#augusnippets - day 31

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Day 31: Bonus Day

Cape

“Your suit must include a cape,” cut the Designer dryly. “If you’re a Hero, you have to wear a cape.”

Hero squirmed uncomfortably:

“But- didn’t the Edna Mode School of Thought say-”

The end of this sentence died on their lips as Designer glared at them, waving dangerously with their scissors gliding in their hand:

“I know what they say. Do you fly?”

“N-no?”

“Then most of the risks are averted. All clothes have dangers, if you put it like that. You can trip on a scarf or on new shoes too.”

“But capes do nothing.”

“Excuse me? The propaganda has come too far!”

Designer rubbed their forehead:

“Look, if you’re cut from help and backup, trust me, you’ll be grateful for the extra fabric. You can carry things or a person with it. You can rip it apart for bandages. It can be used as a shock blanket or a way to protect anonymity. ”

“I-I didn’t think about that-”

“Exactly.”

Designer stepped forward and poked at their forehead:

“So you’re gonna walk out to the world with your shiny new suit, you’re going to heroically cover a citizen in need with your crazy useful cape, and you’re going to look damn good doing it. Understood?”

“Y-Yes, Designer.”

"Don't be ungrateful to the Cape and its wonders. Or it will end you."

*

Aaand that makes 10 snippets. Thanks for the event @augusnippets, it's been fun !

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

[whumping-in-the-dark]

~Augusnippets~

Day 31: forced to watch | whipping | stalked

Prompts for Stalked:-

The classic whumper stalking whumpee before kidnapping them

Figuring out their every like and dislike along with every single detail of their life that they can capture

Either providing twisted version of 'heaven' for whumpee, deluded enough to think that they are whumpee's savior

Or forcing whumpee into the worst version of hell that they can come up with, specially designed for them

Alternatively, slightly-fucked-up whumpee stalking whumper because fuck they're kinda cute and whumpee definitely has a crush on them

Whumper pulling the uno reverse on them and kidnapping them because of course they noticed (Killing Stalking vibes)

Caretaker stalking whumper because they (rightfully) suspect them of having kidnapped whumpee

But no one believes caretaker because whumper pretends to be a nice lil member of society so caretaker is the one looked down upon for it

How far will caretaker go for that sweet sweet evidence?

Oh and whumpee stalking whumper even while living with caretaker because they've been conditioned so fucking bad that shit maybe they do miss them

Feel free to add more~

[scratchandplaster]

Kicks

CW: pregnancy and its side effects, comfort

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Fucking hell!"

Stitch by stitch, the yarn slipped off his needles. Shepard threw the half-finished potholder back on the bedside table, tired and disappointed.

Of all Grandma hobbies, he hoped knitting would be the easiest to learn. A terribly wrong estimate. But if nobody from either side of the family felt ready to swallow their pride and fill this role, he had to do it himself. Saved them all plenty of worry in the future anyway.

"I suck at this," Shepard confessed and looked imploringly at Claire, who waddled in from the en-suite.

"Very much so, love" she cackled, rolling under the blanket next to him, "but it will look great if you keep trying."

He shifted, then, stuffing a pillow underneath her feet and lifting her legs up. At the end of the day, the swelling got especially bad. With slow and gentle strokes, Shepard massaged along her sore muscles in a patient rhythm, the perfect way to help Claire settle down.

Nevertheless, the discomfort grew with every day. Soon. Soon, both were ready to welcome him into the world. Today, other issues had to be discussed.

"Why did a Marcy Smith, from three towns over, send you a check for 500 dollars? Reason for transfer: baby clothes…"

"A kind donation," she huffed, eyes closed in pain.

"Since when do you take handouts?"

"Since the father left without a word." Claire pouted, peeking through her lashes to admire her husband's dumbfounded expression, "I heard he ran away with his mistress, poor me."

"You're horrible." I love you.

"You like the new Dremel set I got you? Then stop whining," she teased, a smug grin on her lips.

Fair enough. Shepard usually had to be content with one or the other tale about uncurable illness to earn his income, maybe a lame dog to care for here and there. What could he say, Claire really was his better half, in every aspect.

Minute after minute, he kept guiding the pressure from her legs, until she protested, less than half-awake: "I need to pee."

"Again? "

"Tell that to him." She sighed and pointed down to her stomach.

"Please, stop bullying my girl," he whispered and pressed a kiss where he suspected his child's head. The little fist pushing against Shepard's cheek begged to differ.

"Did you see that?" He gasped, quietly marveling at how their baby tossed and turned under his fingers, like he was swimming laps for the fun of it. "Rude, Lukas, very rude."

Claire smiled down at her boys. Another twist inside her - and a bolt of sharp pain shot up to her lungs. It didn't matter how much she tried, she never got used to her son's late-night acrobatics; at least not without help.

"Can you do it again?"

"Sure." Shepard cleared his throat awkwardly. Who would have thought that his old hobby kept being useful? "But don't laugh if I'm still a bit rusty."

He joined her under the sheets, hands cupping under her stomach and lifting the weight of their son up, even if the relief only lingered for a short while.

"Alright, then. Take a deep breath in."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Prompt: bonus flashback/relapse/medical complications

@augusnippets @whumpyourdamnpears

[pigeonwhumps]

Sleeping

Sanctuary masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @mirasmirages @flowersarefreetherapy @whumpinggrounds @cepheusgalaxy

@painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @augusnippets

Augusnippets day 31: free day

While Anita's asleep in a hospital bed, Indira worries at her bedside. Almost immediately post-Anita's rape.

435 words

CWs: mentioned rape, minor whumpee (Anita's 15), hospital setting, grandparent caretaker

Of all the things Indira was worried might happen when she first realised she was going to end up raising a teenager alone, this wasn't one of them.

That's all she can think about as she watches Anita's chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall.

Her granddaughter looks small against the white fabric of the hospital bed, the trailing IVs and monitor leads, the beeping and rustling and quiet hospital bustle. She lies still and unmoving beneath the blanket, face swollen, hair matted.

The worst abuses lie where Indira can't see. Under the blanket and gown and bandages, inside her mind.

She couldn't protect her. She couldn't protect her only grandchild. Anita's already suffered so much, and she still can't protect her from the worst of humanity.

Anita's only asleep. Indira's seen her awake already. She almost wishes she hadn't, seeing the raw fear and anguish in her eyes, the humiliation and pain. She feels guilty but who wants to see their child like that?

She wasn't there in the ambulance. She wishes she had been. She's glad she wasn't.

She arrived in time for the rape kit though.

She watches her daughter. Peacefully asleep, Indira could almost pretend to herself that everything's going to be okay.

Almost.

If it wasn't for the swelling and the bruises appearing, and the medical equipment attached to her. Indira knows that the only reason she's sleeping so peacefully now is because she's passed out from the stress. She's probably too tired to dream. Tomorrow won't be pleasant.

Will it be pleasant again? She was a nurse, she knows people recover, but looking at Anita, her only grandchild, lying in this bed after one of the most horrific violations she could have experienced, it's hard to remember.

She needs to call Carla. She promised Anita she would, or ask an interpreter to. But she... she can't tear her eyes away from her granddaughter.

She should call Carla.

Suddenly, Anita sits up, eyes blank, and screams.

Indira pushes the call button and grabs her by the shoulders, pulling her into a careful hug.

"Hush. Hush, you're safe."

Anita shifts violently and for a moment Indira worries she's going to push her away (she wouldn't blame her if she did) but then her hands come up and fist in Indira's sari, almost tight enough to tear it.

"Paati?"

"It's me."

Anita sobs. Great, rasping sobs that tear Indira's heart out with every one. She clings on like she hasn't in years, a small child again.

"You're safe," Indira murmurs, rubbing her back, and desperately hopes that it's true.

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Overload

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

A bonus @augusnippets fill. For the people.

Contains: Royal whump, chronic illness/chronic pain, coughing up blood, magic

~~~

The blood Vesper coughed up was tinged with all of the colors of the galaxy. Blues and purples and silvers stained the cloth held to their mouth, glimmering and shining and nothing like blood should be. The power of the stars coursed through their veins, and it hurt.

Finally, the coughing fit eased, and Vesper collapsed back onto the bed. Of all of the swells of magic they had endured, this was among the worst. Blazing warmth and freezing chills wracked their body in tandem, and their bones felt as though they were being crushed and cracked and split apart. Everything hurt, and they had no idea when it would end.

There was a glass of water on the bedside table. They wanted it so desperately, if only to soothe their aching throat and wash away the taste of blood. But it was so far away, and their body was far too exhausted to respond to their futile efforts to restore it.

They couldn’t call a servant, either. It was too risky, with their magic this active. Nor could they use their magic to summon the water towards them. There was no aid coming for them, no relief. All they could do was lie in bed, and wait for this to pass.

[sufrimientilia]

Crack!

forced to watch | whipping | stalked @augusnippets Day 31 (bonus!)

cw: self-inflicted violence, blood, see above

The whip came down with one ugly crack over flesh. Skin rippled raw and red, muscles writhing just under the surface.

“You’re being gentle. That’s not how I taught you.” 

His arm wrenched backwards and the whip came down again. This time it landed with a sharper intensity, flicking once against skin and then gone, leaving behind just a thin red line. Until blood suddenly swept out and drenched across his back. 

She let out a sharp sound, taking a step forward as if she could stop his own hand. 

“Again.” 

The whip jolted up, arched forward, and suddenly crashed back down. Another sleet of red, dripping and dripping and dripping. He barely even made a sound, just grit his teeth and let the ends of the whip wall slack and snake at his feet. Blood went down his back and his arms and smeared on everything the whip touched.

“Again.” 

CRACK!

The handler stood some ways back. Like the entire affair was too messy to participate in. It was hard to say how many lashes he ordered up, just watching and waiting.

She swallowed hard and dared not speak again. It’d only add to the punishment. Again. Tears spilled and spilled over her cheeks, going down in rivulets. Rivulets and rivulets just like his blood.

[udaberriwrites]

The last drabble for @augusnippets' bonus day 31!

Path of Comfort - Whumpee wearing Caretaker's clothes

Fandom: Scum Villain's Self-Saving System

Characters: Shen Qingqiu (PIDW), Shen Yuan

Timeline: Water Prison - PIDW canon

Rating: M, tw: aftermath of torture, dismemberment

Time stops.

Rather, it becomes meaningless.

The light never reaches him here. The pain is so constant that he’s stopped noticing. Hunger and thirst are old friends anyway. His pride has been so thoroughly shattered that he's no longer ashamed of the jar and the mighty fall that preceded it.

Perhaps his destiny has always been to crawl.

Perhaps he’d earn mercy if he repented.

Yet even like this, he won't regret.

He wouldn't grovel even if he still had legs.

He’ll die in the mud but he’ll never bow his head again.

And then, reality shifts.

A pillar of light pierces the prison and a Heavenly being steps out. Apart from his emerald eyes, he’s a perfect mirror of the Peak Lord he'd once been.

Shen Qingqiu has no tongue to voice his questions.

"I was too late…”

The being undoes the bindings, pressing a hand to his chest to redirect the stagnant qi. He takes off his outermost robe, wrapping it over his shoulders.

“I'm here now, Shen Jiu. Let me save you.”

The stranger holds him close.

His heartbeat makes Shen Qingqiu feel like he's going home.

He knows better than to trust, and yet…

And yet…

_

Full prompt list here

AO3 collection here

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 31 @augusnippets - write what you want.

Escape plans do not always go to plan.

eugh, so many options!!!! Ok, so I picked a prompt of "sole survivor" and this is the first peice for my new "on the run" series which is an alternative timeline to Asset 84 where 84 and 83 escape from the facility. 44 is a character they end up meeting later.

CW: violence, character death, living weapon.

On the run masterlist Complex 27

44 rushed down the hallway, desperately trying to ignore the blaring alarms and flashing lights. She glanced back to ensure 32, 45, and 39 were still behind her. Relief mingled with dread as she saw them, but there was no time to dwell on it. They had to keep moving.

The escape plan had been carefully crafted, with every detail meticulously laid out by 32. The medic had always had a flair for organization, making sure every possible scenario was accounted for. But even the best-laid plans could falter when faced with the full might of the facility—the very people who had trained them, who knew their every move. How had they ever thought they could escape?

44 shook her head, shoving the creeping doubt aside. They could still make it, they just had to keep going.

A sudden explosion tore through the corridor, sending a wave of heat and debris crashing toward them. 39 was the first to react, instincts kicking in as he shouted, “That all they’ve got?” A teasing grin crossed his face, his way of keeping the tension at bay, even now.

"39! Focus," 45 barked, his tone sharp and commanding.

39 turned to smirk at 45, but the expression faded in an instant as a jagged piece of shrapnel ripped through his torso, sending him crashing to the ground.

44 skidded to a halt, her breath catching as she saw 39’s teasing grin wiped away by the cold hand of death. For a split second, she was frozen, her mind struggling to process the loss. They had been so close—how could it all be unraveling so quickly?

“39!” 32 shouted, her voice a mix of fury and desperation. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands moving with the precision born of countless hours in the facility’s training rooms. But even as she worked, 44 could see the truth in 32’s eyes: there was nothing she could do.

“No, no, no…” 32 muttered under her breath, her meticulous nature clashing with the chaos around them. She had always been the one to keep them on track, the one who never let emotion cloud her judgment. But now, her hands trembled as she tried to stop the inevitable.

"We have to move!" 45 shouted, standing protectively behind them, his rifle raised and ready, his eyes scanning for their pursuers.

44 hesitated, torn between the urge to stay and the brutal reality that they were running out of time. Her gaze lingered on 39, who had always been the one to lighten the mood with his teasing, even in the darkest of times. Now, his lifeless body lay as a stark reminder of the cost of their freedom.

“44, we have to go!” 45 snapped, his voice cutting through the haze of shock. There was no room for grief, not now—not when they were so close.

A deafening roar of gunfire reverberated through the corridor. As the chaos intenifird 45 returned fire, but the enemy was overwhelming, their numbers and speed relentless.

44 felt like the ground was slipping away beneath her feet as she watched 32 crumpled to the ground, her lifeblood pooling around her like a dark, spreading stain.. She wanted to scream, to cry out in anguish, but there was no time—only the relentless push of survival. Her heart pounded in her chest, every instinct screaming at her to run, to leave the dead behind and escape while she still could.

But leaving them—it felt like a betrayal. They were a team, bound together by their shared suffering, their shared dreams of freedom. 39’s teasing grin, 32’s meticulous care—these weren’t just comrades; they were pieces of her own fractured soul.

“44!” 45’s voice snapped her back to the present, sharp and commanding. There was no hesitation in his tone, only the cold, hard truth of their situation. “We have to go, now!”

44 leapt to her feet, grabbing 45 by the arm and draggin him behind her, she wasn't losing him too.

They manage to push through the final checkpoint, reaching the last barricade—a metal door with an intricate lock mechanism. The clang of metal against metal echoes as 44 frantically punches in the override code, her hands steady despite the chaos.

45 stands guard, his composure beginning to fray as he fires in rapid bursts toward the advancing soldiers. "We’re running out of time!" he yells, eyes darting between the door and the increasingly swarming enemies. "They’re getting too close!"

44’s fingers tremble as she inputs the final sequence. The door shudders, and with a mechanical hiss, it begins to slide open. Just as the gap widens enough for them to slip through, the soldier’s grenade detonates with a deafening roar.

The shockwave hurls 44 against the wall, and she feels a searing pain in her left arm as a piece of shrapnel embeds itself in her flesh. She grits her teeth, the pain almost blinding. "No time for weakness. Just get through. We have to get out." She tells herself.

A strangled cry escapes her lips, but she fights through the agony, pushing herself to her feet with the help of 45. The hallway, now engulfed in chaos and smoke, seems to pulse with a cruel rhythm. 44 stumbles, clutching her left arm as if to hold the remnants of her shattered limb together. Her vision blurs at the edges, but she steels herself, focusing on the flickering light of the emergency exit sign ahead.

A moment of silence envelops her as she struggles to regain her bearings. She glances back down the hallway, now a maelstrom of smoke and debris. The scattered bodies of her teammates and the advancing enemy soldiers paint a grim picture of their desperate situation. The metal door, once a symbol of hope, now feels like a distant, unreachable goal. She forces herself to move, each step a battle against the overwhelming pain.

Can’t let them win. Not after everything. Not after everyone."

If 45 escapes then it will still be a success.

45’s eyes are wide, darting back and forth between the advancing enemy soldiers and the door. His weapon is nearly empty, but he fires off the last few rounds. The soldiers, relentless and methodical, advance in a well-coordinated push, their footsteps like a grim march of doom.

“Go!” 44’s voice is strained, but it carries an urgency that cannot be ignored. She grits her teeth, feeling the intense pain that radiates from her shattered arm. Blood soaks her sleeve and drips to the floor, forming a dark trail in her wake.

45 hesitates, his eyes flicking between the opening door and 44’s pain-stricken face. “You’re not—”

“Now!” 44’s command is sharp, cutting through the clamor of gunfire. But just as the word leaves her mouth 45 stiffens, a strained gasp leaving his throat before he crumples to the ground.

44’s heart races as she watches 45’s body fall. With a final surge of strength, she pushes herself toward the door, the excruciating pain in her arm making every step a battle. She reaches the threshold and looks back one last time, her gaze meeting the emptiness of the corridor where her comrades fell.

The metal door finally gave way with a groan, its heavy frame sliding open to reveal the darkness outside. As 44 stumbled through the gap, the blaring alarms and the chaos of the facility faded behind her. The once overpowering sounds of gunfire and shouts were replaced by an eerie silence, punctuated only by the distant hum of machinery and the whisper of the wind.

The cold night air hit her like a physical blow, a stark contrast to the stifling heat and smoke of the facility’s corridors. She gasped, her breath forming fleeting clouds in the chilly air. The sudden drop in temperature made her injuries feel even more acute, each step against the gravelly ground sending jolts of pain through her wounded arm.

The facility's alarms fade behind her as she limps into the darkness, each step heavier than the last. The thought of the others, of 39’s grin and 32’s meticulous care, is a heavy weight in her chest. And 45… the way he fell right before they reached the end. It’s a haunting image that will stay with her forever.

But she can’t stop. Not now. Not when she’s so close to the boundary, the edge of the facility's perimeter. Her vision blurs, her body numb with the pain of her injuries, but she forces herself forward. Knowing that if she stops, if she gives in to the pain, it will all been for nothing.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

cw stalking

"Hi Jamie,

I can’t believe I’ve taken so long to write to you. I’ve thought about it every day since you transferred to AFC Richmond but never had the confidence to do it—at least until now. I’m here, Jamie, and I promise I won’t ever leave you again."

Day 31 of @augusnippets - alternative prompt - stalking

read on ao3

[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets - Day 31 - Tearful Goodbye - Strike Back

cw - canonical main character death, grief

Gracie doesn't hate Chetri. Gracie just hates that they need Chetri there. The only voice in her ear keeping them safe should be Will's and she is forgetting his voice. When she forgets his voice, then he is lost to her forever.

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

Gracie had basically fled as soon as Chetri wasn’t looking in her direction. She didn’t have long before she had to leave for the mission but her hands were shaking and her breath catching in her throat.

“Novin?” Mac frowned looking up from the intel packet.

Gracie cursed under her breath. In her haste to get outside and away from Chetri she hadn’t checked she was alone in the small alley outside the crib. “Mac,” she sighed, coughing when the words came out choked.

“Everything good?” Mac prompted, ever the gentleman despite seeing her frazzled and emotional.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gracie murmured, turning around to head back inside but stopping in the doorway. Mac might get it. He might be one of two people in her life right now that would. “Chetri brought up Will.”

“Ah,” Mac sighed, closing the folder and clutching at it so heard it left nail shaped indents in the paper.

“It brought back some, some emotions and some feelings I have been taking out on Chetri,” Gracie stepped back outside fully.

“We’ve all been doing it. It’s shit but I can’t stop comparing her to him,” Mac nodded and that confession started the flood.

“I told him that I didn’t want him there, I told him that this life wasn’t for him,” Gracie’s voice caught in her throat as she looked up at the sky, a desperate attempt to keep the tears in her eyes.

“Novin,” Mac sighed, stepping closer. Gracie waved her hand and sniffed as she shook her head. If Mac was fucking nice to her right now that would ruin everything. The dam would burst and she would be lose underneath that crippling grief once again. They didn’t have time for that. Her lips pressed together, teeth worrying the skin on the inside of her bottom lip.

“That was a lie. I lied because I wanted him safe. He was great at this. He wasn’t bad out there and when everything was going to shit his voice was always there to keep us safe,” one lone tear threatened her tender grasp on composure.

“I didn’t appreciate it until we didn’t have it anymore,” Mac sighed, “the voice on the other end of the radio before was always someone distant, a pencil pusher just for that job. But he was a part of the team and treated us like we were the only thing that mattered.”

Gracie nodded, the vice on her chest loosened as Mac verbalised some of her pain. “I’m forgetting it Mac. I’m forgetting his voice and it fucking hurts,” the last words troubled out of her in a pained yell, a wounded animal’s cry for help. “And Chetri. She’s great.”

Mac’s scoff broke her flow, “you hate her.”

“I,” Gracie half laughed half sobbed, “I don’t hate her. She’s adjusting. She’s new.”

“She’s not him,” Mac sighed.

“Every time the radio clicks and her voice comes through it, it’s like hearing Donovan confess to his murder over and over again. It’s reminding me I won’t hear his voice over the comms and I won’t get to see that stupid little nervous tic,” her hand automatically reached up to rub at the back of her neck.

“That he did whenever he had found something or did something clever but didn’t want to gloat about it,” Mac chuckled quietly.

“I told Chetri not to make friends on the job. Just clock in, clock out,” Gracie started to run out of steam and slumped against the wall next to Mac.

“That’s long gone for us ain’t it,” Mac smiled, knocking their shoulders together. It fell quiet but Mac slowly brought out his phone and was tapping away. Then Gracie’s phone buzzed. She turned and looked at him in confusion. “I wasn’t sure whether it would be healthy for you to have this but after today. I think it would really help. I, I shouldn’t have done it and it took a lot of string pulling but for me it’s worth it,” he nodded and walked back inside before Gracie could ask any of the questions she now had. Mac had texted her a phone number. With the man himself seemingly not going to elaborate Gracie shrugged. What was the point in waiting?

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Whoever it was that Mac wanted Gracie to talk to clearly was not going to pick up. What a waste of …

“Hey there you. You have reached the voicemail of Will Jensen. If you are hearing this message then I either don’t want to talk to you or can’t talk right now. You should know which you are. If this call is urgent then, please text. I never check these things, and really does anyone call these days? If it’s not urgent then hey, it’s not my problem.”

Gracie didn’t notice the tears streaming down her cheeks. It was him. It was Will. It was his voice. It wasn’t his radio voice, his work voice but it was so him it hurt. She hung up, and redialled again.

“Hey there you. You have reached the voicemail of Will Jensen. If you are hearing this message then I either don’t want to talk to you or can’t talk right now. You should know which you are. If this call is urgent then, please text. I never check these things, and really does anyone call these days? If it’s not urgent then hey, it’s not my problem.”

She didn’t know how Mac had found it. Will never shared his personal phone with them. He had his work phone. Gracie had all of Will’s data, all of his secrets but this one. Now she would never let it go.

He was gone. But he was never forgotten.

[whumpsday]

summer is here! what better way to spend it than... staying inside and writing, drawing, making gifs, and otherwise staying out of the heat?

July whump events starting today:

🎄 Whumpmas in July (@whumpmasinjuly), prompts here, a 31-day whump event (10 writing prompts, 21 community prompts)

🌊 Whumperless Whump Event (@whumperless-whump-event), prompts here, a 31-day whump event

🏖️ July Break Bingo (@julybreakbingo), signups here, a bingo board writing event (that can be customized as a whump event in the streamline options)

August whump events starting next month:

🍉 Augusnippets (@augusnippets), prompts here, a short-form whump event (can be customized as a 10/11-day or 30/31-day event)

🍊 August of Whump (@augustofwhump), prompts here, a 31-day whump event

🎂 Randowhump's Birthday Whump Event (@randowhump), prompts here, a 16-day whump event

📽️ Whump Gifathon (@whumpgifathon), prompts here, a 31-day whump gif-making event

July/August giant/tiny events (the other niche community i'm a part of), since there's enough this summer for me to make a whole section for em:

🧚‍♀️ GT July (@gianttol), prompts here, a 31-day giant/tiny event

🫂 Hug a Giant Day, a 1-day giant/tiny event, is July 21st

🫂 Hug a Tiny Day, a 1-day giant/tiny event, is August 11th

that's all i've got! i'll be completing Whumpmas in July and dipping into a couple other july events, and i'll be completing Augusnippets as well. hope to see you try one of these out, too!

[whumplump]

Day 4 of @augusnippets

Prompt used: vivisection

Not used: amputation / degloving

Consider this a non-canon side story to Experiment (not a part 2)

CW: vivisection, lab whump, surgeon whumper, testing, caretaker turned whumpee, character death

Whumper rubbed the back of his arm across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. That part of the procedure was always difficult. Caretaker lay motionless on the stretcher, kept alive thanks to the various medical machines attached to their body.

Whumper took a moment to analyze the specimen's vital signs.

“Blood pressure plummeted." He said to the voice recorder. "Unfortunately, the specimen will not last more than a few minutes. I will pause the extraction until the verdict and continue only after the subject's death."

He placed the utensils he had in his hand aside and brought his face close to Caretaker's. He looked into the specimen's eyes, as he always does, and showed no empathy, just said, in a monotone and robotic voice:

"You did great. Your friend is here too. They're doing great too. You were an amazing test subject, number 31."

Whumper said a few more uncomforting parting words, but Caretaker was no longer able to hear anything. If they were test subject 31, Whumper had certainly done this cruelty to 30 other people previously.

Their last wish, subconsciously, was that Whumpee wouldn't be one of those.

[whumping-valentine]

@augusnippets Day One: Brainwashing

I was originally planning on making these generic, nameless, whumpee/whumper things, but I thought it would be more fun to use my different characters. This was… MUCH harder than I thought it would be. Between picking the character and not trying to spoil something that actually happens in my series, it's a challenge in and of itself, nevermind the 31-day prompts! This was hard to plan out, I hope you like them, and I hope you'll like this glance into my broader book universe AKA my entire life lol

I've been procrastinating all day, but here it is! I feel like most people have these all ready in advance, but I'm writing these one day at a time just like god intended. Alright, enough yapping.

Content: (Implied) brainwashing and propaganda, fantasy racism.

Characters used: Misty (angel) and Jackson (demon)

These are pretty much exclusively for myself, but if you enjoy them that's cool, too! I just wanna challenge myself with writing my different characters every day.

Also sorry if the writing is bad, I wrote this in 20 minutes at 11 PM, lol. I'm jus' goin' with it, man.

~~~

"Do you have to bother me?" Jackson exasperated. "Do you not have anything better to do with your time?"

Misty straightened herself, "Do I have to bother you?" She scoffed, "Is that what you think this is? Am I a mild annoyance to you?"

"You are, yeah. Now, your mother, that's someone I would take seriously. But you're just a little girl who's been fed so much propaganda that she thinks what she's doing isn't crazy."

"Little girl?" She took offence, "We're the same age! Don't- don't you dare condescend me!"

"If me being slightly rude to you is the worst thing that's ever happened in your privileged life then you're doing pretty good." Misty was about to reply, but Jackson continued, "I'm sure Heaven isn't all it's cut out to be, really. There are so many different dimensions and planets in our world, what makes you think yours is the sole paradise? All of that brainwashing propaganda they feed you? That they feed the humans while they're still on Earth? Does it make you happy to stomp on creatures who don't have the same privilege you do? Does it make you proud, Princess?"

"No, see this is what you demons do. You lie, you trick, you steal, all for your own gain. You don't care about humans, don't act like you do. As Princess of Angels it is my job to keep them safe. Me, my family, and all of the other higher angels stress by the day. I am not the highest authority, I will admit. I would never place myself to the same level as the Virtues, Thrones, or Seraphim. I am merely an Archangel who looks after humans."

"That's a whole lot of yapping to say fucking nothing. Really though, you should consider yourself lucky. You have an entire team of angels to help you. You know what my job as Prince entails? Making sure that all of Hell doesn't literally fucking escape! Do you think we ALL want this shit? You think we're all evil just because our magic is different than yours? Because we look different? Because we live somewhere you deem unholy?"

"You're lying."

"Is that your only retort? That we lie? Because the only people that I see lying are angels."

"Angels would never lie, that's a sin."

"Well then your people are the biggest sinners I know." He said, "And, honestly, Misty... If you really want to do good in this world, you should look out for all of your souls. It just so happens some are suffering in Hell."

"Why should I care about them? They made their choice while they were on Earth."

"And what about all of the non-humans who were sent there as a form of punishment?"

Misty rolled her eyes, "That doesn't happen!"

"Really? It doesn't? How would you know, did your family tell you that, too? Look, one of us here is the demon prince who has seen this stuff first hand, and the other is a sheltered angel princess who's rarely left the safety of paradise. I bet you don't even know what happens in Hell. I bet they tell you it's all fun and games down there, don't they?"

"Of course not, Hell is supposed to be a punishment."

"Then what kind of punishments are happening in Hell?"

Misty was silent.

Jackson spoke darkly, "Do you want me to tell you?"

●●●

●●●

This wasn't very whumpy but hey, I still followed the prompt! I think it's quite fun to take a prompt and spin it a bunch. It makes things more creative and diverse. The whump is more so implied in this one.

Also I don't think this is technically canon to my series because I'm not sure when this conversation takes place. It would have to be while they're really young because Misty has always been more of a rebel teen, but the dialogue isn't exactly childish. Oh well, it's fun to write random stuff without worrying about actual canon to its fullest. This is slightly out-of-character for the both of them but not enough that it's weird.

Also it is like almost midnight that's how much I've procrastinated lol. Good night

[sufrimientilia]

AUGUSNIPPETS MASTERLIST: Path of Hurt

day 1: gaslighting | hypnosis | brainwashing (vampire + thrall) day 4: amputation | degloving | vivisection (subject) day 7: waterboarding | drowning | choking (vampires + thrall) day 10: execution | fake execution | begging for mercy (subject) day 13: drugging | poisoning | cannibalism (asset) day 16: humiliation | dehumanization | conditioning (subject) day 19: collared | branded | chipped (asset) day 22: captivity | recapture | tearful goodbye (thrall) day 25: intimate | sadistic | reluctant (asset) day 28: mind control | body control | betrayal (vampire + victims) day 31 (bonus!): forced to watch | whipping | stalking (asset)

@augusnippets thanks so much for hosting such an awesome event! had tons of fun with these snippets

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Mind & Heart

Summary: Augusnippets 2024 Day 31. Set in a Modern AU, Sci-fi AU. Mind Full AU. Toothless can feel what Hiccup is doing.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced near Death

Rating: Teen and Up

Dead Dove: No

Words: 483

Prompts: Bonus Day - Write whatever you want.

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless

Pairing: /

Author's Notes: And so "write whatever you want" is what I did. :) My final day for Augusnippets, posted on time! An immediate follow-up to Day 30's "This Choice Is His".

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

Toothless hated the humans, he hated them. After the loss of his tailfin, he should be glad that he’s alive he supposes, but he couldn’t even bring up that much. He’s a downed dragon, he’ll never touch the sky again, he’s meant to die. And if it wasn’t for these humans keeping him captive in this sorry excuse for a man-made den, he would be already. His suffering and shame would’ve ended, they should’ve just let nature take its course.

Hiccup thought differently.

In the middle of the night, when Night Furies are supposed to be the most active, he sneaks into his den. Toothless growls, already disliking the boy. The humans think he’s so weak, so bad at being a dragon that they think this small boy is nothing to him?!

“Ah, ha-hey, um…” But Hiccup is rightfully anxious, fumbling with a lengthy roll of paper in his hands and keeping his wide-eyed gaze on the Night Fury. He’s scared and yet he’s here.

Toothless can tell that he’s like his mother, there’s a pull to him that he usually only feels with other dragons. It’s untapped, like a barrier. Humans would consider it a plastic wrapping someone should poke a hole into to get to whats inside.

“I-I made this and, uh…” Hiccup unrolls the roll and shows it to him from far away. Toothless grows silent as he takes a look. Not bothering to get up until he thinks he recognizes what’s on it. It looks like his tailfin.

“I-I have this mentor and he- and he- and he teaches me things and, uh… I think I can help you fly again.” Hiccup explains, anxiety growing as the very dangerous Night Fury quietly steps closer.

Toothless reaches out to him, grabs hold of that unseen pull, pokes a hole through that proverbial plastic wrapping and finds only genuine intention. Hiccup doesn’t want him to waste away in this fake den, a fate all the other humans have already resigned him to. There’s a brilliant head on his shoulders and he wants to use it for good.

Toothless hasn’t let go of that pull since. He’s kept tugging and tugging, until they’re able to practically read each other’s minds without even trying.

-XOXOX-

Five years later in the middle of the night, Toothless shoots awake. The cause? A debilitating emptiness in the corner of his self reserved just for his human. Something is wrong, he knows there is. That spot fills with a kind of dread he has never experienced before.

He begins clawing on the door and the one-way window, he needs to get out of here. Something is wrong and he needs to fix it. He charges up a plasma blast strong enough to tear through the mostly iron hull hidden by fake foliage. He can feel Hiccup slipping away and nothing will stand between him and saving his human.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 1

Path of Hurt Prompt; "Hypnosis/Brainwashing"

Day 1 of @augusnippets Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV/Whumpee; Lancelot - The Weeping Monk (Cursed, Netflix)

- Whumper; OC "Sorceress"

(Characters: Whumpees)

(Characters: Whumpers)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 337

TWs; unconsentual mind control/hypnosis, intimate whumper

It was like a whisper in his ear as her magic wove itself forcefully into his skull.

Not again. Please...

Whispers turned to spoken words, utterly intelligible.

"I won't let you do this..." He hissed through gritted teeth, voice wavering more than he liked as if he spoke aloud the tremour of his spine.

"Oh, my dear Lancelot..." The Sorceress purred, dragging her talon-like fingernails down his face, stroking almost tenderly in a way that made him want to vomit and pull backwards, but he couldn't move, frozen to the spot by her wicked magic.

"...You already have." The soft caress grew harsh as she gripped his jaw so sharply that her claws bit into his cheeks, and those restless voices became a cacophony of soul rending screams...

Lancelot's own agonised scream joined in the chorus as felt her tearing through his skull, shredding his resistance apart like wet paper. His consciousness slipped away from him, down down down he fell into the coldest recesses of his mind like thrown into a roiling sea, unable to do anything but watch from afar as everything that made him who he was was locked away beneath the waves... The light of the surface sped away from him. Water rushed into his lungs, burning him from the inside out until nothing remained.

"Lancelot..."

A voice as soft as silk brushed across his senses. Rich, warm, soothing, an instinctive desire within him to harken it. Where was he? What was he doing, again?

"Lancelot, my darling..."

He blinked away confusion like fading morning dew, staring back at the source of that oh-so-alluring voice. Yes, that was it... He, Lancelot, was here with her, his Mistress. The only thing, the only one that mattered.

"Come with me, sweet thing," she said, smiling widely, those painted lips enraptured his attention.

He bowed his head to her, followed obediently as she led him away. Whatever she asked, he knew it was his command to fulfil and he would do so willingly.

Anything for her.

Day 1 done! I intend to continue this specific idea in a few of the future prompts since I really enjoyed this!

Continued on Day 16, Day 25, Day 28 and Day 31

Day 2 can be found in the masterlist above.

Sorceress heavily inspired by Morgana from Merlin, portrayed by Katie McGrath, because I love her.

Thanks for reading!