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#oc whump
whumpurr · 3 months
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i'll take "bruises and blood" for 500, please
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kabie-whump · 9 days
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Okay let’s do this.
CYOA Whump - Part 1
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
It’s hot. That’s all you can think about anymore. The sails used to cast a shadow over you but the sun has moved further in the sky with every passing hour and now it beams down on you relentlessly.
You’re tied to the ship’s mast on the forward side, facing out towards the endless sea in front of you. Behind you, you can hear the crew chatting and singing to pass the time as they work. A lone crewman sits nearby, tasked with guarding you.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Next
Soft CYOA whump taglist (you’re on here if you showed interest at all or if you’re on the ventis list so let me know if you want to be added or removed): @scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump @whumperofworlds @hauntedroseart
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These prompts have snowballed into an ongoing series following the beloved Fem!medic!oc trope (written via 1st person reader with no real descriptors). They're in chronological order, and I've tried to make sure to mention if any earlier works in particular are referenced in each one.
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If there is a trigger warning that you are concerned about but want to enjoy the story, please please please reach out! In many instances I can alter snip-its or tone things down, or at least highlight the sections in question so you can avoid them (I could do a vague summary for continuity).
Also, these stories are getting added to Ao3 via Monday updates. I'm not dumping them all at once, but you're welcome to pop on over if you prefer that format - just don't forget to drop a kudos/comment!
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Touch Starved - Echo - The new medic catches Echo hiding a strained shoulder and gives him a much needed massage.
Warnings: Pretty mild – some cussing, a bit of angst, otherwise just a lot of comfort via a much needed massage
Round 2 with Echo! - just a soft second massage because I wanted to write it - Warnings: Body dysphmorphia from prosthetic limbs, angst, some anxiety/tension from a thigh massage
TS Ch 2 - Hunter - Doc convinces Hunter to let her help him through a tension headache.
Warnings: Tension headache, no real warnings - just another much needed massage
TS Ch 3 - Wrecker - An innocent request leads Doc to a horrifying discovery that she's quick to remedy.
Warnings: Reference to child neglect/ starvation, star wars cursing
TS Ch 4 – Tech - Left alone on the Marauder while the others retrieve a replacement part, Doc and Tech discuss the local culture while Tech works on mechanical upgrades. The unfortunate side effects of his poor posture prompt Doc to step in with a helping hand.
Warnings: Discussion of cultural/religious differences, joking reference to reverse harem, touch aversion, medical language
TS Ch5 – Crosshair - Fed up with Crosshair's dismissal of her help after a nearly disastrous escape, Doc finally snaps.
Warnings: Maybe light arachnophobia? Cursing, yelling, brief mention of injection
Flinching - OC&TBB - Doc has a dangerous near-encounter while away from the boys. They aren't pleased when they find out.
Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, some cursing, borderline panic attack.
F Ch 2 - OC&Echo - Echo patches Doc up after her attack.
Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, some cursing, wound care, energy crash from excessive bacta use, non-intimate undressing, some self-deprecating thoughts
F Ch 3 - OC&TBB - Doc tries to lighten the mood en route to speaking with her superior officers.
Warnings: Mostly fluff, but still some reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming
F Ch 4 - OC&TBB - After the grueling retelling, Doc has a brief talk with Cody regarding her place in the GAR before finally returning to learn that her squad has a surprise for her.
Warnings: Summarized attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming. The first half is heavy, not gonna lie, but there's nothing explicit.
Muzzled - Crosshair - Crosshair is captured by Separatist forces. Though brief, his time imprisoned left him in need of help.
Warnings: Some light medical jargon and an injection, a bit of cussing, kinda muzzle/gag duo complete with saliva
M Ch 2 - Crosshair - Hiding an injury rarely ever ends well. Luckily, Doc notices something is still wrong.
Warnings: This one's gone some proper medical procedures - gore/blood/injections. Adult language. Good bit of guilt and angst.
TS Ch1.5.5 (because Cross needs more attention) - Crosshair - Nothing's easy with Crosshair, but after a joke goes too far, he and Doc manage to find a deeper trust in each other.
Warnings: More cursing, panic attack
Knife to Throat - OC&TBB - Doc is blindsided by a grief-maddened civilian.
Warnings: Blood and cursing. Kinda flirting with death a bit, and some light fluff that goes with it. Knife wound and subsequent medical procedures.
Soft Words - Hunter - A Separatist outpost sets a cruel trap for Hunter. The Doc tries to keep him sane until rescue comes.
Warnings: Went very heavy in the whump with this one – sound torture, imprisonment, mild language
Secrets Revealed – OC&TBB - An unexpected EMP forces Doc to reveal aspects of their past that could well turn the batch against them. (Censored version for those uncomfortable with heavy gore)
Warnings: Explicit details of severe injury – blood/gore, language, panic attacks, angst, PTSD flashbacks, self-depreciation, offhand reference to minor character death. This one hits a lot of potentially triggering topics pretty intensely and is fueled from a very dark place I was in with my own injury. Be kind to yourself. Healing is a nonlinear process.
Made to Watch - OC&TBB - Doc becomes the subject of torture in an attempt to force intel from Hunter.
Warnings: Get yuh whump here! Fresh, violent whump! Explicit details of torture and physical injuries, blood and minor gore, broken bones, near death, language.
Panic - Echo - A quiet discussion between Doc and Hunter is delayed when Echo has a nightmare. Doc tries to ease him through it, resulting in a fun bit of shared taunts with Crosshair the following morning.
Warnings: Nightmare-induced panic attack. Non-intimate bed sharing. Fictional curses (does that need a warning?), sexual innuendo
No Anesthesia (Extra per request) – OC&TBB – Wrecker’s overzealous efforts to destroy a building lead to Doc getting pinned in a dire situation.
Warnings: Very heavy whump in this one, with a couple moments of descriptive gore and medical procedures, impalement, difficulty breathing, near death, cursing. TW: claustrophobia
Found Footage - OC&TBB – A pleasant moment at 79s is shattered when someone tries to blackmail doc with footage of the crash on Agamar.
Warnings: Huge PTSD warning here. Flashbacks, disassociating, past injury description, blackmail, grief, angst, some alcohol use (social, not abuse), cursing
Difficulty Breathing – Medic OC&Wrecker- During a mission in a cave, Doc realizes she didn't come out of the rubble of that building with only physical scars, but is determined to push through.
Warnings: Big Claustrophobia warning. and Bats. Ptsd, panic attack. That's about it for this one!
DB Ch 2 - OC&Wrecker - Wrecker and Doc face additional challenges in their attempt to reach the surface.
Warnings: Heights, bats, mild gore, drowning, near death, hypothermia
DB Ch 3 - OC&TBB- When Hunter reveals what really prompted the cave beasts to attack, Doc is faced with an impossible decision.
Warnings: hypothermia recovery, thought of mortality (no character deaths), extreme guilt/angst/self doubt. Talked of wartime casualties. Dis one do be pretty tense, sooo prepare yourselves I guess
Fever – Tech - Tension are high after Doc's discussion with Commander Cody, but when Tech is exposed to a certain fungus, she doesn't hesitate to help.
Warnings: Angst, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores.
Fever - Tech Pt 2 - The effects of the spores quickly wear off, rending Tech into a severe withdrawal.
Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, sense of impeding doom, high fever, vomiting, delirium-induced violence, strangulation, cursing, needles/IV
Fever - Tech Pt 3 - Crosshair and Echo take a moment to remind Doc that she needs to take care of herself, too, as Tech continues fighting through the effects of withdrawal.
Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, needles/IV, seizures, light angst
Fever - Tech Pt 4 - Hunter and Wrecker each spend time helping Doc tend their brother.
Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, needles/IV, paranoia induced violence, blood, broken nose, vomiting, dry heaves, mild sexual tension
Fever - Tech Pt 5 - Things get worse before they get better.
Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, needles/IV, angst, fear of death/decommissioning
Fever - Tech Pt 6 - Finally through the worst of it, everyone is allotted a moment to breathe before returning to Kamino.
Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, reference to vomiting, delirium induced violence, guilt
More then Skin Deep - Wrecker - Doc notices something about Wrecker while training and offers her help.
Warnings: Light sexual tension, reference to past injury, disabilities and light prejudice from appearance - It's mostly just some softness fluff.
"Not Gonna Believe This" - Doc & Tbb - Chow time on Kamino dissolves into chaos in the wake of thoughtless words.
Warnings: Fighting, broken nose, blood, light medical procedures, mild guilt, bit of sexual tension, reference to bullying
Arrows (Special Request) - Doc - A brief moment of peace precedes a mission doomed to misfortune.
Warnings: Bone/joint injury, some PTSD, brief insect creature, mild sexual tension (when isn't there with these guys)
Arrows - Doc Pt 2 - Rapid medical care is given, but it offered little reprieve.
Warnings: Bone/joint injury, profanity, vomiting, heavy whump, medical procedures, needles
Arrows - Doc Pt 3 - Medication offers some relief before the team splits up to retrieve a cure.
Warnings: This one's pretty mild - descriptions of pain, some guilt... I think that's about it
Arrows - Doc Pt 4 - Doc continues to decline as the others race to get back with the cure.
Warnings: Near death, vague drowning (kinda?), reference to light medical procedures, some guilt and profanity
Breaking Point - Doc - Sent to Devaron under the guise of a med-leave, Doc and the boys get a chance to relax, and Doc learns a disturbing truth of Crosshair’s specialty.
Warnings: Vague, cryptic warnings, moral dilemma over assassination, mild tension
Breaking Point - Doc Pt 2 - The squad enjoys the remainder of that day on the lake before finally fulfilling the real reason they were sent there.
Warnings: Sexual tension galore, mild brotherly bullying, profanity, mild body dismorphia regarding prosthetics, assassination, minor character death, blood, guilt, angst, horrors of war
Breaking Point - Doc Pt 3 - Doc struggles with the aftermath of Crosshair's mission.
Warnings: Intense descriptions of grief and guilt. Heavy angst.
Breaking Point - Doc Pt 4 (Explicit) - Doc and Crosshair find an escape in each other. (Click Here for the Censored Version)
Warnings: Guys. It's smut (unless you opt for the censored version, then it's steamy kisses and implied sex). In fact, it's inappropriate use of sex to cope with grief. See tag for explicit version's detailed warnings, profanity, and dread/guilt
Breaking Point - Doc Pt 5 - Before she can deal with the ramifications of her actions, Doc seeks out Crosshair for answers.
Warnings: Non-explicit sex scene, profanity, and dread/guilt - might offer an explicit chapter later, but it wasn't important to the scene, so I didn't go into it this time
Breaking Point - Doc Pt 6 - Tensions are high about the squad as they struggle to accept changing dynamics.
Warnings: Vague reference to sex/ sexual innuendoes, profanity, and more dread/guilt
You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 1 - Tensions are still high as the squad attempts to prepare for their next mission.
Warnings: Lots of heavy emotions in this one - angst, guilt, angry, blame, got some profanity in there, and reference to child soldiers kinda
You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 2 - A brief distraction from Crosshair offers little comfort once the mission actually starts.
Warnings: Some sexual tension, mild making out, severe anxiety, profanity, war typical violence, and some gory killing
You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 3 - Doc shows just how far she's willing to go to save her men.
Warnings: It dark. Ye be warned. Torture. Blood. Broken/dislocated bones. Disassociation. Stabbing. Big profanity warning. Murder.
You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 4 - They escape the planet before Doc's actions finally catch up with her.
Warnings: Reference to bone trauma, blood, vomit, disassociation, medical procedures, guilt, angst, needles
You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 5 - Doc has a couple conversations that have been held off for too long.
Warnings: Nightmares, guilt, reference to torture/gore, reference to murder/assassination, profanity
You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 6 - Doc has the chance to reconnect with most of her squad before plans change.
Warnings: Mild PTSF, guilt, reference to torture/gore, profanity, heated kissing
You'll Have to Go Through Me - Xtra Scene - Crosshair and Echo have a chat.
Warnings: Just some standard guilt, angst, and regret, along with a little sprinkling of profanity.
Identity - Doc Pt 1 - Awkward goodbyes precede the beginning to Doc's secretive mission.
Warnings: Nothing serious - some cursing, a bit of sexual tension/heavy kissing, and some tension in general. Well, lots of tension in general
Identity - Doc Pt 2 - Doc reconnects with her old squad.
Warnings: Brotherly fighting, talk of hunting, nightmares with reference to gore/torture, heavy tension, profanity
Identity - Doc Pt 3 - After a final chat with the 104th, Doc enters the gala.
Warnings: Brotherly bullying, varying degrees of dread, unwanted advances (between two women, though I want to be clear: the 'unwanted' aspect is not due to gender), profanity, brief descriptions of gore and burns, needles, brief description of dead bodies
Identity - Doc Pt 4 - The gala starts of well enough...
Warnings: torture, waterboarding, drowning, interrogation, panic, panic attack, flashbacks, self-blame, giving up, longing for death, temporary insanity, arguably inappropriate use of sedation, guilt, profanity, intense whump
Identity - Doc Pt 5 - Her old squad struggles in the aftermath of the gala.
Warnings: Minor flashbacks/PTSD, reference to torture, loads of guilt and tension, otherwise mostly just fluff and angst
Identity - 99 & 104th Pt 6 - Crosshair demands answers from the remaining members of the 104th.
Warnings: Big emotions in this - rage, guilt, blame, and the like. There do be a bit of fighting, but it's not gory. Brief description of water torture. Profanity
Identity - Doc Pt 7 - The debrief with Cody doesn't go well.
Warnings: Flashbacks/PTSD, description of torture, loads of angst, reference to gore, profanity, self-deprecating thoughts
Identity - Doc Pt 7 - After composing herself, Doc finally returns to her squad.
Warnings: Honestly, aside from the standard guilt and regret, this chapter is mostly fluff
An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 1 - The squad is sent on a mission with the sole intent of being granted a moment of peace.
Warnings: This arc will mostly be fluffy stuff, but there will be references to past torture here and there. This one has some flashbacks, profanity, and loads of emotions like guilt, fear, anger, and general angst, as well some brief mention of wanting to die (not SI - with relation to ending torture), and I supposed some dependency
An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 2 - A soft morning precedes an important chat.
Warnings: Kissing in bed with some light sexual tension if you squint, then right back into the good ol' hard emotions: self blame, guilt, anxiety; reference to torture, Crosshair being Crosshair, I think there's some light profanity, too
Flowers - Doc x Crosshair - Fluffy prompt for Clone x Reader Bingo (set a couple arcs ahead of Breaking Point)
Warnings: none really - just has a fluffy kiss
I Missed You, Too - Doc x Crosshair - Another fluff fic for Clone x Reader Bingo (a couple arcs after You'll Have to Go Through Me)
Warnings: Crosshair being Crosshair, but he's really a softy. Snuggling in bed. Probably one of the least Warning-heavy things I've written
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Doc's Tales with the 104th
Recommended reading Found Footage first though these will take place before Doc joins CF99.
First Impressions - The wolf pack get their first real meeting with Doc.
Warnings: vague bugs
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Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!
Click here for my Masterlist.
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whump-captain · 4 months
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A summoning won't succeed if the vessel is not empty
[ID in alt, click for better quality]
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ash-and-bone-whump · 5 months
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Introduction post!!!
Hi, I'm Ashen, and this is my whump blog!
I don't write often, I mainly reblog, but when I do I generally write about defiant and violent whumpees. I'm especially fond of more monstrous and dangerous characters, and I like my OCs to put up one hell of a fight against their tormentors.
If you're sick of sad little pretty boys crying as someone kicks them, this is the blog for you!
I'm also a sucker for a good comfort/healing arc at the end of things.
I ALSO DO WHUMP ART ON OCCASION
Ask box is always open and I'm happy to chat!
I'm currently working on my Bloody Ascension series, which is a revamp of my old Beast in the Cage story.
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blackrosesandwhump · 1 month
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Febuwhump Day 9: Human Weapon
Based on this writing challenge.
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CW: sick whumpee, fever, forced transformation
Ren felt weak.
He stood swaying a little in front of the bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back, disheveled, flushed, eyes dark-circled and exhausted. His last fight had been two weeks ago. So why did he feel like crap now? Even the scar on his cheek hurt. Everything hurt. Everything felt like—
“Ren? We’re waiting for you. Need to debrief on the next job…” The voice—Cassidy’s voice—trailed off and morphed into concern. “Are you okay?”
No, no, I’m not. But Ren’s voice wouldn’t work, and he grunted a vague reply instead. I think I—I think I have a fever.
The world tilted, and the floor tiles rushed up to meet him, cool against his hot forehead. Something inside him was yelling, screaming at him to listen, to get the damn words out of his mouth and tell someone, anyone, what was happening to him.
It was just the like the man had predicted: his body was rebelling, because it was—
Because it was turning into a weapon.
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inkwell-and-dagger · 25 days
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maybe fallen angels aren't as frightening as Aarin expected...
Halos And Horns Taglist: @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night
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pose credit to mellon-soup!! i found this one on pinterest and just had to draw zuriel and aarin :3
I'm honestly in LOVE with zuriel's hair, I didn't really know what I was doing when I was sketching this out but I'm SO happy with it!!!!! especially since this is my first time drawing them :3
also is it obvious this is my first time drawing wings lmao 💀
anyhow! it's them!!!!!
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twisted-moose · 4 months
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The Unwilling Auspice
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brainrotlesbian · 5 months
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The Empress’s Pet (pt. 2)
CW: noncon, muzzled, straitjacketed, implied past abuse, forced orgasm
Tears stung hot in Arella’s eyes as she stormed towards Celeste’s private quarters. She slammed the doors open, freezing when she saw Mathias on the bed, pulled against Celeste as she idly played with her tablet. Both were fully clothed, thank the gods, but Mathias was securely straitjacketed and muzzled, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. Rage burned in Arella’s chest.
“I told you—”
“Try again,” Celeste snapped, causing Arella’s tongue to fall limp. She huffed.
“Your… Majesty,” she said through gritted teeth. “I warned you not to antagonize Mathias Hayes, and here he is, as your pet?!” Her fists tightened. “I’m— I just—.” She inhaled sharply, trying to compose herself, feeling Mathias’s eyes on her.
Celeste set her tablet down and stared at the young soothsayer. Her eyes burned with malice.
“I don’t recall you having any authority to question my decisions, Miss Young,” she hissed. “We will discuss this later.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then stopped, looking at Mathias: the heavy bags under their tear-stained eyes, the heavy muzzle that clearly hadn’t been removed in several days… Any argument from her would probably result in his punishment, and he couldn’t take much more. She sighed.
“Yes, your majesty,” she said, then turned to march out, her fists clenched at her sides. She slammed the door shut behind her.
Celeste sighed and turned to her helpless captive, who mewled and shifted his legs. He didn’t bother fighting against the straitjacket, resigned to staring at her with bloodshot eyes. He blinked, hoping to gain some sort of sympathy from her. Instead, she stretched her arms above her, then turned and grinned at them. He whimpered softly, swallowing around the bit in his mouth.
“I’m bored,” she said, a whining pitch in her voice. “And you’re such good company, my dear boy. What do you think we should do now?”
“Mmmnn…” They didn’t look at her, their cheeks turning pink. Tears slid down their muzzled face.
“How about…” Her hand grabbed the inside of his thigh, inching towards his crotch. “We have some fun?”
“Mmff!” He jerked as her hand squeezed. She laughed, then slid her fingers underneath the elastic band of his boxers. He sobbed, attempting to inch away from her.
“No, no,” she ordered, staring at him, and their body went rigid. “You need to obey me. Now stand up.”
They squeezed their eyes shut as their body moved on its own, bringing him to his feet on the ground. Sweat beaded at her forehead and Celeste approached her. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t move.
Celeste let her robe drop off her shoulders, revealing a set of lacy pink lingerie that looked itchy and uncomfortable. Mathias tugged at the straitjacket before quickly giving up. She had been anticipating this moment. She slid next to him, sliding both his pants and boxers to their ankles. Their face burned red as she assessed him, a grin on her face.
“Mmm, yes, I think you’ll do quite nicely,” she said, shoving them back onto the bed.
Before they could sit up, she straddled them, feeling them up and down, forcing them to squirm and moan softly. She forced their knees apart, gripping their cock in her hand. He squirmed and bucked and cried as she stimulated him, then mounted him and began grinding.
He’d never been sexually involved with anyone before, and his first experience was not a pleasant one. He hurt, he ached, he struggled, and he cried. He pleaded through the muzzle, sobbing and begging to be released; to be let go, to—
He cried out as stimulation grew, and his hips bucked involuntarily. She, in response, moaned loudly, pushing down on his shoulders with the palms of her hands. Tears streamed down their face, their vision blurry and their face hot, with embarrassment, with… excitement?
It was a strange feeling and they hated it. They strained against their straitjacket, thrashing as she sped up, crying out in ecstasy. He, too, screamed as he reached climax, feeling himself go limp inside her. Panting and sweating, she pulled herself off them, grinning widely.
“I enjoyed that,” she said. “Did you?”
Their voice caught in their throat for a moment, then they began weeping. Sobs wracked their body as the feeling of disgust overwhelmed them. Dirty and disgusted and violated.
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ziptiesnfries · 4 months
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Mine
Roux and Ambrose masterpost
tag list: @theelvishcowgirl @transgender-scout @gala1981 @laniakea0100
CWs: captivity, branding/noncon body modification, vomiting
The fireplace crackles as Ambrose leads Roux into the sitting room. “I want you to meet someone,” he murmurs, squeezing their shoulder.
Anxiety spikes through Roux’s heart. All this time, they’ve been alone in Ambrose’s house. Except for a handful of bodyguards and housekeepers, who Roux isn’t allowed to talk to, the place is always empty. Someone who they’re allowed to talk to can’t be good news.
Ambrose steers them into the room, and a man with long, dark hair stands from one of the plush leather armchairs. A myriad of tattoos adorn his hands and neck, peeking out from beneath his long sleeves. “Roux, this is Len,” says Ambrose. “He’s a tattoo artist.”
Realization dawns on them. They step back. “No.”
Ambrose sighs, his hands planted firmly on their shoulders as he nudges them ahead. “See, this is exactly why this is necessary,” he murmurs. “You keep forgetting who you belong to.”
“I’m not getting a tattoo,” they snap. Disgust coils in their stomach at the idea of being marked like that—marked as his.
“Oh, come on, it won’t be so bad,” Ambrose says, as if the pain is the issue. “I got one too, see?” He pushes up his sleeve and turns his arm over, revealing a slightly-scabbed tattoo on the inside of his wrist: black cursive lettering that says Roux.
Now they feel like they’re going to be sick. “How long have you had that?” They want him to take it back, get it removed, however you get rid of those things. They don’t want their name permanently etched on his body.
He just laughs and rolls his sleeve back down. “I wanted it to be a surprise. But, anyway, if I can get one, so can you.”
“I won’t,” they say stubbornly. They glance over at Len, who looks unfazed by the interaction. They wonder how much Ambrose is paying him for this.
“Come on,” Ambrose says, “just a little one on your wrist.”
They cross their arms, pressing their wrists against their stomach. “No.”
Len makes eye contact with Ambrose. “I can’t tattoo someone who won’t sit still.”
A small, triumphant smile curls Roux’s lips. If they won’t sit still, they can’t get the tattoo. He can make them do a lot of things, but he can’t make them do this.
Ambrose circles around and kneels in front of them, his voice low. “Sweetheart, if you don’t sit nice for Len and get a little tattoo, you’re going to find your next option much less pleasant. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
They stiffen. Ambrose always follows through with his threats. But they can’t bear the thought of sitting still while his name is etched into their skin. “I’m not getting a fucking tattoo,” they say firmly.
He gives them a pitying look as he stands. “Len, I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
Len shrugs, like he doesn’t care one way or another. Ambrose leads him out of the sitting room, money passing hands. Roux just watches, wary and silent in front of the crackling fireplace. They wonder if Ambrose will make good on his threat today or wait until later. They can’t decide which would be worse.
When Ambrose returns, he has four of his men in tow. Roux’s stomach drops, their blood running cold. Today, then, they think numbly. Definitely today.
The men stand at attention, blocking the exit. Roux takes a step back as Ambrose approaches, but he’s not heading for them. He stops in front of the fireplace, silhouetted by the flames. “Well,” he says, putting on a regretful grimace, “I guess we’re going with the backup plan.”
He grabs a long, metal rod leaned up against the fireplace. Roux’s first thought is that he’s going to beat them with it—but then they see that the end is disc-shaped, ridged with some kind of pattern. The blood drains from their face.
He grips the branding iron in both hands, a funeral-like solemness on his face. “I gave you another option, Roux. But you didn’t want to take it.”
“I …” Their mouth goes dry, hands trembling. He can’t be serious. He can’t really mean to … “Ambrose, please.” But he turns and pushes aside the fireplace grate, thrusting the iron into the flames.
Roux’s legs move on their own. They try to shove past Ambrose’s men, but the men wrestle them back into the sitting room, hands grabbing and shoving. Roux’s back hits the oriental carpet, and their wrists are pinned above their head, their ankles held down. They struggle, their breath coming in short gasps. Their voice pitches up in panic. “Ambrose, please, you don’t have to—”
Ambrose turns, the iron glowing red-hot in his hands. They suddenly realize the brand is far too big for their wrist, and their mouth goes dry as one of the men yanks up their shirt to expose their stomach. There’s a beat of stillness before they start struggling harder. “Ambrose, please!” they shout. “Please don’t—”
Even from a foot away, they can feel the heat radiating off the iron as it hovers over them. Their stomach tenses, a whimper escaping their lips There’s no sympathy on Ambrose’s face. “I warned you.” Then he presses the iron into their skin.
A scream tears from their throat. For a terrifying moment, their vision goes white, and they think they’re going to pass out. They hope they’re going to pass out. The pain is excruciating, burning into their side like their body is on fire. They writhe and scream, but the hands hold them steady, pinning them still as the brand burns into them.
Finally, the brand pulls away. They don’t feel lucid anymore, but they swear it takes a chunk of skin with it. The hands release them, and for a moment, they just go limp, gasping.
Then the scent of their own charred flesh hits their nostrils, and nausea roils in their stomach. They just barely make it to their knees before they retch onto the carpet. Keeling over just makes the pain worse, but they can’t stop the coughing. They wince at a clang behind them—the brand dropping onto the hearth—and then Ambrose kneels beside them, holding their hair back. “Oh, you poor thing.”
Finally, Roux sits back, panting. There’s a sour taste in their mouth, pain radiating up from their side, feeling raw where their shirt brushes against it. When they finally look up, they’re alone with Ambrose, none of his men in sight. For a brief, delirious moment, they wonder whether they imagined being pinned to the ground, because they don’t remember the men leaving. Maybe they just fainted, their stupid, feeble body giving out on them …
They retch a few more times before finally slumping over. Ambrose wraps an arm around their shoulders. “Here, c’mon, let’s get you up.” He gingerly helps them to their feet. Once they’re upright, their head spins, but he holds them steady, leading them back to the basement.
They barely make it through the bedroom door before collapsing. Somewhere along the way, they started crying, and they can’t tell if it’s from the pain burning in their side or the horrific violation of the whole ordeal. Their arms shake as they desperately try to hold themself up.
Ambrose gives up on trying to get them upright and instead scoops them up into his arms. They cry out as it jostles their burn. “Sorry, sweetheart, sorry,” he murmurs, crossing the room quickly to lay them on the bed.
He disappears for a moment, rummaging around in the bathroom. They stare at the ceiling and try to breathe. Despite the heat radiating from the burn, they’re shivering.
He returns quickly, putting the first-aid kit down on the nightstand. “How are you doing?”
They swallow and realize they still have that bile taste in their mouth, but they don’t have the energy to do anything about it. Slowly, they angle their head to face him, voicing the thought that’s been running through the back of their mind. “You did that on purpose.”
He pauses slightly as he’s rummaging through the first-aid kit. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
The fire was already lit when he brought them into the sitting room. Len seemed unfazed by the whole thing, and didn’t ask any questions when he was dismissed. And the house is normally empty, except for the two of them, but Ambrose had four of his men on standby today.
“You …” Roux’s hands claw into the comforter. “You were never going to fucking tattoo me. You knew I wouldn’t do it.” They squeeze their eyes shut, their head spinning. Bastard. Fucking sadistic bastard—
They hear a jar open and flinch as Ambrose lifts their shirt to check on the burn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is calm and level. “I warned you that the second option was less pleasant, yes, but you know I hate hurting you.”
Their eyes fly open, and they shove his hands away. A jar of ointment clatters to the floor. “You love hurting me,” they snap, their voice choked.
He gives them a wounded look, and the irony of it isn’t lost on them. He cups their cheek. “Roux, you know I’d never hurt you unless it’s absolutely necessary.” The bile-taste in their mouth is overwhelming, and they wrench their face away from him, squeezing their eyes shut. He sighs and retrieves the ointment from the ground. His hands are gentle as he applies it to the wound, but it still makes them wince. “I wish you’d make things easier on yourself,” he says. “I just want what’s best for you, sweetheart. I thought this would be a reminder of that.”
They turn their face away and let him tape gauze over the wound. They try not to think about what the mark will look like, burned into their skin forever.
Once he’s done, he kisses their forehead. “I love you,” he murmurs. They turn away and let the tears roll down their cheeks.
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chokedraven · 6 months
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So, in short - I was brushing my teeth when it occurred to me (if you think about it like that, for some reason all good ideas come to me when I brush my teeth) but anyway
B lives alone in his house, he has a boring life and is lonely.
One evening he is sitting in a chair in his room and reading a book when he hears a hoarse whisper, barely audible: "Hey?"
Of course, he gets scared, turns his head, trying to find the source of the sound, when he sees two completely white eyes staring at him from the wall, glued to the faded shape of a human silhouette on the wall. Like a pale shadow.
"Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you," — it mutters.
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B, of course, thinks he's going crazy and ignores the shadow as he goes to bed (yes, I think that's reasonable, leave me alone)
The next day, however, the shadow does not go away, on the contrary, it takes on a more intense dark appearance, and resumes timid attempts to talk to B.
B finally gives in and talks to it.
It turns out that the shadow was once a person, a human, A, and then was imprisoned in the shadow in this very apartment (I’ll think of this better later), and so - since then he has been wandering here in the form of a shadow, lonely and intimidated, until B appears.
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B sympathizes with the shadow, and even tries to somehow console it, touching the dark form, until... lo and behold! The shadow crawls right out of the wall, taking the form of a guy!
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A is too weak, which is clear, since he was imprisoned in his own shadow for a long time, literally. He is thin and lethargic. But, nevertheless, under the good supervision of B, he becomes stronger every day, gaining the strength to live a normal life. His demons still haunt him, but he's ready to move on.
Oh, and at a time when the weight of life and his painful anxieties becomes greater and greater, and B is not around to console him, A again turns into a faded shadow, after which he again needs to be taken out of this state, as a result of which he becomes even more weaker.
So B finds a roommate he never knew he dreamed of, and A a ​​friend he never had.
You know what, I really love this plot. I will write this, get ready. And I will draw it too. Aeh.
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kabie-whump · 1 month
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♡ Febuwhump Day 23: Presumed Dead ♡
@febuwhump
Y'all thought you'd escaped Solstice content? Please.
Content: referenced wing amuptation, blood mention, cult references, memory loss mention, angel whumpee, touch starved whumpee
Prev | First | Next
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The temple ahead is a beacon of light: Solstice’s only focal point as they stumble up the steep hill towards it. Their bare feet went numb from the cold and the pain hours ago and their legs shake with every step, but they push themselves just a little further. Just a little longer.
They’ve walked for so long. So long that the sun has started to rise behind the temple, lighting it from behind and making the stained glass glow in blinding rainbows. Solstice hears a laugh bubble up from their raw throat. They can’t remember the last time they saw this many colors in one place. It’s been nothing but red and black and gold for so long. 
It feels like they’re dreaming.
Solstice collapses against the temple doors; smooth mahogany carved with images of two interlocking rings. They’re too heavy to be pushed open by Solstice's weight alone.
“Help.” Their voice is nothing but a whisper, barely audible to their own ears. They need to get the attention of whoever’s inside, to find help before the cultists track their bloody footprints here and drag them back into the dark.
Solstice opens their mouth to try again, but nothing comes and they are struck with a wave of dizziness that has them crumbling to the ground, gasping for air. Their vision goes dark around the edges, fading in and out dangerously as their body finally gives up on them.
The rest comes in dazed flashes.
Worried faces hovering over them. 
A strange sense of nostalgia as someone carries them inside and they stare up at the carved ceilings - like being held by a parent and carried to bed after a long evening ceremony. 
The sound of a woman singing in a language they haven’t heard aside from in their own screams in ten years. The songs bring warmth and relief to their battered body, lulling them into a deep sleep.
---
“-a miracle they’re still alive. Barronar’s work, surely. I do not know how else they could have found their way back here.”
Solstice’s world fades back in slowly at the sound of soft voices
“And you’re sure that it’s them?” A woman’s voice, the same one that had been singing last night. “We were all so certain that they had been taken back to the realm of the divine. We mourned them. We prayed for them. Barronar gave no indication that they were still amongst mortals.”
Careful hands turn Solstice onto their side, pulling blankets away to expose their skin to the cool air. Solstice shivers, sensation slowly returning to their own body. The familiar pain that has been their constant companion is still there, but it’s dulled now, like it’s very far away.
“I was not certain at first,” the first voice - a man - says. “But these scars…” fingers trace down their back, just to the side of their spine. Solstice knows the spot well. There were wings there once. “It can’t be a coincidence.”
The touch is so gentle Solstice almost can’t feel it. They’d forgotten that touch doesn’t always have to hurt.
“Gods. To think I didn’t recognize the child I birthed.”
“It has been ten long years since we last saw them, and they… They do not look the same. But this is still our divine child, even if they have changed. We just need to worry about bringing Solstice back to the light.”
Solstice jolts at the sound of their own name and the fingers leave their back.
“Solstice?”
They finally manage to drag their eyes open, squinting at the light that pours in from an open window.
Sunlight.
Gods, how long has it been since sunlight last touched their skin? It tastes honeysuckle sweet.
“Welcome back, child,” the man says. 
The woman appears over his shoulder, laughing tearfully. “I would know those eyes anywhere. It really is you. We thought you were dead.”
Solstice stares at the pair. Something stirs in their chest, but the feeling is so alien. Are they supposed to know these people? Have they been here before?
 “Do you…” The woman’s smile fades a little. “Do you remember us?”
Solstice doesn’t know what to say. There’s something so familiar about their surroundings but also so wrong. It’s the feeling of revisiting a strange dream and finding it all exactly the same - impossible and comforting and confusing all at the same time.
The man reaches out, brushing Solstice’s hair out of their face. “It’s okay if you don’t remember. It’s been a long time, but the gods have brought you home to us. To your mortal parents. You are safe here, and we will never let you be taken from us again.”
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Solstice taglist
@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @hauntedroseart @sapphicccici @altvaggie @alivenova @lolrpop
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If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!
Febuwhump 8.5 (Extra per request)
No Anesthesia – OC&TBB – Wrecker’s overzealous efforts to destroy a building lead to Doc getting pinned in a dire situation.
Warnings: Very heavy whump in this one, with a couple moments of descriptive gore and medical procedures, impalement, difficulty breathing, near death, cursing. TW: claustrophobia
WC: 5116
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Watching them work was a thing of beauty; the way they adjusted effortlessly to each other’s movements without the need for speech; how they seemed to glide over the debris-covered streets of this ruined city, strong limbs carrying them with an effortless grace that I could watch for hours. Unfortunately, the trio of elite soldiers darting toward the capital building weren’t meant to be the focus of my attention.
While Hunter, Echo, and Tech gave the appearance of charging the final stronghold of this decrepit city head-on, Wrecker was already traipsing about the far side of the towering structure with Crosshair perched in a nearby building as cover. I’d been positioned in the building just in front of the target, ordered to oversee this side of the battle to ensure our route back to the Marauder was clear.
“Does this mean I get a rifle, too?” My earlier tease hadn’t been serious, though there had been some knowingly futile hope. Crosshair’s dismissive, bored glance was all the answer I needed, but I caught the smirk that touched those thin lips as he’d turned away.
The pair of pistols offered a comforting weight at my waist, but, from this vantage, I was purely a pair of eyes. Sweeping the macrobinoculers away from the brilliant displays of prowess effortlessly dodging enemy fire, I searched the path back toward the ancient fungal forests lining the city, but the streets were empty beyond the occasional robotic limb ending in a tangle of wires.
“Wrecker, eta?” The growl of the Sergeant’s voice was a welcomed change against the terrible quiet from being so high above them, and I found myself automatically searching for flashes of black and red armor darting between mounds of rubble. Once, this had been a thriving metropolis, towering skyscrapers jutting up in stark contrast to the softer shapes of surround fungi as millions of everyday civilians went about their lives.
Now, barely a handful of towers still stood, but so many citizens remained, hiding, trying desperately to survive long enough to find some hope for the future. Taking out the opportunistic pirates holed up in the capital building would be the first step in granting them some chance to rebuild in the wake of what those ignorant to the horrors of war would call a victory.
“Ready when you are!” Wrecker nearly shouted gleefully, his excitement an instant boon to the oppressive quiet.
“We’re clear. Do it.” Hunter’s order barely finished before the world shook beneath a massive eruption. I felt my breath catch in my throat, macrobinoculars falling to my chest as I stared in shock at how slowly it fell; only noting a gentle tilt at first, but then, as though the structure itself merely gave it, the entire thing wilted. It sounded like rain from up there, the tumble of stone atop stone singing in the same cadence of an angry storm. Vaguely, I noted that the building now visible beyond where that tower had just been concealed Crosshair somewhere in those unending levels of dark glass.
“Wrecker, what in the karking hells was that?!” Hunter roared, and I could clearly picture the thick vein pulsing in his neck.
“Just, yuh know, figured I’d make sure”
“Kriff - Doc! Run!” What? Was that panic in Crosshair’s voice? He didn’t panic… he… I’d just forced myself to my feet, hands pushing atop the heavy medpack I’d been using as a rest when that first whisper of confusion stole over me. Moving… It felt like…
Dread. Cold and fast and flooding my veins with lead. The world outside the window was shifting, sliding, rising. It was easier to see it that way: like everything else was moving instead of me, because, if that wasn’t the case, if I was wrong… I was dead. My eyes darted back across that now empty space once more, as though there was some hope of finding those amber eyes, some hope that he might reveal a miracle to save me at the last second, but then I was cursing myself, feet scrambling beneath me to race away from the window lest I find myself falling through it.
The way my stomach flipped. The disorientating dance of unstable flooring beneath me was its own hell, but I didn’t stop, fleeing madly through the maze of corridors. How high up was I? Four stories? Five? How many seconds had it taken the capital building to finally plummet? How could I possibly reach anywhere remotely safe in time?
I could hear everything begin to fall apart. It didn’t sound like rain anymore. It was loud and relentless, and the dust filled the air too quickly for me to even realize I was suffocating beneath it until it obscured my sight barely a foot from my face. The floor began to drop, folding beneath the weight of an immeasurable mass of stone and metal overhead, tilting into such a steep angle, my feet began to slide out from under me, hands shooting forward for something, anything to grab onto. Something crashed against my chest as the last bit of solidity vanished beneath my toes, and the hurt of jagged edges burring between slats of armor didn’t matter because at least it wasn’t crumbling into the abyss below.
The desperation that drove me to cling to that ledge, the frenzy fueling my limbs as I scrambled up, and the sudden exhaustion in that exact second I realized I’d made it, body flopping onto my side as I dragged sharp gulps of air through my gaping jaw; it was all a mere blink of raw panic, and it robbed me of every thought and memory and dream until the distant hum slowly solidified into a voice.
“Doc! What’s your status?! Are you okay?!”  Hunter’s voice shouted from my comm. I watched my hand reach for it before my mind caught up with the motion, fingers trembling too violently to grasp the narrow cylinder for just a few seconds too long. “Doc!”
“I’m okay.” I found myself whispering, body painfully tensed, frozen, but the sharp relief in the chorus of sighs drew a small smirk to my lips. “I… I think I-” It was such a strange thing. I didn’t hear the floor crumble, nor feel that terrible weightlessness of falling… but I heard the tiny gasp; that quiet, sharp intake of air, and then the flood of indistinguishable voices flooding my comm was the only thing I could focus on as my body plummeted the handful of stories to the mess of rubble below.
-
“…!” What was that?
“…-ease say…thing…” Fading in and out.
“-oc! … me?!” Muffled.
“Over h…!” A rhythmic tabbing.
“… see her!” Maybe… water?
“Be care…! …unsta…” No… footsteps?
“Kriff.” It was the horror in that voice that finally breached the fog distorting what fleeting sliver of reality surrounded me. Crosshair… If he sounded like that… something must be wrong… couldn’t sleep anymore.
“Echo, Crosshair; get the Marauder here, now!” Hunter… needed to find out why he was so worried… “Wrecker, start clearing that debris off of her – carefully!” I don’t know how long my eyes had been fluttering listlessly against the distant thought that I needed to wake up – to help them, but only darkness continued to stare back at me. The sound of skittering pebbles seemed to reverberate all around me; couldn’t figure out where it had come from… couldn’t remember why it mattered. That familiar voice continued speaking in the darkness, but the words vanished in distorted murmurs and distant thunder.
I didn’t notice the weight until it shifted; some impossible pressure spanning across my chest, down my stomach, across my hips, pinning my left arm and leg fast against whatever frigid, uneven surface lay beneath me, digging into my back and calf. Once I felt it, however, it consume me; and I wondered how long my torso had been shuddering beneath failed gasps, body simply too weak to push against that heaviness and the agony even the slightest movement sent shooting throughout my chest. Drowning; stomach churning amidst the sharp tang of iron.
Something wrapped carefully around the back of my neck. A hand. I felt their fingers slip under my helmet to gently tilt my head up just enough to ease the bucket off, and my eyes slammed shut against the assault of blinding lights. Another touch quickly settled over me, blocking out that blinding brightness. Touch… I was… The terror of the reality surrounding me began to clear, and I wasn’t surprised by how violently I trembled.
“Can you hear me? Doc! Can you hear me?” Scowling against the fear and cold. the agony tearing through my lung, the burning of suffocation screaming for a breath I couldn’t force past shaking lips, still, I dragged my gaze to the dark visor only just visible over the edge of those fingers. My vision blurred, cringing against that terrible brightness once more as he quickly withdrew his hand to wrench off his helmet. Hunter…
“Look at me, Doc!” There was a fear in that order, but the touch of his palm slipping over my cheek was nothing if not gentle. My gaze just managed to find his when that weight shifted once more. My jaw trembled against a choked scream I simply didn’t have breath to voice, some useless wheeze catching in my throat as my body seized beneath the bursts of sharp fire burring through my chest, my leg; white-hot and so deathly wrong, it flooded my eyes with tears and sent my heart racing in panic.
“Careful!” Hunter barked, attention snapping up to someone I couldn’t see over the mound of rubble. Brows drawing together, I felt my blood run cold as some dreaded understanding washed over me. That rubble… trapped… I was-
“No-no; hey Doc, I need you to look at me, right now.” He forced the rushed words into some belated façade of calm, hand dragging my gaze away from the towering pile of metal and stone and destroyed belongings once treasured by now displaced citizens. I initially attempted to fight him, staggering mind fighting to make sense of just how abysmal my situation was, but whatever strength I once processed was quickly dripping onto the shattered remains of civilization laying beneath me, seeping over dust and debris in a crimson pool of stolen warmth.
“Listen to me,” That wasn’t an order, “Come on, Doc; just look at me.” He was begging… He knew how bad this was, and he was afraid for me in a way that consumed me. There wasn’t a damn thing I would do to fix this, and that realization was a nightmare I wasn’t ready to address… but I could do what he said. If only to grant him some vain comfort in the futile belief that he still held some sliver of control over this. For whatever time I still could, I would grant him that, and the encouraging smile that just touched his lips when my eyes found his once more was more than enough reason.
“Good,” He murmured, “The Negotiator’s already en route to meet us. After we get all this off you, we’ll have you in their medbay within the hour. You just need to stay with us until then, okay?” I couldn’t answer him beyond a tiny nod, chest still seizing beneath the shallow flutters of frantic gasps that I tried desperately not to count. I didn’t see Wrecker begin pulling at that final, massive chunk of debris.
White. Stopstopstopstop. Shouting. Nails bent as my fingers clawed into the stone beneath me. Muscles contracted, flailing, useless. Hearts aren’t meant to beat that fast. How could it be so impossibly cold even as that searing, shrieking, rending heat tore through my chest? The nerves were panicking. Everyone was yelling. My chest bucked, straining to cough, copper flooding my mouth, trickling down my cheek. It tickled, and some part of me knew it was blood.
“Stay with us! Dank farrik! Stay with us!” I could feel the air wash over my face as he screamed my name, hands grasping my cheeks just hard enough to ache in some desperate plea to draw my attention back to him. Floating. Like I’d somehow become disconnected. “No-no-no, Doc, please!” Even through the fear and pain and consuming need for even a moment’s reprieve, that terror in his voice is what ruined me. I felt my eyes moving, rolling blindly about the nothingness before me for several seconds before some hint of color slowly returned. Shapes. Movement.
“Good-good; you fight, dammit – you stay with us!” The relief in his order growled through clenched teeth.
“There appear to be rebar”
“I saw them, Tech.” Hunter snapped, but quickly forced himself to release a quick breath. “I know.” There was a silent apology in the sighed words. I could feel the tension seeping through my chest, robbing me of what minuscule whispers of air those worthlessly fluttered gasps could offer, but I forced my gaze to remain on the man still kneeling over me despite how my vision blurred and spun.
“She has a hemopneumothorax – air and blood are pooling in the pleural space causing her lung to collapse. I’ll have to insert a chest tube to relieve the pressure.” Wrecker should have interrupted him… Why didn’t he interrupt him - balk and the wordy description and mock his brother for overexplaining? I’d never wanted the normally loud and cheerful man to talk over that brilliant pilot before, but I would have given almost anything not to hear those words spoken aloud, body already tensing against the coming pain. Desperate pleas burned atop my tongue, forced into silence at the simple knowledge that it would only hurt them, and, still, Tech would have to push through.
“If it were one of us where you are,” Hunter started quietly, drawing my attention eagerly back to those dark eyes, “would you do any less?” Frowning through a scowl, something like sobs shook through me. Ass. My head shook weakly. If any one of them had been trapped in this nightmare, I’d stop at nothing to see them live another day.
“Didn’t think so.” He murmured before drawing a deep breath. “I want you to bite down on this.” Body heavy with a growing sense of exhaustion and helplessness, I had to strain to look for him. I think it was his glove, twisted inside-out into something of a ball. My jaw shifted listlessly, lips barely managing to part, and I could see the worry spike in those gorgeous eyes, but he said nothing about it, palm carefully whispering over my cheek as his thumb pressed against my chin to help me open my mouth enough for him to slip the wad of fabric and armor and a tang that I would forever associate with forests and dirt and something feral and utterly him between my teeth.
There was no warning. My body jerked against the violent intrusion of ice and hurt burring between my ribs, each panicked twitch of muscle tearing at the lengths of metal piercing my chest. Something pressed against me, pinning me down as my jaw clamped shut.
“Almost done.” The gentleness of that murmur ripped a fresh sob from me, and, a moment later, that sharpness digging through me stopped, fading into a terrible, throbbing ache. “Alright, you did good. Just breathe.” He praised, easing the glove from my lips. I wanted to scream at him that I couldn’t breathe. That my body was dying, and I didn’t want them to see me like this; that I was so, so terribly tired; that I just wanted to rest, if only for a moment, but my diaphragm jerked taut, wrenching a tiny gasp into failing lungs. It was the deepest breath I’d managed since waking, and part of me loathed that teasing glimmer of hope.
“We’re ready – why isn’t that thing off of her, yet?” Crosshair snapped.
“There are several lengths of rebar protruding from the bottom that have impaled her chest and leg.” I didn’t have to see him. I could hear his dread in the weight of his silence.
“Now that the Marauder is nearby, we must move quickly.” Tech prodded, and the weak, relentless tremble stealing through me grew violent. There was no thought beyond the desperate screaming of nerves still raw from the last time Wrecker attempted to free me from that final boulder, mind suddenly unable to remember anything beyond that pain, beyond the overwhelming certainty that I wouldn’t survive it again.
“Wait!” I gasped, straining to grasp some manner of clarity with which to plead my case, certain I could find a valid reason to somehow avoid the coming hurt, but I merely heard my terribly frail voice beg, “Wai-wait.”
“Doc, you know we can’t.” The apology in his voice broke me, wincing at how the sharp sob jostled the screaming flesh surrounding those metal stakes.
“Well… She’s got painkillers in that bag, right? We can give her those – take the edge off, at least?” Wrecker asked hopefully.
“Unfortunately, anything we have that depresses the nervous system, also depresses the respiratory system; hers, of which, is already severely compromised.” Tech stated automatically. “Additionally, I am unsure where her bag landed, and have only what supplies I brought myself.”
“If we don’t hurry up, she won’t need painkillers.” Crosshair hissed.
“He’s right.” I watched the muscles ball over his jaws as the Sergeant looked over his shoulder to his brothers. “Crosshair stabilize her chest. Wrecker, lift it smoothly on his count. Tech, be ready with the coagulant.” Something passed between them in silence before the sniper quickly kneeled beside me, absently pulling the gloves from those skillful hands, and I hated the way that tremble redoubled at the simple realization that he was about to touch that ruined flesh.
“Don’t look at him, right now – look at me.” The rich smokiness of Hunter’s voice was a comfort in itself, but when it dropped into such a gentle murmur, if only for a moment, nothing else mattered, and I instantly found myself moving to obey him as he shifted to position himself between me and the others, blocking my view of their final preparations.
“You remember that little talk of us becoming settlers?” He was whispering, body just curling over me, and it felt so easy to pretend, to melt into any reality other than the one around me… I answered with a small nod. “The settlers of Clone Force 99 wouldn’t get very far without their medic… You going to abandon all that ruckus of city life to keep on adventuring with us?” The broken smile that pulled unsteadily at my lips held none of the terror and pain fighting to overwhelm me, but I could taste the sadness in it.
“Ca-can’t get r…rid of me…” I gasped on what useless huffs of air my ruined lungs could hold. He smiled back with that same threat of heartbreak before his shoulders jerked with a sharp breath, attention shifting briefly behind him. When he turned back to me, the dread in his eyes turned my blood to ice.
“Listen to me; we’ve got to get this thing off you – you ready?” I felt the automatic movement of my head shaking, trapped in some horrified denial that this was happening… but I knew there simply wasn’t time for that… Brows pulling sharply together, I turned hard eyes up to his, and I knew he saw how deathly afraid I was as I gave a firm nod. Again, he eased my lips apart to slip that glove between my teeth. “Alright. You just focus on me for a while, okay?”
Something slid between my torso and the mass of stone, and I could feel the shredded muscles twitching in some futile plea to escape. The knowledge that it was Crosshair’s fingers offered no relief. In a moment of yielding to that mounting fear, my arm lashed out, hand latching onto Hunter’s wrist.
“Hunter…” It sounded like I was pleading, begging around teeth already burring into his glove, and I hated it, but then his thumbs began dancing gently over my cheeks, wiping at tears I hadn’t noticed fall, and his touch was the only comfort in a nightmare of hurt. In that moment, I couldn’t fight the depth of my own need as I stared up at him.
“I know.” He breathed, remorse and guilt weighing each syllable.
I didn’t hear Crosshair’s signal. I didn’t hear the rumble of stone beginning to shift, nor whatever attempts at calming words fled those dancing lips as Hunter’s hands locked me in place. My back fought to arch, muscles thrashing for any relief, but Crosshair kept me pinned down. What useless wisps of air I’d held tried to escape in a barked scream, diaphragm seizing, but my throat closed too tightly even for that. My jaw snapped shut, eyes wide. Tearing. Ripping. Rending through me with such a violent sense of wrong and panic and cold.
“We’ll find someplace beside a river.” His lips brushed over my ear, cheek flush against mine, and I could feel how his fingers shook where they’d tangled into my hair. “Tech’ll design some overly fancy place to live, and I’m going to need you to deal with him and Wrecker bickering while we build it.” That sharp tang of copper… My chest bucked, but couldn’t manage to rid my mouth of that nauseating heat. “Echo and Cross can hunt so I can help you keep the peace.” I could feel the tissue drag against the textured ridges along the metal, felt them chip against my rib, and my stomach flipped. “Bet you can convince Cross to pick up knitting – make everything matching scarfs by winter.” Echoing… why was his voice echoing like that? I didn’t like the way it blurred with that horrid sound of churning meat, the wet sucking of floundering lungs; that distant thudding.
“…please.” My name sobbed from lips twisted into a scowl. “We’re so close, Doc; just hold on.” Hold on? Couldn’t… the very rigidity of my bones seemed to abandon me, jaw falling slack, body barely tensing beneath the occasional huff of a cough, but even that autonomic effort to clear my lungs enough to draw breath was failing.
Whatever relief that distant recess of my mind hoped to feel as that final inch slipped free fell frightfully silent. I felt how my body moved beneath freshly panicked touches and shouted orders; felt them push me onto my side as Wrecker’s massive hands shifted around Crosshair’s to apply pressure to the wounds; felt Tech began packing each puncture with foam, felt it sink through me and swell. I felt some fleeting attempt at a whimper choke over numb lips as Hunter held my head steady as though there were still some point to maintaining some semblance of support lest unseen injuries to my neck render me paralyzed, felt his lips continue that pleading dance against my ear before straining to make out his words.
“Just a few more, then we’ll get you out of here.” He promised. “Echo’s just outside. You hear me?” I couldn’t feel that hurt anymore. Not really. “Don’t you dare fall asleep, Doc. Not now.” But I could still fell his warmth. “We’re too damn close for you to give up now.” The calluses of his fingers. “One more – just one more.” What was… was he crying? I was certain I’d felt his shoulders jerk ever so slightly. “Please… stay with me.” I think I tried to move – to find those eyes; to show him I was trying…
“That’s it! Move!” Crosshair shouted. The way the world tumbled around me; the shock of sunlight robbing my already fleeting vision… I tried to listen; tried to find them through the distorted mockery of reality, but everything was spinning too quickly to find even a whisper of logic beyond the certainty that I knew I was as safe as I could possibly be in their hands, and I didn’t doubt that it would be enough.
-
Despite a lifetime in hospitals and medbays, still my nose crinkled at the sharp scent of antiseptic. The beginnings of a moan caught in my throat with a choked grunt of pain, body shuddering beneath the deep ache that bloomed in my chest.
“-sy; try not to move yet.” Echo… I’d know his voice even in a chorus of his brothers. Brows drawing together in a weak pout, I forced my eyes open, squinting slightly against the way the dim colors blurred. “Hey,” The greeting left in a huff that sounded like it desperately wanted to be a sob, “It’s good to see you back in the land of the living.” I let that pout pull up into a brief scowl, before offering a fleeting glimpse of a smile.
“We’re still aboard the Negotiator,” He explained quietly, lips settling into a gentle smile of his own as he stepped closer to my bedside, and I was pleased to find my vision slowly clearing enough to find those amber eyes. “Don’t push yourself if it hurts, but can you talk, yet?” Of course, I could, if only because he asked. Mouth parting slightly, I drew a purposeful breath, but let it out with a slight shutter, body hesitating beneath the foreign sensation that should have been commonplace.
“Yeah.” I managed on my second attempt, voice hoarse, but it easier than I’d anticipated, and the beaming grin it brought to Echo’s still pale lips was well worth the effort.
“Great,” He sighed in relief. “They had to replace parts of that lung, but the medbay here is topnotch – only had to keep you on bacta for a couple days before they’d grown enough to replace the damaged sections.” I listened passively to his explanation, not bothering to interrupt him with the reminder that I was intimately familiar flagship medbays.
“They’ll have regrown me a whole new set of lungs by the time this war ends.” I grumbled, heart soaring at the quiet chuckle it drew from him. “Wher- mgh.” I started, but the instant I tried to look around, the muscles around my ribs balked.
“Whoa – I said not to move.” He chided, expression twisting in a sympathetic grimace as he carefully laid his hand over my shoulder. I tried to do just that: to let my body melt back against the thin cot, but it was several seconds before those frantic muscles began to still.
“That’s it; easy.” He murmured quietly. I felt the chill sweep through me beneath the icy sweat that broke out over my skin, quickly soaking into my hair and the pale patient gown. “Might have a couple rough days of recovery ahead of you, but the hard part’s over.” He promised, “And we’re not going anywhere until you’re back on your feet.” The suddenness with which those words ripped a sob from me and flooded my eyes with tears should have surprised me, but, beneath the overwhelming rush of relief, I couldn’t bring myself to care, gaze darting back to him in a quiet gasp. His tongue swept quickly over his lips, expression mirroring the tentative hope bursting through my chest.
“Yeah – General Kenobi cleared it. Between him and Cody, there’s not really a lot of people high enough rank to overrule… so… we’re not going anywhere.” Finally, I merely let myself crumble amidst that relief, tears falling silently down my cheeks. His grip tightened slightly around me as he continued. “The others got kicked out – the medics here are pretty strict on the one-visitor rule, so we’ve been taking shifts.” I tried to show him the depth of my gratitude in the weak smile that tugged at my lips, and I didn’t doubt how clearly he understood.
-
I wasn’t sure when I’d fallen asleep, but it felt like I’d merely blinked before suddenly finding myself surrounded by the others. The beginnings of a chuckle quickly devolved into choked, painful coughs. Someone carefully pulled me up enough to lessen some of the strain, and I wasn’t surprised when Hunter’s deep voice whispered in my ear.
“Shh, if that control-freak of a medic hears you, he’ll kick us out again.” Despite my best attempts to hold it back, a fresh burst of laughter brought with it the same breathless coughs. Another hand gently swept along my back in a slow, soothing rhythm. Blurring eyes shifted to find Echo, lip caught between his teeth in worry. Too-quick breaths escaping in a painful wheeze, I slowly managed to regain some bit of control, body melting into the warmth of their touch.
“You lot look like shit.” I mumbled, noting the dark circles around their eyes, the way the normally rich gold of their skin appeared almost sickly even in the blessedly dimmed light. The collection of scoffs only fueled my weary grin.
“Yeah, she’s fine.” Crosshair said dismissively, arms looping over his chest, but even his lips hinted at a smirk.
“I don’t think any of us have gotten much sleep since we landed.” Hunter admitted, thumb shifting almost nervously over my shoulder. I let my eyes slip closed, head resting against him as my still quick breaths began to ease into something closer to normal.
“H-hey Doc?” Something about Wrecker’s hesitant call broke my heart. I quickly sought out those mismatched eyes and found myself mourning the sorrow in them. “I’m… I’m real sorry about… well, I should’a just followed the plan ‘stead of… yuh know…”
“Wrecker.” His name sighed through a worried frown, fingers of my right hand flaring in invitation. He paused for a mere moment before stepping forward, and, not for the first time, I silently remarked on just how small I was against him as he carefully slipped his hand around mine. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” I assured him quietly, but my words offered no balm to his guilt. “It was a mistake. You learned from it, right?” There was no judgement in those softly spoken words, and he offered a small nod. I instantly rewarded him with a broad smile. “Alright then.” I said simply, “lesson learned. I’m okay. You’re all okay… Nothing to forgive.”
“You mean it?” He pressed, still tensed as though expecting some sharp words, and I wanted so desperately to pull him to my chest as whisper promises and reassurances to him until he believed me.
“I mean it.” In the moment, however, those firm, loving words were all I could manage, but, at the relief that eased the tension from his shoulders, it seemed enough.
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whump-captain · 4 months
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For the whump art requests, I don't have a specific character (you can pick uwu), but can I ask for rope burn/ligature marks?
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rope marks?? of course absolutely certainly definitely
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whumpacabra · 4 months
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The Wolf and the Hare
Completed | 58K+ Words (including Swansong Arc)
An AU set in my Freelancers Universe, diverging just before the canonical end of the Swansong Arc.
Harrison is ready for death, waiting for it with dogged patience. He isn’t ready to come face to face with who his torturer really is, and the circumstances surrounding their mutual misery.
Military setting, captivity, escape, on the run, medical treatment, assumed dead, deconditioning, identity crisis, fear for loved one's safety, angst (with a happy ending?), referenced torture and noncon
Close Quarters
Deserved
out out out
Unclean
Human Again
Clean
Starved
Waiting
Revert
Bad Dog
The Hand
Up
Clever Devil
The Outside
Road Trip
Crazy Dan's
Inventory
Again
At Anchor
10/10 Interrogation, Five Stars
Verstaan
Strangers
Daymare
Reflection
And now?
Phone Home
Nightmare
Watchers
101
Soap
Jackrabbit
Walk
Listeners
Pressure Cooker
Countdown
Undeserved
Timebomb
Pull the Pin
Release
Allied
Record Scratch
Rewind
Slow Motion
Pause
Play
Reload
Save Point
Fastforward
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blackrosesandwhump · 1 month
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Febuwhump Day 20: Immortality
CW: immortal whumpee, dying, blood, stomach wound, gore
The thick stage curtains were drawn, but they couldn’t keep out the noise of the crowd as Bram climbed onto the dim stage. His stomach had been knotted with dread all night. It was one thing to be stabbed or poisoned or even impaled, but an entirely different thing to have a stranger stab his claws right in your heart. It made Bram feel sick, even as he approached his human-but-definitely-not-human partner waiting at the other end of the stage.
Norrix Vangrey. Bram repeated the name in his head.
“Ready for me to kill you?” Norrix said, lazily flexing his clawed fingers.
Bram was used to dying. He was used to being killed. But the words made him shudder.
“I guess so,” he replied, keeping his voice even. Why was he so afraid this time?
The curtains slowly parted, the pulleys creaking audibly. Bram and Norrix took their places. Bram was a knight, fighting a ferocious beast. His costume armor felt uncomfortable and hot as he pretended to attack with his sword. The audience cheered and gasped. A bright light flashed close by—a camera, taking a picture just as Norrix, as the monster, gained the upper hand. Bram lost his balance and fell, his heart pounding. He knew what to expect: Norrix’s claws in his stomach. But the impact stole the breath from his lungs and sent pain shooting through his body.
His vision greyed out. Through the deepening haze, he heard the crowd gasping in horror.
What kind of creature was Norrix Vangrey, anyway…
Bram came back to life in a pool of his own blood. Horror turned to wild exclamations and applause.
Just another day in the life of the immortal Resurrecting Boy.
@whumping-to-conclusions @whumping-out-of-time @forthetaintedsorrow-whump @whumpy-writings @afabulousmrtake @whumpinthepot @silver-ink-iron-words @febuwhump
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