#tw restraint mention

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

What about if he's regressed or something they treat him better then right?

Moon would, Sun wouldn’t care. To Sun, he’s nothing more than a slight nuisance just by existing. To Moon, Eclipse is his mistake and he takes more responsibility for him. Moon would care for him and let him from the restraints to play with a plushie, watching fondly as Eclipse happily squishes said plushie and giggles with joy at having a toy, a real toy.

And Moon would be very gentle with him, carrying him up to the daycare to play with him in a more child-friendly area. It’s like a new world to Eclipse, who hasn’t been out of the storage closet in months besides bathing and bathroom. He joyously shows Moon every single haphazardly drawn little drawing he makes. Meanwhile Moon can only smile and praise him, despair worsening with every drawing of him, Sun, and Eclipse as a happy family together.

[team-enigma-official]

[A VIDEO FILE IS UPLOADED TITLED: SUBJECT 005- ADDENDUM 2

The camera focuses in on the same ZZaZZ victim from the previous video. They are MUCH worse now. The level of fragmentation present in the victim now makes it very hard to make them out at all. They appear to still have a solid body, but they are coming apart so badly it is hard to tell what any defined characteristics of them would be at tis point.

Grant- After 96 hours the subject still has not made any meaningful progress. Restraints have ceased to work on them, as their body has begun to lose much of its physical form. They still do not respond to the name 'Hannah', or to any other name and they seem to be incapable of forming any consistent or meaningful memories.

The subject cries out, looking panicked as they attempt to move about the room, only seeming to grow distracted, and forget what action they'd intended on taking only moments after. They seem to wander the room aimlessly for a few seconds before pausing. Their physical form seems to be breaking down. They seem to blur in and out of view of the camera. It sounds like they are speaking, but their voice sounds heavily broken and distorted. It is impossible to hear what they are saying.

Grant- It seems that if left for too long untreated the ZZaZZ condition can worsen into this. It is uncertain whether the victim now will maintain a physical form, or simply will disappear.

END VIDEO RECORDING]

As of six hours from the filming of this addendum, subject 005 no longer maintains a physical form. It is uncertain if this is due to the severity of the exposure to the ZZaZZ effect, or something else.

However, this is not a meaningful setback. In an hour I am meeting with a contact who will be returning a Person of Interest to the lab.

I will update with more details on her condition when the time arises. This is a delicate transaction, but one I believe will be well worth the trouble.

-Enigma Admin Grant

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Hey hey hey can I get a kind of mean aizawa so like he's a Dom and reader is well u get it but when he comes home from work he's pintup so he👉🏾🤏🏾👅💞💓😽😩💦🍑 reader's kit cat

Subject: BNHA, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead

Title: YandereSpace Chp. 3.5: Failed Test

Trigger Warning: Non con, yandere, kidnapped darling, escape attempts, restraints, cunnilingus, daddy kink, biting, implied brat tamer

“You’re not happy to see me?” Aizawa palmed himself through his pants, already half-hard from work. Pinning villains, using his capture weapon, working up a sweat--all of it got him excited. And knowing you were at home waiting for him made it all worthwhile. 

Although, your behavior had been pretty rotten since you woke up bound to his bed--after he'd kidnapped you some time back. You had been an ungrateful little brat. He’d even changed the sheets for you, made sure he had lots of toys to please you with, and even stocked the fridge with your favorites. He tried being gentle at first, but honestly, he liked the idea of punishing you more. Most days, however, he just did what he wanted.

Aizawa didn’t hold back, greedily eating at your cunt, sloppy and messy. Your juices caught in his stubble, covered his chin. Listening to your sweet little whimpers and moans only spurred him on. He didn’t know how long he’d eaten you out or how many times you’d cum, but by the time he considered himself “satisfied” the sheets under your pussy were much darker. Aizawa licked his lips staring at the mess. 

Like right now. Aizawa was on his knees, his hot mouth breathing against your exposed cunt. “You didn’t look happy when I came through the door,” Aizawa purred. He teased your delicate skin, nipping his teeth at the soft flesh of your ass. You bucked away from him but that only let him get better access to the soft skin of your ass. 

He placed a kiss to your clit, watching you squirm against the restraints on your wrists and ankles. “Maybe you’ll get more excited when I make you cum.” He dragged his tongue across your entrance, relishing in your sweet taste. 

He untied your restraints, keeping himself between your legs, before slowly sliding into your cunt. Instantly, you grabbed his arms trying to ground yourself. Aizawa purred in your ear, his big hands grabbing your ass and working your hips against him. “You’re so fucking wet, angel.” He nipped at your ear. “You like how daddy fucks you that much? Huh?”

You mewled, trying to keep him appeased, but when Aizawa got like this, there wasn’t much you could do aside from letting him have his way. 

“God you’re so fucking soft,” he snarled. “Fit me so perfectly. Just for me.”

His hips stuttered as his first end rode up on him. “Can’t wait to fill you up. My good, sweet girl.” His grip on your hips tightened, fucking you rougher and rougher until his seed spilled inside of you, balls squeezing every last drop of cum into your insides. 

Aizawa groaned then, sinking down on top of you. “You’re mine,” he groaned, “all mine.” Slowly, Aizawa pulled his cock out and got off you, to lay on the bed. His eyes fluttered closed and his breathing slowly evened out. But he wasn't actually falling asleep. Aizawa knew it was cruel to do, but he had to test you.

You misbehaved each time he let you go and each time he has to punish you. Some days he hoped you'd misbehave, though, give him an excuse to fuck you silly like the little cum dump you were. But mostly, he wanted the comfort of knowing he could trust you.

And when you slipped out of bed, running toward the front door, Aizawa grabbed his capture weapon. Another failed test. At least you’d be fun to punish.

[coffeegranate]

long time no post! finally got around to finishing season three jon for your amusement

definitely didn’t post this on the wrong blog twice nope

[whumpbump]

Cw: manhandling and restraining, describing the death of Whumpee’s mother, gun mention

Whumpee had been rescued and was recovering in a hospital. They had no assigned Caretakers yet and were in the hands of the hospital staff.

Because they had no assigned Caregivers, Whumpee was essentially ignored aside from bandage changes and other medical needs like bathing. Even while eating, the staff left Whumpee alone.

With no one to talk to or engage with, Whumpee began to crave attention in the worst way. Especially hugs. They hadn’t had one of those since, since before they were taken! They remembered their mother who would always give them hugs as they came in the door and as they left. But that didn’t matter anymore. Whumper took care of that, placing a bullet cleanly between her eyes as they dragged Whumpee, screaming, from their home.

Whumpee shuddered as the memory came and faded. They hated thinking about it, about her fate, and began to sniffle. They missed their mama.

A doctor and nurses entered the room. “Hello, it’s time for bandage changes.” ‘Wow they couldn’t even use my name,’ Whumpee thought, annoyed.

They sat on the bed and removed the blankets. As one of the nurses began to remove the bandages, one was stuck on a scab and Whumpee jolted. “Sorry,” she muttered. As she went to continue, Whumpee pulled away, not wanting to feel the sensation of tearing again. The staff looked at each other and then at Whumpee. The doctor spoke up and warned “You need to hold still.” The nurse continued pulling and Whumpee began to howl in pain as the scab was torn from Whumpee’s leg. Whumpee became more antsy and pushed at her arms to get her away. She wasn’t doing it right.

The doctor hit the call bell and two nursing assistants entered the room. “Please hold the patient while we resume the bandage changes.

With a nursing assistant on each side, Whumpee was stuck. However, as the staff changed the bandages and cleaned up their newly opened up leg, Whumpee couldn’t help but feel compelled to sit quietly as they had a warm body on either side of them, squeezing them tight. It felt almost like a hug in a strange way. It reminded them of their mother and they felt safer.

‘I could get used to this.’ Whumpee began to make a habit of fighting back exclusively so they could have a nursing assistant sit with them. They did so at baths, bandage changes, hell, if they were able to have a staff member with them, they would fight until they had it.

In a staff meeting, the doctor and nurses were trying to figure out what had caused the change in Whumpee’s behavior as this would be the opposite reaction that is seen in someone getting better. The easier the bandage changes and the more cognizant the patient is, the better it should be. They began to discuss potential psych meds to put them on and to have them sedated during any medical intervention.

One of the nursing assistants spoke up. “What if they’re just lonely?”

The doctor brushed aside the thought and continued to discuss four point restraints.

The nursing assistant spoke up again. “I’m serious. I think Whumpee is lonely. Have you noticed that once someone is with them or touching them, they calm down?”

The doctor hesitated. The nurses hesitated. “What do you suggest?” They asked.

“Well, one of us could keep them company throughout the day and be there for bandage changes and meal times and baths and everything that they need done. Realistically, they need a Caretaker. Has the social worker assigned someone to them yet?”

“Well, no, as a matter of fact. We were trying to wait to get them to a healthier place. I see what you’re saying though, they need engagement. Talk amongst yourselves to assign someone to them for this week and we’ll see how it goes.”

After the meeting, the nursing assistants planned out a schedule so someone would always be with Whumpee.

The next morning, after a nursing assistant brought Whumpee their breakfast, they pulled up a chair and sat down. “Mind if I hang out? We thought you might be lonely. Until we can get you a Caretaker, we’ll be keeping you company.”

Carefully listing while chewing their toast, Whumpee nodded. This sounded great! And it was great. With someone to talk to, Whumpee blossomed back into who they were. They made more progress in physical and occupational therapy, had support for bandage changes, and improved overall.

By the time Caretaker was assigned and showed up, Whumpee was in such great shape that they were ready to pack up and take them home. Whumpee cautiously reached out and held their hand as they walked to the car. Caretaker looked down and squeezed Whumpee’s hand with a gentle smile. ‘I think I’m gonna be ok.’

[actress4him]

June of Doom 2023

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch

Day 9 - “I should have listened to you.” | Sprain | Defiance | Smoke 

Contains: lady whump with male whumper, captivity, restraints, beating, stress position, mild blood, implied starvation, head trauma, hair pulling, death mention, broken ribs, dislocation mention, brief dog and master imagery

.

.

There isn’t much to see in the basement. Lainey inspects every concrete block, every crack in the foundation, every plank on the steps, every lock on the door, and finds absolutely nothing useful. It still feels better than just sitting around, though. Not that she’s blaming Isa for sitting, she can’t even help it with that chain around her neck. That thing makes Lainey want to punch something every time she thinks of it. But she also has a feeling Isa wouldn’t be helping her look even if she could get up and move. 

It doesn’t take long for the man to return. She’s just come back down the stairs from checking out the door when the locks start to slide open, so she spins around and plants her feet, glaring up at their captor, trying to ignore the way her heart is suddenly threatening to break through her ribcage. 

He’s not much to look at, either. Just an unattractive, scraggly bearded man, like someone you might see loitering outside a gas station and walk quickly past on your way inside. For good reason, apparently. 

“Have you come to let me go?” she demands as he starts down the stairs. “To let us both go?”

He scowls back at her. “I see you haven’t yet learned your lesson about keeping your mouth shut.”

“You think I’m going to listen to you? Some low-life who gets his kicks from kidnapping and chaining up young women?” He’s getting closer, and part of her wants to back away, but her pride and anger won’t let her. “I bet you’ve never had a girlfriend before, have you? Probably never had any friends at all. Is this the only way you can get anyone to hang around you? Locking them in your basement?”

She sees the swinging fist coming, but can’t get out of its path. It smashes into her face with a force that sends her over backwards, head cracking against the wall as she hits the ground. Her vision cuts out, then comes back swirling and spinning. There’s something bitter and metallic pouring over her lips. It takes far too long for her to realize that it’s blood. 

As she sits there, stunned and in pain, the man advances. He grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her up off the floor, dragging her toward the center of the room. Her feet stumble clumsily after him. 

“I told you to shut up. You’ll figure out I mean what I say sooner or later.”

He throws her down, and she just barely keeps her head from smacking concrete again. Her arm isn’t so lucky, unable to move from its restrained position and getting crushed between her body and the floor. 

For an instant, she sees Isa, sitting directly in front of the assault. She has her head turned to the side, staring off at some unknown point, face blank. 

Then a boot is buried in her stomach. Lainey doubles over, coughing and gasping for air that seems to have vanished. The man doesn’t wait for her to catch her breath, though. He keeps kicking, pounding the toe of his boot into her ribs and back and legs over and over and over again. She curls up as best she can, trying instinctively to protect her organs, but all she can do otherwise is lie there and groan and sob.

It seems to last forever. Part of her thinks she actually might die right then and there. But then the kicks stop. He reaches down and grabs her by her bound wrist, pulling her backwards across the floor. She moans again as her shoulders bear the brunt of the pressure and as every sore part of her is jostled. 

He drops her again, and a chain rattles behind her. A moment later her wrists are being pulled upward once more, but this time the chain sounds accompany it, and this time it doesn’t stop. They keep being dragged up toward the ceiling until she’s forced to move, scrambling with leaden limbs to get her feet underneath her and stand. The chain seems to be hooked to the ziptie around her wrists. She can’t straighten her back or lift her head, shoulders wrenched as far backwards as they’ll go and wrists stuck up high. 

And that’s how he leaves her. He doesn’t say another word, just walks off, footsteps echoing through the nearly empty room. She cranes her head to the side to see him pick something up off the stairs before disappearing up them.

She’s never been in this much pain in her life. Before now, the worst pain she could remember was a broken arm from her highschool softball days, but between her throbbing head, her burning shoulders, and the fiery pain that shoots through her ribs every time she breathes, this is way worse. 

“That was my food.”

She tries to look over at Isa but can’t get her head to lift that high. “Wh-...what?”

Isa’s voice grows a little louder, a bit higher pitched. “He was coming down to bring me food and water, and probably unchain me, and you screwed it all up disrespecting him like I warned you not to.”

Lainey scoffs, hardly believing her ears. “Do you…do you realize…you sound like a dog right now? Waiting for your…master to feed and water and unchain you?” She winces at the increased pain in her ribs that talking creates, trying to shift her position. “And…I’m the one who just got…beaten up so…pardon me if I’m not overly concerned about your food.”

“And whose fault is that?” It comes out practically a growl, the most emotion she’s heard out of her so far. “I told you not to make him mad. I told you it would get you hurt. I’ve been here for five years, remember? I’ve tried it all before. I’ve figured out how to survive. But if you don’t want to listen to me, fine. Refuse to save yourself any pain. Learn everything the hard way, like I did. Just…can you at least leave me out of it?” Her voice wavers at the end, going quiet again. “I haven’t eaten in days, because he was gone to get you. And the two bottles of water he left me ran out hours ago.”

Isa sounds like she’s about to cry, and Lainey finds her own throat tightening in sympathy. She hadn’t meant to rob Isa of her first food in days. She wants to help her, not cause her more trouble. But she’s being an idiot, isn’t she? The woman’s right, she’s managed to survive for five years, and it’s stupid for Lainey not to listen to her advice, no matter how much it makes her skin crawl to think of sucking up to that man. 

“I’m sorry.” She tries again to look at her, and manages to catch at least a glimpse of her face. “I should have…I should have listened to you. You’re right, it’s…my own fault that I got hurt. And I didn’t think about…you suffering from it.” She pauses, breathing through the pain and thinking about her response. “I can’t…promise that I’ll do exactly what you want. I’m not good…at holding my tongue. But, uh…I’ll try.”

There’s silence for a long time. It’s a struggle for Lainey not to find some way to fill it, despite her painful position. 

“I don’t want you to have to go through everything I have,” Isa murmurs finally. “And I’m…honestly terrified that you’re gonna make things even worse. Keeping on his good side is so tentative. I just want to keep things as…easy as possible. For both of us.”

“Yeah,” Lainey breathes. “I, um…I get it.” She considers her next words carefully before deciding to take the leap and say them. “Hey, do you…still have the water bottles?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you roll one over to me?”

“They’re empty.”

“I know, just…just do it if you can.” She can hear movement and the slight crackle of thin plastic. A few seconds later an empty bottle rolls to a stop several inches from her foot. “Hey, nice shot. Lemme just…” Very carefully, grimacing with each movement, she steps on the heel of first one sneaker, then the other, removing them and kicking them behind her. Then she strategically uses her toes to pull off one sock, too. Isa mutters warnings about dislocating her shoulders here and there, but Lainey is determined to make this work.

Stretching out the bare foot, she drags the water bottle closer. “It’s still got drops of water left in it, so if I focus, I can…” She lays her foot across the bottle and closes her eyes. This is much easier to do with her hands, but the foot will have to do in a pinch like this. It takes almost a full minute of concentration, but eventually the droplets start to grow, dripping down into the bottle. The process gets faster as it goes, until there’s water swirling all through the bottle, filling it.

“There we go.” Satisfied with her work, Lainey takes careful aim and shoves the bottle back in Isa’s direction. “I can’t make you food, but…I can at least do that.”

“Water magic.” The plastic crinkles in Isa’s hand again.

“Yep. I’m…not very skilled at it, but…expanding water that’s already there…isn’t so hard.”

There’s no answer for a moment, but it sounds like Isa is taking a drink. “Thank you,” she says softly when she’s done.

“Yeah,” Lainey replies, equally as soft. “No problem.”

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League — A Lucky Blunder

Masterlist

Summary: The boys finally caught their rival gang's spy but something about him has their leader intervening in his punishment. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

CW: Late-19th century, explicit language, kidnapping/abduction, nudity (non-sexual), restraints, bruising from implied beating, whipping, scars, torture/interrogation, taunting of prisoner, multiple whumpers, dubious caretaker.

A high-pitched keening wound its way through the house. 

Wyatt paused, pencil hovering over his place in the row of numbers. It was early evening. Sunlight entered the window at a low angle to cast long shadows through yellow-orange light. The boys would be winding down from the day which meant they were winding up for the night.  

“Tommy?” He called for Frankie’s lad, the portrait of his ruddy-haired father in miniature. A child of about ten years who was always close at hand, ever-keen to make a farthing running errands. Especially if he could smugly tell younger boys later that he wasn’t at liberty to divulge the particulars. As though he was the rare child-confidant of the entire gang. He did have a fair pulse on what was going on, if a little slanted by the perspective of his youth.

Another cry, twisting all the way upstairs, most likely from the cellar two floors down. In the house—their house—not a thing could transpire unnoticed, such was the size and layout. Wyatt liked that. All was within reach and what one could hold in the palm of his hand, one could command. 

Although, his appreciation and pride were diminishing by the second as the cries continued and grew more insistent. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh and almost ran his fingers through his hair before he remembered they were smudged with graphite from doing the books. 

“Tommy!”

Finally, a clatter and then short, snappy strides as the child scrambled across the kitchen and up the stairs. “Yessir?” 

“What is that fucking noise?”

Tommy swallowed, trying to catch his breath. “They found that man. The one ‘tipped off Keats.” 

“Is that so?”

About a month ago, a beggar had shown up on their streets. He’d seen the man in question himself—more of a boy really, no more than twenty—huddled outside the door of the pub and shuffling around the streets covered in a ratty blanket. 

Around the same time, a number of plans had been mislaid. At first, it had seemed only as though they’d mismatched their timing. Until one night, when they’d had a raid planned on a warehouse, expecting just a few guards and found its owner—one of their biggest rivals—Keats, had two dozen waiting instead. 

It had nearly cost two boys their lives and one still had a bullet in his shoulder. They had pulled the usual threads, made sure to reassess the loyalties of certain parties. The beggar, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. No one thought twice about an urchin disappearing. But then, a handful of days later, Jack’s sister had seen the very same accompanying none other than Keats himself. 

A short ten days later, here he was, apparently paying for his trickery in the cellar, having finally been apprehended. 

No one noticed Wyatt coming down the stairs. All backs were turned, including the one getting belted. Their captive was stark naked and covered in grime with patches of bruises darkening along his ribs. His wrists were tied together and hooked over his head so that he was forced onto the balls of his feet. From the looks of it, he’d managed to bear his due reward silently for a not-insignificant length of time. Raised welts crisscrossed from the back of his neck down to his calves. It was plain by the scars on his back that this was not his first beating. Not much of a distinguishing feature around these parts. 

Alfred was winding up for what would no doubt be the first lash that drew blood. The rest of the group surveyed from a loose half-circle, some sitting on overturned crates and others leaning against the soot-blackened walls. Wyatt hadn’t been down here in ages, couldn’t say what was in half of the cobwebbed crates stacked in the corners. The air in the cramped space was beginning to smell pungent, cigarette smoke clinging to the ceiling in spite of the open street-level windows. 

Wyatt put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs. He waited until Alfred was about to strike. “What’d you find, lads?” 

At least one of the men jumped, a few others sat up just a fraction straighter. Alfred let the swing fall short. Only the tail end of the belt met its target, who hissed as another welt rose on his pale flesh. 

Wyatt wasn’t the oldest nor was he the longest-standing member. The group operated mostly by consensus but he was indisputably its leader. After all, he had been the one to rescue this house of cards from collapse before they had completely lost control. He’d recast the senior members into roles that didn’t require temperance and recruited younger men to fill the ranks instead. The younger the better, hungry to prove themselves and yet to develop the arrogance and pride that had prevented their predecessors from changing with the times. 

They had swiftly replaced brute force and standoffs in broad daylight in favour of subtler methods, refocusing on activities with higher turnovers that required a fraction of the effort and didn’t put them atop wanted lists. Half the city was still under the impression the gang had in fact collapsed and retreated back to the slums.

Alfred turned, face as red as the skin he’d just been beating raw. Either from the strength he was putting behind his arm or from feeling caught. He wasn’t the type to come up with the first idea himself but was always the first to volunteer to carry another’s. “It’s Keats’ spy.” 

“We finally caught up with him,” someone else chimed in, making a few others chuckle. 

Frankie sauntered over to clap the accused-spy on the shoulder, making him tense. “Just having some fun.” 

That earned a few laughs from the audience and the boy ducked his head as if to hide. 

Wyatt cleared his throat. “Come on, let us have a look.”

As Frankie made the captive turn on his toes, Wyatt was struck by two things. 

The first was the curious wound on the soft side of his hip, looking as though someone had inexplicably carved a piece of meat off him not long ago. 

Secondly, and more notably, Wyatt was struck by the fact that this was altogether a different boy.

Part II

Together/Apart taglist: @painsandconfusion @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @whumpy-writings @maracujatangerine @whumptakesthecake @subject-v @susiequaz12 @writer-reader-24 @whumpinthepot @wormwriting

[purple-heart-x]

A Trade- Chapter 12

Hello everyone! Long time no write! It’s a bit of a short chapter, but I really wanted to give poor Spite some comfort. :) Feel free to let me know what you’d like to see next! :D (seriously, i thrive on interaction or just random comments if you have any)

I’ll try and continue writing this coming week!!

-Joy

---

Tags: @redwhump, @whumpsday, @equestrianwritingsstuff, @stuck-in-this-mortal-form, @shydragonrider, @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

Almost an hour later, the villain's eyes opened once more, immediately going wide and frightened when they landed on Aki and Isaac. Isaac stood first. "Hey, buddy... It's okay." When he received a terrified whimper, he just nodded and hushed the boy on the bed. "Shhh, I know. You can be scared if you want, that's alright. But I really need you to drink something. If not water, can you drink some juice?" he asked, holding up a bottle. Spite whimpered, back aching as he looked at the bottle. It looked closed- sealed. Shakily, he managed a nod. "Good, good. Here," he said as the bottle's seal cracked loudly open, "I'm going to hold it up for you. Drink as much as you'd like." Spite shivered leaning in for a tiny sip before cringing back. When no attack came, he hesitantly unfroze, squirming forward again to drink, eagerly now. Desperate, even. Who knew if they'd be kind enough to give him mercy again? Before he knew it, he'd drank the entire bottle. "Good. Good. You're okay now." He didn't dare meet the hero's eyes. Just nodded, keeping his head down. "'M sorry... Please don't hurt me," he wept. "No, no. We won't. We're here to help." He didn't believe it for a second, just shivered and nodded. Better to play along until they told him what they really wanted. "Are you cold? In pain? Hungry?" That was the other one. Yoru. "We want to help you feel better." He had to be joking. Everything hurt. Yes he was cold. And on fire at the same time, still, burning deep in his skin, in his spine. He shook his head instead. "I'm sorry," he mumbled again. "That's alright. You can get as much rest as you need. We'll be here to help you, okay? We won't interrupt except to check the wounds and make sure they don't get infected." "Y-Yes, I- I will. Please... D-Don't bring me back." his voice felt rusty, out of use. Something landed over him and he jumped. "Blanket," Crimson said gently. "You're not going back there. I promise, we're not here to hurt you." Spite shuddered, accidentally tugging on the restraints in an attempt to hug himself tighter. He only realized they'd noticed when he heard a faint zrrrrp sound and a flash of pressure on his wrist. Yoru was looking at him, holding the restraints. "We had to use these to keep you from thrashing and hurting yourself. Now that you're more lucid, we don't have to use them anymore. Right?" He nodded hastily. "R-Right, I- I promise, I'll be good, I w-won't do it again," he sniffled. He didn't understand why Yoru was looking at him with a touch of sadness in his eyes. "That's not what I meant, Spite." The villain didn't have time to reflect on what he meant. "Are you comfortable in this position? Do you want help to shift?" Spite shook his head again. It didn't hurt too bad now. He didn't want it to start again. "Um, c-can I please sleep? I promise I'll s-stay still..." Aki hesitated. "Here, hold still for a minute?" Gently, carefully, he laid the back of his hand on the villain's forehead. Letting out a hum, he nodded. "Better than before. Yes, you can sleep. Sleep as long as you'd like, Spite." Spite tried to thank him, leaning into the touch. Really, he did. But halfway through the words his eyes dulled and slipped closed, arms going limp as they pulled the blankets tight around him like a shield.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Murder family but Lunar is there because fuck Sun and Moon, and most of their efforts are going into helping prisoner Eclipse’s recovery rather than trying to hurt people. And Sun can’t really blame Eclipse for much of anything, so he’s not going on a killing spree.

They all pitch in to love on Eclipse and aid his recovery at a steady pace. None of them will push him or ignore him, he’s had enough of that. Blood Moon helps mostly with his touch starvation and restraint trauma and Harvest helping more with physical therapy and any leftover wounds. Lunar helps with emotional therapy and his stockholm syndrome and KC helps his precious human son get over any eating issues that come about from the starvation and any fears of abuse that may arise.

[nat-1-whump]

🐗 Monster transformation whump

Fantasy whump ideas no. 5

(Huge thanks to an anon for suggesting this, it turns out there's more whump potential for this than I thought! Sorry for disappearing for... Four months, I think?)

Speaking of transformation, why are they being turned into a monster? Maybe Whumper injected them with a strange serum, after kidnapping Whumpee and taking them to some sort of lab, where Whumpee found themself strapped to a table surrounded by blinding white lights. Or Whumper cursed them with some sort of magic, having spent hours researching the most potent and painful spells to do so, maybe even with the intention of feasting on Whumpee's life force or using them as a puppet of sorts. Alternatively, Whumper didn't do anything to turn Whumpee into a monster, but they enjoy Whumpee's pain nonetheless... Because Whumpee actually brought this curse on themself.

The transformation itself is physically agonizing. Whumpee writhes in pain as their body twists and contorts into a new creature. Scales, fangs, or fur grow in feeling like they're stabbing through Whumpee's skin, slowly ripping them apart. Their head feels like it's full of hot lead. They plead with Whumper to make it stop, but to no avail. They're forced to feel every part of their body warp into something unrecognizable.

Monster Whumpee now has urges that they never had before. They crave meat, they want to smash through walls, rip things to shreds, you name it. Whumper taunts them, telling them to go forth and follow these urges like the beast they are. Whumpee suppresses these urges out of fear of hurting anyone, possibly begging Whumper or Caretaker to restrain them, or doing so themself. Once restrained, the urges bubble up even more and they find themself begging to be let go.

Eventually their feral nature gets the best of them. They break free, and in unleashing themself they unleash destruction. It's as if they're being dragged into it by forces beyond their control, their vision turning red. By the time they regain control of themself, Monster Whumpee has to face what they've done as a puddle of blood spreads across the ground before them.

Monster Whumpee gets treated like a dangerous animal, nothing but a threat to contain. Maybe their captors don't know that Monster Whumpee used to be a person... or they know but simply don't care. Whumpee begs them to let them go or help them turn back, but nobody will. They have to listen to gasps and camera clicks as they're hunted down.

Monster Whumpee gets shot with a tranquilizer dart. Their limbs feel like they're full of lead. They collapse on the ground, slipping out of consciousness as they're tied up, muzzled, and hauled away. (Muzzle whump my beloved...)

They wake up bound completely, every limb tightly wrapped in leather and chains. A thick muzzle over their face feels like it's suffocating them. Their restraints force them into a kneeling position on the dirty concrete floor. Whumper circles around them, tracing their finger along Monster Whumpee's skin. Monster Whumpee can't move in protest, though the anger and defiance still forces its way out in the form of muffled growls.

While desperately trying to escape, Monster Whumpee gets injured. With nobody willing to go anywhere near them, let alone treat them, they end up trying to treat their wounds themself, which may make the injury even worse.

Whumper agrees to protect Whumpee, but only if Whumpee lets Whumper use them as a subject for a series of tests. Though Whumper may initially claim it was for research and nothing more, it becomes more and more apparent that Whumper gets a thrill out of torturing Whumpee and recording the results. This may end badly for Whumper though. After all, what makes them think they can keep this monster contained indefinitely?

[depressed-werewolf]

Supervillain walked down the hallway with Villain close behind them. They unlocked the door to the cell revealing Hero curled up on the floor with their hands tied behind their back. Supervillain stepped inside. “You ready to talk yet?”

They didn’t answer, squeezing their eyes shut and looking away. Supervillain knelt down and tilted Hero’s head up, pulling a knife from their pocket. Hero’s eyes widened.

Villain moved before they could even think, pressing their own weapon against Supervillain’s throat.

“Touch them and I’ll kill you.”

They smiled smugly. “I’d like to see you try.”

[little-peril-stories]

Febuwhump Day 14 - Blood-Stained Tiles Floor

From The Prince of Thieves:

“Am I hearing this correctly?” Hatchett is snarling, his eyes spitting fire. “The boy thinks he deserves the cheater’s way out?”

The sensation of my torn shoulder splitting further, spilling more blood down my arm as I am hauled to my feet makes my head spin.

“Back to where you belong.” Hatchett chuckles as they drag me back toward the cell, but there’s no humour in it. His nose is streaming, brilliant red to match the blood soaking my clothes. If I survive, which seems to be what he intends, I know I’ll pay dearly for that bloody nose later.

“Why don’t you just fucking kill me?” I hate myself for the note of panic that’s leaked into my voice. Blood keeps flowing from my wound, staining the floor—another layer of gore that’s been left behind from the past century of pain and misery. Joining the blood of everyone else who was here before me.

“Do you think you’re getting off that easy?” The cell door opens. “Do you think you get to die before you’ve paid for your crimes?”

[whumppmuhw]

Whumptober Day 31: Crying, truth serum*

tw: restraints, choking, magical whump, noncon drugging (sort of? forcing someone to drink a potion), interrogation, betrayal, torture mention

*alternate prompt

Halloween whump!

...

Whumper sat down at the small table with a bag of candy. He dropped it on the table with a thump, catching Whumpee's attention.

Whumpee's eyes went wide, and he started salivating. The food Whumper had given him was so bland, and he bet the candy tasted like heaven.

"Oh, this caught your eye?" He chuckled, and grabbed a piece. "I love Halloween. Trick or treat, Whumpee?"

"Treat...?" he answered hesitantly, knowing full well that none of Whumper's games ever ended well. He was extremely aware of the ropes digging into his skin, keeping him from grabbing the bag of candy and feasting on it.

"Good choice." Whumper was unwrapping the candy painfully slowly, making it known to Whumpee every second of his enjoyment. He popped the small chocolate in his mouth, with an "Mmmmm" and a "Ohh, that's good." Chewing it slowly and thoroughly, watching as Whumpee's mouth gaped.

He couldn't take watching it anymore, thought he knew he probably shouldn't. "May I-may I have a piece?"

He looked at Whumpee thoughtfully.

"...please?"

"Sure, why not. Open wide." He walked over to Whumpee, wrapper in hand, and shoved it down Whumpee's throat.

He started choking and sputtering, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. His throat started to burn, and he tried desperately to get the wrapper out.

Whumper grabbed another candy to unwrap, dropping the confections in one hand and shoving the wrapper into Whumpee's throat, pushing the first down again with it.

He coughed up the wrappers and pushed them out with his tongue, tears flowing down his face. "Y-you can stop now," he sobbed when the worst of the choking stopped. "I don't want any more candy-" His voice hitched on a cough, and Whumper backed away.

"Okay, then." He popped the candies in his mouth and picked another piece from the bag. Whumpee was relieved to watch him place the wrapper on the table. "You said you wanted a treat, so how about something to wash it down?" He pulled out a small glass vial from inside his jacket. The vial itself was beautiful, with its faceted sides and smooth curves, but the liquid it carried was a gorgeous bright green.

He didn't trust Whumper, but he couldn't struggle as Whumper unplugged the vial and poured its contents into his mouth. He swallowed, not wanting to anger Whumper by spitting it out and wasting it.

He sat down again, picking up a clipboard and pen he kept in the room. "Halloween is a great time, for things like witches and spells and potions. That lovely little drink was a gift from my friend, and her work is quite magical."

He had heard rumors of witches in his area, but no one had ever dared to interfere with one; they were too powerful, too unpredictable.

"Let's see how well she did. How did your colleagues infiltrate this place?"

"They briefly stole a key so they could copy it, and entered on a night when nobody, including the janitor, was working there. Our hacker took down the cameras from our base so they could move freely." It was a question he would have never answered. Yet it slipped so easily off of his tongue, and he couldn't stop it. He immediately felt deep pangs of guilt and regret and bit the inside of his lip.

"Wonderful," he stated, jotting down notes. "The truth serum seems to be working great."

Truth serum? Oh no, oh no no no. Fuck, I don't wanna betray everyone!

"Let's continue-"

"No, I don't want to continue, I'd be betraying my friends- well, I think of them as friends, I really don't know how they feel about me. Oh, and I really don't want to let down the guy I like, he doesn't know I'm bi, but I really like him and hope he'll go out with me. Plus, they're all I have, if they kicked me out I'd have nowhere to go, they've been helping me pay my rent." What am I saying?

"Ha! This is much better than I thought it would be. Look on the bright side, Whumpee, you keep this up and maybe I won't have to torture you anymore for answers."

"Honestly, part of me would be okay with that, I hate torture, and I'm so scared of you. But I want to stay loyal to my friends, and I don't want answers to just roll off my tongue, like the way-"

"Whumpee, that's enough," he said sharply, cutting Whumpee off. "Let's get back on track. I want to squeeze as much out of you as I can while this dose lasts. Why, exactly, did your team want to break in?"

Here we go.

[otterfrost]

Meeting

Whoo first chapter! meet my little beans as they meet each other.

Contains= Gun mention, usage of said gun, violence, attempted kidnapping, restraints, gag, swearing, minors using vapes

Tatiana

--- I felt a little empty. Like always.

Staring at the board, I waited for class to start, barely able to ignore the noise.

I heard the teacher yell for silence and stiffened, breathing in. My heart pounded in my chest and I had to resist the urge to run out of the room.

I gripped the edge of my desk, and my music blasted in my ear, and I practiced the breathing exercises my therapist taught me. 

I somehow heard footsteps in my left ear and looked out the corner of my eye to see a ginger with blue streaks in her hair. She was tall, her shoulders broad, and she looked like a confused puppy. And I found her beautiful.

She wore sleek black headphones, a black leather jacket, and black leggings, and her gray bag had a keychain of a white, plastic balloon animal, as well as a blue wolf with wings. Her eyes were a strange mix of green, blue, and gray, with one much lighter than the other, and a few fiery golden flecks were visible. 

I wished I were prettier in that moment, so I’d even stand a chance with her. I had blue beads braided into my hair, but that was only temporary. My olive skin was patchy and had darker discoloration, I was short, and my face had a beauty mark on my left cheek.

She looked at the teacher, who finally noticed her and told her to sit down next to me. I felt my skin burn and let her. 

“Alright, class. First product of the quarter, we’ll be doing partner work. Pair up with your seat partners, and if you have any grievances, talk to me,”

She looked at me and whispered, “So, we’re doing this together?”

I nodded, and Mr. Simmons explained the instructions. We’d be researching what an assigned country did during World War one throughout the whole quarter, and I pulled out my mom’s old work computer when we were assigned Brazil. The other girl pulled out a nearly shattered HP computer, and Mr. Simmons took attendance. 

Her name was Chamomile, and corrected him in a whispery, yet strong voice, “I prefer Cami,”

“Apologies, Cami. Also, please take off your headphones,”

Just as he had when he told me to take out my earbuds.

Cami pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her bag and said, “It’s in my accommodations list,”

She handed him the paper, then took it back when he read what he needed to.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “However, I’m sure you don’t need it,”

He took her headphones, as he had with my earbuds, and set them on his desk next to my things.

“You can collect them at the end of class,”

She tensed, and when people started working and we’d been assigned Brazil, she covered her ears and didn’t talk for the rest of class, only writing what she wanted to say down on a whiteboard she pulled out of her bag. 

“Hey, are you alright?” I asked multiple times. Each time, Cami shrugged and wrote, ‘Could be worse.’

Eventually, the bell rang and she went and got her headphones as I got my ear buds, and she left.

I walked to my next class, where I saw my friend Ashley. I hugged her, and her feline pupils dilated to saucers. It’d been a week since we last saw each other, as she’d gotten covid, and while her voice still sounded scratchy, she wasn’t sick anymore.

As a kenomi, the last remaining kind of shifter, other than the dragon-folk, who refused most contact with society in favor of the non-shifting dragons, she was a tiny bit cat. She had cat ears, a tail, the amber eyes of a cat, while most didn’t have cat eyes, and all of them, but those afflicted by an illness that shifters could get, could shift at will. Those with the illness would randomly shift, and on full moons, they’d be too dangerous to be around. Most died after their first shift.

Ashley, thankfully, wasn’t one of them. 

We walked into our class and the teacher told us we could sit where we wanted. We sat next to each other, and a girl with light brown hair and blue eyes that came in almost late, sat on my right.

We had a getting to know you activity for class, in which our teacher asked for us to answer questions on a survey, then write a short paragraph on our summers.

When the bell rang an hour and a half later, Ashley and I went to chemistry next, and Luna came by and hugged us both. Many people called her Moon, including us, not because of her name, but because her blond hair looked like the moon. 

She was coming from AP biology and going to math class, as it turned out, meaning we had the same lunch, last lunch.

Ashley and I were not table partners, I had someone I knew from the psych ward, and their name was Bramble. Bramble was another kenomi, they had light brown ears and a light brown tail with a white tip, as compared to Ashley’s charcoal gray ears and black tail.

They hugged me and said, “Long time, no see!”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No, I’ve been out for the past- well, since you last left, actually,”

Three months.

“That is a shockingly long time for your parents,”

“Yeah- they tried, but I kinda ran away for two days, and they took the hint,”

Their voice broke into a song-like tone as they spoke those words, until they got to, ‘They took the hint’. There, it changed to a normal tone.

We’d exchanged numbers at one point, but we didn’t really use them considering Bramble’s parents put them back in the psych ward every few weeks when Bramble did anything vaguely ‘depressed’. Normally complaints about life in general. Bramble may have been actually depressed, but their treatments were working on them. Not like my treatment.

We weren’t doing much, the teacher just wanted to see what we already knew and getting to know us.

When the bell dismissed us for lunch, I introduced Bramble and Ashley, and they started talking to each other and exchanged information pretty early on.

They twined tails and we set our things at an empty table that seated eight, then saw Moon and waved her over.

Moon left her other friends and sat down next to me.

I saw Cami, and she sat at our table, the only empty spots. She didn’t interact with us, just stayed silent.

Moon tried to interact by saying, “Do you want to tell us your name or…?” 

Cami looked up and mumbled, “Um- no- sorry,”

“So, what are your interests?”

“Medieval history,”

“Anything else?”

“Um- wars. Especially the goofy ones. The lobster war, Emu war, Soccer war, things like that,”

“Never heard of any of those,”

She immediately went into a tangent on the Lobster War, “fought” between Brazil and France.

I added that much of my dead family was actually living in Brazil at the time of the war and we still had one of their lobster costumes.

Cami looked like she’d just had the best pie in the world as her first pie.

“Can I see it?” she asked.

I texted my mom for a picture of the costume, and said, “By the way, my family couldn’t really afford to do the schools for dance, so it's very…” I paused, searching for the right word, “...strange,”

It was dulled, moth eaten red fabric with a rusted, ruined wire frame to keep it up. Strange was an understatement, but it was all they could afford. I was glad my family was better off now.

My mom sent me the photo and I showed it to her, and even though it was essentially over glorified garbage, she looked even more ecstatic than before, practically jumping up and down in her seat.

She then showed me a picture of a helmet and said, “This is a brodie helmet, I found it buried in a trench when my mom took me to visit her hometown in France,”

“You stole the lobsters?” I jokingly said.

“What- no my mom isn’t a fisher- she was nob- she’s a doctor,”

“It’s just a joke, sorry I confused you,”

Her eyes brightened and she looked a bit nervous as she stuttered out, “Oh- um, okay,”

“From now on, you can ask me if I’m making a joke, okay?”

She nodded and said, “Thank you. I just realized- I don’t know your name,”

“Maria Tatiana, everyone calls me either Tatiana or Tati,”

“Oh, cool,”

Cami took out a book called A History of France and started reading.

The bell rang and Cami stood, as did I.

We went to the same class, me, Cami, and Moon. The door was locked, and there wasn’t a teacher, so we waited, and Cami and I somehow veered the conversation to the dynamics of a steam engine, then to crocheting in about two minutes.

The teacher arrived and opened the door, and directed us to our seats. He prefaced that he’d heard about Moon and I’s friendship and had us separated, then told us to take our earbuds and headphones out. He was much more understanding to Cami and I than Mr. Simmons when we told him we had the accommodations and let us keep them with the preface any music played had to be low.

I sat in my chair, and Cami was sat next to me, and other students slowly trickled in. I recognized a few, one of Moon’s friends, a girl named Marina, and her twin brother with the scars on his face I could never remember the name of. He sat next to us, and Cami stiffened and made an almost dog-like whine.

He sneered at her and snapped, “Not so wolf-hearted now, are you?”

“Leave me alone,” she squeaked. “It’s been five years, please,”

“Well, wolf-heart,” he said. He leaned in close and whispered something, and she abruptly stood and walked over to the teacher, tears glistening in her eyes, before a light blue paper was handed to her and she left.

“What did you say to her?” I accused. He didn’t answer.

The teacher moved him to a solo desk next to him and started talking, introducing himself, then having the small class of about fifteen people say their names and one fun fact.

Mine was that I was bilingual, while everyone else’s was something goofy like the time that one kid broke his arm when he was two.

Then came Marina’s twin, Hunter, and his fact was that he was attacked by a wolf five years ago, giving him the scars on his face.

Cami re-entered eventually, and said, “Guidance wants to talk to you, Hunter,” before sitting down next to me.

“Okay, so, would you like to stand up and introduce yourself?”

Cami shook her head with her eyes wide.

“At least your name?”

“Chamomile, but most people call me Cami,”

“Thank you, Cami,”

She breathed out a sigh of relief, and her shoulders relaxed.

When class was over, Hunter still hadn’t returned, so we left and I didn’t think much on their interaction.

Cami

----

I left the audition, left the school, and got in my cousin’s car. She’d lied to me my whole life about her name, at least until about three years ago.

Lyorna’s girlfriend was in the car with her, meaning I had to call her by her given name, and Lyorna immediately started teasing me.

“So, how was your first day of school?” she said in a very joking tone. Some people I could read more than others. Lyorna was like a book at this point, Tatiana, though I liked her, was like a stone wall I had my eye pressed up to. I couldn’t yet tell if she wanted to be my friend or was just a sweet person.

Lizzie smiled at me, looked over at Lyorna and mouthed with a sleepy grin, “We finish later,”

“Finish what?” I asked. Lizzie’s lipstick was smeared, I realized. “Oh… never mind,”

“Good, unless you want all the smutty, smutty details,”

I turned up my music as Lyorna started talking.

Lizzie pulled out a vape, and used it. It was sticky sweet- too sweet. 

I covered my nose and said nasally, “Please stop, it smells awful,”

“Oh. Sorry, Cami,”

She opened the windows and let the smoke air out as Lyorna started driving. I’d never understood why anyone liked vapes if they smelled like the embodiment of a sugar buzz, but that somehow worked for some people.

I looked out the window and eventually, Lyorna dropped me off, and I started up the long, windy gravel path to my house. My mother was an immortal being, and had bought this land roughly two hundred years ago when she’d moved out west. She had spent twenty years on the house and path. Twenty, long years. In those years, a friend of hers named Mary Magdalena Jones had died, and her husband at the time, a dragon-shifter named Balan, or Prayer, had been paralyzed waist-down by a tree collapsing on him in a storm. In the end, she had a house roughly five thousand square feet and eight bedrooms and she was pretty well off at the time for compensation of helping the union army with weapon supplies. The mansion had since been fixed up more and more until it resembled a big brick house, the only things that remained suggesting its ancientness being the cornerstone that said, ‘Est MDCCCXCVII,’ or for simpletons, 1897, and the inner walls being wooden slats.

Good ol home. I unlocked the door and set my bag inside, and my brother, Corey, ran up to me and gave me a tight hug.

He had no control over his shift, as he’d never been interested, and as such, he went to a private school that was all shifters. The same one I went to until I got expelled after I broke an asshole’s jaw after she called me the r-word and gave me a bloody nose. I still had to deal with her in my pack, and she still hated me.

I retreated to my room and stayed seated. Olivia texted me, and I went out to meet her.

She looked like what most people thought a dragon shifter looked like when in her hybrid form. Olive skin, big dark eyes, ears like an avali’s but scaly. She had white and gold scales in striped patterns, and serrated dragon-like claws at the end of her fingers if she wanted them out. Keyword ‘like’. Dragons’ claws typically weren’t serrated and therefore weren’t war crimes, they were more like a bayonet, triple edged. Just no gun underneath. But as we weren’t sure what she shifted into, she called herself a dragon shifter for simplicity's sake.

We walked along the path from my house to the hiking trail, and we walked along for a while. Eventually, Lyorna came by, and we talked and joked for a while, when Olivia squealed and said something amazing.

“Viper finally said I’m ready to be a healer!”

She was jumping up and down and her magic glow shooting everywhere.

“Funny, considering you still faint at the sight of blood,” I joked.

“We were twelve-!”

“I wasn’t,” Lyorna laughed, cutting her off.

Olivia stuck her tongue out at Lyorna and I heard a gunshot.

We instinctively hid under bushes, and in the earth; in Olivia’s case, and I felt someone grab me by the back of the neck and hold a gun to my throat.

I twisted before they could shoot, and flipped them over, then felt the bullet hit me in the foot. I shrieked, and Lyorna knocked out the other person, emerging from behind him and punching him in the back of the skull.

She lifted me and kissed my forehead, then called for Olivia.

Olivia emerged from the earth, the spaces between her scales caked with earth and grass. She shook her scales loose of dirt and put her glowing hand on my ankle and healed the foot over the course of an hour.

“Thank you,” I croaked.

I tried to stand and fell, and Lyorna giggled, “Oh, do you want mommy to come and kiss your little boo-boo-”

I stopped her and said, “Don’t finish that fucking sentence or I’ll take that gun down there and shoot,”

“Sorry,” she said, “Too far?”

“Too far,” I confirmed.

She carried me as a bundle in her red-mud wings for a while until I could stand again, and we walked for a while longer, when Lyorna’s ears twitched, and she pulled all of us off the path.

A blond girl I recognized as Tatiana’s friend jogged by, eyes filled with tears, an adult’s handprint on her cheek, and a small, half-filipino girl that looked about eight but talked like a ten year-old that followed after.

The little girl went ahead and Moon stopped, bending over and stretching.

The girl turned, and walked back to Moon, then Moon lifted her up, when came a gunshot, and Moon ducked to the floor, the little one almost completely hidden.

Someone walked by us, and I ducked further into the bush and closed my eyes.

“Where is Chamomile Malkom?” Hunter hissed.

“Hunter- What are you doing?” Moon whispered. I heard her backing away from the crunch on the gravel path.

“Luna, don’t play dumb. Where is she?”

“I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” she screamed.

I heard rapid footsteps, and dared to open my eyes. From what I could see, Hunter had wrapped a pistol around Moon’s throat, and her face was turning red from lack of oxygen. The child was trying to pull Hunter away.

I decided to act at that moment.

I howled, and he let Moon go, who rubbed her throat and sank to her knees, tears falling even harder.

I crawled out in my wolf form and nudged her with my snout.

“Cami, what are you doing?” Olivia hissed in the dialect of the shifter tongue we spoke.

“Relax,” I said. 

I nudged her again, and she took the hint and started running, when Hunter ran out of the bushes and laughed.

He shot me in the side, and I roared. Moon returned to me and I accidentally bit her. She collapsed, and Lyorna ran out of the bushes, grabbed her and the little girl, and flew upwards to get them to safety.

Hunter didn’t chase them.

“I’ve been waiting years for this,” he snarled.

I started laughing. “With your patience? You insist on using the scholar’s mate opening so the match is over quicker,”

He turned red and shoved his pistol into my mouth. With difficulty, as I was over a foot taller than him. And most people.

“Shut up,” he snarled.

I nodded.

He chained my wrists behind me, and I heard Olivia following us.

I didn’t really try to fight back, I have to admit. I was only playing a game with him.

He eventually settled for weakly punching me in the jaw, and I faked a blackout. He dragged me along for a bit, and I had to resist the urge to laugh at him.

---

Eventually, he stopped after dragging me down a flight of stairs and called, “I found a were-bitch!”

At that moment, I decided to open my eyes, and as the Critura of my pack, I was able to turn people into shifters if they made direct eye contact with me when I had my eyes glow gold.

One of them seized up, and they immediately blindfolded me and gagged me. I heard one of them approach me and kick me in the gut as I tried to spit out my gag. 

I doubled over, and roared loud enough to make at least one person’s ears bleed.

Someone tilted my chin upward, probably to make me meet their eyes, and I spat in their face, then threw out one leg, swept the other person and pulled apart the silver cuffs with brute force.

I pulled off my blindfold and immediately ran away, ignoring the pain in my side.

Three chased after me. My history teacher, Hunter, and my guidance counselor. Mr. Simmons had a rifle that he periodically tried to shoot me with, Hunter had his pistol, and my guidance counselor had a dagger that she didn’t throw.

I eventually threw them off, and the adrenaline caught up with me.

I was aware when my cheek hit the ground and less so when Olivia and Lyorna lifted me.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Eclipse getting horribly sick, and begging Sun or Moon not to go, please, he promises he’ll be good, please he doesn’t want to be alone in the darkness anymore it’s scary, please brothers he loves you lots he don’t leave him here. And this is incredibly fucked up to experience from someone you hate, so they just take him out to cure him.

But then once he’s lucid he’s just crying because if they took him out of the closet that means they don’t want to keep him anymore which means they don’t love him. And he just begs them to go back because he’ll be good and he doesn’t want them to stop loving him. Which is an even more fucked up thing to hear.

Moon would be rattled upon hearing he wants to go back, Sun less so. Moon would have take care of him while he was sick, while Sun cursed the idea of taking him out, claiming it’s a plague on the entire daycare. So Sun ends up urging him back in and him and Moon get into an argument over it, with Moon huffing and sitting in the storage closet with him and letting him from the restraints again for time out of them while Sun pouts and takes care of the daycare.