stop himself, even putting his tongue to the roof of his mouth. constrained as he was, he knew he was too close to Valentino to not sneeze on him. 
“While?” Valentino blew a puff of smoke in his face, and that was what did it. Any control Angel had fought for was quickly taken away from him, the usually clingy scent from his cigarette now invading his nostrils and causing him to lose his breathing. 
“HEhhhHHH’GSHUEWWWW!!! EHHHHHH’TCHuhhhh!!! HAhhhhh’CHIEWWWWW!!! AHhhhhh”PSHOOOO!! Uhhhhhh’TSHUEWWWWW!!! IHHHHHH’KSHIEHHHH!!” The sneezes caused him to pull against the restraints with each one, and they were definitely loud enough to hear from outside the room. Valentino first looked intrigued when Angel seemed to be moaning, but now he looked nothing short of disgusting.  
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to Snehhhh-EIhhhhh’TCHIEHHHH!! HIHHHHHH’KSHUHHHH! EHHH’PTSHUEWWWW!!” The tickle was far too overwhelming for Angel to even attempt to cover or hide them, and all he could really do was sneeze, the perfume from the smoke setting his nose aflame. 
“Fine!” The chains released as Valentino threw them aside. That caused Angel to stumble and fall, barely being able to shift and fall on the couch, even if it was face first. “I’ll call off the team for today, but you only get three fucking days Angel! Three days to get rid of that disgusting illness.” The door slamming shut only made Angel's headache worse, but at least he could get dressed now, right?
He tried to get dressed for fifteen minutes, having to pause between his skirt and shirt to muffle another wrenching fit. Each sneeze was taking away energy Angel Dust simply didn’t have and caused him to cough afterwards. The usually high-spirited spider was barely functioning, and he grabbed a black robe to cover himself with, as an added layer of heat (not that he could keep warmth well anyways).
Angel dust isn't quite sure how he got back to the hotel, but the spider was close to tears when he finally opened the door. His entire body felt like it was freezing and overheating at the same time, the fever that had given his fur a notable pink flush getting worse as he pushed his body to the -
"Angel? What happened? Charlie came up to him, her hand hovering like she waited to support him but waiting for his consent, and Angel only pulled himself together long enough to give her a plastic smile. 
“Nothing Toots. It was just a long day at work-" his second set of arms appeared again to steady himself as he tried to hold off the sneeze long enough to make sure he wouldn’t get Charlie-
“hhh’EhhhhhhTch’ieWwwww!!” The one time he had wanted not to make an entrance, and his body couldn’t even listen to him. his sneezes were typically over the top, and while he didn’t find the sensation good or bad, he wished that just once he could sneeze quietly. 
“Damn you! Are you feeling alright?” And now Charlie sounded way too sympathetic. Angel had to resist the desire to bang his head against one of his arms, he knew there was no way to hide his sickness now. 
So he did what came most easy to him when feeling his shittiest: put on a good performance. “I feel great Tootz! Just amazing, ya know?” he racked his brain to think of something, anything, that could make him sneeze like this, but besides one that could get him kicked out of the hotel, nothing else came to mind. 
“You look ill, my effeminate fellow!” Alastor was smiling like usual, even though Charlie was currently attempting to help Angel to the foyer couch. He fell on it dramatically, batting his eyelashes a couple of times. 
“I’m not sick, just had an extra-long day of work. Val’s going on some “honeymooning” weekend with that TV head and the other one, so he made me work for my time off. Nothing I can’t handle, I’ll be fine with some rest–” his voice cut off at the end of his perfect performance, the tones and inflections making his piss poor excuses actually believable.  Angel couldn’t even remember the last time he felt this sick and miserable from something other than trying to quit cold turkey.  The spider couldn’t even turn his head before coughing his lungs out, and it must have sounded bad enough that Al slipped back into the shadows, leaving just the two of them.
“Here you go Angel,” Charlie gently placed a cup of water into his hands, which the sinner gulped down eagerly. 
“Thanks Toots.” Angel couldn’t keep up any sort of act anymore, and he opened his eyes slightly to see Charlie hesitating to run a hand through his hair. “You are a lifesaver, I tell ya.” he drank the water as fast as he could, gulping it down. It barely did anything for his nose, but at least now he could actually say a few words. 
“I could get you some medicine, or an ice pack, or a heating pack but Nifty took that somewhere so it might take awhile, and actually-a-thermometer-would-” Angel laughed softly, but he appreciated how much care Charlie showed to him. Right now, after he had just been belittled and mocked by Val, most of his cares flew out of the window, including any personal touch.
Charlie had just felt his forehead and compared it to her own when Angel felt his nose twitching once again. He wished that it would just stop, that he could force all of these aches to go away and just be able to sleep. “Toots, ya should try to m-move…” Charlie pulled back quickly, although she seemed confused as to the reason. “Is something wrong? I can get you an ice pack or more water–” Charlie’s worried ramblings were cut by Angel lifting a finger, his breath catching a couple of times. It sounded ragged and desperate, but he couldn’t control it. “Ahhhhh’Kihhh’SCHOOooo!! Hahhhh’TCHIewww!! Iehhhh’KCHUHHHH!! HeHHH’SHuHhhhh!!” The fit even sounded tired, and Angel groaned lightly as he did so. “Angel, are you sure you don’t want some help to your room? I could see if Vaggie or-” Charlie stopped talking, looking over Angel's head. All the sinner could do was grumble, hiding his face in the pillow. 
“It’s fine toots, I’ll just fall asleep right here. No need to mess with that room stuff,” A deeper chuckle came from behind Angel's back, and he didn’t need to look back to tell Husker was there. He hid further into the pillow, determined to keep another person from seeing him like this, especially one that Angel had gotten so close to. 
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rat-father · 8 months
Text
Part 2 to this because someone asked (how did you guys even find that post it's over a year old)
-- TW;; conditioned whumpee, pet whump, caretaker new master --
Caretaker gazed hesitantly at the pet at his feet. What was he supposed to do with them? He never understood the joy behind owning a slave. He lowered himself to his own knees. Slowly reaching his hand out to rest on Whumpee's head. He never planned to be in this situation. Whumpee smiled into his touch. He felt guilt warm him. Caretaker had done nothing to decided the poor pet's fate, but he still felt so bad sitting in front of them, seeing another human tortured into acting like this.
How was he supposed to provide for someone who fully believes they don't deserve the bare minimum? He was no psychologist. He couldn't handle this.
But the people that could 'handle' pets were the ones that brought them into existence in the first place. And while he never dreamed of ever getting a pet of his own, willingly giving a pet to someone he knew would torture them was something he'd see in his nightmares.
The pet— Whumpee, raised their head again slowly with tensed shoulders. He didn't meet their gaze immediately, gathering a smile for when he did.
"This will be your new forever home."
He crouched in front of them. His hand reached out to unlock his collar. The metal hitting his tiles both satisfying and a screech in his ears.
"I won't give up on you, Whumpee," Caretaker whispered.
Whumpee returned his smile twice as bright, but he was sure they weren't smiling for the same reason as him.
He gave them a hand and pulled them off the floor. The pet stabilized themselves by clinging to his arm, shock wide in their eyes. Yet they swallowed their words and didn't question their new owner.
"I don't think the floors are very clean. Let's just walk, okay?"
Whumpee nodded, and noted to mop them as soon as possible.
"Are you hungry, Whumpee? I can make you food?"
"Ah— no, no, Master. Pets are supposed to make food for their Owners! If, if it's feeding time, I can make food for myself, and clean everything afterwards to not burden Master." They hurriedly spoke up.
He paused.
"Alright. You can go do that…"
Would they even know where the kitchen is? Obviously not, they've never seen the house. He'd have to show them around before anything else. But they already darted past him and found their way in a rather impressive amount of time.
He'd leave them alone for a little bit, then. There was still a lot to clean up in his hallway. And the sight of the darned box served as nothing but reminder of the new truth.
-
| 13:03 PetPaper question submission
| 13:01 PetPaper
| 12:48 How to tell if your pet is comfortable around you
| 12:45 Ways to make your pet feel comfortable in a new home.
Whumpee stayed true to their word about not being a 'burden' to Caretaker. Silently approaching and kneeling beside him while he bit his nails searching through the internet for answers. They could've gone completely unnoticed, had they not timidly spoken up to advice him against the bad habit.
"Sorry, Whumpee… Wait, have you eaten already? Do I have anything you like, or do I need to buy something for you?"
The pet considered their answer carefully. "Pet's don't have preferences, Master." They shook their head.
Well that wouldn't help him at all. There was a chance Whumpee was someone that truly liked anything, but, it wasn't anything to count on. He'd have to somehow figure it out. Maybe when Whumpee got more comfortable, they'd tell him.
"Alright."
Staring down at Whumpee from the couch, Caretaker felt like he was taken all the way back to square one. The pet visibly relaxed almost every time he spoke. There was so much trust and affection in their doe eyes. Like staring at the remains of a flame inside a shattered lantern. Normal people did not place their lives in the hands of a complete stranger, yet they did so without hesitation.
Judging solely off the lack of scars peeking above their shirt, and the branded clothing they wore, he could only assume he was Whumpee's first real owner. It did explain the behavioral difference between them and all his family and friend's pets. Whumpee has been abused. But not to the extent of the pets he knew.
Caretaker shuddered, wondering if all pets acted like this at first. If they all had a glimmer of hope in them. His shaky breath caught in his throat imagining what must've happened to snuff it out. The longer he thought about it, the sicker he felt.
Cold arms wrapped around him. Or maybe he was getting too hot. Their soft voice told him 'everything will be fine, master'. The tears he hadn't noticed welling up started to roll down. He shouldn't be getting comforted by the person he was supposed to help. He didn't experience even a sliver of the pet's trauma. He didn't need the attention.
Caretaker placed his hand on theirs.
"I'm fine, Whumpee. Thank you."
They retracted their arms, but he grabbed their hand and slid off the couch to pull them into a more proper hug. They froze up in surprise. Then relaxed on his shoulder.
Caretaker wished they could hold onto Whumpee until the end of time, so their momentary peace could last an eternity.
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whumpshaped · 6 months
Note
Brainwashing+whumper to whumpee
tw conditioning, lab whump, whumper turned whumpee, electrocution
"What you've done was wrong."
Whumper laughed. "Yeah. Sooo wrong. I regret it soooo much." They tilted their head to the side, the grin never leaving their face. "Do I need to repent now?"
Their captors exchanged a glance, but their faces never betrayed any emotion. They were cold, calculating, only there to do their job. "In a way, we could call it that."
Whumper gasped when the electrodes stuck to their body all started firing at the same time, lighting all their nerves on fire. They were lucky to black out fairly quickly.
-
"What you've done was wrong."
Whumper scoffed. "Sure. What, another round of shock therapy now? Are you just gonna keep going until I agree? I mean, I can agree with you right now. What I've done was messed up, there you go."
Nobody appreciated their soulless delivery and empty words. Whumper watched them turn on the machine, and they swallowed.
Here we go again.
-
"What you've done was wrong."
Whumper groaned, letting their head tip back as far as it would go. They stared up at the all-white ceiling, wondering why this was happening to them. So many other people had done wrong things in the past. Why them?
Their lack of response didn't end in a lack of punishment like they'd hoped. The electrodes went off again, and much to their dismay, they were awake all the way through this time.
-
"What you've done was wrong."
Whumper shivered and nodded. They wanted it to end. They just wanted out. They hated the pain, they hated the sticky feeling of the electrodes on their skin. "It was wrong. It was."
"Why?"
Whumper looked up at the lead scientist, furrowing their brows. "What?"
"Why was it wrong?"
They didn't know the answer to that question yet. Nobody had told them! They squirmed a little, getting nervous about the possibility of getting it wrong. "Because... because I hurt people?" When they saw the people sharing a look again, they thought they'd faint. "No, wait– I'm sure of it, I'm sure of my answer!"
It didn't matter.
-
"What you've done was wrong."
Whumper sniffled. "What I've done was wrong. I hurt others, I played god, I made people suffer for my own enjoyment. It was depraved and wicked."
"Do you regret your actions?"
"Yes! Yes. So much."
"Why?"
"Because I was wrong! My actions were wrong! I wish I could take it all back and undo the pain I've caused!"
There was a pause, and Whumper thought they'd messed up again. They squeezed their eyes shut, waiting for a shock that never came.
"We'll help you make it right," they said, and Whumper let out a relieved sigh. "You want to make it right."
"I do. I want to make it right. I'll do whatever I have to."
~
general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper
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dresden-syndrome · 2 months
Text
4/V-1962. Labor reeducation camp [redacted], People's Union Republic of Hungary, EESU.
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"I did escape from here? Where am I?"
The first thoughts rushed in Tibor's head as the scalding pain in his leg woke him up. His first instinct was to try to stand up, get out, which he immediately realized wasn't possible.
"Why... I can't get up! What's happening?"
The wounded leg, trembling and burning all over, along with the cold grip of horror, were only making matters worse. Tibor wasn't sure whether it was a strange vivid dream - crawling into a crack in the barbed wire fence, running, running for his life, to the pine trees and tall grass ahead, camp guards shouting, a blinding strike of pain... No way it happened... This must be a dream. Yet this place, the wound, the tight straps on arms and legs, the familiar faces and smells - it all feels terrifyingly real.
"Why are these straps on me?"
"Calm down, Tibike", a doctor replied, carefully untying the blood-soaked bandage on his leg, "It's to be sure you won't run away anymore."
"Run away?..."
"You've escaped from the camp on today's morning. I think you remember what it means."
Doctor's words struck Tibor like a punch in the stomach. The cold, freezing, numbing feeling all over his body.
It's over. It's all over.
He started recalling his first day in the camp. That cold, windy day in December, standing in a crowd of confused men in blue winter jackets, listening to the long list of rules accompanied by same old praises for Supreme Commander. Then, one rule that stood out first. "Escape from the territory of the camp, or escape from your assigned territory of work, is punishable by demotion to class 4". Just as most of the men in the crowd, Tibor was frightened - yet after that never once it crossed his head; he'd never imagine that one day it could be his own fate. He didn't know anything about class 4 aside from a few rumors but one thing was clear: nobody who was convicted as class 4 was ever seen or heard of again.
"I can't believe it... I can't be here... I can't be here..."
Staying there, waiting for the guards that could come at any moment, to be assigned as class 4 and taken to somewhere away. At any moment. Just imagining that felt like a torture; even for him, a class 3 political offender who went through a lot of actual torture since last year, this felt no better.
Tibor's panicky thoughts were interrupted by another doctor entering the ward. One of the "good" doctors, much more kind and trustworthy than many others here.
"Doctor Kertész!..."
"Good evening, Tibor. I brought water, if you want to drink", he smiled, coming closer to the bed.
Now Tibor was looking at doctor Kertész as if he was the last hope.
"Thank you! Please... Please could you help me...?", he whispered in a trembling voice, "See, they tied me to bed... I didn't do anything..."
He could sense the answer by the doctor's darkened expression.
"Sorry.
It was an escape attempt. I'll try to be here before they take you."
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aussiepineapple1st · 10 months
Text
What is Happening to Me (Part 15)
Leon x F!Reader
Words: 1,673 Contains: Whump, Angst, Death.
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Leon had already scooped you up into his arms, making another 2 of the suppressants. One for if you need it again and another for the BSAA's Lab. Your arms were wrapped around his neck to help hold yourself up in his arms, not wanting to be heavy for him to carry. Leon didn't mind, you were light enough to carry comfortably for a long distance. One of the reasons he made sure he was strong was to carry anyone if need be, especially you.
Making your way back down in the elevator Leon walks down the stairs to ground level and walks you out of the building. Taking you all the way through the town back to the car you had driven here.
"What happened?" The Sargent in charge asked as he followed you to the car.
"We were attacked by the man in the picture. He's dead, L-Pill from what it looked like." Leon explains as he opens the passenger side of the vehicle and places you gently on the seat. He straps you in and closed your door. "I will be sending the BSAA here to collect anything from the labs we found, your men are to stay posted until further orders are given to you." Leon says walking around to the drivers side and hops in. Before closing the door he stops and looks to the Sargent. "You and your men have done well."
With that he closed the door, starts the car and takes off towards the facilities. "Hang on, okay?" Leon says flicking a quick glance at you then resting a hand on your lap. You open your eyes and give him a weak smile, you could still feel the effects of whatever you had been injected with. Your limbs wouldn't move at your will and your chest felt like a child of 5 was sitting on it. "I'll be fine..." You say before you let your eyes close once again.
Hunnigan had contacted the hospital on the BSAA grounds, they probably thought you all couldn't handle yourselves or something. Two admitted within hours of each other? Very unlucky. They were waiting for his arrival, hopping out of the car he races around to unbuckle you and pull your limp body from the car. He didn't know when you had passed out, but you had been out since he asked if you were still with him 3 minutes ago.
He placed you on the stretcher and he gives the description as well as both the syringes he had acquired. Explaining one is for the lab and one if for if they need to use it on her, still not sure what was pulsing through your veins or taken host in your body yet. Standing alone in the hallway now Leon felt his legs finally go weak under him, the adrenaline leaving his body. Making his way towards Chris' room he walks in and flops down on the seat beside Chris' feet. He leans forwards, head in his hands as he rest his elbows on his knees. His friend and lover were in this hospital, far from home. Leon sits there, in the same position for about 10 minutes, it didn't feel like that long. Your form, limp in his arms and screams kept replaying in his minds eye and ears.
"What's wrong with you?" Croaked one Chris Redfield, having been watching Leon beside his feet for probably the passed 30 seconds.
Leon was startled from his thoughts, head lifting up to reveal red, wet eyes. Not realising himself that he had been crying. This however caused a tightness in Chris' chest and looked around the room for you, there was no way Leon would be crying over him. "Where's (Y/N)?" Chris asked. Looking directly at Leon who wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, leaning back in the chair he was in. Not daring to look at Chris. "Leon.."
"She was injected with some kind of virus or parasite." He explained. Chris just kept his eyes on Leon. "She... Is here now. Hopefully they can help her, but I don't know if they can or even will be able to find a cure in time."
"Don't say that..." Chris didn't want to believe it, but Leon was just preparing himself for the worst.
Silence sat between the two men for a while. Chris still feeling groggy from the after effects of the Plaga being in his system, Leon still going through all the possibilities of what was going to happen to you. Leon did, however, speak up after a while. Filling Chris in on what they had found, that a Plaga had in fact been inside of him, and the possible reasons for the attacks here. The man probably responsible was now dead, wanting to seemingly get revenge on you for destroying everything he had worked for. It seemed stupid, only to kill himself in the end, not knowing whether he had done any harm to you or not.
-----*4 Hours Later*-----
Chris had been taken off the vaccine for the Plaga, his bloods coming back to show he was completely cleared of the parasite. Nurses and doctors had been coming in to get him prepared for air lifting him home to the United States. That way he could heal on familiar ground. Leon was sitting off to the side on a couch along the wall, slouching back his arms were crossed over his chest. Chris was sitting up, watching Leon as his head would bob forwards, then back up as he tried to keep himself awake. Adjusting himself every so often and shaking his foot to try keeping himself awake.
A Doctor walks into the room causing Leon to become alert, thinking he had come in for Chris once again. He started to get comfortable before his name was called rather than Redfield's. Both of them perk up, Leon standing to his feet.
"Mr. Kennedy, could I talk to you outside for a moment?" The Doctor asked, the look in his eyes told Chris and Leon something was wrong.
"No, I want to hear what you have to say. I am close with her as well." Chris piped up, both Leon and the doctor looking to him.
The doctor inhales deeply and crossed his hands in front of his pelvis. "Alright." Looking down to the space between him and Leon he was silent for but a moment before speaking. "We did everything we could."
"No.. You're just.." Leon had a smirk, his head shaking. "You're playing a joke on me.. Right?" Leon lets out a nervous laugh, looking to Chris who had started to sit at the edge of his bed.
"I wish I were, Mr. Kennedy. She succumbed to the internal damage the initial injection had caused."
"I want to see her." Leon demands, he still didn't believe what this man was saying. Chris had made his way to stand beside Leon, a hand being placed on his shoulder, squeezing tight to try and ground the man in denial.
"I'm afraid we can't let you do that. Her body is currently in quarantine."
"I don't care! I want to see her!" Leon wasn't showing physical aggression towards the doctor, he knew he was only doing his job. Chris lowering his head as he placed his other hand on Leon's second shoulder.
"Leon, sit down." Chris starts to guide his friend backwards towards the lounge he was seated in before.
"I can't..!" Leon's words were cut off by a sob jerking his chest. "Oh god.." He flops onto the lounge when he felt it against his calves.
"I've got him. Will we be able to take her body home with us?" Chris asked, a hand rubbing at Leon's upper back as he once again leant forwards on his knees.
"Again, I don't know if that's possible. With her body still not confirmed contagious or not, we wouldn't be allowed to have her body travel with others present."
Chris gives a nod. "Thank you.."
"You will also be allowed to leave any time from now, Mr. Redfield."
Chris just gives another silent nod and the doctor stays for a few seconds longer, then turning and leaving the room to give them both privacy. "Leon?" Chris was gentle with his words, he knew the guilt he must be feeling right now. Chris had also lost so many people he cared about. But never had he lost his love.
Leon's face had flushed of all it's colour, sitting up and back against the couch Chris could now see he was in shock. As if on queue Hunnigan was calling in Leon's left ear. Chris saw his hand go to reach for his ear but let it drop back to his side. Removing the earpiece Chris places it in his own, answering the call.
"Leon! You haven't given me any updates for 4 hours now!" Hunnigan stressed on the other side of the line.
"This is Chris Redfield."
"Chris? Where is Leon and (Y/N)?"
Chris looks to Leon who was still pale, staring off into the distance, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Leon is here beside me. We just received news that (Y/N) died from internal injuries caused by the parasite." There was silence on the other side of the line, then the sound of frantic typing.
"Have either of you confirmed this with your own eyes?" She asked still typing away.
"No. Her body is in quarantine and they won't allow us to see her."
"What? That's not.." She goes silent, thinking for a moment. "Thank you, Chris. Send Leon home as soon as possible."
Chris frowned at this order, he wasn't even given time to grieve before being sent home for briefing. "Copy." Then the line goes dead. Removing the earpiece he placed it in Leon's hand. "She wants you to come home as soon as you can."
Leon only nods. He didn't even hear what Chris had said, his body had just gone into autopilot.
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