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sleepyiswhumping · 22 days ago

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✧･ﾟ Ripe, About to Fall - Part 18 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series

First | Previous

Chapter Summary: Things get worse, and Onthyes learns a hard truth.

Chapter Content: drug addiction/withdrawal, some magic whump/loss of control, doomed to die, curses, mentions of pregnancy and death of a pregnant person, mentions of childhood drug use, victim blaming, Ventis is extremely depressed sorry, suicidal ideation

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Shayah's POV

Rain pattered against the windows, a soft, steady sound that filled the otherwise silent kitchen where Onthyes sat. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The air smelled faintly of damp earth and herbs.

Shayah found Onthyes at the table, sitting motionless with his face buried in his hands. The mug of tea in front of him was untouched, no longer steaming. Onthyes stirred at her presence, lifting his head. His eyes were ringed with deep purples and reds, making the green of his irises seem to glow in the dim light.

“How’s he doing?” Shayah asked, lowering herself into the chair across from him.

He drew a slow, unsteady breath. “Worse,” he murmured. “It’s… it’s really bad.”

Shayah hummed softly. She’d expected as much.

Her own mother had used nightspill years ago, before she took too much and it snatched her away in the night. But before that, she’d tried to quit a handful of times, spurred by moments of clarity in which she realized that she had young sons to raise and a teenage daughter who was doing her damned best but crumbling under the pressure.

So Shayah knew better than most how brutal nightspill withdrawals could be.

“Onthyes…” She slid a little closer to the man, leaning over the table to place a hand on his arm. “Are you prepared for the possibility that he might not make it?”

His gaze snapped to meet hers. “What? No. He’ll be okay, Shy. He has to. He’s come too far-”

“I know. It’s not fair. But the gods don’t give a fuck about fairness, and nightspill withdrawal is nothing to be taken lightly.”

“He isn’t going to die. I won’t let him. We can’t just give up.” Onthyes’s voice was so firm.

Shayah wished she could share his certainty.

She’d come to like Ventis in the time since he’d arrived at her house, a too-thin bundle burned and bleeding and wrapped up in more diamonds than she’d seen in her entire life. He was odd, yes, and his bone-deep submissiveness was unsettling, but there was a quiet charm to him that she couldn’t ignore. Besides, he clearly mattered to Onthyes. To Theodore too, although he might never admit it out loud.

“I never said anything about giving up on him,” she said softly. “I just… I don’t want to see you hurt again, Onthyes. After Samantha-”

She stopped herself as soon as the name left her mouth.

Samantha was a subject that everyone in Onthyes’s life - including the man himself - avoided at all costs.

Shayah had been there in the guard barracks when Onthyes got the news of Samantha’s passing. Some complication with her pregnancy, apparently. Shayah and Onthyes hadn’t been very close yet, so she didn’t know the details. She just knew that he had lost both his betrothed and his future child that day, and he hadn’t been the same since.

“He’s going to live.” Onthyes stood abruptly, eyes hard. “I’m not losing another love. I can’t.”

Shayah just swallowed, unsure of what to say. She’d just wanted to prepare Onthyes for what could very well be inevitable, but he clearly couldn’t bear the thought. At least he still had hope. Shayah wasn’t sure if she could say the same for herself.

She followed him into Ventis’s bedroom.

With the curtains drawn, the room was lit only by a flickering lantern and a few candles. The air reeked of sickness, thinly masked by a warm coat of lavender. Even in the low light, Shayah could tell that the place had been destroyed - books and decorations flung across the floor, glass shattered and pages torn. A draft chilled her skin, although it had no discernable source. Shayah fetched the broom leaning against the wall and busied herself with sweeping glass shards into a pile.

Theodore stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed. He’d insisted on watching Ventis for a few hours, just long enough for Onthyes to get some rest, although the man hadn’t taken proper advantage of the opportunity.

Ventis lay on the bed, no more than a shivering heap of blankets.

“This is the longest I’ve seen him sleep yet,” Onthyes muttered, carefully sitting down at the edge of the bed. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Right,” Shayah whispered, but a louder part of herself feared that it was only a sign that he’d become too exhausted to fight anymore.

“He woke once,” Theodore said, his voice low and flat. “He didn’t know where he was. Who I was. Passed out again soon after.”

Onthyes carefully pulled down the blankets, washing the room in a purple light that shifted and pulsed like little veins of lightning under Ventis’s skin. Sparks jumped at the points where Onthyes touched him, and his body jerked.

“His magic is calmer when he’s asleep.” Onthyes glanced up at Shayah, watching her scoop the glass shards into a tray to dispose of. “Sorry about the mess. I’d stopped trying to keep up with it. When he wakes up his magic just…” Onthyes made an explosion gesture with his hands.

“Trust me, I’ve heard it,” Shayah said with a chuckle. She’d lost count of how many times she’d been woken by magical winds battering her spare bedroom to pieces.

The room fell quiet again, save for the occasional crackle of candle flame and the quick, strained breaths from the bed. Shayah dumped the last of the glass into a bin and straightened, wiping her palms on her tunic.

“He can’t go on like this,” she said.

Onthyes didn’t respond right away. He was watching Ventis with quiet desperation, his hand hovering over the boy’s arm, hesitant to touch as if even that small contact might be the final blow that makes him crumble.

“We’re doing what we can,” Theodore said, settling at the end of the bed. “We’ve kept him alive this long.”

“Barely,” Shayah muttered. She didn’t mean to be cruel, but it was the truth. Every inhale from Ventis felt as though it could be his last, and every silence between each breath felt final.

Onthyes finally spoke. “He needs help. Real help.”

“From who?” Theodore’s voice was brittle. “A doctor? We’re wanted criminals, Onthyes.”

“A healer. He needs magic. Medicine alone won’t fix this. I know someone.”

It finally dawned on Shayah. “You’d risk going to your mother with this?”

“She’ll help us.”

Theodore scoffed. “But your mother lives with your father. Who is, if you’ve forgotten, the captain of the guard.”

“I know. But she won’t betray us.”

Shayah believed him, despite the risk. She’d never met Onthyes’s mother personally, but if she could raise someone as stubbornly heroic as him she must be trustworthy.

“Alright. I’ll go first thing in the morning,” Shayah volunteered.

“She’s an elf. You won’t be waking her. Besides, at this point Ventis might not have until morning.”

“I’ll go now, then.”

Ventis’s POV

Ventis just wanted it all to stop. The fire. The itching under his skin. The voices.

He was floating, falling, his limbs weightless and head clouded by vertigo. He missed feeling heavy, feeling grounded. The nightspill had been a weight on him, sinking him to the earth, keeping his treacherous body from drifting into the sky, and now he missed it more than anything because he couldn’t stand to fall for another minute.

But it wouldn’t stop.

Before - hours or days ago, he couldn’t be sure - he’d been holding onto something. Something to make all this pain and confusion worth it. But now he couldn’t quite remember. Why was he even doing this if all it did was make him hurt?

A gentle touch pressed down on Ventis’s shoulder, too much and not enough at the same time. He longed to be held down again. To be under someone again. At least then he wouldn’t float away anymore. But the hands were too much. Always pushing too far, too hard. All of them but this one.

Swordsman’s calluses on the fingertips, brushing carefully along Ventis’s aching skin. Onthyes, right. He’d almost forgotten. He was doing this for Onthyes.

Ventis tried to lean into the touch, tried to say something, but all he could do was let out a pained whine.

“It’s okay,” Onthyes’s voice came from deep underwater, nearly incomprehensible. “Shayah’s getting help. Just hold on a little longer.”

“I can’t,” Ventis wanted to say, but his lips wouldn’t move.

“You’re so cute when you’re helpless, treasure.”

Gods, not again.

Even here, hiding away in Shayah’s home, Athos had yet to leave Ventis for a moment of rest. The man’s voice was always present, his shadow always slinking in dark corners.

“You really think you can escape me?” his voice mused, echoing from every direction, pressing in on Ventis.

Ventis whimpered, tried to curl into himself, but he just didnt have the energy and he knew the motion would be torture even if he did. “Stop,” he managed to gasp out, and Onthyes’s hand tightened slightly on his shoulder before disappearing.

“You can run away as far as you’d like. You can hide yourself away for the rest of your pathetic little life. But you’ll always be mine. You know that, don’t you?”

The voice slithered through him, curling behind his ribs. He could feel it, a thread wrapped like a collar around his throat, pulling too tight and dragging him backwards, back to cold marble floors and perfumes that made his head pound. The touch of silk gloves, brushing along his jaw, sliding down his hip.

Ventis wanted to scream. What came out instead was a rattling breath that scraped its way uselessly out of his throat. His skin prickled with cold sweat. When he tried to open his eyes the room swam sickeningly.

Then the fire in his blood flared to life again, burning poison in his veins, flooding his body. He didn’t want to be in it anymore. His body was a cage, a torture chamber more than anything else. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so present and to hurt so badly, and he didn’t want to live like this for any longer.

“He’s shaking.”

“Ventis? Come on, hold on a little longer. Please.”

“Onthyes, I don’t think-”

“You remember the price of disobedience, don’t you darling?”

Yes, of course he remembered. He remembered the whip, the branding iron, the times he’d been denied nightspill for just a few hours and it had felt like it would end him. Now he would give anything to feel like he had then. Anything would be better than this.

“You chose this. You chose to run away from me, knowing perfectly well that your knight won’t take care of you like I do. And now you’re paying for it, aren’t you?”

Ventis let out a choked sob. That was the worst part, wasn’t it? Knowing that all of these years of suffering were his own fault. His own choice.

The nightspill had just been for pain at first. He was called Jasper back then, sixteen and suffering from chronic pain due to a spine injury after taking a tumble off the palace roof. The royal physician had told him that the pain would never really go away, and she’d given him some pills to combat it. “Only take these when it’s unbearable,” she’d warned him.

Jasper hadn’t listened.

It just felt too good to be unburdened by pain, and he realized quickly that even the sting of his father’s and brother’s words was dulled by the drug. He became dependent quickly, and his physician seemed to have no problem getting him more when he ran out. Things were so much more peaceful around the palace without constant squabbling between brothers, after all.

It hadn’t taken long for him to want more. The nightspill took the pain away but it brought mind numbing apathy with it, and it drove Jasper to the docks, to the taverns, to that little shack on the beach where he’d drink until Peer dragged him home on wobbly legs. It went too far at one point. He couldn’t even remember what happened, just that he’d woken up in a cell with a black eye and his father standing on the other side of the bars, looking directly at him for the first time in a year with nothing but disdain.

“You are no longer part of this family,” he’d said. “Never come back.”

He wasn’t given time to pack. Just grabbed his jar of nightspill and a few loose coins and talked his way onto a merchant ship headed south to Nimbria.

He changed his name from Jasper to Ventis, telling himself it was just because ‘Ventis’ sounded more standard for an air genasi - if he ever ran into another of his kind, he didn’t want to stand out. But that wasn’t the truth, not really.

He just… wasn’t Jasper anymore. Hadn’t been in a long time.

Because Jasper would have turned and run the moment he saw the way Athos looked at him. Because he wasn’t as stupid and naive as some made him out to be and Athos had made his intentions clear from the moment they met. Jasper would have saved himself in an instant.

But Ventis wasn’t worth saving.

He let Athos take him. He signed the contract of his own free will. He craved punishment, desperate for someone to steal him away and make everything just stop, and Athos had been right there ready to do just that. Ventis had brought this on himself.

The next thing he knew, he was sobbing openly. Crying with what little energy he had left because he had never allowed it to surface - how deeply he hated himself. He’s always been the problem, even now, because he was forcing Onthyes and Theodore to stand there, helpless, while he selfishly succumbed to the consequences of his own actions after they gave everything to save him.

“Look at you,” Athos cooed. “I don’t think I’ve ever managed to get you this broken.”

Shut up shut up shut up shut up.

Ventis’s thoughts couldn’t find purchase in his own head. There was nothing left but agony. His muscles convulsed weakly, his jaw clenching so hard he was afraid something would snap. But the pain wasn't even the worst part anymore. It was how familiar the pain was, like some twisted part of him had always known this was how he would end: sick and hallucinating while the people who tried to love him stood helpless at his side.

He was so tired of hurting people just by existing.

But surely it would hurt someone if he died, too. Onthyes had tried so hard to save him.

But he just wasn’t worth it.

“I’m sorry,” Ventis managed to whimper. “Onthyes… I’m so sorry.”

A hand gripped his, shaking. “No no no no, you’re okay, Ventis. Just hold on. Help’s coming, I promise. Just stay with me.”

Ventis tried to squeeze the hand back. He couldn’t tell if he succeeded. He just knew that darkness was rushing in, and his limbs were freezing cold, and every breath was a monumental struggle.

He wasn’t afraid of dying.

He was afraid that if he didnt die, this would go on forever.

He was afraid that surviving this would mean facing the world all over again - the shame, the conditioning, the look on Onthyes’s face every time he wasn’t strong enough to overcome it all.

He couldn’t fight any longer.

Then a voice cut through Ventis’s haze, soft and unfamiliar.

“Faenya. Stay.”

The words hit him like a splash of cold water. Elvish.

He didn’t know that voice, and yet something ancient stirred in it. A hand touched his chest, over his heart. His magic flared to life, angry and scared, but the hand didn’t pull away. It held strong, pushing down just enough to steady him. And just like that, for just a moment, Ventis felt heavy again. Present.

“Revar.”

And everything slipped away.

Onthyes’s POV

“He’s asleep now.” Onthyes’s mother, Sylviavaris, lifted her hand from Ventis’s chest, the golden glow fading from her palm. “It’s a good thing that you sent for me when you did. He was fading.”

“Will he be okay now?” Onthyes asked, anxious for any good news at all.

She turned to him, a slight smile touching her lips, and reached out to cup her palm against Onthyes’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re alright, my son. Although, I’d hoped you had the sense to leave this place for good. It’s not safe here for you. Any of you.” She glanced over at Shayah and Theodore, who were lingering on the edges of the bedroom, wanting to give her space to work but also ready to help if need be.

“Trust me, as soon as Ventis can stand on his own we’re crossing the sea,” Onthyes assured her. “But right now I just need to know he can survive this.”

Sylviavaris glanced down at Ventis’s sleeping form. He was quiet now, his face wet with leftover tears, and relentless shaking had stopped. He still couldn’t quite be called peaceful, but he was something close to that.

“I gave him more time,” she said. “But I’m afraid I may have just delayed the inevitable.”

“What are you saying?” Theodore crossed his arms, tilting his chin up in a way that may have seemed tough to anyone else, but Onthyes could see the glint of fear in his eyes. “He’s just going to die no matter what? What good is healing magic if it won’t heal him?”

“Theo.” Shayah bumped him with her elbow. “Lay off.”

“No, it’s okay. He’s right to be concerned. If this were just any sickness I should be able to heal it easily. Withdrawal is tricky, but… Well, I don’t mean to be vain but I am quite powerful. I still should have at least eased his symptoms long enough for him to ride it out on his own. But I could feel a resistance. Something is keeping my light from reaching him.”

“Why?” Onthyes asked. He was painfully reminded of the time Ventis was poisoned, and just like now every doctor and healer said the same thing: that he was beyond help. He felt that same helplessness all over again. “There must be something, mom.” Tears stung at his eyes and he quickly scrubbed them away with his sleeve. “I’m not… I won’t lose him. I can’t.”

Sylviavaris considered him for a long moment, her green eyes widening slightly with realization.

“You love him.”

Onthyes nodded miserably.

A flash of grief crossed her face and she rushed forward, pulling her son into her arms. Onthyes has been taller than her since he was a teenager but her hugs made him feel small again, and he bent down to tuck his face into her shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered into his hair. “My son, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid… I can’t save him. If you truly love him, then there’s nothing I can do.”

Onthyes pulled away, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She glanced at the others. “Maybe we should speak about this privately.”

“Tell me.”

Letting out a deep sign, Sylviavaris sat at the foot of the bed. “It was your father’s doing.”

As always.

“I was pregnant with you. And he… he’s always had high expectations for you. Even before you were born. He was willing to do anything to guarantee that you would live up to his standards. So he went to a hag.”

Theodore and Shayah both cursed at the same time. Onthyes was too stunned to do anything but stand there and listen as his mother pressed on.

“I told him it was a bad idea. I warned him that hags are not to be played around with. But to him, no price was too great. He bartered with the hag. She rewrote fate so that you would be destined to become the greatest swordsman in the realms. In return, she claimed the souls of everyone you fall in love with. If you love someone, they are fated to die a painful, premature death.”

She reached out, taking Onthyes’s hand. “I’m sorry, Onthyes, but he’s doomed.”

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sorry for the wait on this one yall i have no excuse other than i had a minecraft phase <3

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @purity-weeps

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@saffitaffi @ravenqueen21 @tomato-whump @whumped4whumplover

#ough…#delicious as always #thank you kabie #ohoho

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sleepyiswhumping · 4 months ago

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Hiiiii Beeeee <333

Last song: stfu. by ISSBROKIE (shes SOOO good go listen i BEG)

Favorite color(s): Pink!!

Last book: Murtagh (currently reading)

Last movie: Saw (watched w/ tha bsf)

Last TV show: uhm... Foundation (amazing show amazing books watch and read I implore you)

Sweet/savory/spicy: Spicy all day (but sweet and savory are excellent too)

Relationship Status: taken (by the absolutely wonderful @whumble-beeee)

Last thing I googled: alluvial (history class got me learnin' new words)

Current obsession:

Looking forward to: Milkshake tomorrow morning... having money has turned me into a terrible person (milkshake <3)

Tagging with 0 pressure: @tictac-murder-spaghetti @sleepyhead-whump uhh. im so shit at remembering blog handles

"People I'd like to get to know better" tag game!

Thanks for the tag @aviyx :D

Last Song: "Leave My Body" by Florence + The Machine

Favorite Color: a deep plum

Last Book: The Lord of the Rings

Last Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy

Last TV Show: The Bad Batch

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: savory

Relationship Status: single

Last Thing I Googled: "normal population pyramid"

Current Obsession: still on my Arcane bullshit!!

Looking Forward To: a lot of time off for the holidays

No Pressure Tags: @collophora @soularsss @floofyroro @ladysongmaster

#tag game #whump community #<3 #hiiii bee <3333

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sleepyiswhumping · 4 months ago

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oh poor ventis i need more

this is so delicious

✧･ﾟ Ripe, About to Fall - Part 17 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series

First | Previous

Chapter Summary: Withdrawals! And some flashbacks for added flavor.

Chapter Content: drug addiction / withdrawal, some magic whump/loss of control, body mods with dubious consent, implied future sexual assault of a teenager

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“Jasper… are you sure about this?” Peer shoved his hands deep into his pockets, glancing around worriedly. His dark green hair fluttered loosely around his face in the ocean breeze, and he blinked it out of his eyes. “I mean, your father-”

“-is fast asleep, and he’ll still be that way when I get home,” Jasper cut in. He led the way down the beach, his shoes swinging from where they were hooked on the index and middle fingers of his left hand. “What Father doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“I’m more worried about him killing you. Or me, even. I mean, if he finds out I had anything to do with this…”

“Then don’t tell him. You wouldn’t do that to me, right? You like me too much?”

“Um, sure, Jasper. I mean, not that I like you. I mean, we’re friends and all…” Peer huffed, shaking his head. “I won’t tell him.”

“Good.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the waves licking up the shore at their bare feet.

Peer knew that Jasper was tired of this - of the lectures, of his friend chasing him around like a lost puppy when he was just trying to let loose a little, but he couldn’t help it.

“It’s just that-”

“Peer.” Jasper stopped and turned towards his friend, placing both of his hands on his shoulders. His pupils were huge, blown wide with tiny rings of purple irises peeking out around them. “If this whole thing is making you too anxious, you don’t have to come with me. I can go on my own. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

A pained, conflicted look crossed his face. “I know, I know. But… Listen, I know you have fun with these guys, but they don’t give a fuck about you aside from your money and your last name, and if something happens to you they’re not going to help you, and if you’re going to mess around with them then I can’t sit comfortably at home knowing that I could be protecting you, you know?”

Jasper rolled his eyes. “They’re rowdy, but they’re not bad people. And I don’t need a chaperone.” He turned, starting to walk again. His steps were uneven.

Peer jogged to catch up. “How much nightspill have you taken today?”

Jasper groaned, tilting his head back. The moonlight glinted off his horns and his scales, and Peer had to force himself to focus. It was so hard sometimes, being sixteen and having a best friend who was so distractingly beautiful but also so damn irresponsible. “Why do you always ask me that?”

“Because you act like it doesn’t matter when it does,” Peer shot back. “You know what that stuff does to you, right? You get slow. You get quiet. You just… go along with whatever’s happening, and if something happens tonight you won’t be able to stop it.”

“It’s just my back-”

“Your back hurts, I know. I understand that it helps you. But you have to be aware of the consequences.”

“I know my limits.”

“No, you don’t.”

“M-make it stop! Please!”

Onthyes winced, his hand tightening around the cloth he’d just finished soaking in cool water from the basin on the bedside table. The water ran over his fingers as it was squeezed from the cloth, landing in the bowl with a soft dribbling sound. He exhaled slowly, reaching out to press the cloth to Ventis’s burning forehead.

“It’s okay,” Onthyes said softly, knowing that Ventis probably couldn’t even hear him right now, “You’re okay.”

He’d expected the withdrawals to be bad. Theodore had warned him. Shayah had warned him. He’d even heard Athos mention it offhand once, how withholding nightspill was a punishment reserved only for the most severe transgressions.

But this?

Ventis lay curled into himself on the bed, the sheets damp with sweat and tangled in his legs. His breath came in uneven, ragged gasps, torn painfully from his throat. He trembled violently, his too-thin body shaking itself to pieces.

It had escalated so quickly.

Ventis had managed to fall asleep after refusing the nightspill in the small hours of this morning. When he woke up he had been achy and feverish and irritable, but he’d still managed to get out of bed and eat breakfast when prompted to. Onthyes had given him the order to finish his plate, knowing that it was only a matter of time before things got bad and Ventis couldn’t afford to spend precious hours agonizing over not having permission to feed himself.

Now, in the late evening, the withdrawals were really starting to set in. Shayah and Theodore had both gone to bed a while ago after Onthyes had assured them that he could handle this on his own. He’d promised Shayah that he would wake her if he needed a break, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave Ventis’s side.

“Please,” Ventis tried again, his hands clenching tightly in the sheets. “It hurts.”

Onthyes had gotten used to his begging over the last few hours, to the point that he could almost ignore it. “I know it hurts. You’re doing great.”

Ventis shook his head, letting out an anguished sob as he twisted onto his side and pressed his forehead into the pillow.

Onthyes put the cloth down with a sigh. It wasn’t helping anymore anyway. It had been soothing for Ventis at first, but at this point nothing Onthyes tried really seemed to bring him any relief.

Slowly, carefully, Onthyes sat down at the edge of the bed. Ventis curled towards him, one hand reaching out shakily, seeking comfort.

“Come here,” Onthyes whispered. He manuvered Ventis’s shaking body carefully, pulling him into his lap and holding him close despite the way his sweat started to dampen Onthyes’s clothes.

“Please,” Ventis whispered again. His long, thin fingers clutched at Onthyes’s shirt with surprising strength, knuckles going white. “Please, master.”

Onthyes froze, his body stiffening at that word. “What?” He started to stroke Ventis’s hair, hoping that he’d just heard wrong.

“Please, master,” Ventis said again, more desparete. “Please, I’m sorry. I-I’ll be good. Please just make it stop.”

Onthyes squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the urge to correct Ventis. He’d known this would happen. He’d known that Ventis would lose his grip on reality, that he might forget that he wasn’t being punished. That didn’t make it hurt any less, hearing Ventis call him master. He was nothing like Athos. He would rather die than be anything like Athos.

“You’re doing this because you want to get better, remember? You’re safe. Athos isn’t here. You’re not being punished.”

Ventis’s breath hitched. The sobs came harder now, racking through his frail body as he fought to make sense of the pain he was in. His voice broke when he spoke again. “I-I don’t want this anymore,” he hiccuped. “Please. Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

Onthyes just rubbed his back, tears forming in his own eyes.

“If you don’t stay fucking still, Jasper, I swear to the gods-”

Jasper let out a whine, unable to get any words out with his tongue sticking out of his mouth and clasped between two of Peer’s fingers. Peer avoided eye contact with him, knowing that it would only take one pleading look from his best friend to get him to fold, and he needed to do this.

“Yeah, I bet it hurts,” Peer grumbled. Jasper’s tongue was swollen around the steel barbell that pierced it through the center, blood welling up in little drops and making it impossible for Peer to get a grip. The early signs of infection were already apparent, and he’d only gotten this stupid thing last night. “That’s what you get for making unbelievably stupid decisions. I mean, did they even clean the needle first?”

Jasper shrugged, then yelped when Peer ‘accidentally’ pulled too hard on the barbell. He tried to pull away, only for the back of his head to thump on the wall he sat against.

“I said don’t move,” Peer scolded. He dried his fingers off on Jasper’s pants, then tried again. He finally managed to find purchase on the little ball at the top of the piercing and he wasted no time twisting it until it fell off into his hand. He dropped it on the floor, then slid the bar out of Jasper’s tongue.

Jasper shuddered, his eyes tearing up as more blood dripped from the open wound. “I thought-” he stopped short, spitting a mouthful of blood into the hankerchief Peer offered him. “I thought you were just going to heal it. Why’d you take it out?”

“Because it looked ridiculous and your father would’ve killed you if he saw it,” Peer said stiffly. “Open.”

Jasper rolled his eyes, then stuck his tongue out again. This time when Peer touched it he started to whisper in Elvish, golden magic radiating out from his hands and drawing away the infection.

“This is why I always tell you not to hang out with those assholes,” Peer said after he finished the spell. “At least, not when you’ve taken nightspill. It’s dangerous.”

Jasper worked his mouth open and closed, running his teeth over the now smooth spots on his tongue where the hole used to be. “Honestly, Peer, it’s just a piercing. I wasn’t in danger,” he insisted. “They were just messing around.”

And maybe he really believed that. But Peer knew better. He had seen it all; had watched as someone straddled Jasper, needle in hand, while two other pairs of hands held his shoulders firmly against the back of the couch and forced his mouth open. Jasper - wasted, by that point - had laughed the whole time, up until the moment the needle was driven through his tongue and he squeaked, inspiring a roar of laughter from his ‘friends.’

Peer could have intervened. He should have intervened. But he had thought that maybe Jasper might learn his lesson and stop letting these guys use him as their personal punching bag.

They hadn’t given Jasper that piercing because they honestly thought it would look good. They’d done it because they thought it was funny to push his limits, to see how far he would let them go before he finally fucking stood up for himself.

And for that other reason, the one Peer had overheard two of them chatting about in the background. (“I bet it’s gonna feel so weird when we-”)

They hadn’t hurt Jasper last night, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in danger. He had just proven that he’d let anyone do anything to him, and he wouldn’t know how to do anything but laugh.

Jasper hadn’t always been like that. Not before the nightspill took hold of him. If anything, he used to fight too much. Bratty and prideful and unbearably persistent when he saw something he wanted.

Peer had been enchanted by it, by him. When he’d started taking nightspill to manage his back pain, he had really hoped that it wouldn’t change him too much. That hope was dashed now. The Jasper he’d loved was gone, replaced by this disaster of a person who fawned where he used to fight, biting words replaced by slurred laughter and hald-lidded eyes.

It was going to get Jasper in big trouble some day. Peer could see that from miles away. But there was nothing he could do, and it hurt.

“Just… try to be more careful next time,” Peer muttered, knowing that it wouldn’t help.

“Go away!”

“Ventis,” Onthyes sighed, tired from the numerous times he’s tried to explain this. “Your brother’s just trying to help, okay?”

“No! I-I don’t… ah!” Ventis’s eyes flashed with a blinding purple light before he snapped them shut, groaning through his clenched teeth as he reached out, searching for Onthyes’s hand.

Theodore moved quickly, intercepting his grasp just in time. Pure energy surged from Ventis, crackling across his skin and lighting up the room, and Theodore absorbed it, drawing it into himself.

It wasn’t a perfect system, but so far it was the only method they’d come up with to keep Ventis from hurting anyone after his magic had started acting up this morning. His lightning didn’t seem to affect Theodore as much as it did Onthyes or Shayah, and the energy needed to go somewhere or it would end up tearing Shayah’s house apart, so they’d settled on letting Theodore take the brunt of it.

Onthyes was grateful for his help, considering the rows of handprint shaped burns on his arms and the smell of burning hair that still hadn’t managed to filter out of the room. The problem was, when Ventis encountered rare moments of lucidity and realized that Theodore was practically sitting vigil at his bedside, he was less than pleased.

The window shutters slammed against the walls with a bang, letting in a torrent of rain and wind before Onthyes got up and closed them again. It was a losing battle, he knew, but with the three of them still wanted by the law he felt much more comfortable minimizing the risk that someone caught a glimpse of them through an open window.

Ventis cried out again, gripping Theodore’s arm weakly before he let go, his hand falling limp on the sheets. His face fell into something almost relaxed, his breathing slowing into soft gasps. It wasn’t sleep - sleep was something he just hadn’t been capable of over these last few days - but it was close enough, blissful unconsciousness.

Theodore sighed as the wave of storm magic faded out, the room suddenly dark and quiet again. He was panting lightly, his eyes shining a brighter blue than usual, his fingers twitching with idle energy. He’d claimed that absorbing Ventis’s magic wouldn’t do anything to him, but Onthyes was starting to wonder if that was proving to be untrue.

“How are you holding up? His magic seems to be… affecting you,” Onthyes said slowly.

Theodore glanced away, putting on his usual air of casual confidence. “Nonsense. I could keep this up all day.”

“You’re smoking.”

Theodore glanced down at his arms. Sure enough, smoke had begun to rise from his skin, curling towards the ceiling. “Ah, well, perhaps Jas- Ventis’s magic is stronger than I had anticipated. I cast circles around him when we were children but…” He trailed off, distracted by the smoke, then snapped back into himself. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. He has to run out of energy eventually, and I believe that I can outlast him.”

Onthyes wasn’t convinced, but he decided to allow Theodore to hold on to his pride for a while longer. “Alright then, just let me know if it gets to be too much.”

Theodore nodded, and they left it at that.

They lapsed into uneasy silence, neither of them unable to relax under the constant threat of another episode from Ventis. These moments of calm were fragile, and they never lasted long before the next wave hit.

Theodore adjusted his posture, shifting where he sat perched on the edge of the bed next to his brother’s limp form. “He’ll get through this,” he muttered, although it was unclear if he was trying to reassure Onthyes or himself.

“He will,” Onthyes agreed softly. He took a risk, reaching out to hold Ventis’s hand. It was clammy and cold, his fingers almost skeletal. Everything about him was too small, too thin. He’d barely been able to eat since starting the withdrawals, barely eaten before then as well. He was wasting away before their eyes, and Onthyes wasn’t sure if there was anything they could do about it.

“You should rest,” Theodore said, glancing over at Onthyes. “You look terrible.”

Rest had become a foreign concept to Onthyes, and he had no plans to reunite with it until after Ventis recovered, but he appreciated Theodore’s concern nonetheless.

Onthyes huffed a quiet laugh. “Thanks.”

Neither of them moved. Ventis would wake again soon enough, and they would have to do this all over again.

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@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @purity-weeps

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@saffitaffi @ravenqueen21 @tomato-whump @melpomenelamusa

#some friends of his #awful horrible people #>:)#not me reading this at work #delicious as always kabie #i love every last bit #whump #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr

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sleepyiswhumping · 5 months ago

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✧･ﾟ Ripe, About to Fall - Part 16 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series

First | Previous

Chapter Summary: Ventis makes some big decisions, just maaaaybe not for the right reasons.

Chapter Content: Addiction, deconditioning, sex mentions, honestly not a super heavy chapter just a lot of Ventis thinking

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Ventis was… confused.

Would ‘confused’ be the word for it? He had just spent the last four years living as a pet - learning to squash down any sense of humanity or independence he might have had, learning to throw himself into his master’s arms over and over no matter if he wanted it or not because if he didn’t give himself he wasn’t worth anything and worthless pets get thrown out onto the street to starve, learning to fawn and present the veins in his arms and pretend and pretend and pretend until he couldn’t even remember who he used to be anymore.

And then it had just… stopped.

Onthyes had come, and tried, and failed, and tried again, and actually succeeded by some miracle.

And Ventis was grateful, really. Of course he was. What else would he feel? Regret?

Regret, maybe sometimes. Because Ventis had only been in Shayah’s house for a week now but still nothing made any sense to him and things were just so much easier with Athos. The bed was softer, the clothes fit better, there were books and a piano and… And Athos. Those feelings were far too complicated for Ventis to want to spend any time with them.

Confused. Understatement of the century.

But Ventis was trying. Everyone around him clearly wanted him to get better, whatever that meant, everyone including Theodore, for some unbelievable reason.

Ventis sighed, resting his head on his hand. He sat at the kitchen table, staring down at the bowl of fruit that had been washed and cut and abandoned in the center of the table. Onthyes had mentioned it offhand to Ventis: “Hey, there’s some fruit there, if you get hungry.”

Ventis knew what Onthyes was trying to do. He’d very purposefully phrased it so that it wasn’t an order or an invitation, just a delivery of information. Ventis had to be the one to do the real work, to unlock whatever invisible shackles were keeping him from grabbing a piece and bringing it to his own lips.

All he wanted was to make Onthyes happy. That was one of the only clear thoughts he came across during his time here. He wanted to do… whatever Onthyes wanted him to do. But all Onthyes seemed to want him to do was get better, and Ventis knew that meant eating without permission, acting on literally any thought or desire without permission. The one thing Ventis couldn’t do was the only thing Onthyes wanted from him.

Well, that and one other thing.

Get sober.

Onthyes had mentioned it a million times now. Usually as a response to Ventis’s persistent flirting.

When you get sober, we can be together.

Easier said than done.

He knew Ontheys was just using it as a barrier between them, which was endlessly frustrating for Ventis. Onthyes acted like it was such a serious thing, the idea of them doing anything remotely intimate. He didn’t want to be together. Fine. But did he really think he was getting away with pretending not to want sex? Ventis was an expert at reading people’s desires. He had caught the lingering looks from Onthyes since the day they met. He knew he wanted him.

And gods, Ventis wanted him too. Partially because it had just been so long since anyone touched him it was starting to feel as if his skin was buzzing and itching from the lack of contact. Cuddling with Onthyes was nice, sure. The weight of his arm slung across Ventis’s body at night was grounding, comforting. But recently Ventis had begun to feel so… pent up. He needed sex.

And, for once, nightspill was the one thing standing in his way.

Ventis didn’t want to get sober. Onthyes didn’t understand how much he needed it, how much he depended on it to keep him sane. Not to mention the fact that it was a very helpful tool to keep his magic in hibernation. No one wanted to worry about being shocked just for touching him, or cleaning up the aftermath of an indoor monsoon just because he got slightly upset.

“What’s on your mind?”

Ventis glanced up, his lips quirking into a slight smile as Onthyes took the seat across from him. He wantched as Onthyes snatched an apple slice between his thumb and pointer finger and brought it to his lips, biting it in half with a satisfying crunch.

Show off.

“Nothing,” Ventis said, averting his eyes.

“That’s my sweet thing,” Athos would have said. “Not a thought in that little head. There’s nothing to worry about when I take care of everything for you, is there darling?”

Onthyes hummed, finishing his apple slice. “They’re a little sour, don’t you think? Have you tried one?”

“Not yet, sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

They lapsed into silence, as they always did when Onthyes tried to get him to open up. Ventis stared down at his fingers. His nails hadn’t been cared for in a while now, and Theodore’s nervous habit of picking at his cuticles seemed to have become contagious because Ventis’s own nail beds looked a little ragged now. Just another thing to add to the list of ways he had let himself go since his escape.

“Has it been strange having your brother here?” Onthyes asked, audibly forcing himself to keep his tone light. “I understand it had been a while since the two of you last saw each other.”

“Four years,” Ventis said. He glanced out the window, watching the limbs of a nearby tree sway in the wind. Onthyes and Theodore had been acting stir-crazy recently, but Ventis didn’t mind being cooped up inside. It was comforting. “He is taller now, although he has always been taller than me.”

“You’re the older one though, right?”

Ventis nodded. “I am two years older.”

Another lapse of silence. This clearly wasn’t what Onthyes actually wanted to talk about, and Ventis could see him thinking, the gears turning as he tried to find a way to voice his true thoughts.

“I know that things are… tense between you two.”

Ventis looked away again, his shoulders stiffening.

“And I won’t pretend to know what happened to make it that way…”

Hands clamping down on his arms, his stomach dropping as he’s forcefully leaned over the edge of the roof, the wind-

“But you should know that he’s trying. Really trying. He’s been sticking around this whole time because he cares about you and he wants to see you get better. He wants to heal things with you. Maybe you should give him a chance.”

Ventis’s jaw tightened. Onthyes didn’t know Theodore like he did. Someone as trusting as him would never see Theodore for what he really was: a stone cold liar. He didn’t care. Not really. He just wanted to gain Onthyes’s favor, and now he was stuck in this house because he’d become a fugitive in the process. He would have done this for anyone else.

Onthyes stared at Ventis in the fragile silence. He always did this, always gave Ventis time to process and respond when Athos would have just plowed on. It was annoying. Ventis didn’t want to think. He wasn’t built for thinking.

He stared at the bowl of fruit. It would be easy. All he would have to do is reach out and take. And it would be something else to do other than talking about Theodore, something that would surely make Onthyes happy.

He let out a slow breath and reached out.

His fingers brushed the edge of an apple slice. He hesitated for a heartbeat, then picked it up.

Brought it to his lips.

And took a bite.

It was sour and sharp and real on his tongue, far from perfect but somehow just as good.

He glanced up, and Onthyes was grinning. That sight brought with it a rush of euphoria. He’d pleased Onthyes. Finally, after a week of noticing his disappointment every time Ventis gave in to his conditioning, he’d done something right.

It felt good. Really good. Ventis wanted more.

In the small hours of the following morning, Ventis woke to the familiar ache in his bones, the fluttery sort of feeling in his chest that begged to be quieted by flushing his veins with liquid midnight. He groaned, twisting towards Onthyes’s sleeping form under the covers.

Onthyes woke as well, now used to the routine: wake up, drug Ventis, go back to sleep until sunrise. He sat up wordlessly, reaching for the vial, which was kept in a locked box in the nightstand drawer.

Ventis shuddered, squeezing his eyes closed. This was his chance. He could make Onthyes so happy right now, could do the one thing that might lead to them finally getting to have each other. But he wanted the drug more than ever at this moment. It would be so easy just to let Onthyes give it to him. Maybe he'll start tomorrow…

No. If Ventis wanted to do this, he had to be all in, right now.

No more hesitating.

“Don’t,” Ventis whispered.

Onthyes paused, key in hand. “What was that?”

“Don’t,” Ventis said again. “I want… I want to stop.”

He didn’t miss the way Onthyes’s shoulders sagged with relief. This was what he wanted, what he was waiting for. “Are you sure? We haven’t talked about this.”

“I’m sure,” Ventis said quickly, before he could give himself the chance to take it back.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

#whump writing #nonhuman whumpee #oc whump

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sleepyiswhumping · 5 months ago

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OUGHHH this is so sweet aughhh little lost puppy man :(

✧･ﾟ Ripe, About to Fall - Part 15 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series

First | Previous

Chapter Summary: Ventis continues to torture Onthyes, and being free is a little more complicated than we may have hoped.

Chapter Content: Seduction attempts, flirting, conditioned whumpee, branding mentions, drugs, food mentions

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“If I had known that this was all it would take to get you to take my clothes off, I would have gotten myself stabbed sooner.”

Onthyes sighed, thankful that he was safely behind Ventis’s back where the genasi couldn't see him blushing. “Ventis, please…”

Just last night, Ventis had offered himself to Onthyes. It hadn’t been easy to turn down. Onthyes wanted him more than he’d like to admit, but he knew better. He knew that Ventis was in a delicate place, that he was still addicted to nightspill and still heavily conditioned by Athos and probably didn’t even understand the gravity of what he was asking for. By giving in to Ventis’s offer, Onthyes would be doing him a disservice.

Onthyes had told him to wait, that they could maybe try something once he’s sober. Ventis had seemed amenable to that.

That hadn’t stopped him from continuing to flirt.

At first, Onthyes had thought it was all innocent. Ventis would cuddle close to him, running a hand down his chest, pressing his lips to his neck under the guise of sleep, and Onthyes would brush it off and fantasize about setting himself on fire. Maybe Ventis didn’t mean it. He should be allowed to sleep comfortably without Onthyes complaining that his very presence was too much of a temptation.

Onthyes had moved him gently, turning him onto his other side to face away from him, and Ventis’s immediate response had been to press his hips back against Onthyes’s. Onthyes had jerked back with a gasp, heart pounding, face hot, and was rewarded by sleepy, impish chuckling from Ventis. That little shit.

All that being said, Onthyes hadn’t slept much.

Then, of course, there had been this morning, when Ventis has woken before the break of dawn, cringing and gasping for air and rolling over to cling to Onthyes. Onthyes had still been awake, just on the edge of drifting off, but that movement from Ventis had brought him back to awareness just enough to hear his soft, desperate whispers of “Please, pleeeease I need it, sir. I’ll be good, I promise, just please give it to me.”

It had taken his fried brain a few shocked seconds to realize he was probably talking about nightspill, that the drug had worn off and he didn’t know how else to get another hit. Onthyes had fumbled for it, clumsily filling the syringe and pressing it into Ventis arm while he trembled with relief. Ventis had fallen asleep again quickly after that, but Onthyes found himself unable to follow him.

Onthyes finished removing Ventis’s shirt, discarding it nearby on the bed. He moved over to sit next to him, noting that there was only a small spot of blood on the bandages that covered the stab wound.

“Just… I told you already that we can’t do anything until after you’re sober, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop flirting with me so much.”

“Sorry, hero,” Ventis mumbled, but Onthyes could hear the smirk hidden in his voice.

Ventis knew what he was doing, but Onthyes resolved to resist his advances. He had to prove that he was better than Athos, that he had rescued Ventis because he saw him as more than an object of desire, even if Ventis himself seemed to want Onthyes to see him that way.

Onthyes unwrapped the bandages carefully, setting them aside as he examined the wound. It was healing well, thanks to the potions Shayah had provided.

“Looks good,” Onthyes muttered, cleaning it with deft hands before he picked up the roll of fresh bandages. “You’ll be better in no time.’

Ventis hummed, holding his arms up as Onthyes began to wrap the bandages around his midsection.

Onthyes made it about halfway through his task before his eyes snagged on Ventis’s lower back. He stared at it, dread creeping up the back of his neck as he wracked his brain, trying to remember if it had always been there.

In his time working for Athos, Onthyes had seen Ventis in various states of undress. The outfits he wore on a day-to-day basis were fairly revealing, not to mention the handful of times Onthyes had seen him completely naked, so he considered himself to know the genasi’s body fairly well.

He couldn’t remember ever seeing this brand, though.

It was in the clear shape of Athos’s personal crest, seared harshly into pale blue skin, just off to the left side of his spine. It seemed to be relatively fresh, probably a month old, if he were to guess. He’d seen the same mark before - burned into shipping crates, inked into the inner cover of books, marking Athos’s things.

Onthyes’s fingertips landed on the brand before he could stop himself, tracing over the ridges it had formed on Ventis’s otherwise smooth blue skin. He felt Ventis tense up under the touch, his shoulders squaring momentarily before he seemed to force himself to relax.

“When did this happen?” Onthyes asked. He tried to sound casual, but there was an edge to his voice that betrayed his fear, his anger.

It was an unnecessary question. He could guess the answer. But he really didn’t want to be right.

“The same night we tried to escape the first time,” Ventis said, his voice quiet.

Onthyes pulled his hand away quickly, clenching his fists as Ventis’s answer hit him like a punch to the gut. “I… I’m so sorry,” he choked out.

“Please, do not blame yourself.”

How could he not? Ventis had been branded like livestock because Onthyes had failed to protect him. That mark would take years to fade, if it ever did. Ventis had been so hesitant about trying to escape at first. Onthyes had been the one to convince him, feeding him false promises that everything would be okay, that he would keep him safe. But he’d failed.

“I mean it, Onthyes,” Ventis pressed. “It… it was just something that happened.”

“To you,” Onthyes said through gritted teeth. “Something that happened to you, because I couldn’t protect you even though I promised-”

“Please.” Onthyes halted at the desperation in Ventis’s voice. “I’m fine. Just… don’t, okay?”

Onthyes forced himself to take a deep breath. He wasn’t helping Ventis by sitting here beating himself up. Ventis clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and he had to respect that. “Okay. Sorry.”

They sat in silence while Onthyes finished with the bandages. The smell of food wafted into the bedroom, and through the closed door they could hear Theodore and Shayah chatting in hushed voices.

“You should eat. Do you feel well enough to get up, or should I bring you something?”

Ventis stood, stumbling a little. Onthyes quickly reached out to steady him, keeping a gentle hand on his elbow to guide him into the kitchen.

As they moved down the narrow hallway, Onthyes took the time to collect himself, focusing on clearing his head of the guilt and regret that have been festering ever since he failed at rescuing Ventis the first time. He had been hurt because of Onthyes’s carelessness, but there was nothing that could be done now and continuing to brood on it was no help to Ventis, who still needed him even now that he was free.

The smell of freshly baked bread and spiced tea hung in the air, bringing a slight smile to Onthyes’s face as they entered. It had been a long time since he had stayed with Shayah, and her cooking was truely something to be missed.

Theodore and Shayah paused their conversation as Onthyes and Ventis entered, their gazes flicking towards the pair. Onthyes felt Ventis hesitate, his shoulders pulling back slightly as though bracing for impact. He leaned just a little into Onthyes’s guiding hand, a tiny tell of how fragile his composure really was.

“You’re still here,” Ventis said, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the momentary silence.

Theodore stiffened slightly, his jaw tightening before he masked his expression with indifference. “Where else would I be?”

Ventis sniffed, sitting down gracefully in the chair Onthyes pulled out for him. “I expected you to have gone crawling back to Father by now, since you have apparently absolved yourself of your guilt by bringing me to safety.”

Onthyes had no clue what guilt Ventis might have been referring to, but it clearly struck a nerve for Theodore. He averted his eyes, his fist clenching under the table. “Maybe I am waiting for you to properly thank me.”

Ventis raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to retort-

“Besides,” Shayah cut in, an attempt to break the bubbling tension between the brothers. “you’re not quite out of danger yet. Athos has got guards tearing this city apart looking for you.”

Ventis flinched, his face going pale. He glanced down as Onthyes placed a plate of food in front of him, but he didn’t move to eat it.

“We should leave the city,” Onthyes said, retrieving his own food and sitting down in the remaining unoccupied chair. “Get as far away from here as possible.”

Shayah shrugged, biting off a chunk of bread before speaking with her mouth full. “Easier said than done. I checked around while you two were still snoozing. He’s got guards checking out everyone going through the gates. Might be better for us to lay low here. Though, it’s probably only a matter of time before someone comes asking me if I’ve seen you, since we’re such great friends and all.”

They continued chatting as they ate, but Ventis was noticeably silent. He was still too, never moving to touch his food, his eyes fixed on the surface of the table and his posture stiff. His only signs of life came when he would nod after someone made a point, or smile politely at a joke Shayah made.

“Not hungry, Ventis?” Shayah asked as they encountered a lull in the conversation.

Ventis jumped a little, his eyes finally meeting her face. “No, I am hungry.”

Onthyes frowned, glancing down at Ventis’s still full plate. Everyone else had finished eating by now, yet he hadn't even started.

“Why don’t you eat, then?” Onthyes asked gently.

“I…” Ventis’s brow furrowed. “I am not sure.”

Onthyes thought back to the meals he had observed during his time working in Athos’s manor. Ventis didn’t eat at the table often. Instead, he tended to hover nearby with a pitcher of wine, acting as something nice to look at while Athos entertained his guests. He usually only got to eat when Athos offered him a bite or, on rare occasions, invited him to sit and eat.

“Do you…” Onthyes stared down at his glass of water, considering whether or not this was a question he really wanted to ask. “Do you need permission?”

Ventis hesitated, then shook his head. “I used to. I suppose that does not matter anymore, though.”

Onthyes waited for a moment, watching expectantly as Ventis stared down at his plate. His hand twitched, but he didn’t reach for his fork. A wrinkle formed between his brows.

“I do not understand,” he whispered, looking to Onthyes with wide eyes. “I can’t do it.”

Onthyes rushed to reassure him. He’d expected this kind of thing - Ventis having trouble breaking his conditioning. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. Just keep trying. I promise no one is going to hurt you.”

A few minutes passed this time, still with Ventis making no move to eat and growing more and more visibly frustrated.

Finally, “Eat, Ventis. We don’t have all day.”

“Theodore-”

But it worked, Ventis sighing with relief as he finally reached for his fork and took a bite. The food was cold by now, but he still smiled at the taste, following the first bite with another.

Onthyes sighed, glancing over at Theodore. “That’s not how I wanted to do this,” he said softly.

Theodore shrugged. “I was tired of starving him.”

Thes rest of the day went similarly. Ventis became Onthyes’s shadow, always following him, never acting independently. He didn’t eat uninvited, didn’t even sit unless he was told where, didn’t ask to take a nap until Onthyes caught his eyelids drooping and asked him to go lay down for a while. He just had no sense of authority over himself, and it worried Onthyes deeply.

It was an uncomfortable position for Onthyes, having this level of control over Ventis. Between giving him his nightspill this morning and being the one telling him what to do all day, he felt far too much like Ventis saw him as just another Athos. The very thought was sickening.

But to be fair, this was only Ventis’s second day as a free man, and he was barely even that, considering the fact that he couldn’t leave this house - couldn’t even wander too close to a window out of fear of being seen. Onthyes would have to hold out hope that he could get better, that time and patience would be enough to help him get his life back

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We are now firmly in the revocery arc! 90% chance next chapter will be the beginning of nightspill withdrawals bc I'm really looking forward to writing that. Sorry for the long break shit got really crazy for a second there <3

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

#whump #whump community #whump writing #whumpblr #whump tropes #whump scenario #whump ideas #nonhuman whumpee #whumpee #oc whump #aughhhh kabie #you’ve done it again #i love thissss

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sleepyiswhumping · 5 months ago

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I feel like short people (especially women) are underrepresented in whump and I think there's a lot of dynamics to play with there

A short Whumper being able to put a full force blow straight into Whumpee's gut/kidneys just to watch them crumple

A more defiant Whumpee being able to resist Whumper better, not letting themselves be thrown around. But this only results in what happens when a Whumper has a chance to get creative.

A small Whumpee terrified by how easily Whumper can restrain them. They are powerless here, how could they not be? They're so tiny and insignificant.

A short Whumpee having things she wants placed too high for her to reach. Whumper only has to reach up and grab it, but it will always be out of range for Whumpee.

A Whumpee being baby talked because they're so small and so cute. Their emotions being taken as jokes by Whumper(s) because they're "so grumpy" but it never being taken as serious

A smaller Caretaker struggling to help Whumpee walk/move, simply unable to bear the load. They have to stay more stationary, or at least wait for somebody else to help.

Just smaller characters in whump. Feeling small can do a number to how someone acts and holds themselves

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sleepyiswhumping · 6 months ago

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sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

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sleepyiswhumping · 6 months ago

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sleepyiswhumping · 7 months ago

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sleepyiswhumping · 7 months ago

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for whumpee <3

1) what's wrong with you?

2) be honest: did you deserve it?

3) what do you think about whumper?

4) what do you think about caretaker?

5) do you have any rules?

6) when was the last time you cried?

7) when was the last time you laughed?

8) does something hurt right now? what is it?

9) do you have others who share your fate? do you wish there were?

10) do you have any triggers?

11) do you have any phobias?

12) have you ever killed? would you?

for whumper <3

13) what's wrong with you?

14) be honest: did they deserve it?

15) what do you think about whumpee?

16) what do you think about caretaker?

17) do you have any pet peeves?

18) what would an ideal victim be like?

19) favourite tool/instrument?

20) aren't you afraid you'll get caught?

21) how are you so hot?

22) do you have any pets? animals.

23) do you have a preferred title or would you rather victims call you by name?

24) have you ever killed? would you?

for caretaker <3

25) what's wrong with you?

26) be honest: don't you deserve better?

27) what do you think about whumpee?

28) what do you think about whumper?

29) do you pity whumpee?

30) don't you ever just want to give up?

31) do you even know what you're doing?

32) how do you keep yourself sane? what is your favourite way to wind down?

33) do you have medical training?

34) isn't there someone you're forgetting to take care of? (yourself, stupid)

35) don't you ever want to take advantage of your position?

36) have you ever killed? would you?

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sleepyiswhumping · 8 months ago

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hey everyone, just a reminder that despite the election results and how disheartening it is to see, this isn’t over. this isn’t the end, not by a long shot. there’s still things happening locally, people fighting the good fight, for what’s right. in four years we’ll have another chance at this. until then you just gotta survive. make it through. remember you are loved and valued and that you have friends and family who care about you. don’t fall into defeatism, stay focused, stay strong. again, you are loved, and this is far from over.

love you all

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sleepyiswhumping · 8 months ago

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stay safe out there

I do not see inspiration coming anywhere near me right now. I will be inactive most likely for a long time.

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sleepyiswhumping · 8 months ago

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stan your torture is long overdue cmere let bee *get* you

Well. If nothing else, this morning has gotten me to open up my drawing tablet for the first time in three weeks.

Let's get back into (un)official guide, shall we? I think Stan has gone untortured for far too long >:)

#i hope you’re doing well #n it’s okay to not do hw rn #do stuff you enjoy #it’s the best thing you can do rn #love u <3 #make stan miserable >:)

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sleepyiswhumping · 8 months ago

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Truth Serum

Or, why the NSA and DEA probably have me on a list by now.

Ever since Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation came out, I’ve been kind of interested in that not-really-an-interrogation-scene from the beginning. You know the one that has about three frames of Ilsa placing two vials (EDIT: it was three vials) of unnamed drugs on the table along with a couple of hypodermic syringes? Well I was pretty devastated that we never got the chance to see them in action, because I was already planning a blog post about them when Ethan “escaped.”

The concept of “truth serum” is really common in fiction, used everywhere from 24 to Star Trek to Valiant (yeah the one about the animated pigeons). Character B wants information that Character A has, and injects them with a drug that makes them give up intel they wouldn’t ordinarily feel like sharing. This takes several forms, including actual intelligence gathering/plot advancement value, comedic value (accidental injecting and subsequent over-sharing about personal matters), and, for our purposes, whump value (where side effects/rescue/aftermath of interrogation is more important)

“Truth Serum” as a singular substance is actually a misnomer. The term refers to any of several different drugs that have been used in the hope of obtaining information or even confessions of guilt. These drugs work by removing a subject’s inhibitions enough that they don’t care that they are revealing the truth, and/or make it so they are mentally incapable of constructing a lie and so tell the truth by default. What this does is make it very difficult to construct and tell a lie, and very convenient and easy to tell the truth. More on that in a minute.

The most famous “truth drugs” are scopolamine, sodium thiopental and amobarbital.

Scopolamine is a chemical that blocks a neurotransmitter called acetylcholine at certain receptors. Acetylcholine is present almost everywhere in the body, and what it does in any given part of the body is dependent on the kind of receptor it activates at that site. Scopolamine particularly blocks the type of receptor present in parts of the brain, meaning that it inhibits acetylcholine’s ability to trigger certain brain functions. When it does this it inhibits the formation/recall of memory, causing amnesia of the interrogation session and making it difficult to create or remember a previously created lie.

Pros:

Not a controlled substance (but prescription is required)

Prior to 1990 (in the USA) it was available over the counter for use against motion sickness and insomnia (by pill or in skin patches)

The same preparation of the drug (from a vial) can be injected into muscle, fat or a vein (no specialist training needed to inject into fat)

Cons:

Produces profound drowsiness at effective doses

Produces profound dry mouth at effective doses (possibly to the point of making it difficult to swallow or talk)

Useful stretch of time occurs between 10 and 50 minutes after administration and takes up to 6 hours for subject to completely recover

Either depending on story:

Produces complete amnesia

Withdrawal symptoms of dizziness, nausea, vomiting, drooling and slow heart rate if stopped suddenly after days or weeks of use

Amobarbital and sodium thiopental are both barbiturates. Barbiturates have similar desired effects when used as truth drugs (amnesia, suggestibility, confusion) as scopolamine but work in a different way and have different side effects. Instead of blocking acetylcholine receptors, barbiturates increase the effect of another neurotransmitter chemical called GABA. Because GABA tends to work by shutting things in the brain down, by increasing the effects of GABA, barbiturates also make it difficult to form new memories or create/remember a lie. Barbiturates also have the advantage of decreasing anxiety, making a subject less likely to care that they are revealing compromising information. Here is a video showing sodium thiopental in action.

Pros:

Both makes it difficult to remember/create a lie and makes a subject less likely to care about revealing information.

Does not cause other anticholinergic side effects like dry mouth

Acts very quickly IV, subject may be ready for questioning almost immediately after IV administration

Cons:

Controlled substance (difficult to acquire)

Produces profound drowsiness at effective doses

Must be given in a large vein by a trained interrogator (can’t just stab someone with it- it may significantly damage smaller muscles or fat)

Requires extremely precise, titrated dosing- not everyone responds the same way, and effects are based on a specific state of mind rather than a dose or timeframe after administration

Either depending on story:

May depress respiration and heart rate at effective doses (maybe you want a CPR scene, IDK…)

May only have a few minutes of effective questioning time before patient falls asleep

May produce hallucinations/delusions at effective dosing, distorting answers to questions

Could take up to 8 hours for character to fully recover

Now, in the immortal words of Natasha Romanoff, the truth is not all things to all people all the time. If I were to make up a lie, repeat it, live it, and practice it, and then be given one of these drugs, under duress, I may spout my “lie” instead of the truth. This is because the “truth” that these drugs reveal, is whatever the subject thinks is true at the time they are questioned, or whatever they are conditioned to say when asked certain questions. This provides at least one way these drugs can be “beaten.”

Another problem with relying on truth drugs irl is that they have been known to make a subject susceptible to suggestion. For example, if an innocent murder suspect under the influence of a truth drug is questioned in a way that implies that he is guilty, he may falsely admit guilt. This makes their use pretty unethical for obtaining confessions (which, admittedly, could work well in a story).

In short, chemicals used as truth drugs are inconvenient and unreliable at best, but can still be used realistically in fiction for the reasons described earlier in this post:

When writing truth drugs, you may be least able to use them realistically for comedic value (unless you find drugged people funny, which I personally don’t, but to each their own.). This doesn’t stop you from using them non-realistically as a plot device, of course.

Realistically for interrogation purposes, the best way to get accurate information from truth drugs is if the information your characters need is short and quantitative. Passwords, codes or memorized coordinates are good pieces of intel to ask about, as a subject cannot accidentally mis-interpret them and they are also not something a character may have been able to make themselves believe an incorrect version of. Because the drugs cause a highly suggestible state, interrogators also need to be very careful to avoid (or not) bias if they want certain information to be correct- an innocent murder suspect who’s interrogator alleges that they are guilty may falsely plead guilty. Short, quantitative pieces of intel are not likely to be swayed by biased questioning. Use that however you want.

For whump value, go after the side effects. If a rescue occurs after the drugs have finished being useful but before they wear off, the character will likely be unconscious. They will wake up with no memory of the interrogation or even some of the time before the drug was administered. If it is a barbiturate, respiratory and cardiac depression may require rescue breathing or CPR until enough of the drug wears off for the subject to breathe on their own. While many chemicals have been used as antidotes to barbiturates, there is no specific, routinely used antidote. Breathing/circulation and blood pressure support is the best treatment if necessary. For scopolamine, the drug physostigmine acts as an antidote.

Other side effects of scopolamine.

Other side effects of barbiturates.

Declassified interrogation training manual

R E F E R E N C E S

Let me know if you have any questions!

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sleepyiswhumping · 8 months ago

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this is AUGH this is what really happened ough i love this also hope your gf’s okay!!! wishing her the best

✧･ﾟ Ripe, About to Fall - Part 14 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series

First | Previous

Chapter Summary: We learn a bit about the rich history of beef between Ventis and Theo.

Chapter Content: A minor (15) is temporarily killed, bullying, suicide mentions, death by falling, magic exhaustion

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~ Five years ago ~

Jasper used to find peace up high.

He liked to sit quietly on the palace roof, his legs dangling off of the edge in a way that always made Nanny Alma sweat when she caught sight of him from the courtyard below, but she was too old to trek up the countless flights of stairs to get to him, so Jasper could trust that he would be unbothered.

Unbothered by her, at least. It would take more than a few stairs to stop Theodore.

But for now Jasper was alone - the way he liked it. It was better this way, when he could be assured that he was alone by choice, not because the other kids his age refused to be seen with the weirdo of the Riinturuth family. Theodore had it easy in that regard. Despite being the second born, he was always surrounded by friends. All of the kingdom’s sycophants seemed to have decided that Theodore was the important one, not Jasper.

I’m better off that way. Those aren’t real friends, Jasper thought. I don’t want their feigned adoration. I don’t want their attention.

He so desperately wanted their attention, but that was a secret he could keep even from himself, at least for a while.

“There you are!” Theodore’s voice called from somewhere behind Jasper. He wasn’t even winded, of course, while the friends that followed shortly behind him tried to mask the way their chests heaved from the journey to the roof.

“No need to sound so proud of yourself,” Jasper said, turning around so his back was to the drop below. “I was not hiding.”

“What are you doing, then?” Theodore asked as he leaned forward against the railing Jasper sat on. “You know we have lessons soon.”

Jasper shrugged.

Theodore prattled on, unbothered by the lack of response. “You can’t keep coming to the roof every time you want to mope, you know. Half the kingdom expects you to jump off any day now. I’m just curious as to why you haven’t done it yet.”

Jasper shrugged again. He was used to Theodor’s taunts. They used to get to him, to make him cry or bite back. Theodore did it on purpose. He liked to get a rise out of his over-emotional older brother, to show everyone which one of them was clearly better suited to rule. He would look to their father every time with a look that said, ‘See? Do you really want this cry-baby as your heir?’

So Jasper had learned to stop caring so much. At least, he learned to stop showing how much he cared. But of course that just meant that Theodore had to work harder to get him to lose control.

“Are you here to hurry me along, then?” Jasper asked, glancing over at his brother.

Theodore’s friends snickered, and Jasper didn’t doubt that they really wished he would just jump.

Theodore sighed. “Why do you always assume I have nefarious intentions?”

“I could list every reason, but we would be here all day.”

“Funny. Actually, I’m here with a question for you.”

Jasper looked up, his interest piqued.

Theodore was holding a book, his thumb stuck between the pages to mark his spot. He opened it, showing Jasper a section that seemed to be about air elementals and their descendents. Taking up half of a page was a drawing of an air genasi flying over a dense blanket of clouds, an easy smile on her face.

“Can you really fly?” Theodore asked, pointing to the picture.

Jasper shrugged, starting to lose interest. He knew very little about his own kind, having been raised in a kingdom full of humans. Theodore must have known this, so why was he asking?

“I do not know,” Jasper said. “I have not tested it.”

“How about a little experiment, then?”

Jasper’s blood ran cold. He didn’t like the way he said that, the sadistic glint in his eye.

“What do- hey!”

Theodore took Jasper by his thin shoulders in a strong grip, holding him tightly and pushing so he leaned dangerously backwards over the edge of the roof. His heart seized and he grabbed onto his brother’s arms, fingers digging into his sleeves.

“Don’t, Theo!”

Theodore just laughed, pushing him a little further. “Relax, brother, you’ll be fine once your instincts kick in.”

“I’m serious! Stop!”

His friends were laughing too, but it was almost inaudible over the roar of winds picking up around them. This always happened when Jasper got worked up - sometimes in the form of a small gust and sometimes a full-blown storm. Theodore pushed him just a little further and he could feel himself slipping-

“It’s just like pushing a baby bird out of the nest, right?”

Jasper shook his head hard, tears blurring his vision. “Stop it!”

“Are you seriously going to cry right now?” Theodore chuckled.

The wind picked up, blowing even harder and making their hair whip into their faces.

“Let me go!”

The wind reacted obediently to Jasper's desperate plea. It exploded between the two boys, shoving them away from each other. Theodore fell on his ass on the stone floor, and Jasper was blown backwards off of the railing.

A weightless feeling overtook him and he braced himself, fully expecting to plummet to the ground. But when moments passed and no impact occurred, Jasper braved opening his eyes.

He saw Theodore picking himself up on the floor, staring incredulously at Jasper, who was not falling but floating, just a few meters away from the edge of the roof.

Jasper stared down at himself in shock. “Holy shit,” he breathed, his hands shaking as he ran his fingers through the wind current that swept up under his body, holding him aloft.

“See?” Theodore laughed, but it barely covered the way his voice shook with relief. “Never say I don’t believe in you, brother.”

“You tried to kill me!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It was just a bit of fun. I was never actually going to drop you. You did that yourself.”

“Just get me down from here!” Jasper demanded. He didn’t know how he was doing this, and he didn’t trust himself to be able to keep it up much longer. He was already getting tired, the involuntary magic draining his energy quickly.

Theodore returned to the edge of the roof and reached out, straining but unable to reach far enough to touch Jasper. “I can’t reach you. Can’t you just… fly back over here?”

Jasper tried to will himself back over to the roof, but the wind seemed to have grown bored of obeying him. Instead he just floated there, his cloak billowing up around his face. “I can’t control it!”

“What do you expect me to do? I have to get to lessons!”

“I do too, you prick!”

Theodore waved him off, heading back towards the stairs. “You’ve always been the smart one. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Wait! You can’t leave me like this!”

His friends followed him inside, and Jasper was alone.

He heaved a deep breath, trying to control his pounding heart. His eyes were getting heavy, his vision starting to go dark around the edges. He couldn’t keep this up for much longer. Steeling himself, Jasper looked down, hoping that someone had caught sight of the boy floating above the busy courtyard. His stomach swooped as he realized just how far of a drop it was. There was no way he could survive that fall.

And of course no one seemed to have noticed him. “Hey! Help me!” he called to the people down below. He could hear his own voice being carried away by the wind, barely audible even to his own ears.

Jasper panted, clutching at his chest as it started to ache. He coughed, tasting blood, and felt himself drop a few inches.

No.

He tried to will himself back to the roof again, and again the wind did not obey. His head pounded. His vision faded in and out. He slipped again, swaying drunkenly in the sky.

No no no no no shit.

Then the winds dispersed, and Jasper fell.

He didn’t remember much after that. He’d been told that he had died on impact, effectively traumatizing those who had been going about their business in the courtyard.

By the time he woke up the next day, sore and achy from the after-effects of a frantically performed resurrection ritual, Theodore had already managed to spread the rumor of Jasper’s suicide attempt across the entire kingdom.

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Sorry y’all there was supposed to be more to this chapter but I gotta take my gf to the emergency room now so we’re cutting it short🫡

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

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