0idril0 - Tumblr blog

[0idril0]

Sleep

Whumpee was awake.

They didn’t know when they woke up, but they were awake. 

They hurt. 

Tremors echoed from their head to their toes as Whumpee pushed themselves up onto their elbows. A fire burned under their skin, and their head was pounding. Something bad had happened to them. Something they couldn’t remember.

A hand filled Whumpee’s vision. The palm was cold as it pressed against Whumpee’s forehead. It felt nice until it began to push. 

“Lay down. Go back to sleep.”

The voice sounded tired. Whumpee was tired. They should go back to sleep. Yeah. Sleeping was a good idea.

[0idril0]

okay but hypersomnia in whump

listen i know exhaustion/insomnia is common and it's also delicious but just hear me out ok?

whumpee who, even after getting out, can't stay awake for more than 15 minutes. even when they are awake, they're tired and drowsy.

and it's so *frustrating* for everyone involved. caretaker leaves them alone for five minutes and they're back asleep. at the table, on the couch, even on the floor, and it takes time and effort to get them awake enough to do anything, and they're likely to be asleep soon again anyway.

it's hard to get anything meaningful done towards recovery because whumpee is just so tired. maybe they're endlessly frustrated that they can't just stay awake, or maybe they use it as a coping mechanism. being awake is too cold and loud and busy, so they'll try to just sleep the world away.

it's hard to have meaningful conversations with them. caretaker and teammates struggle to try and reconnect with whumpee because they're just always asleep. and it's frustrating because whumpee is *trying* to stay awake, or maybe they're not.

caffeine just prevents the sleeping part without really fixing the waking part. they can't sleep but they're still too tired to do anything.

just imagine..

[0idril0]

I think older Whumpees are so cool. Not the stoic, jaded type, but the type where if they break down crying instead of garnering sympathy like younger Whumpees they just end up making everything tense. Teammates exchange awkward glances and some can't help but whisper to each other about how bizarre and unpleasant it is to see a grown adult in shambles. At their age they should know bette. Maybe Whumpee even gets told to toughen up. What happened was ages and ages ago, why couldn't they have healed from it? Maybe older Whumpee once had the same sympathy younger Whumpees were able to elicit, but as it became clear to see they couldn't heal or be what they used to that care and respect ran out.

With barely any use left to them, older Whumpee is left to fend for themselves. They tend to their own wounds and wipe their own tears away while seeing younger Whumpees grow and heal, wishing they could do the same.

[0idril0]

Whumpee: *opens a chip bag upside down*

Caretaker: I can see why Whumper didn’t like you

[0idril0]

Idk what the hell happened but if I don’t stop getting 10 spam bots following me a day I’m going to delete this whole thing

[0idril0]

Thinking about how I would write an adult Scooby-Doo series, because I think it can be done.

The first thing I’d do is make the characters actually be adults.  Still young, but adults, in the mid to late 20s range.  Mystery Inc. is a private detective type business that they run together.  In this universe, the supernatural/ghosts/etc are real, but not necessarily common, so when they take on a case, the culprit might be a person disguised as a monster, or it might actually be a real ghost.  The stakes can be higher; sometimes a bad guy is legitimately trying to kill them.  Sometimes the mystery they’re trying to solve is a murder.  Sometimes they actually get hurt on their cases.

Fred: the core of Fred’s character should be that he’s incredibly kind.  Like, give a stranger the shirt off his back kind.  The “Fred can’t talk to potential clients because he might take a case for free and we need to eat” kind.  He’s an honest and good person and sometimes gets himself into trouble because he assumes other people are too.  While he’s not very good at reading people or noticing ulterior motives, he’s brilliant when it comes to mechanical or engineering type stuff, so he’s the one who keeps the mystery machine running, builds their gadgets, and of course, designs the traps.

Daphne: she comes from old money, and her parents absolutely despise her life choices, to the point where they haven’t officially disowned her, but they have basically cut her off, so she doesn’t actually have access to any family money.  Growing up wealthy has granted her a variety of skills, including speaking multiple languages, horseback riding, and fencing.  She’s very into fashion and jewelry (even if she can’t afford it anymore) and has extensive knowledge of both that can occasionally provide a vital clue in a case. And even though her parents have cut her off, Daphne still has a wide network of contacts she can ask for favors sometimes, because she’s personable, and people tend to like her.  Daphne is also very emotionally intelligent, and is usually the one who can spot when someone is lying to them.

Side note - I ship Fred and Daphne, so I think I would start them off as an established couple for this universe.  Dating, engaged, married, I don’t care.  They are stupidly in love, ride or die for each other.  There’s no will they, won’t they, no worries about cheating.  They are in a healthy, happy, loving relationship, and no one (not even Daphne’s disapproving parents) are going to mess that up for them.

Velma: she is the forensics nerd who sometimes gets super excited about the wrong thing at the wrong time (”He was mummified in seconds? That’s so cool!” “Velma!  His wife is standing right there!” “Oh.  Sorry.”).  She’s not purposely insensitive, she just gets laser focused on her work and forgets to filter herself sometimes.  She’s also the one who can get so fixated on solving whatever mystery they’re working on, she’s willing to bend or maybe break laws.  Is breaking and entering really so bad?  Not if it gets them answers.

Shaggy: he is still the comic relief, but he’s the comic relief by being the only person in the group that actually has common sense.  He manages the business’s finances, he’s the only one who knows how to cook, and the others tease him for being a coward sometimes, but Shaggy maintains that if a ghost with an axe is coming for you, running is the only sensible option.  He should also have a range of random knowledge that sounds useless, but sometimes saves the day (ex ventriloquism, origami, the history of spoons, etc).

Scooby: as this is a universe where supernatural creatures exist, Scooby is an ancient eldritch type being that took a shine to Shaggy when he was a kid, and took the form of a talking dog to befriend and hang out with him.  Aside from the talking dog bit and not aging, he never uses his powers in a way that anyone notices.  The audience is not told upfront that Scooby is an ancient eldritch being; it should slowly be hinted at throughout the series so the audience put it together, but the characters never realize it.  Scooby genuinely considers Shaggy to be his best friend, and cares about the rest of the gang too.

[0idril0]

Rescued Whumpee whose approach to Caretaker changes daily.

Once they're distrustful, hiding behind furniture and inspect given food/water for a long, long time trying to determine if it's safe.

Then they're almost aggressive, snatching the food away and devouring it before anyone takes it away.

Another day they refuse to touch the food, because 'they don't deserve it' and 'they know their place'

One day they're the most-touch starved creature ever, begging for hugs and head pats, the next day they'd hiss if you even looked into their direction.

One day they address Caretaker by "Master" and "Sir", other days they are comfortable with using Caretaker's name, and on yet another day they don't speak at all.

Whumpees who had so many different traumas that they don't know which survival tactic to use anymore.

@jordanstrophe thanks for help editing!

[0idril0]

Ugh now I miss my avian

The many ways to torture a hybrid

For the catpeople and dogpeople: ---------------------------------------- - Soaking them in water/holding their head underwater - Making them wear collars - Pulling and tugging on their ears, giving them unwanted piercings - Yanking/breaking the tail, pulling them and dragging them along by the tail - Threatening them so that their fur stands on end - Forcing them to listen to loud sounds, agonizing with their heightened sense of hearing. - Pulling/tugging on whiskers - Asking them if they bark or mewl - Mocking them when they hiss or growl - Declawing or forcing them to wear clawcaps/mittens - Muzzle them. - Messing with their teeth, forcing their mouth open to get a look inside For the birdpeople/winged people: --------------------------------- - plucking out their feathers, one by one - wearing their feathers as earrings/turning them into accessories - petting their feathers the wrong way to irritate them - grooming their wings without their permission - restraining them by the wings, like a pinned butterfly - dying their feathers/coating them with oil - shoving them into a bird cage, making them sing - clipping their wings - connecting a chain to their ankle that allows them to fly but yanks them backwards should they go too far - binding their wings together, quite painfully - tearing them off! For the fish people: ------------------------ - Forcing them to constantly swim without rest - forcefully tearing off their scales - covering their gills to mess with their breathing - cutting the webbing between their fingers - forcing them to reside in unfiltered/poorly filtered water - hanging them up by their tails - cutting off their fins For the lizard/horned/antlered people: ---------------------------- - keeping them in a cold environment to keep them constantly weak - again, ripping off their scales - cutting out their tongues so they can't properly sense their surroundings - cutting off their tails and watching them regrow - decorating their horns/restraining them by the horns - sawing their horns off - using their horns as decoration yea @painsandconfusion @wormwriting @whumpshaped @hidden-dreamland @whumpsday @a-whumped-tea @gottawhump

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist, i don't post often

[0idril0]

I can thank my good friend @that-one-thespian for the inspiration for this piece c:

TWs: Poisoning, illness

Bastian shivered, hands shoved in his pockets as they continued walking. Mariano was saying something to him, wiping blood from his sword after their last encounter with some hunters. It was fuzzy, the syllables floating through his brain without sticking and only serving to feel like flies in late summer.

"Bastian."

Bastian just about ran Mariano over when he abruptly stopped in front of him. "What the fuck are you doing?" He snapped at his mage, lip curling into a snarl. "We need to get to town."

"Look at me." Mariano didn't even think about the growl as he reached to feel Bastian's forehead. "You're cold."

"I'm fine." Bastian argued, not quite pulling away from Mariano's hand. He couldn't meet the other's eyes.

Mariano frowned, starting to look Bastian over. "You're sick." His palms cupped Bastian's face, guiding him to tilt his head this way and that before finally releasing him. Bastian's head spun alongside Mariano's circling footsteps. Warm hands found his side, and Mariano spoke as he walked. "When did you get hurt?"

Bastian shrugged, the ground beginning to sway under him. "During the fight, one of 'em got me with a...with a dagger or something."

Mariano was very still for a moment, before one of his hands moved to Bastian's back. "We're making camp now." Bastian found that he didn't want to argue as he was lead towards the shade of some trees and guided down onto the sweet-smelling grass.

The wind in his hair swept warmth over him, drying the sweat that had started beading on his brow. "Acting like I'm dying." He muttered when Mariano crouched near him and swept his cloak over him like a blanket.

"You won't if I have anything to say about it." The crackle of a new fire started up beside them, and Bastian heard the clank of a pot being set up and filled with water. His stomach rolled at the thought of eating, and he swallowed hard. "I know how to neutralize the poison they likely used."

"I'm lucky." Bastian muttered, feeling more tired by the moment. He could hear Mariano scraping stone on stone, using the mortar and pestle they'd picked up not a town or two ago.

A bitter tang met his nose, and then a cup was at his lips with a terrible, thick soup inside. "Swallow all of this." Bastian could taste the crushed herbs before they even hit his tongue, and it took everything he had to open his mouth and not just stubbornly turn his head away.

"Good, good." Mariano said, voice oddly lilting as he took his hand away. This time, plain water was given to him. "It'll take a while, but this'll help your body deal with everything. Helps with pain, too."

Bastian didn't quite remember night falling. He didn't remember the sun sinking below the horizon, or Mariano cooking anything. He certainly didn't remember getting to put his head on Mariano's lap.

When he opened his eyes, his face was pressed into Mariano's shirt and calloused fingers were slowly slipping through his hair. The darkness had all but swallowed them both, but he could barely make out the ring of silver in Mariano's eyes as he looked out over the rolling hills.

As ice lanced through his muscles, Bastian didn't know why he reached out to take Mariano's other hand. Bastian threaded their fingers together, marveling at how heavy his arm felt, at how comfortably warm Mariano felt. He didn't know why Mariano let him.

Shivering and curling in on himself, Bastian started to fall asleep again. If he wasn't dying from poisoning, he would've thought that Mariano had started humming while stroking his hair. It was a stupid thought, no matter how warm it made his chest feel.

The next day was just as hazy, slipping through his fingers like the wind itself. There was more bad soup, and more water, and Mariano wasn't there all the time but the storm-thick smell of his magic was always close. When the crickets began to sing again, Bastian awoke to water being sponged over his forehead and uncontrollable shivering wracking his frame. Each bout drew tiny, annoying noises from his throat, silver eyes squeezing shut as his aching limbs screamed.

"Your fever is breaking." Mariano mused, meeting Bastian's dazed glance before his face disappeared against his mage's stomach again. "I think you'll be feeling much better sometime tomorrow."

Bastian didn't think he'd ever feel better, as his clawed hands gripped at Mariano's steady waist and hands. Ice ran through his bones as his skin broiled. Even the water Mariano brought to his lips felt like too much. He kept it down, though, along with the awful herb soup.

Morning came as abruptly as night had, and with it, the circles under Mariano's eyes darkened further. Bastian blinked hard, trying to remember how to put the words he wanted together. He wasn't burning or freezing. The pain was gone.

The golden light made Mariano look like an angel.

"Hey." Bastian croaked.

"Hey." Mariano murmured, one thumb tracing circles along Bastian's temple. "You didn't die."

"Y'didn't let me."

[0idril0]

the howling commandos honestly deserved more respect in the mcu. they were a diverse group of batshit crazy men who could drink a bar dry that followed captain america and sergeant barnes around europe fighting hydra. then, during VE day when the entire world was celebrating, they drank in a dimly lit bar mourning/toasting steve n bucky. they are integral to the captain america story, and were loyal to a fault. they had all passed by the time steve and bucky reunited, but where’s a scene toasting the howlies?  

[0idril0]

‘Verse: Resistance Story: Chewtoy AU, co-author @whump-sprite Timeline: Ariadne has begged the Resistance to save Connor from the feds

Sunlight [Prev]

Light.

Not the harsh white light of Interrogations – but just as blinding.

Yellow light too warm on flushed fever skin – too hot even as he's cold to the core –

– sunlight.

He didn't think he'd see sunlight again. 

Are they finally taking him outside to shoot him? 

Probably it's not real.

He saw – Taryn Morgen? And now a stranger, leaning close over him in his agony until her silhouette against the sun resolves into blurred features.

"Please, sir," he begs obediently – or tries. Cracked lips won't move from their bleeding grimace. His voice is a croak in his raw throat and then gone. 

Please stop. Please no more no more no more.

Her hand is soft, cupping his cheek. Her voice is soft too, so garbled by distance that the words are lost. 

"Please," again. If he can't understand the instruction, can't try to follow the prompt, then the reprieve will end and the torture will continue –

"Shhhh," says the stranger.

She holds water to his lips, and she is an angel of mercy. 

The pain is – less. Connor wonders if he's dying. 

He'd prefer to see someone he loves – like his mom – in his dying moments. Not this – stranger, probably interrogator –

He chokes on the water she’s giving him, and panics, and loses the world to agony.

When he has any thoughts again, she’s still there. Looking down at him, holding his head in her hands.

He moans, terrified, and she brings water to his lips again – wet cloth, so that only drops trickle across his lips and he cannot choke.

Mercy.

He tries to thank her, so that the mercy might last a few more minutes. She shushes him, hands soft on bruised skin. Her face is near, and far, and near again.

“You’re safe now,” she says, and that can’t be right, she must be a figment of his fevered, dying mind. A disjointed dream.

But god, he wants to believe in mercy, even just for a little while.

[0idril0]

[0idril0]

how easy you are to need (redux) (4)

warnings: miscommunication/assumptions, unreliable narrator, PTSD, past medical abuse, past torture/abuse in general, non-graphic description of blood and injury, mentions of taking blood/skin/etc. from a person (doesn’t happen), might be missing some feel free to let me know

-

By the time they returned to the cabin, Virgil had sunk into a petulant and bitter silence.

He stalwartly refused to respond to Logan’s awkward comments, pointed statements, and outright queries alike. There was nothing they could leverage against him here, not when his own life was the only one on the line, and it was already all but forfeit.

Sure, it might have been in his best interest to cooperate, but that had never convinced him before, and he didn’t intend on breaking his stubborn streak anytime soon.

Keep reading

[0idril0]

🧜‍♂️+🎭📌

merfolk + humiliation + pinned to something

Nonhuman Whump Emoji Prompts NSFW

Content Warnings: mer whump, captured, injured, pinned, tail whump, out of water, dehydration, difficulty breathing, humiliation, unwanted touch (non-sexual), manhandling, dehumanization, ‘it’ as a pronoun, mentions of alcohol use

----

Blue’s head pounds from the roar of voices and laughter all around him...that, and from certain dehydration. The humid air is no substitute for real water - the merman struggles to breathe, his lungs burning as his chest rises and falls with weak rasps.

He’s completely helpless out of water, no restraint was necessary, but these cruel young humans pinned his tail under their heaviest barbell anyway. Not set but dropped onto the lower part of his tail so hard that something is crushed deep inside. Blue threw his head back, dark hair spilling over the edge of the table, and cried out into the night air.

His tail is indented where the bar bears down on it, scales broken and skin bruised and beneath it something sharp and throbbing. Struggling only hurts; Blue fights to catch his breath and remain still in hopes that the pain will dull.

At moments he is little more than a decoration, ignored in favor of their drunken revelry. At others he is the centerpiece of their attention, their reaction to him ranging from curiosity to disgust. Hands feel and grab, none of them gentle. He shudders every time a scale is plucked off as a souvenir.

On top of it all his stubborn pride is hurt, too. Outside he is desperate, pitiful, but inside he feels the sting of shame at being their playing.

It’s not long before his breathing becomes labored. His dry gills, sore from the humans’ prodding, do little more than twitch. Merfolk weren’t made to breathe like this for long. It’s their own sort of drowning, and just as excruciating.

In the midst of it all a cool touch cups his jaw, the only good feeling in a sea of misery.

“Hey, guys,” one voice rings out, closer and clearer than the others. “He doesn’t look so good...”

“It’ll be fine, come get another drink!”

“I’m serious.”

“I think she’s right. Let’s toss some water on it or something.”

“Wait, wait, I have a better idea - dump it into the pool!”

“I don’t think that’s - “

All of a sudden the weight is lifted from his tail. It spasms at the fresh rush of pain. He’s already dizzy as it is and then the table starts to move, scraping across the concrete as the humans drag it towards the pool.

They tip the table on its side and Blue’s world spins around him as he tumbles from it, bumping sharply against the tiled edge before splashing heavily into the water.

He sinks to the bottom and doesn’t resurface.

----

Author’s note: pool water is probably uhhhhhhhhhhhh real bad for him. to be continued if there’s interest?

[0idril0]

Rereading your Nico series (again). It’s my go-to when I need something good and whumpy that I know will give me whumperflies every chapter. You’re an amazing writer and talented whumper - thank you so much for writing and sharing it 💜

It still amazes me when I get these ❤️❤️ I’m so glad Nico is still getting love, thank you

[0idril0]

No warrior

693 words | No Warrior (sequel to Bad day)

Content | Angst, low self-worth, referenced past torture

Notes | I wasn't sure about the direction this would go but it worked out alright eventually. Runar is trying his best.

Yes I love giving series titles to episodes it's like a get out of titling free card.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​ @whumpzone​​ @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7​​ @yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread​​ @cupcakes-and-pain​​ @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​ @pleasancies​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​ @nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies @deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass @whumpsday

As always, Runar picked Yves up from work in the evening. The little thing had insisted on going, even being so obviously tired, even after his breakdown during their midday walk that Runar couldn’t stop thinking about. Poor Yves, believing himself to be so unworthy of good things. Runar wished Yves could see himself through his eyes for just a moment.

As always, they sat down for dinner together. Watching Yves hang his head over the table, looking at nothing and especially not at Runar, hurt his heart.

»I’m sorry,« Yves muttered.

»There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,« Runar replied gently, the ache cutting deeper. He was glad Yves was talking at all, but if only he could understand-

Yves shook his head without looking up. »I shouted at you.«

»You were upset.«

»That doesn’t make it okay.« Runar could hear the crack in Yves’ voice. Was he still scared he would be punished?

»Maybe not, but… I understand.« He carefully reached out to place a hand over Yves’, cold as always. Yves didn’t flinch, which Runar took as a good sign. »I’ve said it before, your soul is injured.«

»Why won’t it heal, then?« Yves swallowed, then he finally looked up, only to reveal his eyes full of tears.

»It will,« Runar promised and regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. You don’t know that. »It will get better, at least.«

»I feel like it’s getting worse,« Yves said, hanging his head again.

Runar didn’t know what to say, just like he hadn’t known how to help, not really, all this time. He didn’t know it would get better. But all injuries healed eventually, didn’t they?

Some healed wrong, an aching reminder of what had happened forever haunting the injured.

Some got infected and took too long, took entire limbs and lives.

He didn’t know, was the simple truth.

All he knew was that Yves deserved better.

It took too long to find something to say; Yves got there first. »Why did you say that?«

»Say what?«

»That I… I have the heart of a warrior.« Yves’ voice dripped with self-loathing sarcasm. »When it’s so fucking obvious I don’t.«

Runar didn’t think he ever heard Yves swear before, but even not knowing the language, the meaning couldn’t have been clearer. He was torn between being glad for Yves acting bolder, or worried about the - well, everything around it.

»If that were true, why am I so…« Yves shook his head and didn’t finish the sentence.

»Alive?« Runar proposed gently. »Yves, I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, it takes a brave soul to survive what you did.«

»You don’t know what…«

Runar paused. Again, that sudden - or perhaps not so sudden? had he missed something? - readiness to answer back to him that filled him with a burst of pride, even among all the suffering Yves was still going through, with his inability to see the progress Runar saw. And he was right. Runar knew so little about the circumstances of Yves’ imprisonment. Eventually, he cautiously asked, »Do you want to tell me?«

»No.« Yves’ voice was barely a whisper.

Runar just nodded, hoping Yves saw his acknowledgement. »I have seen your injuries, though,« he pointed out. »I’ve seen how hard it was for you to feel - start feeling safe here.« He was going out on a limb, but he hoped that was what had happened; that the little sweetheart accepting, even requesting hugs meant he was no longer afraid of him, that wanting to work within the community meant he wanted to make himself at home.

Yves gave a tiny nod, as if his whisper had taken physical form. He swallowed, then added, in a slightly more substantial voice, »I still could never be a warrior though.«

»Why?«

»Stop it.« Yves didn’t sound as upset as he had in the afternoon - just resigned. He turned away and got up from the table, leaving his half-eaten bread, retrieving his hand from under Runar's like it was nothing. »Please.«

Runar’s heart stung, but he let it be, not sure he understood well enough to argue.

[0idril0]

nothing in this world brings me more joy than someone binging my series and i can just...follow along with the rate of their likes? knowing that theyre reading my stuff??? and loving it???? anyone who says spam liking gets you blocked is a fool. this is the greatest high ive ever known.