#this might count as whump

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumpuary #8: Muffled Screams / Hostage / "You look awful" Alt #5: Headache

CW: uhhh...unhealthy self-sacrificial mentality? Nothing too intense

Caretaker had a headache.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal; headaches were something that just happened in people’s day-to-day lives sometimes. But it was a really painful one. And they couldn’t just sleep it off, they had responsibilities.

They needed to be around for Whumpee. Whumpee might not be as fragile or incapable as they’d been earlier in their recovery, but they still deserved someone stable and dependable.

The painful sensation relentlessly pounded through their brain, but Caretaker braced themself and moved on to the next thing they had to do for the day. They could do this. It would hurt, but they could do this.

Caretaker winced, then frowned, displeased with themself. They were being a baby about this. Whumpee had experienced so much worse. Caretaker really had no excuse to be this out of sorts over a headache.

They grimaced as pain lanced through their skull. This wasn’t going to be fun.

Well, nothing to do but push onward. Caretaker took an ibuprofen and started cooking the next meal for the two of them. Partway through the process, Whumpee entered the kitchen and started chatting with them. Caretaker hid their pain behind smiles and pleasant conversation, not wanting to concern Whumpee.

Unfortunately, Whumpee was too observant for that. They caught Caretaker wincing and squeezing their eyes shut in a moment of weakness.

“Caretaker, are you feeling alright?” Whumpee looked worried.

“It’s just a headache,” Caretaker said, hoping to dismiss the subject. It wasn’t Whumpee’s issue to have to worry about.

Whumpee didn’t seem convinced. “Okay, but how bad of a headache? You don’t look like you’re feeling very well.”

“It’s…yeah. I’m not,” Caretaker confessed.

“Why don’t you take a break? I can take care of things here.”

Caretaker shook their head, and immediately regretted it. Ow. “You shouldn’t have to do that. You’re still in recovery.”

“The late stages of recovery. It’ll be alright. I can manage for one day.”

“But it’s my job to take care of you! You’ve already been through so much, I can’t add to your plate.”

“Caretaker.”

They flushed, chastised. “Yeah, okay. You’re an adult. If you say you can manage, it wouldn’t be fair of me to insist you can’t.”

Whumpee gave them a smile in response.

“But,” Caretaker added, “if it starts to feel like too much, or you need something from me, please tell me and let me help. A headache is something I can push through, and I don’t want you sacrificing your health for mine.”

“Okay. Fair enough.”

Caretaker allowed themself to relax a little more with that established. A refreshed awareness of their discomfort drew a groan from them as less worry for Whumpee made room for more focus on their own pain.

“Let’s get you off your feet,” Whumpee said. They walked Caretaker to Caretaker’s bedroom. Caretaker couldn’t help but sigh in relief as they entered the room with the light left off, the darkness easing their headache.

Whumpee sat them down on the bed. “Take a rest. I’m going to go finish cooking the food.”

Caretaker sat on the edge of their bed, feeling useless.

Pain danced under their skull as they waited. Being in darkness and not having to do anything both helped, but didn’t get rid of the headache entirely.

After a few minutes, Whumpee came in with a plate of hot food. They handed it to Caretaker and sat down next to them with a gentle smile. “You’ve done so much to take care of me. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

“Thanks, Whumpee.” Caretaker looked down. They felt torn between being guilty that Whumpee had to do this, and touched that they were so willing to. But Whumpee was pretty capable; maybe everything would be fine after all.

They ate. Whumpee took the plate after they were done. Caretaker hesitated to just let this all happen; they didn’t want to make Whumpee do the work.

“Come on, Caretaker. Lie down.” Whumpee pushed them back, gently enough that they could resist it if they wanted but forcefully enough to make it clear what they wanted from Caretaker.

Caretaker gave in with a small sigh and lay back on their pillow.

“You just worry about getting better. I’ve got this,” Whumpee reassured them. Whumpee left the room and closed the door behind them, shutting out the light from the hall.

Caretaker believed it. The pain eased up a bit more as they finally allowed themself to fully relax.

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 6

cws: nonhuman whumpee, shock collar mentions, multiple whumpers

masterlist

note: this chapter is kinda rough and very short. my apologies, writing it felt like wrestling and wrangling an annoying concept into words. and it won against me. it's because this one is supposed to be set up for some fun chapters that are coming up soon!! so stay tuned!!

I didn’t realize that Prince Ryan had never put the collar back on until I was being handed platters of food in the kitchen. Maybe it was just a small mercy, like the twelve minutes I’d had to myself before dinner—he gave me those, sometimes, if he didn’t have to go out of his way for them—but it seemed different tonight.

Everything was different tonight and no one would fucking tell me why.

It was unreasonable to demand knowledge of these types of things, of course, I reminded myself.. The royal family always had my best interests in mind. Always. Every weird thing that happened today did not change that.

Serving dinner, at least, was the same. Carry three platters of food out of the kitchen and into the dining room, place them on the table, don’t make too much noise, don’t interrupt any conversation going on already. It was easy, as long as I didn’t drop anything, until-

“Onyx.”

Prince Ryan didn't talk to me during dinner. I was supposed to work like a well-oiled machine, serving food without making my presence obvious. I wasn’t supposed to be talked to and I wasn’t supposed to bow and my existence wasn’t supposed to be acknowledged.

I bowed at Prince Ryan's feet as soon as he spoke, trying not to let my surprise show. “May I assist you with something, Your Highness?” Talking wasn't so hard. It was just repeating the script I had been trained to say. Even if I didn’t usually talk here, it was the same script.

“We're going somewhere tonight. You need a pair of shoes. You can borrow some of mine. I want you ready to leave by the time we're done eating. Don't worry about dishes or anything—we have more important things to be doing right now.”

 Repeating the script wasn't bad, except that Price Ryan had been abandoning the script all day and I didn't know where to go from there. “Yes, Your Highness,” I said, because what else was there to say?

“Any questions?”

I swallowed, trying to get used to the feeling of doing it without the collar. It’d had prongs with which to distribute the electricity, and my neck felt bare without them digging in. I could ask about it, but Prince Cardan had started glaring at me, and maybe it would be in everyone’s best interests to excuse myself from the table. “No, Your Highness. Thank you.”

He waved a hand at me, turning away, and I did my best to stay steady and graceful as I practically ran back to the kitchen. This was probably fine, right? It wasn’t going to be that big of a deal, right? I was just- just wearing shoes and leaving the house, like I was a human. And the prince had said it so nonchalantly.

“Onyx,” Jayden said firmly, squeezing one of my hands, and I blinked. From the look on his face, it was not the first time he’d said my name.

“My apologies, sir.”

“That’s alright. Let’s get some food in you before we leave, okay?”

“Okay,” I echoed. It had been awhile since I’d eaten, I realized. This morning, maybe. A meal would get my head back on straight, at the least.

“It’ll be alright,” Jayden told me as he set a plate in front of me, and I nodded. I would be alright. The royal family always had my best interests in mind. As long as I did what I was told, I would be alright, no matter how odd anything seemed to me.

~

taglist: @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump

[frantic-fuck]

Hey Ziri how's it going dude?

Snakelet - Chapter 9

@randowhump birthday event - Winged Whump (4) and Hallucinations (14)

Masterpost

Content: Nonhuman/vampire/winged whumpee, pinned to a board, psychosis, maybe unreality?

Figured I'd give you a twofer to make up for lost time, lol. Happy birthday!

~

Ziri jolts with a start at the unfamiliar voice, eyes darting back and forth to find the source.

"Tsk. I told you not to move, little bird," chides the torturer of the day. "Now I'll have to add even more pins."

"P— plea— GAAAAUGH!" He chokes out a scream as they drive another stake into his wing, splitting flesh and bone alike to pin him to a board like a fucking butterfly.

Desperate for a distraction, he focuses on the voice. It seems like it's still just him and his assailant in the room, and even if they did bring another torturer in, they wouldn't just... casually ask something like that. They'd be all gloaty and stupid about it.

It must be a new voice in his head. Wonderful. Like he needs more.

...Unless it's actually—

No. Stop. Stop. It's — probably — not real. And if it is, he'll deal with that problem later, because there's approximately fuck all he can do right now.

Fuck, what was the question again? It was a question, right? It felt like a stupid question.

Ah, right.

He responds in his head, as he does the other conversational voices. Janessa taught him long ago not to respond aloud, not around people who want him to suffer. He does not need help losing touch with reality, especially now.

Not great. Really bad, actually. Horrible. Worst I've ever been.

Another stake shatters his bones and train of thought alike before he can figure out another way to phrase the same thing.

He hopes this voice is one of the nice ones, if it sticks around. Good company is.. sorely needed.

"Last one, birdie."

His throat beyond raw, he cries out at the top of his lungs as they finally, finally, drive the last stake into his wing.

...Second to last. Bastard.

"Gotcha, didn't I?" They laugh. "Nearly done. Just need to take care of your pretty little arms and legs. Those ugly straps are doing them such a disservice..."

A shuddery sob escapes him as they unstrap one of his arms and lift it, no amount of faux gentleness enough to prevent agony shooting through his impaled shoulder.

"Oh, you poor thing. Does it hurt?" They grin as they lazily wobble his limp arm back and forth, further straining the wound. He wants nothing more than to tear it from their grasp, but even without the fear of punishment, he's not sure if he'd have the strength to manage it.

All too happy with his miserable resignation, they fasten a golden manacle to his wrist. It's too tight.

He nearly laughs at the complaint. It's so mundane in comparison to the rest of his suffering.

He clings to the amusement for any trace of comfort when they begin pounding another stake into...

Not him.

Not him.

The chain he hears, probably. With every strike, he has to remind himself that it isn't him. They're clearly relishing in his terror.

Once his arms and legs have all been chained up, the assailant finally steps back, appreciating his work.

"Oh, you're perfect. Don't go anywhere, little bird."

With an infuriating chuckle at their own stupid joke, they finally leave Ziri alone. The silent one resumes gently braiding his hair, and as much as he'd rather not be touched at all, he supposes beggars can't be choosers.

All too soon, the door opens, and the braiding stops. The first piece of shit walks in with another one, who ogles at him uncomfortably before they each grab one side of the board he's been pinned to.

"One, two, three, hup!"

They turn the board horizontal, and a scream claws out of his throat when his body weight suddenly pulls on the stakes impaling him, inflicting an entirely new level of pain. And of course, they make no effort to avoid jostling him as they carry him away.

It's so, so tempting to escape into his own head, but he forces himself to try to process what's going on. He can't risk making a habit of dissociating. As much as every ounce of his brain DESPERATELY wants to. He needs to be present when he gets back. He needs to be useful to Janessa.

For Zop.

For Zop.

For Zop, he strains to pay attention to where he's being carried. But every detail he takes note of is jolted back out by a bump in the ride.

...He's going to get Zop tortured again, at this rate.

Eventually, he can vaguely tell that he's being hung to a wall. Gathered around him are all the bastards with such a vested interest in his misery, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the pitiful display of helpless agony.

The piece of shit who did it stands back, admiring their work.

"You really are gorgeous."

[yourlocalmissingtexture]

While I don’t have sufficient info about medieval French Catholicism to write the full backstory at the moment, I really want to write the scene in which my former nun Cecilia gets possessed by the demon who would control her body for the next 600+ years, specifically how it must have felt for her.

I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. Evil/possessed nuns are a bit cliche and while initially she was more of a superficial character (“what if innocent person but evil”), I’ve since developed her a lot. Character who cares too much is also a cliche, but that’s her, that’s Ceci. She loves to help others, and that was her own undoing. I won’t spoil anything else in case I do write & post that scene, but I wanted to yap at a less familiar audience about it. Lord knows my boyfriend and I have already thought about it (neither of us cried about her btw, totally).

I think if/when she (well, the demon piloting her body anyway) stumbles upon that quote (full thing below because mwah, chef’s kiss, so good) from Mark Twain’s autobiography, it’ll be the most seen she’s felt while trapped inside herself. It would take her a few weeks to sorta recover from the emotions of that I think.

”But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most, our one fellow and brother who most needed a friend yet had not a single one, the one sinner among us all who had the highest and clearest right to every Christian's daily and nightly prayers, for the plain and unassailable reason that his was the first and greatest need, he being among sinners the supremest?”

[secret-bug-pain-blog]

Febuwhump, Day 1 - Touch Starved

This is late, and turned out to be mostly a bunch of idiots fighting with each other. Oh well, it's still done. Doesn't matter if it's good or not - it's out. Unbeta'd, might post on AO3 later if it's worth cleaning up.

Snakemouth Den was dark, dank, and absolutely full of mushrooms.

Kabbu could have come up with a better description for it, really, but considering the amount of mythology surrounding it, the number of adventurers rumored to have died in its depths, the treasure rumored to lie within, and the century-and-a-half of people who had vanished into it never to return, he likely could have come up for a better description for it a week ago, when he was still taken in by the splendor of its myth and the many stories about it.

A lot of mythologized places lost their glamor, once you’d been wandering through them for a week and seen nothing but mushrooms and crystals. It certainly didn’t help that most of the cave was too clogged with spores to smell a foot in front of you. The place’s gory reputation certainly didn’t help – he’d been smelling hemolymph on and off for at least the past few hours, and he didn’t want to know if it was multiple corpses or if one of the undead ants that had attacked them earlier had followed them.

At least he had company.

Vi was quite the fierce fighter, doing away with foes far faster than Kabbu could on his own, and finding Leif was a stroke of good fortune all on its own. The moth had a sharp sense of direction, which was a boon and a half when every tunnel in the place looked the same, and had likely saved them from running in circles more than once. With his aid clearing their path-

“Vi.”

Kabbu’s train of thought abruptly derailed as the moth’s voice cut through the silence. He slowed, seeing Vi do the same out of the corner of his eye, her wings flicking open with an annoyed buzz.

“What?” Vi asked. “D’you need something?

“You’re injured.”

That made Kabbu stop in his tracks. Injured? When had-

“Your thorax. Under your secondary claws.”

“I- no, I’m not! I’m fine! I’m not- I didn’t get hit with shit!“ Vi hissed. She fluffed her fur up, glancing to Kabbu for rapport- but now that he was looking for it, the hemolymph plastering her fur to her body was unmistakable.

“You’re not very convincing when you smell like a crime scene.”

Now that he got a closer look at her… yes, she did kind of smell like a crime scene. He wouldn’t phrase it like that himself, admittedly, but it explained where the hemolymph smell was coming from. Kabbu wracked his brain, thinking of when she could have picked up an injury without her noticing. It couldn’t be the spider, or the fall, or the-

“Those… reanimated ants. They must have-“

“Those fuckers didn’t do shit to me! I’m fine!” Vi swung her weapon for emphasis- only to aggravate the wound, making her bite back a sharp hiss.

“Vi-“ Kabbu tried to say, but she just snarled at him.

“Shut it. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding all over the ground,” Leif pointed out. Vi growled at him.

“Team, stop fighting,” Kabbu tried to intervene, stepping between them. “We just need to bandage it, and she’ll be-“

“You don’t need to bandage it,” Vi interrupted. “I’m fine.”

“If that gash was half an inch longer, you’d be spilling guts out your sides,” Leif said.

“I’m not spilling guts out my sides now, am I?”

That… was not a particularly compelling point.

“If something gets in a lucky shot, you will be,” Kabbu said. “Just- let me take a look at it, and-“

“And what?! Do you think I’m just gonna lie down and let treat me like one injury’ll take me out of the running just because we’re teammates? I’ve only known you for a week, and-“

“Vi, I-“

"That's enough of that." Leif deftly weaved around him and plucked Vi off of the ground, and she went stiff, freezing like a weevil that had only just realized they'd wandered into the path of a northern moth. Kabbu poised himself to intervene – even he knew she disliked touch, after a week with her – but Leif just tucked her stunned body into his ruff, securing her into place under his wings with a secondary limb like she was a plush toy, and kept walking.

Kabbu just stood there, feeling as stunned as Vi looked, as Leif simply wandered off into the cave.

Finally, his brain kicked back into gear and he burst forward. “Leif, you can’t just-“

He was cut off by a purr. A very loud purr, the sort he’d only really seen from extremely contented bugs, and yet-

Kabbu looked into Leif’s arms, only to see Vi… melted into them. It was as though she’d lost any pretense of shape, simply dissolving into Leif’s claws like a slug or a snail. It was…

Leif shrugged. “If she won’t take care normally, then we’ll have to resort to manhandling. Usually bugs don’t take to it that well, admittedly.”

“Shut it,” Vi grumbled. Her voice was hard to hear through the purrs still swelling in her throat, rattling through her tiny frame like she was in the middle of the world’s smallest earthquake. She fluffed herself up, which only really served to make her look more ridiculous – Leif’s fur was far thicker than hers, and the fur on her side was still plastered to her shell with hemolymph.

“We’re just saying, most bugs don’t react like they’re being cuddled by a swarmmate when you give them a tiny bit of handling, especially not while they’re-“

“I said shut it, okay? How I’m doing is none of your business, and-“

“It might not be our business, but it is your teammate’s business, unless you were planning on never telling your teammates about anything.”

“My business is mine, and you’re not even part of the team-“

“And you were planning to bleed to death in a cave over asking your teammate to slow down so you can bandage your wounds.”

Vi’s mouth shut with a click, and she looked away from him. Leif tilted his head at her, waiting for a response.

A long moment passed.

Finally, Leif huffed, handing her over to Kabbu. “Fine, be that way, then.”

Kabbu silently plucked her out of Leif’s arms, feeling her melt into his carapace without another word. Her fur was surprisingly soft, even with the blood trickling down his claws as she shifted her weight. She didn’t say anything as he reached for their bag, pulling their medical kit out of the bottom.

He patched the wound in silence, Vi seemingly trying her best to ignore him as he tied the sturdy leaves over her shell. It was… gory, rough-edged and ragged, and every poke seemed to make it drip blood again. He had no clue how she’d managed to hide it for so long, let alone walk with it. She leaned into his touches, half the time, pressing the rough edges of the wound right into his claws and making her chitin grind against itself in a way that made him wince.

He had hardly taken three round of it before he broke.

"Vi, can you stop-"

"Stop doing what?"

"Stop leaning into my claws. It-"

"I'm not doing anything, okay? Just- keep going, and maybe you'll be done soon."

He gave an affirmative hum, and got back at it.

She kept leaning into his hands. He didn't know if she was even conscious of doing it- she'd lean, then pull back, on and on in a cycle as if she only just realized she was doing it after the fact.

He was just finishing the knot when she finally spoke, sounding like she was dragging the words out of her throat with a prybar.

“…Sorry,” she grumbled. “Just- I’ve had worse, okay? It’s not worth making a fuss over.”

“You’re soaking your fur with hemolymph,” Leif pointed out. “You weigh- what? Four ounces? You don’t have enough blood to spare for injuries like that.”

“I have plenty of blood, and I’ve had a lot worse, and you don’t have to go into this trouble over- over this.”

Leif looked like he was about to say something, but Kabbu darted in before he could escalate it further. “I know we don’t have to, but- we’re partners, Vi. We’re supposed to take care of each other. Don’t you…”

Kabbu trailed off, tying off her bandages. Vi turned her head away from him. “I can handle it. I don’t need you fussing over me every time I get a scratch in the field.”

Her side was a lot more than “a scratch”, but Kabbu kept that thought to himself. He brushed a claw over her back, testing the strength of the bindings, and Vi shivered. Kabbu stopped, holding still.

“Vi, are you-“

“Shut up, it’s fine, I’m- look, it’s embarrassing, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore, and-“

“Didn’t get held enough as a grub, did you?” Leif asked. Vi’s hackles rose, and Kabbu quickly pushed her down just in time to keep her from jumping at him.

“Shut up! You’re a moth, you don’t know shit about things-“

“We’ll take it that’s a yes, then.”

Vi growled under her breath, fluffing her fur. She was about to say something else, but Kabbu pressed her into the ground before she had the chance. “Now isn’t the time for a fight! Venus, you two, at least try to get along! We have a mission, remember?“

Leif stood still for a long moment, fur fluffed, hackles raised, and for a moment Kabbu thought he might have to mediate between them, or tear them apart from an attempt at a duel. Thankfully, Leif’s shoulders relaxed, tension bleeding from his form. “…fine,” Leif muttered. “We’ll try to get along for now. Don’t expect us to drop it, though.”

“Fuck you,” Vi hissed weakly from under Kabbu’s claws. Leif didn’t respond to her, simply wandering back to the other side of the cavern.

She had gone mostly limp, thankfully, all the fight drained out of her. Kabbu carefully released his claw, checking her bandages to make sure he hadn’t worsened her injuries.

He… needed to redo the bindings.

She seemed fine, thankfully. No worse than she was when he bandaged her, at least, though that was a low bar. He gave her a quick pet on the back after carefully plastering the bandages back into place, and she arched into it, grumbling.

Thank Venus that hadn’t escalated any further.

“I think we should make camp for tonight and have some rest before going deeper, all right, team?” Kabbu raised his voice so Leif could hear it, and saw the moth raise his head from the opposite end of the campsite.

“Sounds fine to us. We… could use some rest, before anything else happens.”

Vi grumbled, but didn’t protest. Kabbu went about the motions of preparing a campsite – scooping out nests for everyone, setting out the bedrolls, packing up the medical supplies for later. Vi settled down to watch, after a while, uncharacteristically silent.

Making camp was meditative, almost. The same set of steps nearly every time, it was easy to get lost in it until it was ready to sleep in. Leif settled down quickly enough, Vi staying balled-up into a lump of resentful bee, and Kabbu could almost forget the argument if he just… laid down and tried to sleep.

Hopefully, tomorrow would be less… stressful.

It had scarcely been fifteen minutes before Kabbu felt something tapping on his shell.

Kabbu pulled himself out of the space between sleep and wakefulness, head still full of fog. He looked up at the source of the tapping to see Vi, fur fluffed and hackles raised like she was about to face down a horrid beast.

Vi took a deep breath, and Kabbu’s half-asleep brain could hardly keep up with her before she spoke.

“…look, I’m sorry about- that, but I’m not weak, okay?”

Kabbu was sure his startled look must have shown on his face, because Vi plowed forward. “I mean it, I’m not- I don’t need help, I’m fine on my own, I don’t need a team to prop me up, because I-“

“No one is saying that you’re weak, Vi. Are you sure you’re-“

“I’m fine, and you don’t have to worry about me, and- look, you don’t have to treat me like a cripple, okay? I’ve worked with worse, and I don’t need your pity, because it’ll heal over anyways-“

“I’m not trying to treat you like an- an invalid, Vi! You’re injured, I thought-“

“I can handle it! I don’t need you to- to kiss it better, or whatever. I’m fine!”

Leif stirred in his nest, and Vi quieted down abruptly, shrinking in on herself. She abruptly looked much, much smaller than she had before.

“…Sorry.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, staring off to the side. “I’m- look, it’s just… frustrating. Okay? I don’t…”

Vi trailed off, shuffling her paws. Kabbu shifted to the side of his nest, easing his elytra open just enough to shield it.

“…It’s okay, Vi. I believe you.”

She grimaced, avoiding his gaze. Kabbu shuffled a bit further to the side, eying the bandages over her side. She looked…

“…do you want to sleep with me tonight?”

Vi startled back into motion, fur fluffing up as far as it would go. “What?-“ she started. before wincing as her voice echoed off the walls. She shook herself out, whisper-shouting at him. “Why would I want to-“

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, you just- you look like you need it.”

Vi looked like she was trying to decide if she wanted to be insulted or simply surprised at the offer.

“I understand if you don’t want to, I-“ Kabbu hastily added, but she cut him off.

“It’s fine, I just- if you want to, I guess.”

“If you don’t-“

“Just move over before I change my mind.”

Kabbu shifted to the side, opening his elytra to allow her passage. She nestled into his side, curling close enough that he swore he could feel her shape imprinted into his underbelly, worming her way into the space between his belly and the nest.

…there was more space for her than just there, but Kabbu felt like bringing it up would be- poor.

Slowly, he resettled on top of her, feeling her shift under him. She was startlingly warm, especially compared to Leif, a miniature heat pack against his shell. It was a welcomed addition against the cold of Snakemouth Den, and he found himself quickly drifting off to sleep.

Yes, tomorrow would be better.

[cryptids-lobelia-garden]

ALRIGHTY here’s day 2! A day late bc my WiFi was absolute Garbage yesterday- it’s fixed now!

Warnings: Drugged whumpee? Sort of? (Hospital pain meds), conditioned whumpee, he is in the hospital, also he’s like. Kinda delirious I think? Idk the meds are messing with his head, also he’s Not Happy about the fact he’s on them, people being suspicious of Caretaker because of scars (whumpee sets the facts straight before anything happens though)

Day 2: Sweat Brain Fog

The Meeting Arc Part 2

~~~~~

It’s too bright.

Volo squeezes his eyes back shut the moment they open with a quiet groan.

The world feels.. weird. He feels weird.

Almost dizzy..?

Thinking feels weird too.. fuzzy..

Yeah. Fuzzy’s a good way to describe how he feels right now. And tired.

So, so very tired..

He wakes up again, squinting against the light.

Oh, I’m somewhere unfamiliar..

Where are my..

Where. Where are they. Where are my Pokémon.

He moves to try to sit up.

Oh, his head’s spinning.

His whole body feels.. heavy.. exhausted..

So exhausted..

Pokémon. Right, he needs to find his Pokémon-

There’s a tube in his arm?

Hospital?

Why am I.. What hospital am I in..

He clumsily pokes at his watch, squinting at the screen, trying to see the time, date, and location.

It’s so blurry..

Okay. Giving up on that.

“Hello?” He calls out. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

Someone pokes his head in. A nurse, probably? “Oh, you’re awake!” The nurse hurries over, gently pushing him back to the bed. “Here, lay back down.”

Each word makes his head swim. He’s tired, everything is fuzzy, and it takes him a minute to figure out what the guy said. “Mmkay.. where are my Pokémon..?”

The nurse frowns. “..There’s a guy in the lobby. He might know, but before we let you talk to him, we have some questions to ask.”

All Volo got out of that was someone’s in the lobby. Something about questions. “..who..?”

“His name is Cheri Jennings.”

Volo lets out a sigh of relief.

Okay. Cheri has his Pokémon. He doesn’t know Cheri very well, but Cheri saved him, right? And whatever Cheri wants with him, he trusts that they’ll be taken care of, for now, at least- if Cheri’s trying to gain his trust, anyway.

They’re okay..

So exhausted..

His eyes slip closed again.

Time passes for him like the blink of an eye, and when he wakes up again, someone else is in the room, checking machines by his bed. She looks over as he moves.

“Hello. Can you understand me?”

“Um..” Volo nods.

He’s a little more awake now. Everything still feels so fuzzy, though. He’s also tired, exhaustion running bone-deep, and he makes no move to get up this time. “..Where am I?”

“Okay.” The lady takes a deep breath. “..You’re in the Eterna City Hospital. You were brought here by Cheri Jennings. He said the two of you were attacked by a strange man with powerful Pokémon, is that right?”

Volo thinks for a moment. Remembering takes so much energy- but he does. “Mmh.. Yes, that’s what happened. We were.. we were fighting someone horrible, and..” He shakes his head. “..I.. got hurt..? And I remember him carrying me..” He shakes his head. “He had ice on his arm, is he okay?”

“He’s okay. ..I have another question.”

Volo nods.

“Was he the one who made the.. well.” The nurse shifts uncomfortably.

Oh. “You saw those..?” Ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach, Volo shakes his head. “N.. no, he didn’t make those.. is he here right now..?”

The nurse nods. “Yes, he’s in the lobby. ..who-”

“It doesn’t matter, but, um.. It wasn’t him, can.. Can you let him in here..? Please?”

The nurse thinks for a moment, then sighs, nodding. “I’ll bring him in.”

Volo nods, eyes slipping closed.

When they open again, Cheri’s asleep by his bed, though Cheri quickly wakes up when Volo moves.

“Hey,” he says, taking Volo’s hands in his.

Volo flinches. He can’t help it, yanking himself away from contact as if another person’s sudden touch is a hot coal.

Most people avoid touching him, pull away quickly once he flinches. But Cheri keeps his hands open.

And Volo reaches forward, letting Cheri hold his hands.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a comforting touch.

“..you saved my life,” he murmurs. “..why? What do you have to gain, by having this power over me?”

“What power?” Cheri shakes his head. “What are you talking about??”

“You saved my life,” Volo repeats. “So it now belongs to you.”

“..that’s.. Kinda a fucked way of thinking about it, don’t you think?” Cheri shakes his head, looking away. “Think about it as me repaying an old favor. My siblings and I would’ve been left with next to nothing if you hadn’t helped us when we were banished, you know?”

“..hm.” Volo nods, lightly squeezing Cheri’s hands. “I guess that makes sense. ..still.. Why save me? I don’t deserve it after the rift.” He shakes his head. “I hurt you, didn’t I? Are you trying to hurt me back?”

Cheri blinks a few times. “No? Why would I want that? Look, I know you’ve had it rough for a while, but I can promise you I don’t want to hurt you.” Cheri’s tongue glows as he makes the promise, and then magic wraps around the two of them.

Locking the promise in..?

..Volo looks away.

Then.. it’s true, he really DOESN’T want to hurt me.

“..why..?” Volo asks again. “I’m.. worthless now. There’s nobody left I can save, nothing else I can do to control the damage. I’ve apologized to almost everyone I can, I’ve hurt, I’ve bled, I’ve cried and I’ve broken over it, and now I’m worth nothing.” He lets his eyes slip closed, starting to feel uncomfortable with how much he’s shared, but it’s already out there, he might as well finish the thought. “There’s nothing more I can do but suffer. And I am so tired of suffering for it all. That’s selfish, I know, I don’t deserve death’s release, but I’m tired.”

Oooohhh no. Cheri’s mouth hangs open for a moment. “Volo.. what.. the hell are you talking about?”

Volo shakes his head, pulling Cheri’s hands to his face so he can hide behind them. After a moment, one of Cheri’s hands let go.

Volo’s disappointment is short lived, because Cheri’s hand is in his hair next, gently brushing his bangs back over his left eye.

Oh, right, that exists. He hadn’t even noticed it wasn’t covered. His skin feels.. odd, not very sensitive..

“..hey.. Volo? ..What are you talking about?”

Cheri’s voice is so soft. So gentle, so full of worry, of concern..

Tears start to slip down Volo’s face. “I- I can’t.”

Cheri frowns. “..Is this about Eclipse? What.. what did he do..?”

“..He hurt me,” Volo whispers, hiding behind his hands. “Very badly.”

And he was kind at first too. Held me, took care of me, and I thought he was the one person in the world who hadn’t just wanted to use me.

What a foolish thought.

..he was kind at first, just like this. He said he would protect me, and he did. Nobody else could hurt me but him- this situation feels all too familiar.

But where Eclipse had no right to do what he did..

I DID hurt Cheri and his family.

“..you can too, if that’s what you kept me alive for,” he murmurs. “You must want to, it’s the only thing that makes sense.. You were hurt by me, and now you want your turn to give me my just desserts for it.”

“…Volo… What the fuck.”

Volo peeks between his fingers after a moment- oh. Cheri looks.. genuinely horrified at that idea. “..you.. really don’t want to hurt me? Not at all?”

“Why in the ever-loving fuck would I-” Cheri pulls his hands away, taking a deep breath. Volo flinches, hiding behind his hands again.

When he looks again, Cheri’s just.. staring. There’s a lot of emotions on his face, most of all a deep sadness.

“..He really, really hurt you,” Cheri murmurs.

Volo looks away. “..I know,” he says, trying to laugh even though it isn’t funny-

He’s crying. Why is he crying?

Cheri sighs, moving closer and opening his arms.

Volo hesitates.

If I trust, I’ll only get hurt. This’ll only hurt me in the end.

But after a few moments, Volo moves to Cheri anyway, careful of the medical equipment and pushing through the spots in his vision from sitting up. He’s cautious, slow.

Cheri’s arms wrap around him, and he feels so safe, so protected, and oh, this is worth whatever pain it’ll bring him later. Hiding his face in Cheri’s chest, Volo starts to shake with silent sobs.

“He..” Cheri sighs. “He’ll never hurt you again. Okay? You’re not gonna be hurt again, not by me or anyone else. Not if I have anything to say about it,” Cheri murmurs. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

“I- I don’t de-eserve to be okay,” Volo sobs out. “I should be hurting. Why aren’t I hurting? I’m-” He pulls back, pulling at his hospital gown, seeing the bandages.

His skin feels weird, and dread starts to pool in his stomach. “I’m.. I’m hurt, why don’t I feel it, why don’t I-”

“Drugs.” Cheri doesn’t move to hold him again, though he keeps his arms open.

Oh. Oh, that explains the.. Everything.. Volo takes a moment to calm himself down.

“Hey..” Cheri moves to tap his shoulder, then thinks better of it, pulling back and making his voice slightly louder. “Hey.” After a few moments, Volo looks up again. “..What if I think you deserve to be okay?”

Volo thinks for a moment. “..You’re wrong.” He’s too tired to think of why.

Cheri shakes his head, opening his mouth to say something else, but then a nurse comes in.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be moving around so much!” Getting Volo to lay back down, the nurse looks over at Cheri. “Why didn’t you tell him to stop?”

Cheri grimaces, pushing back the immediate urge to defend himself. I’m fine, she’s not attacking me. “I didn’t know he couldn’t move. I’m just a visitor.”

“Right. Sorry.” The nurse checks a few things. “Make sure he doesn’t do that again, there’s a few reasons he shouldn’t be moving right now. We’ve tracked the attack back to a very powerful Pokémon, and honestly, he shouldn’t even be awake right now, let alone moving- he’s very lucky, he must’ve been hit with a weaker version of the attack than usual.”

Oh! That’s good news! Cheri nods. “I’ll make sure he holds still.”

“Thank you.” Finishing with her checks, she turns to hurry off. Cheri watches as she leaves, then turns back to Volo, eyes softening as he does. “..So.. Can I get you anything, or..?”

I feel so helpless here.. “..My Pokémon,” Volo murmurs. “Let them out.”

“They’re at the Pokémon center, I don’t have them right now. ..Sorry.” Speaking of which, I need to go pick them up soon..

“Oh..” Well, that’s disappointing, but. At least he knows they’re okay and somewhere safe. He ignores the part of him that screams it’s a lie, the part of him that screams he needs to leave, to go find them.

It’ll only hurt me to trust.

Volo stares at the wall for a few moments.

..He ignores that side of his mind despite his better judgement, reaching for Cheri again. Desperate for a kind touch he hadn’t felt in years.

Cheri scoots closer to Volo, gently resting his hand across Volo’s chest- away from the injury, of course. Volo’s body twitches with an involuntary flinch, but he hums, wrapping his arms around Cheri’s.

Cheri studies Volo’s face for a moment, his yellow eyes staring into Volo’s soul, a look Volo’s quickly become familiar with in the time they’ve spent together. “..Do you cuddle them to sleep, or..?”

Volo nods. “..I.. don’t know if I’ve slept alone a day in my life. I’ve always had.. um.. At least an egg, Toge as an egg..” He shakes his head, humming quietly as Cheri moves a little closer. “..thank you,” he murmurs.

“Don’t mention it.” Cheri rests his chin on the side of the bed, still watching Volo.

Under Cheri’s protective gaze, Volo lets himself relax. “..tell them to.. um.. lower the pain meds.. I hate feeling like this,” Volo mumbles.

“It’s gonna hurt like a bitch,” Cheri warns.

“Please. Please. I.. um..” Volo’s eyelids are heavy, but he opens his eyes anyway, staring at Cheri with a pleading look. “I have to be able to, to think. Please.”

Cheri stares back for a moment, then sighs, eyes softening as he nods. “I’ll.. see what I can do.”

Volo nods, eyes slipping closed again as he breathes a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he mumbles, relaxing into Cheri’s touch.

“Of course,” Cheri murmurs. “..Get some sleep. You need it.”

Volo nods, and Cheri watches as, slowly, his breathing evens out.

It isn’t long before Cheri’s asleep too.

[timetohurt]

Looks like you´re screwed

let’s talk about nails

—————————————-

i’ve read this piece from @painsandconfusion and my evil walnut sized brain was like: idea

cw: nails, screws, needles inside body, broken ribs, broken kneecaps, blood, nail gun, begging, impalement, mild gore

• whumper taking a hammer and hammering nails (or needles) into whumpees thighs, or taking one nail and hammering it into whumpees ribs, taking it out after each rib, breaking them one by one, whumpee can’t take one breath without their whole chest hurting, the blood running over their torso (and maybe into their lungs if they take a long nail, coughing up blood?), the screams with every nail

• alternatively hammering nails into whumpees kneecaps or just smashing them without nails

• alternatively whumper taking a screwdriver and driving screws into whumpees thighs, each more painful than the last

• nail guns, shoots nails inside body parts, easy concept, much hurt, less work, also no blood because the nails are stuck very tightly into the skin, but after pulling them out, the blood would be oozing out of the wounds

• hammering nails through their hands, to pin them to the wall or to the floor

• restrained whumpee begging whumper to please take the nails out, whumper leaving them in, with every move whumpee feels the nails painfully shift

• whumper doing acupuncture with a hammer and needles, relishing in whumpees pain saying “i’ve seen people doing it in movies. are you relaxed yet, whumpee?”

• maybe infection if unclean, rusty nails are used

please add more if you have more ideas in mind, anyhoo, nails = good, i always like to see it.

@whumblr you might be into this

[elspethdixon]

Even the “trashy” television the people OP is talking about like to judge you for can be too active depending on the person and the situation. If I get stressed enough, I can’t watch new-to-me television shows or fictional tv content in general. Nature documentaries and docudramas about prehistoric life only. “No fannish shows, only this obscure series about a wildlife refuge in Namibia,” sounds smart and worldly, but it’s actually the opposite. “No characters I might get invested in that could have bad things happen to them, no content I’m fannish about that involves emotional investment. It’s time to rewatch the collected works of Sir David Attenborough for the 46th time while fast-forwarding over the stressful bits where people talk about poaching/habitat loss/anything being endangered. Then we can rewatch the BBC Walking With Monsters series again. No need to have anxiety about how humans are destroying the planet and wiping out endangered animals when you’re watching something set before the Mesozoic! Humans don’t exist yet so nothing bad that happens to the fictionalized Devonian and Permian creatures is our fault. Oh look, the orphaned warthog in Namibia was successfully re-released into the wild just like it was every previous time I watched this program, how nice.”

The same applies to reading - when I’m stressed I’ll pass over new fiction on my tbr list in order to read nonfiction because it doesn’t require as much thought/imagination/emotional investment as something with fictional characters and a plot does. Worst case scenario, I’ll just reread the same three books about evolution over and over again. No sci-fi or romance novels, only Donald Prothero’s Evolution: What the Fossils Show and Why it Matters and Nick Lane’s book on the biochemical origins of life for the 14th times

[susiequaz12]

Whumptober 29

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

Day 29! Continuing Lo and Sol's time. This is right after yesterday's chapter from Day 28. CW: immortal whumpee, vampire caretaker, character death, burning, blood, stabbing, talk of death, and then some nice angsty fluff and caretaking.

- - -

Solomon sat at the floor of the cave next to the fire. He had quickly checked the wound on his arm, wrapping it tight in some bandages. He had then checked the wounds across Lo’s back, they’d closed up, no longer seeping blood as they had began healing.

Roland had stabbed them over and over again- Solomon could still feel Lo’s weight on top of him as they were slaughtered- bleeding out to death on top of him as they’d sacrificed themselves for the vampire. 

After they’d cleaned the wounds, Solomon carefully pulled Lo onto his lap, wrapping them up in his arms next to the fire, slowly rocking them back and forth, stroking their hair and waiting for the life to flush back into their body. 

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-” he mumbled, planting a kiss into Lo’s soft curls. “I will never let anyone hurt you- I promise. Never again-”

Solomon let the tears fall from the weight of his failure. He let himself cry, holding the human in his arms as he began to hear the screams coming from outside. 

He knew the sun was high above the horizon now, shining brightly above the tree line as Roland screamed and begged. No doubt he was burning to a crisp as the sunlight singed his skin- charring his flesh, sending coursing pain through what little of his body that he could still feel. 

Solomon closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the human as their blood began to pump again throughout their veins. He carded fingers through their hair and planted another kiss on their forehead as Roland’s screams and cries slowly began to fade- dying down to soft whimpers before there was nothing left but the silence of the outside air. 

Marlowe’s body flinched, and Solomon held them a little tighter, careful to avoid the injuries on their back. Their breathing began to grow unsteady, a trembling in their limbs as they began to come back to the world of the living. 

Suddenly their body jolted backwards, nearly throwing themselves out of Solomon’s grasp. He quickly held onto them tighter as Lo began to shake with sobs, quick little breaths coming through their chest. 

“Shh- shh it’s alright Lo, I’ve got you-” Sol whispered. 

Eventually Lo’s eyes fluttered open slowly, seeing the vampire’s face above them. They stared for a moment, eyes scanning across his features before closing them once more.

“What- what happened?” Lo whispered. “What happened to me?”

“You’re alright- you’re back now, it’s okay-”

Lo curled in tighter as they glanced around the cave, eyes darting back and forth. “I- I don’t remember what- what happened.” They sighed.

“We- we were attacked-” Sol stated gently. “You, you sacrificed yourself to save me, and, and got hurt in the process. But it’s okay- he’s- he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” 

Marlowe shuffled gently in Solomon’s arms, wincing slightly as it jostled the injuries on their back. They nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer as the present slowly came back to them. 

“Lo, what- what happens when you die?” 

Lo glanced up at the vampire, bringing up a few gentle fingers to touch the side of his face, inspecting the bruises that littered the edges of his jaw. The dark purples and reds standing out against his pale skin. 

“He got you good-” Lo mumbled. They leaned forward, planting a soft kiss along the edge of his jaw, and the vampire froze. He gripped Lo’s hand in his shaking fingers as Lo planted another kiss across the bruises and Sol softly closed his eyes. 

“Lo- you’re- you’re delirious-” he mumbled. The human fell back into the vampire’s lap, nuzzling closer into them with a contended sigh. “Lo, what- what happens?”

“Hmm?” Lo mumbled

“When you die?”

“Oh-” their voice dropped, eyes falling back to some distant place somewhere. They took a deep breath before answering. “It- it depends on how I- how I die. If it’s quick and painless, then so is- so is coming back.”

Sol took in a quick breath, carding his hand through their hair again, Lo relishing in the gentle touch. “And if- if it’s not?” He asked.

“You mean if it’s traumatic? I sort of relive it all. The moment I die, over again, and the- the pain, until I heal and my body brings me back.” Solomon tensed and Lo reached out to grab his hand, gently pulling it to their lips. “It’s why it takes a minute sometimes, I- I’m not sure what’s real and what’s not- it takes my brain a minute to start working again.” 

Solomon let his hand rest against the side of Lo’s face, gently brushing away a strand of hair with his thumb. 

“Lo, do you- do you know what’s real right now?” 

Lo nodded, eyes glancing up at the vampire behind long eyelashes. “I know I’m being held in the arms of a really handsome vampire- who’s currently looking at me like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.” 

Sol let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “I think you’re still delirious, Lo-” 

Lo stared back up at the vampire, placing a soft hand against the side of his face- a rush of heat flowing through him at the way the human looked at him. “I don’t think I am-” they whispered. 

Lo gently pulled the vampire closer into them, feeling his breath gently on their face, before they closed the distance between them, feeling his lips against their own. 

The vampire tensed, his body locking up at the gentleness of the human- before he slowly relaxed into the kiss. He let his hand card through their hair and the human let out a sigh of content, softly pulling away and glancing back up at the vampire. 

“God quit- quit looking at me like that-” Solomon mumbled.

“Like what?” Lo whispered. 

“Like I’m- like I’m worth something.”

Lo turned his face back to theirs, brushing a thumb against the bruising on his jaw, pulling him in closer- their foreheads touching.

“But Sol- you are- to me you’re worth everything.” 

Sol fought back a stream of tears, unresisting as Lo pulled him in for another kiss. For the first time in a while, Sol let his guards down. He let all inhibitions loose and just relished in the softness of the human’s lips- the way their body pressed into his- the way their tongue slipped softly behind his lips, exploring his mouth as Lo deepened the kiss, and Sol let them. 

Sol held the human tighter, gripping his hand securely- but softly into their hair. Lo returned the favor, a gentle hand against the back of his neck as they continued, keeping the vampire pressed securely into them as they kissed.

Sol began to let his tears freely fall as the human kissed him. Because for the first time in a long time- Sol actually felt worth something.

- - -

Tag List: @imagination1reality0 @thecyrulik @whumpsday @termsnconditions-apply @spectral-whumpy-writer @raddyscoops @whumptober-archive

[doyouevermakeasound]

Febuwhump Prompt Day 28: “You’re safe now.” CW: Implied past torture

That familiar musky scent filled their senses as caretaker's arms wrapped around them, overwhelming them.  They smelled like home and that was enough to make whumpee begin sobbing.  The dam had broken and there was nothing to keep back the flow of water as they leaned into caretaker’s hold.  

“Shh, shhh… you’re safe now.  I’ve got you.”  Caretaker also began adding their own tears to the mix.  “We’re going home now.”

Whumpee clung to caretaker as if they were their lifeline and, in a way, they were.  They had been the light at the end of the tunnel, someone for whumpee to focus on as they endured torture after torture and now they were finally here.  

They couldn’t believe it and they waited for the cruel trick to end but it never came.  They were actually going home.  They were safe. 

@ febuwhump

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Does anyone else in the whump community watch Brave Wilderness, or….

[whump-captain]

golden boy

[Image ID: A traditional drawing done in pencil and gold pen. It's a portrait of a man with long, wavy hair and glasses. He's grabbing the lens of his glasses with his left hand and his expression is distressed. His left hand and the visible half of his glasses are opaque gold; his eyes are obscured. Lines of gold drip down from the top of the frame behind him, reaching down to his shoulders. End ID.]

[nuvomica]

i'm trying to think if i have ANY straight ships

[splinter-cat]

I feel like we're so far into Beasts and yet there's several more chapters to go before we wrap up a big storyline and then probably at least another 10, if not 20? For finishing another storyline and adding some comfort/recovery chapters at the end (for my own sanity lol). Like... this is the long haul lol

[whumpthefifth]

im a fountain of blood in the shape of a girl

[fonulyn]

since I've seen it talked about in several places recently:

if you are going to do a whump- or kink- or ANY-tober or other similar challenges please please please don't post them as one fic with 31 chapters unless it actually is one coherent fic. if they're 31 completely separate fics or ficlets then please just make a collection for them or just post them as separate fics. it doesn't matter if they're only 100 words or if you think they're too small or insignificant to post alone, they're not.

and why this?

because if you post all 31 of them in one fic the tagging is absolutely useless. if I look for things to read on ao3 I'm gonna look at the tags, and if the tags include something that's a dealbreaker for me, i won't even click on the fic. I might not even SEE the fic because I've filtered out the nope-tag! so I'm gonna lose out on reading 30 perfectly nice fics because of one fic that my nope-tag applied to.

ao3 is about archiving. it's about clear tagging and being informative. there is nothing informative about it if the tags in the fic apply to random chapters while others have nothing to do with it. it makes so much more sense to have each work as an individual fic with its own individual tags and warnings, so readers can make informed choices.

of course, you do you. I can't police what other people decide to do. but personally, I find it incredibly frustrating to weed through 31 chapters to find the ones I actually want to read. so I don't. I automatically scroll past all works posted like that. and I know some others do, too.

there is absolutely no shame in posting short things on ao3. there is no minimum word count. no one is going to look at you funny if you post a small ficlet on its own, I promise. it's just going to make some readers very happy when they can actually find the things they want to read.

so, please. at least consider the upsides of posting each work as their own fic.

signed, one very frustrated fandom grandma.