#packaging whump

[stagelightwhump]

Does it have to be a blorbo from my shows or can it be MY blorbo? Because I kind of want to know what they'd do to Mal https://www.tumblr.com/distracted-obsessions/750327129941639170/knock-knock-mal-groaned-at-the-knock-at-the

You can absolutely submit home-made blorbos! And I must say, this one is very interesting!

First of all, the ears would need to be stretched and molded into shape, which, thankfully, is rather easy, as ears are made of cartilage. Next, even though no tails are mentioned in the story, a retractable cord tail is still installed, so that the Unit can be charged. If requested, a wolf tail cover can be added.

Next, barring the presence of something like pawpads on the hands or feet (in which case, depending on how divergent it is from the human bauplan, they would either be fatty silicone implants, or the hands or feet would be replaced entirely), the Chip is then installed, and memories of the source timeline are implanted, as well as a weaving program.

Finally, in order to avoid issues with improper or unregulated voltage, a shock collar is installed directly and permanently onto the neck, integrated with the C6 vertebrae. This is to ensure that any voltage administered is low enough not to damage either the organic system, or the electronics within the Unit's repaired systems. For higher voltages, the Chip manually simulates the damages instead, resulting in the same mental effects and physical pain as a normal shock collar, without causing unnecessary damage or stress to the internals.

Once the Unit is fully repaired and functional, it is placed back into the crate it arrived in (or given a new one, if the crate is somehow missing or damaged), secured in place, and shut down until delivered to the purchaser.

Thank you so much for the ask! I love doing these :D

[echo-goes-mmm]

One Week (Oneshot)

My Writing Masterpost

Warnings: enthrallment, mentioned non-sexual nudity

“Is Master home yet?” asked Pet, his hands on Leon’s knees as Pet kneeled on the floor.

“Not yet,” said Leon, bouncing his leg. He eyed the grandfather clock. If Master wasn’t home soon, he’d be late for work. 

And Leon had the feeling that if he was fired, Master wouldn’t let him look for another job.

“Oh,” said Pet, his face like a kicked puppy.

Poor thing.

Pet had been enthralled by vampires for so long, he’d forgotten how to be a person by the time Master got his hands on him. Master didn’t enthrall either of them, but you couldn’t tell by looking at Pet.

He was so happy and eager to please, like he was still under the spell, but he couldn’t take care of himself like a thrall could. 

Pet was like a dog; helpless if left alone for more than an hour.

Leon shuddered. He looked at the clock again.

He was forbidden from leaving Pet alone in the house, but work was one of his last connections to the outside world. Even though it was a shitty CVS cashiering gig, it gave him an excuse to leave Master’s den. And even better, he could talk to people. Real people, not Pet’s inane chatter.

No offense to Pet, but the boy wasn’t a great conversationalist.

Leon tugged at his turtleneck. He didn’t like wearing them, but covering up his thrall bitemark with makeup was risky. What if it rained?

He rubbed his hands together, and Pet nuzzled into his knee.

“Is Master going to be home soon?” he whimpered. “I miss him.”

“I don’t know,” said Leon, apologetically ruffling Pet’s hair. He refused to agree that he missed Master too, but he kinda did. It was lonely just him and Pet in the huge, dusty, mansion.

The door opened, and Leon let out a breath of relief. Master entered the room, and Leon stood up. Pet crawled over to Master, his hands resting on Master’s thigh like a puppy jumping up for attention. Master petted his hair, gently.

He was always gentle with Pet.

Master’s blank eyes looked him up and down. “Are you going to work, Leon?”

Leon nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“Go on then.”

Leon rushed past the two of them. He hoped his manager would let his tardiness slide. Again.

___________________

“You’re late,” said Keith in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Leon shrugged off his coat and stuffed it behind the counter. “Is Jana here?”

“Nope. I went ahead and clocked you in by the way.”

“Thanks.” 

“No problem. Our little secret. By the way, your mom called the store. Said it was urgent.”

Leon’s heart stuttered. Master had taken his phone when they first met, and Leon was allowed to call home every once in a while.

He wasn’t allowed to tell them he was a vampire’s thrall, obviously.

Leon grabbed the store phone and dialed her number. His hands shook.

“Hello?” Her voice was like a balm.

“Mom?” he choked out. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh baby,” she sighed, her voice strained. “Nana just passed away. Could you get off work?”

“Uh- let me- let me ask, okay? I’ll call you back.”

He hung up. “I gotta go,” he said to Keith, tears welling in his eyes. “My- my grandma-”

“Yeah I heard. I’m so sorry man. Go ahead, I’ll take care of stuff.”

Leon wiped his eyes. “Okay- yeah- uh.” He dialed Jana.

Her phone went to voicemail, and he left a message asking for a week off. He had other things than a job to worry about.

Leon rushed home.

“Leon!” exclaimed Pet as he barged through the door. “You’re back!” Leon could practically see an imaginary wagging tail attached to Pet.

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, where’s Master?”

“In-”

“I’m here,” interrupted Master, standing in the doorway. Leon hadn’t seen him come in.

“My grandmother died,” explained Leon. “I- I know I’m not allowed to leave but I- please. I need to see my family,” he begged. “Just for a week.”

Master tilted his head, examining him. His red eyes stared into Leon’s soul.

“Please.”

“Very well. One week.”

“Thank you!” Leon said, words spilling out of him, “I’ll come right back, I swear-”

Master held up a hand, silencing him. Master stepped aside, gesturing. “Go pack.”

Leon didn’t move. “Can I have my phone? Please?”

Master nodded, and Leon darted past him to gather his things.

___________________

Leon gripped the steering wheel as he pulled into the driveway. He sighed, trying to pull himself together. The two hour drive just wasn’t enough.

There were so many little lies to remember. 

I graduated college. I have a roommate. We live in an apartment. I’m just really busy, so I can’t call much.

The last one was true, somewhat. He was really busy, but he had a vampire feeding off his neck, not a job with demanding hours. CVS was only part time.

He opened the door and lifted his suitcase from the passenger side.

Leon raised a hand to knock, but the door opened before he could, and his mom pulled him into a big bear hug. She smelled like cinnamon sugar.

Mom always made snickerdoodles when she was upset.

“Hi, Mom.” Leon hugged her back.

Mom kissed his cheek and let go, but her hands lingered on his. “Oh, honey,” she said, her voice wet. “You’re so skinny. Come in, come in! I’ll make you some lunch!”

Dad was sitting on the couch, but he stood when he saw Leon. “There’s my boy!” He hugged Leon tight, and he wheezed.

“Hey, Dad.”

“How’s work, bud?”

Leon tensed. “It’s fine. Busy.”

Kris, his sister, thumped down the stairs. God she was getting big. He couldn’t remember what grade she was in.

Hopefully he’d be able to make it to her high school graduation, but his heart knew Master wasn’t that generous.

“Hey.” She didn’t look up from her phone.

“Hey.”

“Kris, could you get Leon’s suitcase?”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “I got it.”

He didn’t want her snooping and finding his concealer. He didn’t have time to wash his turtlenecks before he left.

Pet had offered to wash them, but bless him, he couldn’t even read the dials on the machine anymore.

Last time, he’d used fabric softener instead of soap, and they didn’t figure that out until the next day and had to dig through the drawers to find all the dirty laundry.

Leon unpacked his stuff, putting his clothes away in his childhood drawers. 

___________________

He should have been more careful.

Three days in, and in the distress and mourning and visiting relatives, he’d forgotten the concealer.

“Honey,” said Mom, suddenly pulling at the collar of his shirt. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” he asked, playing dumb.

“This!” she exclaimed, her voice more upset than angry. “Were you attacked? Why didn’t you tell-”

“What’s going on?”

Leon closed his eyes in resignation. Kris and Dad came into the room.

“Leon’s been bitten!”

“I’m fine!” he protested, brushing away Mom’s hands. She looked hurt, and Leon sat heavily on the couch as she examined him.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, looking down at the old carpet. “Master doesn’t even-”

“Master?” Interrupted Dad. “Are you enthralled, son?”

“No! No, I swear. I mean- I’m a thrall but… he doesn’t… he lets me keep my mind.” Leon looked up at his family. They were horrified, and it broke his heart to see his little sister nearly crying.

“You weren’t supposed to know,” he said weakly. “I’m sorry.”

Mom sniffled, and Leon couldn't take much more. “Please don't cry, Mama. Please. I’m sorry,” he begged.

He heard a car pull up the driveway. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Leon glanced out the window, and Master stepped out of the car. He was wearing a dark suit, and he held an umbrella to protect him from the sun.

Leon made a terrified squeak. He shot up from the couch, but it was too late. There was a knock on the door.

“Kris,” he begged, “get upstairs.”

“What? No!”

The knock became louder. It would be worse for his family if he left Master waiting.

Leon stiffly walked to the door and opened it. His parents gasped behind him, and he heard Kris run up the stairs to her room.

“Leon,” purred Master. “Let me in.”

“Would you like to come in?” he whispered, and Master stepped through the door.

Master’s cool hand settled on the back of his neck, and they turned to step into the living room. Master hung his umbrella on the coat rack, and Leon bit back a hysterical laugh.

Leon’s parents stepped back as they approached.

“I mean you no harm,” said Master. He sat on the couch, pulling Leon with him to press into his side.

“What- what do you want?” asked Dad, his voice trembling.

“Only to offer my deepest sympathies for your loss.” Master’s hand tightened on the back of Leon’s neck, and he knew Master knew he told.

“Where- where’s Pet?” he whispered, desperate to stave off his punishment.

Master had never hit him before, but that didn’t mean anything. Leon just hadn’t messed up before now.

“In the car,” said Master, easy as anything. “He misses you.”

“Who- who’s Pet? Leon?” pleaded Mom.

Master grinned. “Please, don’t,” begged Leon. His parents didn’t need to see what happened to humans after enthrallment. 

But Master didn’t listen. He whistled loud and shrill, and Leon heard a car door slam as Pet bounded up to the house.

Pet walked through the door and immediately fell to his knees at Master’s feet.

“Leon! Hi!”

“Hey, Pet,” he mumbled. 

“Why’re you sad?” asked Pet, nudging his head at Leon’s hand. Leon scritched at his scalp.

“Because,” he choked out, “my parents are sad.”

“Oh.” Pet frowned. His eyes landed on Leon’s parents, as if he hadn’t noticed they were there. “Hello. Why are you sad?”

Mom stared at Pet and clutched Dad tight.

“Don’t bother the nice people, Pet,” chastised Master.

Pet turned his focus back on Master, laying his head in his lap. “Yes, Master,” he said with a smile and big doe eyes. Leon felt sick.

“Leon,” commanded Master, “open up.” Leon screwed his eyes shut, tilting his neck.

He didn’t want to see his mother’s reaction.

Master’s cold lips latched onto his neck.

He gasped as Master bit down on him, his fangs piercing his flesh.

It hurt this time, and he knew it was on purpose. His punishment for being so careless.

He resisted the urge to push Master away as the horrible pain made him tear up. It was like nothing he felt before; cold fire and stabbing and ripping skin.

His dad made a noise somewhere between anger and fear, and Leon made the mistake of opening his eyes.

Mom was weeping into her hands, Dad holding her close. His expression was twisted, and tears dripped down Leon’s cheeks.

“M’ sorry,” he whined. “Ple-ase-”

Master pulled away, licking up the last few drops as his wound stitched itself back together.

Master slapped him across the face, hard enough Leon knew he’d bruise. His parents gasped. Pet shrank away from the display of violence- and Leon remembered the time he’d seen Pet naked.

It was only once, but he’d never forget the scars on Pet’s back.

“I never understood it,” Master had said. “Torturing humans does no good, nor does it bring me pleasure. I’ll never whip you two like Pet’s old master would.”

Leon had assumed that meant Master wouldn’t hurt him at all.

He was wrong.

Master sat up straight, and Pet scrambled to straddle his lap and nuzzle under Master’s jaw.

“Have you learned your lesson, Leon?”

“Yes,” he whimpered.

“Good.” Master’s hand caressed the top of Pet’s head before gently pushing Pet off his lap.

“Come, Pet. It’s time to go.”

“Is Leon coming, too?”

Leon held his breath.

Master looked at him, long and searching. “No,” he said finally. Leon’s shoulders sagged. “He still has four days.”

Pet followed Master out the door, as joyfully obedient as always. 

The tense air left with Master, and Leon sank into the couch. He rubbed his cheek. It still stung. 

His mom wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. “My baby boy’s a thrall,” she cried, and Leon rubbed her back.

“I’m so sorry,” he said brokenly.

His Dad said nothing, and left the room.

Leon felt shattered, but then his dad came back with an ice pack for his face.

“We could hire someone,” Dad said, voice empty and tired. “Hunters-”

“No,” said Leon. “It’s- he’s- he’s okay.”

Mom pulled away. “What do you mean?” she asked, wiping the tears off his cheek. 

“He’s never hit me before,” explained Leon quietly. “And the drinking- that doesn’t usually hurt either. It’s just because I disobeyed him. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Dad crossed his arms, and Leon held the ice pack to his face.

“Really,” he insisted. “And- and he’s kind to Pet. He’s not that bad.”

“ ‘Pet’ is enthralled. Think logically, son.”

“He’s not, though,” continued Leon. “Pet- he- Master stole him from another vampire, after he killed her. Pet spent so long under, his mind is just… gone. Master has taken care of him ever since.”

“Why?” Mom asked.

Leon shrugged. “Pity, I guess. He really is gentle. Master let me keep my job, and my money. He lets me go out, sometimes, and he got me a birthday present. It could be worse, Dad, I swear.”

Mom and Dad exchanged looks. “I don’t even pay rent,” he offered with a little laugh. “Or food. Just internet, cause Master is an old codger.”

Mom tucked his hair behind his ear. “Okay, baby,” she said. “We’ve got four days. What do you want to do before you have to go back?”

Dad sagged in defeat, and Leon’s heart swelled with love.

“Could- Could we make cookies? Like when I was a kid?”

Mom kissed his forehead. “Of course we can, honey,” she said, smiling through her tears. “Every kind you want.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[whumpsical]

Febuwhump Day 10: Difficulty Breathing

@febuwhump

contents: noncon, asphyxiation, asthma attack, fear of death

ehehe Jian has been having a bad crossover time with @yet-another-heathen 's Garcia <33

(do i include the regular taglist?? idk but no one can stop me @much-ado-about-whumping @minerscanary )

🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️

"Oh, fu-- FUCK! Please, I ca--" Jian's voice gave out into silent, half-strangled gasps as Garcia shifted his weight and found an even more constricting spot on Jian's back to keep him pinned to the floor beneath Garcia's arm. The air grew sluggish in Jian's lungs, and he could feel his body getting steadily weaker while his thoughts ramped up into an electric mess of miserable, defeated panic.

It wasn't until a few long moments after Jian's eyes had fluttered and rolled back that Garcia released the pressure on Jian's chest.

Jian's brain buzzed to life with his first breath of free air. Every racing thought was torturously loud and completely nonsensical, and for a second Jian could only think of tripping hard on a sticky barstool, leaning back against the bar and watching teams of bachelorettes grind on their gay friends for the fun of it, comprehending nothing of their conversations beneath the overwhelming barrage of the speakers and the hazy filter of the drugs.

Always so loud.

Jian gasped and coughed against the cold floor. But he could take much more than that, they both knew it.

"Please?"

It came out as a squeak, congested and exhausted, and was completely ignored as Garcia leaned down between Jian's shoulder blades again. The desperate breath that Jian had managed to suck in was pressed right back out before it could even reach his lungs, and that claustrophobic terror swept through his mind again, like a fire eating up fabric drapes.

All of Jian's muscles went frantically rigid. He tried with everything he had to get himself up off the floor, but he couldn't even move his arms enough to lay his palms flat. From just above him, Jian heard a quiet hitch in Garcia's breathing as his pathetic little instinctual struggle gave Garcia something tight to push through, but he still couldn’t stop himself from giving in to the panic and pointlessly trying to wrestle his life out of Garcia's hands.

It was too late. Jian was already slipping away again, his thoughts going dark and his hands going numb. Garcia relished in it, slowing his pace and deepening the roll of his hips as Jian's body went lax again and his head radiated heat from somewhere deep inside his skull, burning wobbling mirages into the air.

"Good boy," Garcia purred from somewhere near the back of Jian's head. "Like that."

There wasn't anything else he could do. As he finally passed out, Jian felt Garcia's hips rutting flush up against him with no resistance at all, as deep inside him as he could possibly go, and Jian knew the fucking perfectly trained puppy that had wormed its way into his subconscious had taken the praise with enthusiasm. A dry whimper managed to escape Jian's throat as he felt himself getting hard too, but he saw black again before the shame could hit him in full force.

He was underwater at first, then in the deep shade of a small tree, the smell of its leaves hanging thick in the muggy air. One trembling breath drew the sweet smell in, but when it came out as a heaving cough, Jian couldn't remember where he was.

Before he could find real flowing air again, Garcia's fucking scent refilled Jian's lungs, and he had never been anywhere except beneath this man.

Again.

Jian tried to stay calm through it, but he knew he would always hit that point where his head started screeching and his body stopped taking orders.

Again.

When he had air, it traveled in short huffs that did more to express his desperation than to feed his aching lungs, but it still wasn't good enough. Garcia only listened for a moment and pressed down again, satisfied with the conviction that Jian could survive another round.

Jian spent every conscious moment trapped in a splitting headache spawned by fear and exertion and dehydration. For every round of Garcia's fucking game, he felt more and more drawn to the unconscious instead. But he couldn't quite reach that peak and hold on to it.

This time, Jian could hardly take in his one allotted gasp through a crop of tears. He couldn't even consider faking the strained wheeze and the choked rattling sounds from deep in his chest that they were waiting for. The consequences of Garcia seeing through even one false performance could mean the end of his life right fucking there. All he could do was endure the horror of teasing death, over and over again, until his own lungs gave him an out.

But he'd had a lot of practice.

Again.

A rush of gratitude and relief welled through him when his breath didn't immediately return upon Garcia releasing pressure this time. Jian scrambled for purchase, gagging on an empty gasp, when Garcia took a handful of hair and tugged his head back, but the leverage he achieved with both of his hands finally solidly on the floor wasn't enough to clear his swelling airways. It was almost over, he told himself, but whether the end would come with a few puffs of his inhaler or a trip across the River fucking Styx he couldn’t tell yet. It was almost over, but of course Garcia was going to fucking come first.

The river grew closer, and Jian grew colder in its proximity. A large hand startled him from behind, and Garcia cupped Jian's throat in his palm, tipping his chin upward, gentle but uncompromising.

Jian had barely blinked his eyes open before he felt Garcia quicken his pace, thrusting into him with single-minded drive.

Just as he felt his mind start to sink away into some kind of dark, inescapable dream, Jian managed a choke. Then a cough, and finally a gasp, but it was like he was breathing through perforated plastic wrap.

Both of his knees knocked against the hard floor, every bone and joint echoing with radiant pain from every jolt. But he was breathing.

His breath rattled in his chest and he was barely getting enough to keep going, but he was breathing. Soon he found himself able to gasp in more quick shots of oxygen, and to whimper out wordless, terrified pleas when he wasn't coughing his fucking lungs out.

He couldn't take any more, they both knew it. But Garcia still pushed him just a bit harder, releasing Jian's throat to plant both hands on Jian's hips and force them to ram backwards into him, making Jian's head rattle around on the hard floor while he whimpered in a distant voice.

It was too close this time.

Garcia buried his teeth into Jian's left ear, tugged his head back and settled deep inside of him. Intentional or not, the pain and shock of it acted like a flimsy rip cord to Jian's spasming lungs, forcing one deep gasp through his inflamed airways.

It was still too close. Jian's vision was shadowed by a dark, gray-blue film, rotting at the edges. He didn't feel being pushed flat to the ground, or the inhaler that bounced off his shoulder, but he saw where it landed in front of him. He was almost too far gone to comprehend what was going on, much less to do anything about it. A rattling cough brought tears to his eyes, and the blurry darkness rapidly crawling inward from the edges of his vision sent a lightning bolt of fear into his heart.

He had to try. He had to fucking try or he was going to die.

One arm stretched over a slow, shaky path across the floor, but Jian's strength was too quickly waning, and he collapsed again into a dark sinkhole.

He stayed underground until something hard and plastic was forced into his mouth, and the slightly bitter taste of his rescue inhaler hit him like cool water on his face.

Jian’s thoughts swirled together like a funnel of water down a drain. It was still just as hard to breathe, but to administer the medication Garcia had dragged Jian's body up into a position that was becoming familiar: Jian sitting upright between Garcia's legs, his back pressed to Garcia's chest. In that half embrace, Jian suddenly didn't feel as frantic as he probably still should.

He felt drowsy, which he supposed might've been just as bad. But he had Garcia, who he supposed still wanted him alive, encouraging Jian's shallow, labored gasps for now.

Another puff of the rescue inhaler brought him closer to focus, just a reminder that he wasn't finished fighting this battle. 

"Come on, Jian," Garcia was saying quietly. He raked a hand through Jian's hair, sweeping sweaty curtains from his forehead. It was all very gentle, but not quite tender. Garcia was just as invested in Jian's suffering as he was in his recovery. "Keep breathing, baby."

Sure, Garcia may have been following Jian's struggle to stay alive like he was watching one of his wrestling championships. He probably would've been taking bets if they weren't alone. But at least for the moment, Garcia was soft and still, and his palms spread their settling warmth across Jian's chest and forehead. Of course Jian was going to soak it up while he could.

Of course he was. He’d had more than enough experience to know that you never passed up those rare comforts offered by a sadistic captor.

He did miss the mountains.

He wasn't going to think about that.

It was hard not to. North Carolina had charred every corner of Jian's brain, and there was no escaping that fact, especially not while lost in the whirlpool of violently uprooted thoughts and all their chaotic branches swirling around him.

But he would beat those memories to the frozen fucking ground if he had to. Not now.

He felt his heartbeat pounding wildly beneath the hand Garcia had pressed reassuringly over his chest, one finger lightly passing back and forth between his collarbones. Jian let one of his trembling, numb hands drift to Garcia's thigh and hold on. It felt like surrender, and he hoped it would be received that way, but he never fucking knew with this guy.

Nestling deeper into Garcia's lap and taking another puff of the inhaler which Garcia was still holding for him, Jian finally felt his lungs start to fill up a touch more comfortably. He still had a long way to go, but his harsh gasps had quieted down to thin, choppy wheezes. Compared to the deep, satisfied breaths that played across Jian's left ear from Garcia's contented fucking sighs behind him, Jian sounded like he was on the brink of death, which he might as well have been.

Jian wouldn't survive another intentionally triggered asthma attack any time soon, no matter how quickly Garcia medicated him afterwards. They both knew that. Jian just hoped he could find other ways to keep Garcia happy in the meantime, and that the bastard wouldn't get too bored and decide to give it a whirl anyway.

[spookyboywhump]

🍪🐶🥤

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

ONE OF THESE BAD BOYS

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

Cat person!!! I am very allergic to dogs and I often find them overwhelming. I love cats so so much.

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

I am quite fond of the java chip Frappuccino. The java chips feel like sand paper or gravel on my tongue and it’s a nice sensory experience and also it tastes good.

[whumpster-dumpster]

You know those comfort character care packages you can get from like Etsy and whatnot? With letters, stuffed animals, sweets, cute little Polaroid photos and the like. That, but it's a comfort character whump package. A bloodstained letter from your favorite whumpee begging to be rescued/set free, proof of life photos, half nibbled bits of whatever paltry bread they've been surviving on, etc.

Obviously that wouldn't be allowed IRL but. Just thinking

[pinoyhawks]

i'll see your heart and i'll raise you mine

takami keigo/hawks x gn!reader

Description: You can read him just as well as he can read you and he's not yet sure whether that's a blessing or a curse.

He's starting to edge toward blessing when you reach for him.

content warnings: hospital setting, whump, graphic description of injuries, brief descriptions of medical procedures, bodily trauma

[crossposted from my ao3: link]

~~~

“So you’ll never guess what I saw today.” Hawks tugs at the curtains, blocking out the golden rays of the setting sun. He knows you hate it when the sun’s in your eyes. “Do you remember that one photoshoot where I had to stick paintbrushes and scrub brushes through my hair and behind my ears and in my mouth?” 

Hawks glances back at you. The slight dip of your head urges him to continue. He gives the curtains a final tug before making a beeline for the electric kettle on the counter of your hospital room’s mini-kitchen. The water within begins to boil at the push of a button.

“When I was on patrol, I saw a billboard advertising some sort of brush for feathers and—wouldn’t you know it?—I was on it! Apparently, that was what the photoshoot was for! Brushes for feathers!” 

He shakes his head in disbelief as he tears open two packets of peppermint tea, the electric kettle beeping loudly as steam pours out of its spout. “They didn’t even tell me what the photoshoot was for while we were taking it. Wanna know what the kicker is?” 

He pauses for one or two seconds, for both dramatic effect and for the space where your answer would be, before pressing on. “They didn’t even give me one of those feather brushes!” 

Hawks dips two bags of peppermint tea in and out of two paper cups, one for you and one for him. “I mean, I’ll admit, my feathers don’t really need brushing nor did I really want one, but still. Would’ve been nice to receive some sort of care package or branded gift basket from them, right?” 

The smell from such a small portion invades his nostrils and feels like toothpicks sticking into his brain. How you drink this every night without getting overstimulated, he’ll never know, but there’s no way he’ll make a fuss about it. Not when recovery from your incident demanded that much of your independence and daily rituals be taken away from you. 

Hawks figures it must have been painful to be denied the simple joy of having a cup of peppermint tea before bed during the worst parts of your recovery. So he makes two. One for you to drink, one for him to hold. You’ll finish yours and he’ll give you his. 

He picks up the two cups and makes his way to you, treading carefully so as not to spill. From your seat on the hospital bed, you carefully pull the overbed table towards you, a safe place for two cups of tea to land. “I know it’s stupid,” Hawks says, gently placing one cup in front of you, “but hey. You asked me to talk about my day and that was the only thing I could think of.” 

You beam up at him before shaking your head as if to say, No, I don’t think it’s stupid. I’d ask for a gift basket too if they made me stick a toothbrush up my nose and took a picture of it without telling me what it was for.  

Something in his chest aches at the thought of your possible response. His grip on his paper cup tightens as he watches you breathe in the minty steam before taking your very first sip.

It’s been two weeks since the incident, hard to tell from how quickly you’re recovering physically. Dark circles still bruise the bags of your eyes, your face looks gaunter, and your skin looks a little duller than usual, but the scratches on your face are shrinking and with every change of bandages he stumbles upon, the gauze wrapped around your abdomen comes away with less and less blood. 

Yes, you’re healing, no doubt about it, but the silence that hangs over your room and fills the air like a wicked miasma tells him a completely different story. 

A quick tap on his arm startles Hawks out of his spiral. You fix him with a concerned look, brows knitted together. Hey. You’re flying off again. Come back to me . Hawks tacks on those last two words, just for himself. You’d never say those last two words, but he lets himself be selfish in that way. It’s hard for him not to be selfish when it comes to knowing ( knowing , not guessing ) what you, his very first, genuine friend, would say. 

Hawks plasters a placating grin on his face. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, patting the back of your hand. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Your lips press together briefly before splitting into an affirmative smile, but Hawks catches the microexpression quick enough. You don’t really believe he’s fine, but for his sake, you’ll help him keep up that silly little illusion. You can read him just as well as he can read you and he’s not yet sure whether that’s a blessing or a curse. 

He’s starting to edge towards ‘blessing’ when you reach for him, palm up and fingers opening and closing. Hawks switches his cup to his other hand to take yours. As soon as his hand is in yours, your thumb brushes over the back of his, back and forth, back and forth. It’s okay. It’s okay, you seem to say. You smile up at him as you squeeze his hand tightly. It’s gonna be okay.

Hawks swallows down the lump in his throat at how the situation has turned itself around. He’s here to comfort you in your trying times, not you comfort him for not being fine. 

You’re the one who got caught in the crossfires of a villain attack, not him. You’re the one who suffered multiple blunt-force injuries in the chest, the stomach, and the head from being tossed around so violently, not him. You’re the one who could barely breathe the moment you entered the hospital’s treatment room, your breath rattling as your lungs fought to push air in and out of you from within your battered ribcage, not him. You’re the one who’s nonverbal thanks to a mix of trauma from the incident and vocal cord paralysis from your injuries, not him. You’re the one relying on body language and the notes app of your phone to ask for the simplest things, not him. 

Between you and him, Hawks is the most selfish person in the room. How dare he call himself a hero? 

Hawks drops your hand. 

For a moment, your expression falls before he takes your hand in his once more. His thumb strokes over the cracked and scarred skin of your knuckles in the same way you did his. Your smile makes his heart hammer against his ribcage. He sets down his paper cup on the overbed table to cup your hand in both of his. 

I’m here. I’m here for you. I’ll take care of you, he hopes he says as he raises your hand to his mouth. 

Briefly, he presses his lips to your knuckles. Short, but reverent in every way. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Hawks looks up at you with bated breath, taking in your softened gaze, your teary eyes, and the pleased curve of your smile.

You set your cup down on the overbed table, right next to his, and cradle Hawks’s cheek in your palm. Something blooms in your chest, something much more powerful than fear and injury.

“Love you, too.”

[pendarling]

Stalking Whump Prompts

Closing windows and doors only to find them opened again

Scattered messages and notes throughout their home, car, school and/or workplace

Hearing noises everywhere

Power turning off

Never feeling alone

Waking up in the middle of the night from fear

Stuff is being moved or rearranged

Whumpee taking a picture of objects to make sure they know they left it exactly as it was

Getting messages and phone calls from no one

Everybody calls Whumpee crazy

If Whumpee had a previous stalker that’s in jail or dead then they constantly visit them to make sure it’s not Whumper

Random scars and bruises in their body

Receiving a package or “gift” as Whumper calls it

Food being tampered with

Moving temporarily to a new home

Hiding their things and keeping secrets

Seeing shadows or strange movements in the corner of their eye

When someone Whumpee had been suspicious about mentions something they had kept to themselves

Whumpee wishes that it really is someone because at this point there’s never enough evidence

Losing their mind and accusing others like Caretaker of stalking

Eventually stalking Caretaker because they’re so certain it’s them

Constantly people watching when they’re outside in the hopes of figuring out who it might be

When Whumpee gets closer to the truth they receive warnings like property being destroyed or stolen

A Whumpee that is sleep deprived and hallucinates the experience

Whumper is present with Whumpee who claims there’s a third person stalking them and Whumper always has to do the reassuring (Whumper turned Caretaker)

~~~

MASTERLIST

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

DAY 14: Toys/gifts

“No !” yelped Grandchild, their head buried into their pillow. “I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

Retired Superhero closed the door, sat on a chair, and asked:

“Why?”

“Because! I know what you’re going to say!”

Grandchild sat up and exclaimed, throwing their arms around:

“In my time, I was the greatest hero with the greatest power! In my time, young people had to grit their teeth and carry on! In my time, kids with superpowers knew how to control themselves and-”

Their breath hitched, and they hiccuped:

“A-and- didn't throw their teacher around and sent her to the hospital-”

Their lip wobbled a bit, and they began to cry. Retired Superhero hummed, and opened his arms, but Grandchild recoiled. Their grandfather was always looking so solemn and intimidating in their dark suit. The only touch of color was the non-binary pin that he’d put on since the day they had made their coming out. The old man coughed a little, then searched his pockets to retrieve a small package.

“It’s for you.”

Grandchild hesitated, but curiosity got the better of them. They opened their gift, revealing a wooden box, with a carved rabbit on the top.

“You give me...a toy?”

“It’s an old toy,” said Retired Superhero. “My grandpa gave it to me when I was about your age. You see, he hadn't telekinesis like us. He could take powers away.”

He pursed his lips:

“I had trouble to master my abilities, too, so he gave me that little rabbit. I could store my energy away in the box, until the time I was sure I could control it for good. You’re the only person who can give it away and give it back, at any time you want. It can’t be stolen.”

Grandchild looked at the box, at their grandpa, then asked:

���B-But- isn’t that cheating? Ain’t I supposed to control my power on my own? Aren’t you the one who said that willpower is the greatest power of all?”

“I still think so,” smiled Retired Superhero. “But even the greatest power can’t do everything on its own, just like a powerful person can’t do everything by oneself. Sometimes, things need a little... help.”

Grandchild didn’t answer anything, but this time, they initiated the hug.

*

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

[babyjakes]

darling dangers.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinktober 2022

prompt | vibrator

pairings | mean!dark!best friend!ransom drysdale and soft!dark!best friend!jake jensen x innocent!reader

warnings | non/dub-con (reader is reluctant and resistant.) ran and jake are absolutely taking advantage of reader. ran is an asshole, jake is a little better. heavy humiliation, babying, dumbification, mocking and degradation. crying kink. ransom holds reader down. pussy slapping. forced fingering and use of vibrator. heavy clit focus. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. jake is doing most of the work, ransom's just there to be mean lol.

word count | 2,312

an | um oh my godddddd, ,,, this idea has been swirling around in my brain for so long and finally, finally i get to bring it to fruition >:-)) welcome to kinktober, whores <333 also sorry if this one feels awkward or rusty? i've been writing whump for the past month so getting back into the filth felt a little clumsy :-((

As soon as you see the small black box sitting out in the open on the counter between your two best friends, both of their faces drawn in expectant expressions as they stand just waiting for you to walk in on the perfect scene they've orchestrated- you know you're in deep, deep trouble.

Ransom's crossing his arms, a small smirk forming on his face when he sees how wide your eyes have gone. Jake's giving off more disappointment than amusement, which honestly hits deeper than the twisted pleasure his counterpart's apparently finding in the whole ordeal. Gulping as you take a step forward into the kitchen, your voice betrays you by trembling as you dare to speak up. "R-Ran? Jakey? What's going on?"

"You know, it's funny, princess. We've been wondering the same thing," Ransom jests as he places a steady hand on the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as he pauses to glance at the blonde standing beside him. "Right, J? We never would've imagined our precious little angel- our sweet, innocent y/n- turning out to be such a whore."

Tears prickle in your eyes at the remark; bottom lip puffing out slightly in a pathetic frown, you shake your head in defense. "N-no, don't say that. S'not true."

"Aww, look at her, Jake. Think she's gonna cry already. Go on then, sweetheart. Know you can't help it, you've always been such a sensitive little thing."

Brow stiffening in anger, you glare at the brown-haired boy. "Stop it," you whisper through your hurt and confusion. Why are they doing this to you? They're your best friends, your Ran and Jakey. What would ever drive them to humiliate you like this? You would've never seen it coming. "Wh-why were you going through my mail, anyway? You have no right."

"Well, it helped that we were expecting the package," Jake finally breaks his silence, letting out a small sigh as he crosses his own arms. "An email popped up about your order status while I was helping you fix your phone last week. Couldn't believe it, our sweet y/n, ordering from a site like that. But it looks like there was no mistake here." Turning slightly, he reaches out to pick up the little box with a single hand. Eyeing the picture on the lid, his disappointment only seems to grow as he looks back at you, "Buggy, d'you even know what these are made for? You have no business buyin' something like this; you're much too little, y/n."

Cheeks burning at your friend's patronizing words, your eyes narrow further. "Of course I know what they're made for, Jake. I... I'm not stupid, I'm a big girl. I can order whatever the hell I want," you shot back.

At that, Ransom chuckles as Jake can only manage to shake his head in further disappointment. "A big girl, huh? We'll see about that, babycakes."

Everything happens so fast, you're barely able to process it. Before you know it, the pair have whisked you away to your bedroom, Ransom laughing cruelly as he carries you over his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, they have you surrounded on the plush duvet of your queen-sized bed, the brunette coming up behind you to trap you in his arms. As he leans back against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, he brings you with him, pressing your back up against his broad chest as you squirm in haste. Jake approaches the two of you on his knees, the box with your new toy still clasped in his hand. Writhing a bit as Ransom tightens his grip on you, you finally find your voice. "What the fuck-? Let go of me, let me go! What are you doing? This is-"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Jake tells you sadly as your other friend eventually gets a good enough hold on you to overpower your resistance. "This is for your own good, y/n. You need'ta learn not to mess around with these things. It's not safe for a little girl like you."

"Learn? What do you mean?" you cry as Ransom's large hands come up to pry your knees apart, using his own strong legs to hold you open. As soon as you feel the cool air of the apartment hitting the thin layer of fabric covering your delicate mound, you freeze. Peering down with wide eyes, you see that your little tennis skirt has flipped up in the most unfortunate of ways, leaving your lacy pink panties on full display for everyone in the room's viewing pleasure. Heart pounding heavily in your chest, you clear your throat.

"R-Ran, Jakey... please..."

"We're not gonna hurt you, baby. Just gonna show you how dangerous these things can be, that's all. You're safe," Jake hums as he lays down on his tummy before you, scooting up between your widespread legs to come almost face-to-face with your now quivering core.

"Pink lace," Ransom snorts from behind you as his hands rest greedily on your inner thighs. "She really is a little slut, isn't she, J?"

Tears pool in your eyes as your cheeks burn in embarrassment. "P-please, please don't look," you beg, your tears earning a sympathetic frown from the blonde beneath you as he reaches out to run a tender hand over the lace of your panties.

"We're gonna be doin' a whole lot more than lookin', sweet thing," he admits as his fingers press against your dampness. "And would you look at that, someone's already gettin' wet." Squeezing out a few more tears as the man prods at your thinly-covered heat, you can only whimper in response.

"Doesn't surprise me. Bet she likes us being all rough, holding her down and spreading her open. You like that, sweetheart?" Ransom teases as he brings a hand up to cup one of your breasts over the flimsy yellow tank top you're wearing. "Never wears a bra around us, either. She's just asking to be played with." At the feeling of his cool hand slipping under your top to search for your beaded nipple, you cry out, straining against his wicked hold- but it's no use. Compared to Jake and Ransom, you're nothing in terms of size or strength. And now that they've got you where they want you, you're completely at their mercy. And you're not sure how much you can trust their promise of safety, not after all they've just done to you.

The meaner of the two laughs darkly as he finds one of the little knots of flesh, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as you cry softly to yourself. "Responsive little thing, isn't she?" he marvels as Jake takes to dealing with your panties; for a moment, he pushes them aside, but then after a few seconds of rethinking, he instead just decides to simply take the thin strip of fabric in his hands, pulling harshly until the band snaps apart completely.

"There we go," he murmurs as his eyes settle down on your dripping folds. "Such a pretty little pussy you've got, sunshine. It's a shame you didn't decide to share sooner."

Looking down over your shoulder to take his own peek, Ransom groans at the sight of your untouched petals. "Fuck, y/n. You've been keeping that all to yourself? Bet no one's ever done anything like this to you before. This your first time, princess?" Your words only continue to fail you as you lower your head in shame, your response giving the two boys all the answers they need. "Well too bad it has to be wasted on a punishment. Dumb little girl thought she could order a big girl toy- these things aren't made for you, baby. You're gonna realize that very quickly."

Pulling his hands away to fiddle with the box, Jake takes his time removing the little blue bullet from its packaging. The friends were smart enough to make sure to charge it before their little ambush, meaning they now have the benefit of its full battery life to spend on teaching you your little lesson. "Here it is," Jake hums, clicking it on carefully to the lowest speed. "Now sweetheart, I'm gonna give you one chance to get yourself outta this," he bargains.

That catches your attention. Raising your weary gaze to meet the blonde's soft set of eyes, you nod reluctantly. "I want you to show me and Ran exactly what you were gonna do with this thing. Want you to use it just like how you were planning when you bought it. And if you're honest with me- with us, and show us everything it was gonna do for you, we'll let you go."

Blinking, you take a moment to think. It's a good offer, you will admit, and he even seems genuine about keeping his end of the deal if you follow through with it. But there's a part of you that just can't bear the thought of demonstrating the crude acts you were intending on performing with the toy, at least not to your two best friends in the entire world. He left it unsaid, but it was implied: Jake wants you to make yourself cum for them. And you just can't do it, you know you can't. So you decide to do the only other thing you can think of: play stupid and pray they buy it.

Swallowing thickly, you nod. Shifting a little, Ransom releases one of your hands, still holding your breast hostage beneath his fingers, almost as an impending threat. Watching you carefully, Jake hands you the buzzing bullet, the strength of the toy's vibrations causing your hand to tingle ticklishly as you suck in a deep breath.

"Go ahead, cutie. Show us," Jake encourages.

Trying to keep your hand from shaking, you brace yourself as you bring the object down between your legs, searching a little to find your glistening hole. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push in, letting the low rumble of the vibrator settle into your core.

"Alright, that's enough," Ransom snaps, causing you to jump as Jake rips the toy from your heat and grasp. "Stupid fucking baby, that was a big mistake. Are you really too dumb to know where it goes? Or do you just want us to punish you?"

Shaking his head in disappointment, Jake sighs heavily. "Good girls don't lie, y/n," he states harshly as Ransom resecures both of your arms down against your back before reaching between your legs to land a few forceful slaps against your bare pussy.

You sob at the sting, gasping as his hand comes up to pull back the hood of your clit. "Give it to her, she was asking for it," he nods to Jake.

Turning up the toy a few clicks, the blonde focuses in his gaze on your little bundle of nerves as he gently collects some of your wetness on the twitching head of the tool before easing it up against your button, earning a strained gasp from you as your whole world's set on fire. The burning is unlike anything you've ever experienced, heat blooming in your core as you burst into more tears at the sensation. Shaking his head knowingly, Jake's voice is full of disappointment as he chastises you, "I gave you a chance, y/n, but you either lied to me, or you're just way dumber than I ever imagined."

"Look at all those tears," Ransom all but moans as he twists and pulls at your nipple, grinding subtly into your back as he holds you down for Jake's torment. "Keep it right on the head, pal- don't cut her any slack. What's the matter, sweetheart- huh? That too much for you? I thought you were a big girl who could handle big girl toys. Of course you're not," he laughs darkly, only egged on by the feeling of you writhing against him, "you're just a stupid little baby who needs to be taught a lesson."

"Think she's learning pretty quick," Jake comments as he practically drools at the sight of your wetness leaking out onto the bed beneath you. Using his free hand, he gently eases a finger into you, curling up gently to rub at your soft, spongey ceiling as your eyes roll back in horrific pain and pleasure.

"Please, please..." you're reduced to mere sobs as you feel the pressure of your orgasm building up more and more in your tummy. "Please, n-no-... wait-... stop-..."

"There it is. C'mon, baby. Cum for us, it's okay," Jake coos as he twirls the head of the bullet over your swollen clit. "That's it, there you go," he sighs with a small smile as you're forced over the edge, your back arching painfully as you squirt out onto his waiting hands.

"Fuck," Ransom curses from behind you, his cock bulging needily at the sight of you being forced to cum. "She's a fucking squirter, would'ya look at that. Better than anything I was dreaming of," he groans as your little toes twitch from the overstimulation, your sobs growing louder as you come down from your high.

"P-please, please, no more!" you hiccup, the continued vibrations against your now engorged button enough to bring you to your knees.

"You think she's learned her lesson, Ran?" Jake asks doubtfully, already knowing what the answer will be as he stretches you open to add a second finger before turning up the bullet another few notches.

"No, I don't think we're anywhere near finished," the brunette responds cruelly as he slaps his hand down a few times against your throbbing heat before pulling back on your lips again to spread you out once more. "She needs at least one more, maybe two. Gotta really show her how dangerous that little thing can be."

[strxnged]

TIGHNARI: # second life.

word count. 1.3k. genre. coworkers to lovers? whump confession.

overview. after your confession to tighnari goes exceptionally poorly, you move away from gandharva ville, change your job, and try to forget. however, he comes looking for you in sumeru city.

author's note. oops i wrote another tighnari fic. kinda like him or whatever. he's cool. anyways i have a thing for confessions in the rain so we went with it, enjoy feeling slightly sad and then slightly satisfied in this brainrot-drunk fic. reblogs are appreciated as always!

Your entire disposition shifted helplessly the moment you realized Tighnari was in front of your stall, arms crossed and eyes dark. As your breath hitched, you attempted to neutralize your face—but it was impossible, it was hopeless, to prevent the shake in your voice.

“Good afternoon. What can I get for you?”

He met your eyes with a calculated smile. “Hello, Y/N. May I speak with you on your next break?”

You pursed your lips fleetingly. “No, I will be busy.”

He exuded frustration but you both seemed to try to ignore it. “I have to explain…”

So he was also haunted by the scene that had prompted your permanent absence from Gandharva Ville.  He was also haunted by how it happened, although you were quite sure if given another chance he would have said the exact same thing to you and the outcome would have been the same.

“Can I get anything else for you?”

“Well…” He sighed, studying the shop’s goods. “Tell me, how fresh are these Niloptala Lotuses?”

“Picked this morning.”

“I’ll have a dozen.”

You kept your eyes on the lotuses as you packaged them for him, carefully folding the leaves on each to protect the small flower within. In a small, watertight box, you organized them in three lines of four, carefully covered it with a straw lid, and pushed it towards him. “That will be forty thousand mora.”

He paid you, and you felt the shape of something in your hand that was not a coin. Before you could understand what it was, and try to give it back to him, he had carried off his vessel and disappeared. But now you wished he would come back, because you had realized it was a note. It read “Collei, of all people, urged me to come to the Bazaar and find you so that I would ‘stop being so miserable.’”

You folded the note and pocketed it, scanning the crowds for any sign of him.

It didn’t make sense. Did he want you to come back to the village, and forget about what had happened? Was he hoping you had gotten over your feelings for him by now, and that you were willing to be a Ranger again?

It wasn’t going to work. Your feelings, if anything, had grown stronger, overpoweringly so. That had been the reason you’d left, hoping in vain that a job unconnected to the Forest Rangers would permit you some distraction. You could think of it so clearly, the hot tears that had been on your face as you had finally said it. “I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with you, Tighnari,” you’d said. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You remembered how his hand holding the beaker of pollen concentrate had frozen, how he’d said nothing for a terrible minute.

He looked up at you, his eyes… fearful? You still couldn’t decide what you had seen in his expression, although you had certainty it hadn’t been positive.

“You can’t,” he had said. “You don’t know me.”

“I—I know you well enough.”

His voice had been cold, and his expression had turned adamant. “You don’t.”

You had thought about this nearly every day since. It had been weeks, and it still gripped and squeezed your heart every time.

Your break came, and you took it promptly. You would find him, if only to tell him you were sorry you had been in his life. You spotted, with some awkwardly elaborate ducking, Collei and a few other Forest Rangers. If they saw you, they’d try to connect with you again, and you couldn’t bear it. News of the angstful aforementioned events, you were sure, had spread between Rangers. Oh, it was humiliating.

You continued out of the Bazaar. It was raining in Sumeru City today, and you were grateful for the Bazaar’s cover. You now regretted not bringing with you any kind of hat or umbrella, as your uniform was going to be drenched. 

You did not know where Tighnari might be since he did not appear to be in the Bazaar. You had headed to the South entrance, struck with the idea that perhaps his acquaintance Rohawi would know—maybe he had stopped to greet him, and shared at least the purpose of the visit to Sumeru City visit.

But you didn’t get far. The rain picked up, and you immediately found shelter as it was necessary. Said shelter happened to be the overhang on the side door of the Jewler’s shop. You rested against one of the pillars, and wiped some rain off of the top of your head.

Then, you stared.

Tighnari stared back at you from beside the opposite pillar, hair also dripping to the wooden floor.

“Tighnari—”

“Y/N—”

You both went quiet, and then he sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you, it was… You may be right that I can’t love you with how little I know about you, but I… I can’t help it Tighnari, and I’m afraid that ruined everything.”

“But it’s my fault you misunderstood,” he said. “You are the first to confess to me in such a way, and it caught me off guard. However, that does not excuse how I reacted.”

“You were being honest.”

“I was being brackish. I did not take the time to acknowledge your emotions, nor my own, as I responded in the logical and cruel way that is most natural for me.”

As a contrast to the bustling, noisy marketplace atmosphere that you had been speaking over earlier, the thunder and rain were isolating. You seemed to be the only voices in the tunnel of weather. “But you were still right. I didn’t know you well enough to understand… and how can I defend my feelings for you then?”

Tighnari reached for your hand, hesitating only an inch before he grabbed it. Then, he lifted it and covered it with his other hand. “The truth is,” he said, “I feel a certain kind of way for you that I’ve not felt for anyone in a long time. It is… frightening. But—” He looked you in the eyes earnestly, “--You have to understand that I don’t know you as well as I would like to. I would like to know so much about you so that I may love all of you. I would like to study you, your likes and dislikes, your fears, your passions. I want to know what makes you tick, Y/N. I want to be with you so that I can observe you, and so that you might, in return, get to know me, too.”

You wanted to ask him if he meant it, but you knew the answer. His eyes said the rest.

“May I hug you, Tighnari?” you said, unable to think of anything else.

His voice broke as he said, “Of course you may, my dear friend.”

You finally stepped forward and embraced Tighnari, finding the dampness of your clothing only comforting, somehow. He smelled like the trees, and rain, and home. He held you sturdily and decidedly, one hand on the center of your back and one on the back of your head. He was unwilling to let you go until his heat had warmed you some.

When you finally released, he took your face in his hands and planted a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“May I get to know you, Y/N?”

author's note. when i wrote the bit with the note i couldn't help but think about a "new item acquired: tighnari's note" notification on the side of the screen LAFKHLADS

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

I have been rotating factory/industrial whump in my mind, but I can't find any prompt. can you conjure some?

whumpee with their hand stuck in a machine or a propeller — which led to caretaker having to fetch a makeshift tourniquet to stop the bleed, it could then lead to an on-field amputation.

whumpee getting trapped in a warehouse during the night, bonus if it’s dark inside and they’re afraid of the dark.

or, whumpee getting trapped in a warehouse during the night, with whumper or caretaker? your choice.

a malfunction occurred which caused the cold room (a walk-in-freezer)’s electric door to automatically shut and lock on its own, with whumpee trapped inside. caretaker and the team have to try to find a way to open the door in time before hypothermia causes whumpee’s body any permanent damage.

whumper stuffed whumpee inside a package box and sealed it as "a prank", they didn't know (or didn't care) whumpee was a claustrophobe.

chemical spilled. whumpee is exposed to it; the symptoms can be nausea, headache, blurred vision, fatigue, fever, shortness of breath, rash, burns — if you want to take it up a notch, you can add seizures, respiratory failure and/or internal hemorrhage as part of the symptoms.

[cepheusgalaxy]

so with whump

as a group? fandom? or any other word syebsj

usually it's fictional character and fics right but if you were to interact with other whumpees (that the term) like as roleplay or i dunno

would you or

okay maybe that's a confusing way of putting my question suwnsj

uh just tell me about your own experiences :3 if you wanna

Ok my experiences with whump? I'm not big on roleplaying (although it looks fun. just maybe not for me) so i'll talk about the community

They're awesome or at least the bubble I'm in like

There's one guy who got his acount deleted like a thousand times but he always swings back and he draws super well I like to reference from him and he's super nice

Then there this person who makes comics and they have so many I can't keep up

Then there's this uh lady? Woman? What's like a casual way to say it in english. Like guy but for girls. Anyway, she has a series that's so fun

And there's this person with such nice caracters I kinda picked my name from there.......

Oh, oh there's one thing that's like super nice and that's BBU

Its like a community worldbuilding like. Its premise is that there is a modern kind of world where humans are kept as slaves called "boxies" (because if people "order" them they arrive in packages)—thats why we call it the Box Boy Universe—and there's this organization called WRU (no idea what this name means i think its we r umpers or smth) that "trains" them and there are Safehouses for runaways and theres also The Pet Lib Movement

And it's a fun universe because everyone can use it! And so there's a lot of collaboration like, there's some part of the worldbuilding you don't wanna flesh out? This person here already did it. There is so much lore made by so many people and the fun is that you get to decide what is canom in your bbu

Also theres this person who took such a turn on it they (i dont remember their pronouns rn) imagined how it would be a bbu world but like in the black and white tv era. They did the origins of WRU (the evil slavery organization) and its like i haven't read it yet but it's such a fun concept

I also like the prompts. There's always some crazy thing I haven't thought about and it's lots of fun

There's also the community events (like febuwhump—one of the only i participed in lmao—where we get prompts for each day of february and write or draw something) idk they're fun people

[asianwhumpgalore]

Secrets of the Shadow Sect (皎月流火) | Cdrama | Whump List

Genre: Historical, Romance, Wuxia, Action

Synopsis: The young lady Ling Xuan of the morally ambiguous Spiritual Heaven Sect must disguise herself as a useless fool in order to protect herself from her father. At this very moment, Ying Shi is sent by the Shadow Pavilion to approach Ling Xuan in search of the Wanxin Technique. Through suspicions, testing, and dangers during their journey, they eventually build complete trust in each other. However, just as they have fallen for each other, Ling Xuan discovers the secret of Ying Shi's birth.

Length: 24 eps

Whump meter: ▲▲◭△△ 

✨ Everything I love wrapped in a pretty packag. If you liked Zhang Gong Zhu Zai Shang, you'll love this. Also quite some whump ✨

⚠️Trigger Content: Usual historical cdrama content warnings. ⚠️⚠️Some SPOILERS might be found, proceed with caution⚠️⚠️

Whumpee: Ying Shi/Bai Chen/Tang Yan portrayed by Lin Ze Hui

Ep 1 - Covers scar | Scar reveal, scar touched, scar opened, winces, bleeding, made to taste his own blood.

Ep 2 - Wipes blood off mouth | Cut on the forehead with a shard

Ep 3 - Cut on the forehead with a shard, blood trailing down the side of his face (10/10), grabbed by the chin, head pushed away, scolded, made to kneel and strip to receive punishment, scars on his back, whipped | still being whipped, pale, winces, sweating, several large cuts on his back, bleeding, belittled | Blood staining white clothes.

Ep 4 - Shirt removed to reveal the cuts on his back, made to lie down, wound treated, winces.

Ep 5 - none.

Ep 6 - Fought | Takes drug that binds him to his master.

Ep 7 - Weak, loosening collar of his clothes, blurry vision, leaning against table | Fought, blurry vision, struggling to focus, protected, sword to the chest then to the neck, chin tilted up with blade, weak.

Ep 8 - None.

Ep 9 - Restless, can't sleep | Blade to his neck.

Ep 10 - None.

Ep 11 - Stabbed in the back of his neck with three needles, trembling.

Ep 12 - Struggling to walk, weak, in pain, leaning over table, clutches chest, meditates to ease the pain | Sweating, injury reveal (three needles visible under his skin).

Ep 13 - Fought, kicked in the back, spits blood, falls to the ground, struggling to get up, scratches on his face, kicked in the chest, falls to the ground again, spits blood, cut on the cheek, blood on his face and neck | steps in front of loved one and gets stabbed in his right shoulder, blade removed abruptly, bleeding, clutches wound, falls onto his knees.

Ep 14 - Protected, concerned for loved one | Treated, needles removed from his skin, spits blood, pale, blood dripping from his lips.

Ep 15-19 - None.

Ep 20 - (in past) rescued (off screen), scratches and cuts on his face, talks about his unwillingness to live | (in past) watches his friend die, crying.

Ep 21 - (in past) x mark cut onto his left shoulder, crying.

Ep 22 - Force™ pushed away | Imprisoned by loved one | Gets up abruptly, sudden pain, winces, forced to sit back down, in pain, clutching chest, feeling withdrawals from drug, meditates to ease the pain.

Ep 23 - Fought, jumps off cliff after lover, saves lover by pushing her to safety but falls off cliff.

Ep 24 - Limping | Can't stand too long and has to sit, concern for him.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Will add gifsets once I get around to making some

[whumpshaped]

Stray 5

prev masterlist

tw institutional/systemic pet whump, second person pov (and you're the pet!)

There's no way you're letting him drop it. You leave the cat food and dash out from behind the dumpster, caution be damned. You're too close to that delicious cup of soup to lose it now.

You snatch the plastic container from his hand and step back, taking a big gulp of the flavourful liquid inside. Oh, it's so delightfully warm. And tasty. Not as good as the soup at the shelter, but it's definitely better than the literal trash you've been eating.

The man reaches into his pocket and takes out several napkins. He places them on the frozen top of the dumpster, then puts the rest of the food on it. Honestly, he could've put the crackers and the sandwich on the ground for all you care, those are packaged anyway. Hell, he could've put the apple there. It's not like you have been living on fine cuisine. Still, you appreciate the care.

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @project-xiii @justletmereadmywhump @sariadragon @sowhumpful @books-are-everything @littlespacecastle @captain-bo-bob-bobby @morning-star-whump @a-formless-entity @nyooom @100percentevil @catnykit @whumpinthepot @snakebites-and-ink @expressionless-fr

[i-eat-worlds]

Starcross Chapter 7

Almost forgot to post this lol

content: medical whump, conditioned whumpee, fear of punishment, bandage changes, angst, injured ankle

Free Space, AFS Starcross, 5/5/4763

Together, Oka and Ziar were able to get Kim back on the bed. They apologized profusely the whole time, but they were otherwise calm. No biting or scratching, only some tears. She decided that was a win.

Their ankle didn’t look worse than it had before, still swollen and dark purple. Kim was unnervingly quiet as they took off the splint and poked at it. Even though she tried to handle it gently, it still had to hurt.

After making sure that their ankle wasn’t any worse off than it had been, she re-splinted it and set it back down on the bed. When she reached to pull the blanket back down over their feet, they suddenly jolted, gasping for breath while their eyes went wide. Ziar’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you alright, Kim?”

They seemed to shy away from her. “Unit KM-4682 is experiencing electrical discharges from its myelolumbar cybernetic implant.”

The damn implants were malfunctioning. That would be fun to bring up to another doctor. “Alright. How often does this happen?”

She could see the concentration on Kim’s face while they formulated an answer. “It doesn’t know, ma’am.”

“That’s okay.” She keeps her face relaxed and friendly. “How many times has it happened since you’ve been here.”

“Five? Maybe eight?” Their voice was shaky. “Unit KM-4682 was not instructed to keep track.”

“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. There's no wrong answers,” she said.

Kim looked at her, unbelieving. They seemed uncertain. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ziar smiled a little bit. She hadn’t been called ma’am in ages, but especially not in Yeran. For a brief moment, she thought about telling them they didn’t have to use it, but that would probably only make them more distressed. “Besides the shocks, does anything else hurt? Do you have any numbness or tingling anywhere?”

They shook their head. “No, ma’am.”

She could tell that they were simply trying to guess what she wanted to hear, instead of saying what they were actually feeling. “It’s okay if you’re in pain. If you are, I want to know.”

Kim swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “Unit KM-4682 is experiencing discomfort in its ankle, lower back, and neck.”

“Alright.” Their eyes flickered down as Ziar spoke. “I’d like to look at your back, if that’s okay.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kim started to roll off their back, wincing as the movement agitated their broken ribs.

Ziar grabbed a pillow. “Here, this’ll make it more comfortable.” Hesitantly, they took the pillow, wiggling it between their body and the bed for extra padding.

While they got comfortable, Ziar pulled open the drawers at the bottom of the bed, pulling out two packages of sterile gloves and two extra DF packs. The ones in the packs were always too small for her. “I’m going to start with your neck, alright?” The sanitizing gel burned at a hangnail as she rubbed it over her hands.

“Yes, ma’am.” Kim’s voice was quiet, resigned. Ziar unfastened the first couple closures on the back of the gown, revealing the entirety of the implant.

She started to open the pack, setting the bag aside as a trash can and placing the pack on the bedside table. She pulled the flap on the far side open before doing the others. Using two fingers, she pulled a drape off the top of the pack, grasping its outer edges so she didn’t contaminate it.

Kim was perfectly, worryingly still as she peeled open the package of gloves and carefully pulled them on. The process of preparing the pack was familiar, peeling open the dermafibran and setting the sample cup to the side. She took the forceps in her hand. “I’m going to peel the old DF off. Sorry if the tools are cold.”

Kim didn’t react at all, with the exception of a quietly mumbled. “Yes, ma’am.” Ziar wondered if they said anything else.

Carefully, she slid one side of the forceps under the dermafibran, then slowly began to peel it back, revealing the implants. It didn’t look much better than it had the night before, still red and puffy. The dermafibran had turned a different color, indicating that it had been doing its job.

She dropped the old covering into the trash, then looked closer. A rivulet of pus was coming from the wound, and Ziar sighed internally. If only Yera’s surgeons could actually do their fucking jobs when they were experimenting on people’s fucking spinal cords.

Kim inched as she collected a sample of the discharge for culture. They had gone distant, and the contact had brought them back. “How’re you doing Kim? I’m nearly done with this one.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Kim spoke. “It is functional, ma’am.” Their voice was wobbly.

“Okay.” She started to recover the wound, pressing the fresh, hazy blue sheet of dermabran over the implant. “Does your neck hurt?”

“A little bit, ma’am.”

Ziar set the sample to the side, collected her trash, and peeled her gloves off. “Alright. I still need to change the DF on your back, but I know it isn’t very comfortable for you. Do you want to wait for a little while before I do that, or do it right now?”

Kim didn’t say anything, seemingly frozen still. Finally, they spoke. “Unit KM-4682 finds that either would be permissible.” A carefully neutral statement.

She wasn’t going to get anywhere with them like this. It was going to be a tough conversation, but it probably needed to happen sooner rather than later.

“Kim,” she started, tone gentle. “Can you turn around to face me?” They complied, slowly rolling back onto their back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m not mad at you, but I think it would be good for us to talk, okay?” Kim stayed quiet, eyes downcast. “I know this is scary, and that’s okay. You don’t know me, and I don’t know what’s happened to you.”

They nodded silently, breaths quickening.

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m not going to,” she continued, reaching over to move the table out of the way. They started to pick at their fingernails, pointer finger ramming into their thumb. “That is not going to happen to you here, alright. Ever.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She could hear the shake in their voice. Tears were welling up in their eyes, just about to fall.

“I want to help you, alright. To do that, I need to know what you honestly think and feel, even if you think I won’t like it.” Kim blinked their eyes, trying to prevent the tears from falling. “It’s important, because you deserve to be safe, and I can’t help you with that if I don’t know what's wrong.” It grated at her, having to speak like this, making them afraid like this, but it needed to happen. “It’s okay if this feels weird, or if you have questions. Do you understand what I’m saying, Kim?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The tears were owing freely as they pushed the blanket away and pulled the gown up, revealing their electrowhip scar flecked upper thighs. Kim looked up at them, ghting to keep their expression blank. “Unit KM-4682 understands and is ready for correction, ma’am.”

Oh. Oh-no.

Taglist: @whump-snob @whump-kia @itsoundslikeafury @blackberry-bloody @snakebites-and-ink

@whumpacabra @cepheusgalaxy @softvampirewhump @my-little-versaille @pigeonwhumps

@whumped-by-glitter @snaillamp @rainydaywhump @platysaurus @whumpy-daydreams

@whiskygoldwings @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @rainbowsandwhumperflies @risk606 @starfields08000

@loonybun @paingoes

[maracujatangerine]

The Gift Exchange, part 1

CW: institutionalised slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation

“Miss Lydia, Miss Lydia, what do you think about this?.”

Coriander jogged into the kitchen, brandishing a roll of wrapping paper patterned with abstract swirls in silver and dark green. The silver accents glittered in the pale winter morning sunlight falling in through the windows.

“It is really pretty!” Miss Lydia smiled, brown eyes warm. “Good choice, Cory!”

The blonde pet ducked his head, but smiled back from underneath his bangs. He wore a soft, green sweater with leather patches on the elbows that matched his chestnut trousers.

Lydia was dressed in a dark grey, knitted dress with red leggings. She leaned over the table to move the pot with the red and white amaryllis out of the way.

“Should we wrap everything into one present, or should we wrap each gift separately, do you think?”

“T-this pet thinks we should w-wrap one gift for Colton and one for Linden, b-but that all their gifts can be wrapped together.”

“That’s a good idea, let’s do that.”

Coriander spread out several seed packages on the table and studied them thoughtfully. Closest to Lydia was a packet with a picture of lush, green sugar snap peas labelled: ‘Mangetout, pea seeds 'Norli' ORGANIC’. Then, there were two packets both marked ‘Thunbergia alata, Black-eyed Susan’, the first one called ‘African Sunset’ in shades of red and apricot, the second one ‘Alba Oculata’ in brilliant white. The final was a handwritten envelope simply marked in Cory’s neat handwriting: ‘Chili, mix’.

“Are you happy with those seeds?”

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. C-Colton will be able to grow them on the balcony, and i-it will be fun that we both can try to grow the same seeds. P-perhaps we can compare notes.”

Cory gathered the seed packets and tied them together with a neat red bow. Meanwhile, Lydia grabbed a hardback book. The blue dust jacket had brightly coloured leaves scattered all over the cover. The title stood out in bright white: When we were birds, by Ayanna Lloyd Banwo.

Opening the book, she wrote on the inside of the cover. ‘To Linden. Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.’ Signing it, she handed it over to Coriander to add his name too.

“‘It is a bit of a risky gift,” she admitted to Cory, “since I haven’t read the book yet, but it seems so good. I got a copy for myself too, and I hope I will get the chance to read it over the holidays.”

They added two bags of homemade butterscotch candy in green paper cups, and two reused milk cartoons filled with gingerbread cookies, the result of last night’s baking spree.

Lydia and Cory put their joint efforts into wrapping the gifts into two neat packages. The dark, red ribbon a nice contrast to the green and silver wrapping paper.

“Let’s go for a walk and send it off this afternoon.” Coriander nodded.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia.”

*

Linden wiggled the pen between his thumb and index finger, deep in thought. Leaning back in his kitchen chair, he looked over at Colton, who was working diligently at the end of the table. With wholly unbroken concentration, he was pulling strips of sellotape from the dispenser and sticking them in a neat row along the table’s wooden edge. When Linden had done the altogether far more fiddly task of wrapping a gift up, Col could pluck a pre-cut piece of tape and stick it in place. It was, as Linden had said about fifty times, excellent teamwork.

“Hey, Col, have you ever seen this before?” Linden asked, lifting his hand for Col to see. With the pen held right in its middle, Linden wiggled it gently, until it looked as if the pen was bending at the edges.

Col’s eyebrows twitched, and for a beautiful second Linden thought he was going to burst out laughing. Instead, his mouth curved upwards into a tiny smile. “Yes, Sir. I have.”

“Ah, not too impressive then. Haha, no matter.”

“Do you need any tape for the envelope, Sir?” Col asked, eyeing the Christmas card laid out in front of Linden.

“In a second… I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Ah, okay, Sir.”

Col took another breath, as if to speak, then stopped himself. Linden prided himself on reading Col well enough by now to know that it was because he wanted to ask a question. Probably what are you trying to figure out?

“I’ve written my part of Lydia and Cory’s card, but I’m not sure how to do yours. I’m not going to make you try and hold a pen. I was thinking - do you want to just dictate it? It doesn’t have to be much, just a little festive greeting sort of thing. I can be your text-to-speech robot.”

Linden was always cheery around Christmas time. Something about winter setting in, dark and long and rainy, and then being cut through by glittering lights, gifts and music. Today, he felt like he was on a veritable warpath to make Col smile.

“That sounds good, Sir… I can do that.”

“Great!” Linden said, overjoyed that Colton hadn’t taken issue with the idea of ‘dictating’ something to his owner, hadn’t overthought any possible rule-breaking that could come with speaking and forcing his Master to write it all down. “And instead of you signing the card the normal way, I thought you could do a fingerprint?”

“That’s a good idea, Sir, thank you for c-”

“Wait, no!” Linden said, making Col flinch. “Sorry, I’m sorry love. I just realised. We’ll both do our fingerprints. That’ll be nice. Then we’re the same.”

There it was again, the coveted half-smile. Col’s cheeks glowed. “Thank you, Sir, that’s really kind. I think- I, uh…”

“Go on,” Linden said warmly. “I want to hear what you think.”

“I think Lydia and Cory will like that, Sir.”

“I agree. Now, here’s what I’ve written.”

Linden pushed the card over. He’d written a short message making light of the strange way they first crossed paths, saying how glad he now was to know the both of them, wishing them a peaceful and happy holiday. He waited patiently as Colton gave his message some thought, then wrote it down exactly as dictated on the left hand side of the card.

Linden found some stamp ink in the back of a drawer, and the two of them rolled their index fingers in it until they could leave two bold prints, one below each message.

Once the card was sealed, it was time for the gifts. Lydia’s gift was a specially-made book embosser, which had EX LIBRIS - LYDIA WINTERTHORPE printed onto it. The embosser itself was a satisfying, weighty thing, and Linden hoped she’d get great pleasure out of stamping all of her most beloved books.

Cory’s gift was also a bespoke item: a brass door sign with his name, Coriander, printed on it. It had ornate rounded corners which gave the thing a rustic, rather stately look, and although Linden had never seen Lydia’s house he guessed it would fit right in. He had run the gift idea past Col first - would a pet such as Cory be okay with claiming the bedroom as his in this way? Col had given it a fair share of thought, ultimately telling Linden, in a way that sounded more like a sinful confession, that Cory would like it very much.

The two men performed their well-honed wrapping ritual, with Col sticking down the final piece of tape with a flourish.

*

This is a collaboration between @whumpzone and @maracujatangerine.

We would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas!

*

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning