taterswhump

[taterswhump]

peace and quiet. 🖤

Poll winner was the shock collar~ luckily had this painting sitting around and he’s one of my favorites 🖤

[taterswhump]

Whumper: Come on, bark like the dog you are.

Whumpee: Meow.

[taterswhump]

Big Sky Country, pt. 3

CW: for institutionalized slavery, description of physical abuse, treatment of people as things

Cody waited on the top rung of the ladder while Levi made another circuit of the hay loft. He shook his head. Levi got like this sometimes, like a dog with a bone, and wouldn't let go of a thing until he was satisfied. Cody knew him better than to think he would be satisfied with so little information- they'd be back up here in the evening for sure.

And he had to admit, it was quite a mystery. If Levi said he'd seen someone and the red handkerchief in the straw confirmed it, Cody had to believe it, too. But who else was there that it could be? They'd seen all the other ranch hands at supper and the only other people around were the Ashleys.

So far, they hadn't seen their employer or his family, but from what the other men had said at supper, it sounded like Mr. Ashley wasn't personally around much. The family lived in the house across the patch of land that connected the barns and the bunk house and the storehouses and didn't have much to do with the staff. The place looked palatial, to Cody, and he could imagine that if you lived in such a place, you probably didn't see any reason to leave it.

By contrast, their own bunkhouse was several sets of very small rooms full of bunk beds which were, in their turn, filled with ranch hands. He and Levi had been given a small room that was clearly meant for storage but had a bunk bed stuffed into it anyway. There were still barrels and boxes along one wall and Cook came and went for the supplies in them, but at night, they were left alone. That was a stroke of luck, really. And it was sort of cozy, if you had the right attitude about it.

"Guess there's nothing much else to see." Levi's voice broke Cody's train of thought. "Might as well go eat."

"What did I tell you?" Cody teased, but it sounded a little forced, even to him. It was hard to tease Levi when he looked like that- a little worried, a little frustrated, and like he was thinking deeply. He let the teasing go and at the bottom slung an arm around Levi's waist and squeezed. "We'll figure it out."

Levi gave him that soft half-smile that made Cody's heart beat almost out of his chest. "Sure." His arm came to rest around Cody's shoulders until they were almost in the door of the barn. Then they drew reluctantly apart, the end of a dance they both knew well.

Cody didn't really expect Levi's answers to present themselves as soon as they did, but it turned out that there wasn't long to wait after all. The afternoon had been nice- it was just the two of them out in the field repairing the fence, in the cool sunshine that Cody loved. Texas had been too hot for his taste and there had been... other problems with their last job. But he liked the weather here better, for sure.

They came back and got the horses settled and Cody could tell that Levi was watching the hay loft in case the person appeared again. Cody let it happen and didn't bother Levi about it, but he was relieved when there was no second trip up the ladder. He was ready to sit and have some supper and get to know the other ranch hands a little. Levi might not care if they were strangers forever, but Cody like to have friends, when he could get them.

Cody was thinking about these things- mostly the supper- and didn't notice anything noteworthy until Levi stopped in his tracks and tugged Cody's sleeve.

"That's it," he hissed. "It's- him." Cody followed his gaze and saw a young man, maybe only a boy, coming across the open barnyard between all the buildings. He had a bucket of water in one hand and another carried with the rope handle over his elbow. His other hand was swathed in bandages and they could see that there was a cut next to his mouth and his cheek was bruised and swollen. His clothes looked filthy and he was barefoot.

"What the-" Levi said softly and Cody shrugged. If they didn't get started moving, somebody was going to ask them what they were looking at. Whoever this boy was, it felt obscurely dangerous to be staring at him so openly- maybe it was because this was not one of the other ranch hands, and couldn't possibly be one of the Ashley children. This boy was in some category all his own.

He started walking and Levi followed reluctantly, sneaking looks back over his shoulder. The boy- Cody was still thinking of him as a boy, even though he must be their own age- shuffled towards the Ashleys' front porch. He moved as if the buckets weighed heavily on him and that was strange, too. Two buckets of water weren't that heavy, by Cody's reckoning. But then again, there was something the matter with his hand and maybe that made it harder.

They were still watching when the front door opened and a man in a suit, who must be Mr. Ashley, stepped onto the porch. He met the boy at the steps with a backhanded slap across his bruised face. Levi stopped and tensed and Cody reached out and grabbed his arm. This was not the time or the place, and he wasn't at all sure that Levi realized that. But whatever was happening here, Cody knew instinctively that it would only make things worse if they got involved.

Next

Master Post

Tag list: @taterswhump

[taterswhump]

Next of Kin

@medwhumpmay Day 10

Medwhump May Masterlist

content: pet whump, caretaker new master, neglect, rescue

-

Inheriting an exotic bird from an uncle they barely knew would already be a huge pain if that bird wasn’t also six feet tall with a wingspan twice that.

Caretaker pulled up at their uncle’s house. They knew, most likely, they’d been chosen because they were close enough physically to make the drive comfortable for the bird, but not close enough emotionally to have already said no. They had been given no instructions other than what they could find on the internet, and everyone seemed to have wildly varying opinions on the best way to take care of these things.

At the very least, hybrids were capable of speech. Not mimicking like a regular parrot, but actual understanding. So the bird could probably just tell them what it needed.

They unlocked the door with the key their mom had given them. “Hello?”

“Hello?” a voice called back, a timid mirror of their own.

Caretaker walked toward the sound–it wasn’t hard to spot him.

The man before her couldn’t be described any way but beautiful, but not the way you’d call a human beautiful. He was covered in colorful feathers from head to toe, only his face and hands revealing that he also had skin. Reds, yellows, greens, and blues blended together wondrously, and it looked so incredibly out-of-place in a cage in their uncle’s old house.

He shied back, massive wings folded around him almost like a blanket. “Hello?” he repeated. The cage was large, definitely the largest of any kind Caretaker had seen, even big enough for Whumpee to stand up or lay down. Though they doubted Whumpee could unfurl his wings in there. It was decorated with various toys and enrichment, which he was wholly ignoring at the moment.

“Hi. I’m Caretaker. I’m going to be taking care of you from now on, I guess?” They spoke softly, trying not to spook Whumpee further.

“He’s not coming back?” the bird asked.

“No. He died. I’m sorry,” Caretaker said, awkward and stiff. How were they supposed to break the news of an owner’s death to his pet, who knew him a lot better than they ever did? “He was my uncle.”

Whumpee nodded slowly. He didn’t seem overly sad, at least. They weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “I can leave the cage?”

“Yeah. You’re coming to my place. Listen–I’ve never met a hybrid before, let alone taken care of one. So you’re gonna have to help me out here. Can you point out anything we need to take with us?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee pointed to the opposite wall with an uncomfortably human-looking finger. Hanging there was a key rack, only one key remaining on it.

“Oh. Sure,” they said.

What was the worst that could happen? The bird flies away or something? Honestly, Caretaker half-hoped it would happen. Not their problem and not entirely their fault.

They unlocked the cage, and Whumpee waited for them to step away before cautiously exiting. He shook himself out in the center of the living room, stretching his wings to their full length, managing to touch each wall with the tips of his wings. His arms reached up, reveling in the increase in space.

“Comfy?” Caretaker asked, and Whumpee startled, head whipping around like he’d forgotten they were there.

“Yes.” His wings drooped, brushing the floor, and he hunched over a little, so he almost appeared shorter than Caretaker. “I can take whatever I want?”

“Only your things,” they clarified. “Whatever my uncle got for you specifically. I’ll let you know if it’s something you can’t take.”

“Do I have to take everything?” he asked, head tilted.

Ah.

The cage. It was clear he hated it, and frankly, keeping a depressed man in a cage in their home sounded like the least appealing thing in the world. Not only that, but it definitely wouldn’t fit in their car.

“We can leave the cage,” Caretaker said. “Take everything else, though. Even if you don’t think you’ll need it, better to have it just in case.”

Whumpee didn’t smile, but his eyes widened and gleamed in excitement. “No more cage? Or you have a different one? Is it bigger or smaller?”

“No cage. Just don’t mess with my things and we’ll be fine?” they suggested. Maybe viewing this as a sort of roommate situation would be better. A roommate who doesn’t pay rent and just sits around looking pretty. Something like that.

“I’ll be good,” Whumpee promised. “I don’t pick at things. I don’t take things that don’t belong to me. I’m a good bird.” The way he said it was slightly unnatural, like he was reciting something from memory.

Caretaker gave him two thumbs up. “Awesome. I’ll open the trunk and start throwing in anything that looks obviously yours.”

Together they gathered up bags of food, the toys and water bottle from inside the cage, a large dog bed. “Good bird, good bird,” Whumpee murmured to himself. Whenever he gathered something, he simply left it by the front door while Caretaker carried it to the car.

Guess I don’t have to worry about him running away.

“That’s all of my things.” Whumpee carried the key to the cage, though Caretaker had left it back on the key rack. They didn’t bother to take it from him.

“Alright. Ready to go?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee tilted his head, gazing out the door. “I’m not allowed outside.”

Caretaker sighed. “I’m allowing you outside.”

Just then, a car drove past. Not even a particularly fast car. Whumpee bristled, scurrying back into the house, eyes wide.

Oh, he was scared.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Caretaker approached him like a frightened animal, which they supposed he was. “It’s safe. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Just gonna walk to the car, and you can have the whole backseat to yourself, and it’s like twenty minutes to my place. When we get there, you can explore your new home. I’ve got a balcony where you can stretch out as much as you want. I even bought some treats you can have.” Though it sounded a little too patronizing now that they’d met him. They reached out a hand. “How’s that sound?”

He didn’t take it. “What is a balcony?”

“It’s like, a little outside platform connected to an apartment. It’s not super big, but there’s no walls, just a railing, so you don’t have to worry about bumping into anything. And you don’t have to worry about anything outside either, ‘cause it’s a floor up and enclosed,” Caretaker explained patiently. “Wanna come see it?”

Whumpee listened to their explanation like a child learning about Santa Claus for the first time. This time, he did take their hand, small, soft feathers fading down the back of his own. “Yes. I would like that.”

-

Oneshots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@all-hail-pigeons

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

@jumpywhumpywriter

@scoundrelwithboba

[taterswhump]

"jim."

"what?"

"tell me you're hypnotized."

"what?"

"say that you're hypnotized right now."

"i'm not, though."

"i just wanna hear it."

he hesitated. "...i'm hypnotized." it felt odd coming out of his mouth.

"say it a little slower."

"it's two words."

"yeah, and four syllables. you can say it slower."

"fine," he said. "i'm... hypnotized..."

"say you're deeply hypnotized."

"this isn't going to work," he said, although he caught himself staring at them in a particular way.

"all i'm doing is asking you to say something. is it really that hard?" they looked smug. "come on. tell me you're deeply hypnotized. say it nice and slow."

there were already chills creeping down his spine. "fine," he responded. "i'm... deeply hypnotized..."

he was a little annoyed to find that familiar fog just barely forming in his mind, just from that.

"yeah, that's right."

jim almost shivered. "i mean, i'm really not. i'm not particularly deep, i'm just doing what you tell me to."

"sounds like something someone who's deeply hypnotized would do."

"that's not-"

"say it again for me, jim. come on."

he froze, a blank, dull voice escaping his lips. "i'm deeply hypnotized..."

it still wasn't completely true, but...

"that's right. good. that's all it takes, isn't it?"

"it's not..."

"it's more true every time you say it. try saying it again. you'll feel it."

"i'm deeply hypnotized..." he felt his shoulders sink.

"again. tell me how you feel right now. say it again."

"i'm... deeply hypnotized..."

"that's how you feel, isn't it?"

he wasn't answering their question, he was following the command to repeat it...

"nod your head for me. you feel deeply hypnotized, right?"

he nodded, trembling as his spine tingled.

"you're deeply hypnotized. tell me again."

"i'm deeply hypnotized..."

"and it's true now. isn't it?"

this time they hadn't told him to, but he nodded his head, anyway.

"it's that easy. you probably don't even care about me teasing you anymore, though, do you?" they pet his head. the warm tingles started to feel relaxing as he surrendered to them. "and can you tell me why you don't care?"

"i'm deeply hypnotized..."

"good boy."

[taterswhump]

medwhump may day 1: scar reveal

What started as a group of twenty-ish has dwindled steadily over the weeks at this place. Some of the boys, the ones who were stronger, who were more mentally balanced out… those ones went to these pseudo-apartment-like homes where they could have a go at living on their own, subsidized by tax dollars, while they wait for the government to pay them their blood money. Pretty much everyone hoped for that placement, but only a few of the survivors from Belleview had landed the coveted spots. 

A few others went to group homes. That sounded even worse than staying here, Ethan thought, when it was presented to him as a maybe-option. And then, two or three of them went to stay with “volunteers,” which seemed like pared down foster homes that, and he wasn’t positive about this, might kind of closely resemble the contracted worker system before everything changed. He was happy to not do that, although he had to have several very serious cries in Lincoln’s office to spare himself such a fate.

He’s comfortable here, though. Even though he knows his days are numbered, and eventually, someone is going to force him out, he doesn’t want to leave. The nine of them that are left, five weeks later, have all migrated into this one, tiny room. They do this every night now. Ethan can’t remember exactly when it started, or exactly how they all managed to wind up in the same spot, but he knows it’s been happening for a while, and he knows it’s the closest thing to safe any of them have felt in years. Even River makes his way here when the lights go down, although he doesn’t bring blankets or pillows and he doesn’t speak. Tonight, he sits in his favorite spot in the far corner, where he and Felix can see each other and pretend like they can’t, his arms wrapped around his legs and his head buried between his knees. 

“This one is from when they took my kidney to save some rich kid,” James is saying, lifting up the corner of his shirt. Ethan looks over at him. The others do, too. 

“You’ll get a paycheck for that,” Ethan says. “Whenever your case is heard.”

“Right here,” Alex interrupts, showing his shoulder, “Is from when they were testing a treatment that was supposed to revolutionize scar reversal.” He shakes his head, sighing. It didn’t work, but Ethan knows they continued those tests for years. He doesn’t say what he knows, but joins in the perverse show-and-tell, revealing a gnarly scar on his wrist. 

There’s something oddly cathartic about speaking so freely about the things that were done to them. They could do this for hours, just to get it off their chests. He’s about to launch into an overly dramatized retelling when River stands, abruptly. He thinks, just for a second, that River is going to crack, join in, act human, even if just for a second. But instead, River levels a very icy, very typical glare in his direction, and navigates through the maze of languid, half-asleep, boys in a move that Ethan is very sure was meant to be, at minimum, angry. 

“Whatever,” Ethan mumbles, flipping the light switch off behind him. He curls up tighter under his blanket. There’s no reason to go after him, and there’s no chance he went far. With Felix asleep in his bed, River won’t be gone long. He thinks idly about the scars that litter River’s body. About the scars he isn’t supposed to know about, but he does. About all the times he's asked River, over the last several weeks, to talk to him. About how much pain he knows River is in, every single day. Eventually, he drifts into a light sleep.  

[taterswhump]

finally went for it 🫣🫣

[taterswhump]

Big Sky Country, pt. 1

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things (for whole series)

They got to the ranch late in the day, dusty and worn-out after the ride from the train station. It had been nice, riding the train up from Texas, but that had been the easiest part by a long shot. Their new employer had left instructions for them with the postmaster and horses at the livery stable, and then it had been two days of hard riding to make it out to the ranch. They were used to that, and didn't mind it as long as the weather held, but when storm clouds began to roll in towards evening, they decided that they were looking forward to a warm bunkhouse.

By the time the horses were brushed and watered and fed and pastured- the horses well-being always came first- Levi and Cody were almost too tired to eat. Not quite, though.

"Smell that?" Levi asked, lifting his head to the wind. The smell was wafting over the barnyard and he could sense it even above the animals.

"Sure do," Cody nodded. "I think our day's about to get a whole lot nicer." There was nothing Cody enjoyed like a good meal, perhaps because he was so skinny. "Let's get ourselves on in there and find us some seats."

"Hold on a minute." Levi was steadier than Cody and more inclined to patience. "I'm not done brushin' this horse down. Everything she's done for me the past couple days, she deserves it." When Cody looked impatient, he added, "If you're done, you go along. I'll be in directly."

"I'll save your seat," Cody said and departed.

Levi wasn't ungrateful for the peace and quiet his talkative friend left behind. In truth, there wasn't much to do for the mare but he enjoyed a few moments alone from time to time and they could be hard to come by. He finished brushing the mare and made her comfortable. Then he leaned, leisurely and weary, on the stall door and put his chin down, just watching her.

He had only been there a moment when a rustling noise behind him made Levi stand up straight and look around.

"Anyone in here?" he asked, in as friendly a voice as he could manage. They'd barely had the chance to meet their boss, never mind the other ranch hands. But there was no reply.

"Hello?" Levi tried again. Again, nobody called out in greeting but he could hear the rustling noise again. Levi followed the sound of it, praying it wasn't rats.

Walking softly, he crossed the barn floor and the sound stopped abruptly as he peered in the door of the storage room. There didn't seem to be anyone in there and nowhere to hide, either. Scratching his neck, Levi gazed around him, across the rows of stalls and then up towards the hay loft.

It was there that something caught his eye and for a long moment, just long enough for him to know he wasn't seeing things, a pale, frightened face appeared over the edge of the hay loft.

"You all right up there?" Levi asked. He tried to sound friendly, but it might just have sounded like confusion. The brown eyes widened and the person darted back beyond where Levi could see, into the hay.

Next

Master Post

This is a series I've been mulling over for a bit. Let me know if you'd like to be on a tag list!

[taterswhump]

The Safehouse, pt. 20

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, panic attacks

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement:

Rescuees have little to no experience being in control of their own space. Many have lived in conditions an ordinary person would consider inappropriate even for animals and may have no idea that such a thing as private space in a home exists. Always respect the private space they are given, to reinforce the lesson that it is theirs and that they are safe in that space. Show them that you will respect their physical boundaries.

Once he was comfortable on the couch, Mikey seemed to sleep peacefully and deeply. Angie thought to herself that it was probably the first time in- god, who even knew how long- that he had been able to sleep without pain.

At some point, Tim had said grimly, they would have to confront the fact that there was not enough pain medication and that would be... his voice had trailed off as he shook his head.

"For now," he had sighed, "we'll give him the first few pills on schedule and get him through today and tomorrow. Then we'll decide what to do next."

It was a quiet day. They put on What We Do In The Shadows, since the whole household had seen it before and it could provide comforting background noise without needing their attention. It seemed to comfort Mikey and it definitely comforted Francis, who was mostly watching Mikey sleep.

They missed the first clue that something was wrong. It came quietly, when Nathan said, "I think I'd like to go upstairs and get a nap. I didn't sleep great last night."

"You need help getting up the stairs?" Angie asked, and Nathan nodded. Angie got him his crutches and helped steady him as he stood, then navigated the stairs with him. It seemed to take him longer than usual- not that it was ever a swift process- and he stopped at the top of the stairs and seemed to droop, sighing heavily.

"Almost there," Angie said encouragingly. She put a hand on his back, but he didn't seem to notice it. His shoulders were stiff and he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, seeming as if he might fall at any minute.

Once there, Nathan sank down onto the bed and sighed again. He nodded wearily at Angie, dismissing her as politely as he could, and leaned back against his pillows. Angie smiled at him and let herself out.

As long as she was upstairs, she stopped by her own bedroom. She had left a book by the bed and as long as they were having a quiet day and everything was alright, she might as well read a few chapters.

It was as she was headed back to the stairs that Angie heard a noise coming from the rescuees' room. She paused and listened, wishing the noise from the TV wasn't quite so clear. The noise came again and... yes, it sounded like distress. Angie went to the door and paused, listening with her ear pressed to it. Then she tapped the door.

"Nathan, are you okay?" There was no answer, just the frantic gasping noise. "Can I come in?"

They never went into the rescuees' room uninvited. It was a rule. In Angie's experience, the rescuees usually let them in when they asked- which was why they tried not to ask too often. This time, though, Nathan didn't answer and that worried Angie.

"Nathan?" she tried again. "Are you okay?" There was still nothing. "I'm just going to wait out here for a little bit, okay? Just in case you need me. If you want me to go back downstairs, I will, though."

She leaned against the wall and tried to be patient. She wondered if she should get Tim. He was only a text away.

Then, through the gasping noises, she heard a word.

"Please."

"You want me to come in?" she asked.

"Please."

"Okay. I'm opening the door." Angie turned the knob slowly, so as not to surprise Nathan, and eased the door open.

Nathan was sitting right where she had left him, with his broken leg propped on the bed and his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He had buried his face in one hand and was trembling. As Angie started across the room to him, he let out a heart-wrenching sob and began to shake.

She sat down as lightly as she could next to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close.

"Shhh. I'm here. I've got you." There was nothing else to say, no other promises to make. She could feel Nathan nod into her arm.

"It looks like you're having a panic attack." There was no response. "I've got you. All you have to do is keep breathing. I know it feels scary, but you're going to be okay. Does your chest hurt?"

He nodded again.

"That can happen. It's not dangerous, just scary." The tightness of his shoulders relaxed slightly at that. "There you go," Angie went on, saying nothing in particular and focusing on holding him, rocking back and forth like she had sometimes done for Mikey.

It was long minutes before Nathan's sobbing quieted and finally she felt him shift and opened her arms to let him sit up. His face was blotchy and his eyes were swollen from crying. His lip still quivered as he said, "Sorry," in a very small voice.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Angie said firmly. "Do you want to talk about it."

He just shrugged.

"Have you ever had a panic attack before?"

"No." He took another deep, unsteady breath. "It felt like I was dying."

"Yeah, I know they can be scary like that."

"I guess. It's just- I thought I was doing okay. But then Mikey-" Nathan's breath caught again. "Since I got here, I haven't been away from Mikey. And he left this morning. It was-" There were tears in his eyes again. "It was scary to be here without him."

Nathan looked at the floor. "That's a stupid thing to say. I'm not some kid. I'm not- normal."

"Maybe not," Angie admitted. "But the things you've gone through aren't normal, either." Nathan just shrugged, still looking annoyed at himself. "You want to tell me more?"

"I guess, it was just like- scary to be away from him. Back when- you know- I could always see him through the window. Even if we couldn't talk, I knew he was there and I knew if he was okay. And when we got separated, I figured he was dead. And then we found each other. And then... he was gone all day and I was so scared."

Nathan swiped at his eyes and then looked up at Angie, his gaze raw and honest and agonized. "I didn't really know what they were going to do to him at that hospital. Even though you told us, it's not like I know how surgery works. What if they treated him like- like a Pet? He doesn't deserve that. And I knew they were gonna hurt him, even if it'll make him better in the long run. And- I heard Tim talking. I know there isn't enough medicine."

"You heard that?" Angie asked.

"Yeah, I was going to get a glass of water. I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he said, almost pleading, begging her to believe him.

"I know you didn't. We'll... we'll do our best for him. Tim is going to call some people."

"It won't be enough," Nathan said with a shake of his head. "Poor Mikey's gonna hurt so bad, and after everything he's been through. I don't- this is so fucking selfish, I'm so sorry. But I don't know if I can take it."

Angie put her arm back around his shoulders. "I know," she said. "But I don't think we have a choice. Mikey sure doesn't."

Next Time: Mikey has good hours and bad hours and Tim tries to find more medicine.

Master List

Notes: I guess I needed a break after writing all those stories in December. Also, I've started a new story, so check out Big Sky Country! I'll be writing on both of them when inspiration strikes.

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds

@honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000

@whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

[taterswhump]

@whumpshaped is back on tumblr so go show it some love!! we're doing medwhump may together :D

[taterswhump]

tiny silas. tiny pathetic vampire silas whump. you agree

[taterswhump]

“The Test Subject” aka my lab rat edit 🥲

By whatiswhump

Song: Can’t Pretend by Tom Odell

In no particular order: Roswell, Dark Angels, Old Guard, the OA, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Gen V, Iron Fist, Captain America Winter Soldier, the X-Files

[taterswhump]

Referring to the first chapter Aiden narrates where he briefly thinks just that. Thanks, @deluxewhump for the inspiration.

The lesson here is that sometimes, when we let the intrusive thoughts win, we win too.

Masterlist 

cw: doctor whumper, lab rat whumpee, the whole nine.

“Hey, come on. Open your eyes. Look at me—”

He groans and wishes he could swat Harrison away. His arms are still heavy with the last of the anesthesia so even pulling against the restraints feels like a waste of effort. “Gimme a fucking second.” 

Was that a sigh of relief? From Harrison? 

He drags his eyes open to see for himself, heart stuttering as his sluggish brain tries to come up with an explanation. 

Harrison immediately blinds him with his penlight, gloved thumb holding one eyelid open and then the next to wave the light back and forth. It takes even longer for his eyes to adjust once he’s done. Harrison accosts him with his stethoscope next, slipping down the neck of his shirt to press the cold chest piece to his skin. He stifles his flinch, goosebumps racing up his side, and tries to stay still, breathing evenly. 

Harrison’s nod of approval relieves some of his unease. 

“Anything feel different?” 

Just kidding, it’s back. He narrows his eyes. “Different how..?” “You tell me.” Harrison’s expression is carefully empty. 

“What did you do?” 

“If everything feels normal, then nothing.” 

He snorts. “Nothing about any of this is normal, but if you knew that, we wouldn’t be here.” 

“As much as I love your armchair analysis…” Harrison moves to his feet and produces a needle. “Tell me when you feel this.”

“Ow,” he says before he’s even made contact. Harrison rolls his eyes and pokes him in the heel. “Yes, ow. Okay, I can feel my feet, I can move my toes.” He doesn’t like the look in Harrison’s eyes one bit. The heart monitor ticks up and they both glance over in reflexive acknowledgment without really seeing it. He swallows, tries to keep his voice level. “Harrison, what happened? What aren’t you telling me?” 

“There’s nothing to tell,” he says defensively, burying his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “You had a bleed, a small one. I got it under control fast. It’s happened before, I just didn’t like the location of this one. And it didn’t help when you took your sweet time waking up.”

“Which could have just been because I was under yesterday, right?”

“Right,” he agrees but still has that crease between his brows, a particular determination in the set of his jaw.

It makes his chest tight. “What are you thinking?”  

“I want to get you up and walking, just to make sure.” Harrison starts unhooking him from the machines. 

“What? But I— You said a few more days.” 

Harrison smirks. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like you don’t want to feel a little freedom.” 

“You won’t…?” 

“No, not today. But good to know you’re looking forward to it.” 

That settles his pulse some, which is thankfully private since he’s off the monitor. “I’ll take the walk but I really feel fine. Everything’s the same.” Harrison helps him off the table and the tile is cold under his bare feet. “Well, except the lights. Did one go out?” 

Harrison freezes, holding him under the elbows. “The lights are the same.” 

“No, they’re dimmer,” he insists, looking for the standout dark bulb. “It’s darker in here.” 

Harrison shakes his head. 

“But, wait…what?” He grips Harrison’s forearms, palms feeling clammy. 

“Calm down, don’t freak out.” Harrison guides him to hold the edges of the table for balance instead. “Just explain why you think it’s darker in here.” 

“Because it is! What are you even—” 

“Stop. Look at me. Take a breath.” 

He does, biting his lips together. He doesn’t know what Harrison is playing at or why he’s letting himself get wound up so easily. 

“Try again.” 

“Things look different, the light’s dimmer.” He glances around, feeling ridiculous and queasy. The walls are the same and the metal shelves and cabinets lining the room, empty except for the supplies Harrison stocks himself. Same as the lightbox that Harrison sometimes leaves on all night with images of his head or spine gently illuminating the room. He never knows if it’s on purpose or not and hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask. 

Everything is all the same, none of the ceiling lights are dark, but something isn’t right. His pulse feels irregular in his chest. “The monitor. The colors on the monitor look different because it’s darker in here.” 

Harrison lifts a brow. “They are the same.” 

“What? No.” He backs away. “Fuck you. Why are you doing this?” 

Harrison catches him by the top of the arm, grip tightening when he tries to resist. “Easy. Come on.” He tows him to the other side of the table to stand right in front of the monitor. “Tell me what you see.” 

“It’s—I can see it fine. Just turn on the rest of the lights.”

“All the lights are on.” 

He tries to pull out of Harrison’s grip again but he’s too weak. Harrison probably already gave him a dose of whatever he uses to keep him malleable when he’s off the table. 

“The top line. What color is it?” 

“Green, it’s always green.” 

Harrison clicks his tongue. “Yes, but what color do you see now?” 

“It’s not bright enough in here,” he repeats, voice wavering. “It’s just greyish. I don’t know. It’s not any color. I need more light to see.” 

“Alright, alright. Look—” Harrison lets him go and makes sure he’s holding onto the table before moving away. He chooses a package from the instrument tray and holds it up. “Read this.” 

“Sterile gauze.” 

“Any blurriness? Trouble seeing the letters?” 

“No…” His throat tightens. “Harrison—” 

“What color are they?” 

“I—They’re not any color. They’re just grey. Right?” 

Harrison stares at him.

“Right?” His grip feels shaky, his palms are sweating. “Harrison, come on. I’m not messing around, I promise. Stop fucking with me.” 

“Blue.” 

He shakes his head, eyes filling. “Don’t—” 

“Christ, relax.” He flinches when Harrison walks back over but he doesn’t touch him. “I know you’re not fucking around. I see that. Neither am I.” 

He tries to take a deep breath but it still feels like there’s a band around his rib cage. 

“Look at the screen again.” 

“Why?” 

“Just do it.” He does before Harrison makes him. “How do you know what color the lines are?” 

“I don’t know,” he snaps. Harrison crosses his arms. “From seeing it all the time. The screen’s always on.” 

Harrison nods. “Right, the screen is always on.” 

“Harrison,” he whines, shifting from one foot to the other.   

“It’s always on, you can always see it. Even in the dark.” 

“Wait—” He shakes his head, backing away. He rubs his eyes, then covers his face with his hands when that changes nothing. “I don’t— I don’t—” 

Harrison shadows every step he takes, keeping him within reach. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Hot, angry tears run down his cheeks. He tries to move faster but his muscles are Jell-O the second he tries to use them. “Stop following me. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“You need to calm down.”

“Calm down? I can’t—I can’t fucking see colors.” He swipes at his tears but they won’t stop. Harrison reaches for him and he swats his hands away. “Get the fuck away from me.” He keeps swinging even though he can’t make a tight fist. 

Harrison lets him land a few weak blows to his shoulders and chest before he catches him by the wrists “Enough.”

“No, let go. Get away from me.” 

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Seriously?” 

He keeps pulling even though he’s going nowhere, Harrison holding his wrists between them. He trips, because he can’t see where he’s going and the anesthesia still holds some of his coordination. Harrison catches him under the arms. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he hisses, squirming as best he can.   

“Jesus Christ.” Harrison lowers him to the ground and lifts his hands like he didn’t want to touch him in the first place. “You're lucky I don’t just let you fall to see what kind of concussion you wind up with.” 

“No need, you fuck me up just fine on your own.” 

“Fuck off. I didn’t do this on purpose.” 

“You fuck off, hack.” 

Harrison fumes. “You know what?” 

He holds his breath, muscles tensed in preparation for whatever kick or other assault Harrison’s about to rain down but he just storms away. 

And leaves. 

The sound of the door slamming echoes in the empty room. He’s never been unrestrained and alone in here. Not once in all the uncountable weeks or months or— 

He stops the thought before it gets legs. It hasn’t been that long. 

With what feels like heroic effort, he pushes himself the remaining two feet so he can lean against the wall. It’s impossible to tell if Harrison is standing right on the other side of the door or if he really left. There’s an elevator at the end of the hallway but it just leads to a wing in the current clinic. While his time there during training was ironically something of a reprieve, he has no idea how he’ll be received now. Even though he’s fairly certain Harrison’s “project” is unsanctioned, he can’t imagine anyone rushing to his aid. 

Besides, Harrison only left him knowing he wouldn’t do anything stupid like hurt himself or risk going upstairs, even if he could take Harrison down with him. At his worst, he imagines it. Wonders how long it would take for Harrison to break, but he knows he doesn’t have it in him. He already has two souls on his conscious.  

He hates that Harrison knows him so well and used that knowledge to take away the delusion that he had one last card up his sleeve. Even if he was only pretending to have it in him to just die one day when he was sick of all this. He knows there’s no purpose for him after serving as Harrison’s guinea pig but if he doesn’t want his life to end, it means he wants Harrison to keep going. Which is so much worse to live with. 

It makes him feel sick to his stomach but it’s fitting. He can’t let himself forget why he’s here. In the end, he deserves everything he’s getting. A lethal injection would have been an unearned mercy. 

At some point he started crying, tears falling from his now-colorblind eyes. Although, it’s probably his brain that’s no longer processing color but what does it matter? Maybe this is his fate, dying piece by piece, losing what makes him a person until he’s nothing but a shell and useless to Harrison. Will he even recognize the end when he meets it? 

He sobs into his hands, half for the comfort of being able to do it, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance again. He usually doesn’t let himself unravel like this in front of Harrison, though he has no idea why he should pretend to be strong or feel embarrassed in front of the psychopath that cuts him open for fun. More twisted adaptations. 

Speak of the devil, Harrison bursts through the door, making him jump. He wraps his arms around himself, gripping his shirt like it will do anything to stop Harrison from strapping him down again. 

“You’re overreacting.” Harrison tilts his coffee cup vertical to get the last drop before tossing it in the trash and brushing his hands together. “I googled it and it’s most likely temporary.” 

“You googled it?” He glares up at him. “You’re telling me I shouldn’t worry about being permanently colorblind because you fucking googled it? Did you get your medical degree from Wikipedia?”

Harrison coughs a laugh, pulling a pair of gloves from his pocket. “If only. Med School was hell.”  

“Really? Studying to become a doctor ‘was hell’?” 

“Hmm, now that I hear it…it may not have been the worst period of my life.” 

“God, you’re such a narcissist.”

Harrison sighs. “That’s enough. Come on—”

He flinches away, leaning to one side like he has any hope of getting away. “No. Don’t fucking touch me.” 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Harrison snaps but to his surprise doesn’t try to touch him again.  

“Maybe you should blind me next time.” 

“For the love of—” 

“But that would really put a wrench in your plans, wouldn’t it? If I couldn’t see the flashcards or react to things? And then what, hm?” He curls his hands into fists and crosses his arms to hide their shaking. “What happens when you fuck up and Google doesn’t tell you it’s no big deal?” 

Harrison pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “You really want to do this?” 

“I—” Harrison looks at him flatly and he can’t find anything in his expression, no emotion in the depths of his eyes. He swallows. “Yes,” he says, but his voice wavers.

“Fine.” Harrison walks away and his mouth falls open in disbelief but before he can think of a quip, Harrison grabs the stool from beside the table and wheels it over to sit down in front of him. “I haven’t thought about it in detail.” 

“What?” He tries to sit up straighter but his arm feels like a noodle, hand sliding against the tiles. “You ‘haven’t thought about it in detail’? This is my fucking life!” 

“I tried to warn you.”

“Fuck off.” He gives up trying to push himself out of leaning. “So, what? You’ll just improvise?” 

Harrison frowns. “It would depend on the deficit and how much work was unfinished.” 

“But if it was so bad you couldn’t get what you wanted. Then what?” 

“These are stupid questions,” Harrison says tersely, like he’s bored. “You’re fine, nothing bad happened. I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish.”

He doesn’t know either. “Then what?”  

“If there was nothing left to do, I guess I would consider euthanizing you.” 

“Consider?” 

Harrison shrugs, indifferent. “I can’t speak in absolutes about a hypothetical situation.” 

“What else is there?” He’s yelling now. “If you have no use for me, you will kill me. There is nothing after this.” 

“Well, clearly you’ve given it some—” 

“Fuck you. Don’t mock me.” 

“I’m not.” The softness of Harrison’s tone knocks the wind right out of him. “I’m listening.” 

He looks away, hates that he opened this door at all. What was he hoping to hear? “Just say it, there is nothing else after this.” 

“You already know you’re not eligible for retraining.” The word still sends a shiver down his spine, even though he’d retrain a hundred times over awake brain surgery. “Not to mention the Drip lost its effect on you.” 

“So that’s it then?”

“I guess so.” Harrison tilts his head expectantly but he’s too tired to keep fighting. “Will you let me help you up now?” 

“Maybe.”  

Harrison reaches out and pushes his shoulder. Unable to catch himself with his boneless limbs, he slides the rest of the way to the floor.

He tries to push himself back up even though he already knows he has no chance. He barely managed to slide across the floor. It makes no sense that he can walk in this state. He glares up at Harrison. “I hate you.” 

“I need you,” Harrison teases, standing and pushing the stool away with his foot so it rolls back beside the table. “What’ll it be?” 

“Fine.” 

Harrison crosses his arms. “Fine what?” 

“Fuck off.” 

Inches from his face, Harrison taps the toe of his sneaker against the tile. Asshole. 

“Fine.” His arm is stuck underneath him and it’s starting to make his pulse rise, like he’s already back in the restraints but the restraint is his own body. “Please help me off the floor, Dr. Wikipedia.” 

Harrison scoffs and turns toward the door. “You know what, I think I want another coffee if I have to keep dealing with your attitude.” 

He panics at the thought of being left here for who knows how long, his breath coming fast. “Harrison, please!” 

Harrison walks back over.  

“Help me up, please. I need your help.” He can’t even roll over. Harrison blinks down at him. “Harrison, please,” he whines. 

“So much drama,” Harrison says, pulling him up to a seat so he can put his arm around his neck and lift him onto his feet. Harrison holds onto his wrist, other hand flat on his chest to steady him, no doubt taking his pulse with one or both. “One lap and then you can get your beauty rest,” he tells him, turning them both toward the door. 

The first few steps take all of his focus, his muscles feel like moon sand. Too limp and only working for a brief second. He grips the lapel of Harrison’s jacket with his free hand. 

“What-what do you give me that makes me like this?” 

“That’s proprietary information.” 

“Pff. Like I have anyone to tell.” 

Harrison pushes the door open and props it with his foot. The hallway is empty, just like it always is, fluorescent light flickering down at the end. The paint far from the pristine white of the upper floors. 

“Will you say it?” He asks as Harrison helps him to the rail bordering the room. 

Harrison sighs long sufferingly. “Why?” 

“Please?” 

“Fine. Got it?” 

He nods and continues walking, both hands gripping the bar to keep himself upright, Harrison closely shadows every step. 

“If I see no purpose for you, I will euthanize and incinerate you. Happy?” 

He’s not sure but a part of him needed to hear it. He swallows to make sure his throat is clear. “I hate you.” 

“I need you.”  

He smirks. 

Masterlist 

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nick-pascal @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain

@whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps

@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump

@handsinmotion @arobear @dj-subwoofer @deluxewhump

[taterswhump]

Reblog/reply with your reason! I'd be super interested to see what others do it for!

[taterswhump]

Just finished my second read through, I'm obsessed 😍

Peter is such a good villan and I love James so much 💕💕💕

Never, Never is out now!

Never, Never by Callie Taylor, aka @befuddled-calico-whump

James has lost his ship and crew to Peter, his first mate. Now he’s forced to play Peter’s games. And Peter’s games are bloody. This retelling of Peter Pan flips the classic story on its head and asks the question: what if Peter Pan was the bad guy?  This is the fourth book in the 12 Months of Whump series. Each month in 2025, look out for a new standalone whumpy book!

Grab your copy here!

[taterswhump]

Some more scientist Whumper cause apparently people really like it + it's my favorite. Maybe closer to Carewhumper territory though.

"Nope, we're not doing this again. Out from under the bed now. Don't make me drag you out by those pretty ankles.

"Come on then, let's get your blindfold on, I know you don't like seeing my tools.

"Time for your medicine pup. Aww, don't pout you'll make me feel bad. You can have some ice cream after, ok? There we go, there's that smile."

"Welcome back. (chuckle) I was worried I might have gone to far this time. You'll be fine though, you always bounce back don't you my little lab rat?"

[taterswhump]

Im truly not on tumblr much

Valen for my friend @not-a-space-alien :) go read their book!!! (I hope tumblr lets this slide lol)