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auroragehenna · 8 months

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This is just a prompt...

I'm just considering Adam and Lyra here... Adam is torturing Lyra and he messes up for real and he doesn't know it until it's too late. So he panics and he has to save her...

AI-less Whumptober

Day 21 Blood loss, near death experince

TW/CW: Sadistic whumper, overjoyed whumper, knife whump, careless whumper, thinking about death,bleeding out Word count: 714

Boy am I lucky I don’t have to count. Lyra thought to herself. Another sharp cut, this time over her cheek again.

“Hey! Eyes on me Thýma, you know how it goes.”

“Yeah, yeah, eyes on me, I want to trigger all your senses.”, she mockingly quoted him through gritted teeth. Voice carefully composed.

“Exactly.”, Adam agreed darkly before slashing a shallow cut over Lyra’s throat. He saw Lyras eyes widen in surprise and her bound hands trying to reach up to her throat. He grinned.

“Damn Adam, I thought you wanted to keep me.”, she joked half-heartedly.

“Oh I do. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

But the sadistic glint in his eyes did nothing to convince Lyra of that.

Her body jerked against the ropes holding it as Adam drew the knife over the entire side of her legs. She could feel her eyes widen again; something is seriously off here! She thought through the haze of pain.

She looked away from the knife and up into Adam’s face. And it was practically beaming with excitement and sadism. Sure she often saw him sadistic but this…By now there was barely any space left to cut so she hoped it would be over soon. As soon as possible. Please. Suddenly Adam’s finger curled under her chin and hastily lifted it up. He raised the knife and outlined the contours of her face with the blood tip. No doubt leaving bloody lines.

“You’re so beautiful!”, Adam exclaimed, not even noticing the way Lyra stared at him in absolute perplexity. “The way you scar so perfectly! The blood on you! The way you breathe when you try to control the pain! So beautiful! Perfect! I want more!”

Lyra breathed out the tiniest whimper but Adam blessedly didn’t hear it in his excitement. Lyra closed her eyes and tried as well as possible to let the pain fade out into white. Adam threatened her, to keep her eyes open again and so she did. Until he finally had to go.

“Alright! This was exhilarating! But sadly I have to go!”, he said cheerfully and tossed her a disinfectant spray and a bundle of bandages before untying her, “you got this, right. Great. Byeee.”

Lyra collapsed onto the piles of the pool. Her whole body burned and she was still actively bleeding from a bunch of wounds. She pushed herself up against the basin wall and tried to be steady. She reached for the spray and grit her teeth hard before applying it. When she had disinfected all the wounds as well as she could she tried to bandage them. The smaller or less complicated ones weren’t a problem but the still bleeding ones were a problem. She sat there for God knows how long, bleeding through bandages over bandages. It’s not stopping. This isn’t normal. Right? Or is it? I don’t know. Adam was never so…careless. She thought with a shiver. The movement only pushing out more blood. She couldn’t try to tell the time with the light because it was nighttime. She could only have said that it got from dark to even darker. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Am I going to bleed out here? I mean surely not yet but…If the bleeding continues like this…Is that it? Again? Okay no, I never died. But a lot of times nearly. She thought back to those times. The near drownings had always felt peaceful in her memory. The possible-car crashes not so much. At least she finally would be free. What then? Unfortunately she would probably go to Asphodel. She wasn’t a hero, so no Elysium and hopefully she didn’t deserve Tartaros. Be that as it may, finally…no torture anymore. She tried to gather her mind and changed the blood soaked bandages again. There was a growing mountain of bloody bandages in front of her. And blood everywhere on her. It was so hard to stay conscious. And even thought Lyra had never really cared very much about her life having it slip away from her again felt so…weird. So…sad…after all. But that’s how it was. She wasn’t going to yell for Adam. Would probably not work anyway. This was freedom…She thought before losing consciousness.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @ailesswhumptober

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ithurtstopretend · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 Day 1: A Little Out Of The Ordinary

“Can I buy you a drink?” The man sitting at the bar turned to see a woman had taken a seat next to him while he wasn’t paying attention. She was tall and pale, with long black hair and heavy makeup, and was dressed in pants and a jacket that glittered under the dim overhead lighting. He smiled at her, “Isn’t that my line?” She gave him a slight smirk in response, “That doesn’t answer my question.” She flagged down the bartender, who poured her two elaborate looking drinks upon request. She slid one towards the man, who took an experimental sip. It tasted sweet, but not obnoxiously so. “So,” the man broke the silence as the woman took a sip of her own drink, “what do they call you?” “Keket,” she said, “And yourself?” “Marty,” he responded, smiling at her before glancing down at his now empty glass. When did I finish it? Marty felt suddenly nervous, feeling Keket’s eyes on him, watching him intently. “Well, it’s been fun Keket, but I really gotta go now,” Marty said, his words beginning to slur. He stood, but quickly lost his balance. “Too much to drink?” Keket laughed, catching him and holding him steadily in her grasp. Marty tried to shrug her off, but his head was spinning and her grip was firm, leaving him helpless as she hastily ushered him out to her car. Marty wanted to scream, to get Keket off of him and run as far away as he could, but all he could manage was a groan as she gently tucked him into the trunk of her car, giving him a sly grin. “I agree Marty,” she cooed, and Marty noticed she was licking her lips slightly, her mouth watering like a starving dog looking at a steak and her eyes full of anticipation, “it’s been very fun.” She slammed the trunk shut as Marty’s vision began to fade, a slight ringing in his ears, along with the muffled sound of Keket’s voice outside, “And it only gets better from here.”

#first post #aaaaah #im very nervous #any feedback is more than welcome #whump #whump writing #original character #kidnapping whump #drug whump #female whumper #whumptober #whumptober 2022 #no.1 #adverse effects

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befuddled-calico-whump · 2 years

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anyways I have two doodle prompts that involve torture but I'm drawing a blank on what specifically to draw, so if anyone has any suggestions/preferences...

#whump prompt #and im excited for both! im just like aaaaah there's a lotta options #torture

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taintandviolent · 18 days

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Knead ; Kit Walker x reader

summary: Kit hasn’t been coping well with Briarcliff life, and developed an unhealthy solution to the numbness he feels on a daily basis. You’re a perfect, beautiful part of his plan.

word count: 1.7K

w a r n i n g s: hurt, angst, depression, kind of whump, brief mentions of smut, female receiving, violence, fist fights and brief mention of injuries.

a/n: my first official Kit Walker fic!! requested by an anonymous!! anon; hope this is what you had in mind and I delivered!! I tried to focus more on Kit’s motivations and issues than the smut, so that’s why it’s a little lighter on the fucking this go round! I dunno why I struggle writing for Kit so much, aaaaah! also written at work, so usual apologies for any disjointed or clunky writing!!!

full fic under the cut! / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of future fics!

The storm raged on outside, a horrible deluge that had lasted days. Kit's dark eyes flitted to the clock on the wall. The hands ticked by but time never seemed to change. Not here. He needed to feel something. Anything. The days turned into weeks, weeks into months and nothing ever changed. He was an accused man, previously compos mentis, but with his surroundings, that title deteriorated gradually.

Kit Walker was losing it. Slowly, but surely. The cold, grey tone of Briarcliff was swallowing him whole, like a starved, but fading beast. Days were the worst - at least come evening, he could sleep. With sleep, came dreams. Dreams of somewhere else, dreams of you. Days were long and dreary, and Kit soon realized that the only thing that mattered were physical feelings. His mind wasn't a safe place to be. The truth of it was, Kit felt his fire burning out, and started acting out.

First, it was intentionally burning the biscuits. He was reprimanded and sentenced to biscuit duty for the next two weeks. Then it was sneaking out from the common room on repeated occasions, sulking along the hallways as though he wanted to get caught. Deep down, he did. Reprimanded again, and confined to solitary as punishment. But that afternoon, he craved something deeper. He needed something that would last, and Sister Jude had an unusual streak of mercy lately. It had to be good.

"Hey, sugah’."

Your tired hands stopped their kneading. You looked up, wide-eyed, with a smear of flour across your cheek. He didn't know it, but you'd had a thing - a silly little crush - on Kit Walker since you saw him in the common room during your first week. You'd heard the rumours, but every time you exchanged words, he was the nicest guy you'd ever met. Seemed like he had good, strong family values and manners -- which was more than you could say for most of the men you'd met.

Kit spotted the dash of white and reached out, wiping it away with the pad of his thumb. You really were one of the cutest girls he'd seen since Alma. It wouldn't be hard to do what he wanted... what he needed to do to feel again.

"Hi, Kit." You murmured, frustrated before returning to the pile of off-white dough. The last thing you needed was a distraction; the biscuits were already hard enough to get right, and Sister Jude was a stickler for them being made correctly.

"Whatsa' mattah'?" He could sense your irritation, and furrowed his brows. Maybe his plan wasn't going to work after all.

"I can't... get these darn biscuits right! Every time I try, they come out too hard and I'm just..." You grit your teeth and shoved the mound of dough away from your hands. "I'm so frustrated!"

"Dough duty, huh?"

You nodded, and pushed a strand of hair out of your eyes with your wrist.

"Here, sweethaht', lemme' show you. I've done enough of 'em to know how to do it right."

He was suddenly behind you, his arms stretching out to the table in front of you. He rested his hands atop of yours, and slowly began moving them, kneading them slowly. Much slower and softer than you had been.

"Just like that," he murmured, his lips close to your ear. "You gotta' be gentle with 'em... firm, but not too much... or they'll seize up on ya', makes 'em tough." His words were low and sweet, and you didn't have to try very hard to find another meaning to them. They evoked a deep, body-rocking shiver from your core. It travelled up your spine and made your teeth chatter. Kit laughed breathily behind you.

"Am I doing it right?" You whispered, your voice sweet and demure, laced with intention. "I have a tendency to wanna'... go fast."

"Slooow, sugah', nice n' slow. Othawise..." His teeth grazed your ear. "The dough won't rise."

Without warning, you rutted your ass against his groin, moaning aloud. You ground your ass against him slowly, just like he told you to. Kit made a fist in the dough over yours, forcing your hands deep into the flour. This was progressing faster than he expected. He hadn't known you'd be so willing to his advances. His cock twitched to life, tightening the front of his pants.

"You want it bad, sugah'?"

"I want it bad," you echoed. Suddenly, all worries of getting caught went out the window, you were no longer concerned about which Sister would find you - you just wanted him.

It had been weeks since either of you felt intimacy, felt that clawing hunger as it boiled in your core. You whimpered and dropped your head to his shoulder.

"Let me feel you, Kit... please..."

Kit ripped his flour-covered fingers from the dough, and reached back to his crotch, pulling his throbbing cock from his pants. He flipped the edge of your uniform up, and pressed his heavy cock against the curve of your ass. The sensation was indescribable, and he let out a throaty groan.

The hunger had him. The hunger, and the promise of punishment. Your body was soft and sweet like the dough in front of you two and had him going, that was undeniable, but the threat was what was really driving him forward. He needed to feel everything he could. He took hold of his cock, stroking it slowly against your ass cheeks, feeling the precum as it leaked into his hands.

Kit's free hand wrapped around your hips again, urging them backwards into his own. You whimpered, letting him take full control. Your fingers were still embedded in the dough, squeezing through the spaces between your digits.

With a deep sound, Kit slipped himself inside you. Your walls squeezed around him as he plunged himself as deep as he could, humping you hard. His thrusts were determined, but steady and slow. Just like he'd said...

You reached around to take hold of his soft brown hair, making a fist in the locks. He didn't care that your fingers were covered in flour, and it was falling into the collar of his shirt. He didn't care about anything except what he was feeling.

Touch-starved, it didn't take him long to climax. Kit emptied his load inside you, pumping it deep. You whimpered, rolling your lips inward to soften the moans. You were close behind him, and when he whispered in your ear, begging you to do it, you did.

Kit heard the heavy bootsteps before you did. But he didn't move. He was ready.

"Hey! What in the hell do you think you're doin'!?" The orderly bellowed, and Kit yanked his softening cock from you. Your legs twitched together as it left you, the slippery feeling sending another wave of pleasure through you.

Phase two of his plan was in action. Kit stepped in front of you, fists raised in front of his face. He pumped, and threw the first punch, making contact with the guy's cheekbone. He reeled back, touching his skin to see if he'd broken skin -- he hadn't. But he was going to pay for that.

Fortunately for Kit and his now-sick need, he hit him back, harder, splitting his lip immediately. You spun around, pressing your back against the table, covering your mouth in horror as the two men fought.

The man threw a hard left hook and Kit went down, falling to the cold cement floor with a thud. You could do nothing but scream, begging for him to stop. Through winces, Kit looked up at you and shook his head. To you, he was being noble. To him, he was revelling in the pain he was feeling and wanted nothing to interrupt it.

"Assaulting an orderly, Mr. Walker?"

"Yes, Sistah'. He looked at me sideways."

"He interrupted your fornication, is what he did." She sternly remarked. Kit swallowed, looking down at his feet. The punishment was coming - he wouldn't have been called into her office otherwise.

"Seems like he got the better of you." She gestured to him pointedly. He had, that was true. Kit had gotten a few good punches in, but the orderly was bigger and brawnier, and had walloped him as soon as he'd gotten the chance. The cut on his lip stung every time he spoke, and his ribs were definitely bruised from the steel-toed berrage that he'd endured earlier.

"Over my desk," she rasped. Kit was almost excited -- a disgusting, disappointing feeling that he knew, deep down, he shouldn't be feeling. But a feeling was a feeling and he had to ride it out, in whatever way he could.

"Sistah' Jude," he interjected, as he bent over the modest wooden desk. "I'm sahrry' for what I did but don't punish her. She didn't do anything. It was all me."

"Mr. Walker," she replied. "I'll do exactly as I see fit."

The first hit stung. She was using the wooden switch, and it sliced through the air with an audible thwip. It burned against his skin, sweltering hot heat coursing over his cheeks and the back of his thighs. Tears bit at the corner of his eyes, it felt so terrible. That was just it -- it felt so terrible. He hadn't felt this much in weeks.

She hit him again, just above the spot where she'd previously hit. Kit winced again, clenching his fists hard atop her desk. Another one, and the tears streamed down his cheeks. He inhaled through clenched teeth and exhaled hard through his nose with each hit. Sister Jude's kind streak had ended, and she was unrelenting.

Twelve hits later, she finally stopped. Kit was sent back to his room, welted and bruised all over, but hell... at least he felt something.

#Kit Walker #Kit Walker x reader #Kit Walker x you #kit walker x y/n #ahs asylum #myfics #AHS smut #AHS fanfiction #Evan Peters #fanfiction #kit walker fanfiction

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whumpitisthen · 2 years

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If you take requests, could you do tiny whumpee with creepy whumper prompts?

Of course i can! It's my specialty :3 both tiny whump and creepy whumpers but i feel like it has to be obvious by now

we love tiny whump here yes we do

Creepy whumper tiny whump prompts ✨

"You're so little! I could crush your skull with my pinky..."

"Scream louder, would you? I can't hear you from down there."

"One more mistake and I'm introducing you to my cat."

"Meet my pet tarantula! Oh, would you look at that - it's dinner time! Have fun you two!"

"It would be so easy to break those fragile little wings you have. How have you kept them safe all this time? A breath could bend them."

"Careful now, or I might just become bored and hang you out the window again. And who knows what wild animals will notice you this time.

"Oh, I've got a fun game! It's called 'Let's see how many things I can stack on top of you before you go splat'. You'll love it!"

"Oh look what you've done now. What a mess. Who knew so much blood could fit in such a small body?"

"Are you like a lizard? If I cut your limbs off, will they grow back? 'No'? Well, have you ever tried?"

"You know, I remember a very long time ago in kindergarten, whenever we found a lady bug, we would always tear the poor thing's wings out so it couldn't fly away. This little escape attempt reminded me of that."

"Hold this for me, would you? Aw, come on! It's just a pen! What good is an assistant if they can’t even hold a pen right?"

"I love feeling your little tummy. Your breathing is so quick, like a bunny's. And so easy to squeeze it out of you."

"I've got a leaking problem in the bathroom, so I thought we could use that for a little fun. This cup is not big enough to catch all the water, but it's big enough to fit you in. It's gonna be like a little escape room! If you don't drink enough of the water or find a way to remove the weight tied to you, you'll drown. High stakes, more fun, right?"

"Oh, that is just adorable. Don't run so fast, I can barely keep up!"

"I know you're in this room, and when I find you, you are spending the rest of your life in the oven."

“Silly thing, you can’t eat meat! You’re prey. Prey doesn’t get to taste blood.”

“Here you go. That should be enough for like, a week, maybe two. What? What’s with the face? You’re small, you’ll live on crumbs.”

“Hey, wanna help me count my teeth? Aaaaah...”

“Your friends are coming for you? Oh, I am shaking in my boots. What are your friends gonna do, tickle me? Hm, I really hope they’re on their way now. I can’t wait to meet them. I can show you how little effort it takes to pop their little heads off their little shoulders.”

And another post with more prompts, less dialogue. In case you need more tiny pain in your life :) And also in case dialogue is not really what you were expecting, I kinda just felt like being very self-indulgent and talking through my writing again but if you’d like more feel free to threaten my family for it

That sounded mean, I don’t mean it like that, please don’t be afraid to send asks!!

#tiny whump #whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #my writing #fear #whump writing #sadistic whumper #anonymous #request #ask #dialogue prompt #the lady bug one is true btw #its bad but we were like 4 and i never personally did it #tw: cannibalism #drowning #threats #tw:starvation

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faintom-of-the-whumpera · 11 months

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When the love for whump is your secret

In the car with my spouse, a random playlist blasts out of the radio. New song starts, "Birthright" by Celldweller, with the line "But I'm still handcuffed, ball-gagged, facedown to the floor".

[Me, screaming inside, watching the scene inside my head: Waaaah, dsjfdnkjfdykjh! I Iove it, I love it, aaaaah!]

Spouse: "You alright? You just zoned out pretty hard!"

Darling, a truckload of whumperflies just hit me right in the guts and I'm freaking out. Please be quiet and let me hear that fucking song again and again, just for this one scentence!

Me, stone-faced: "Nah, all good. Was thinking 'bout the groceries."

Spouse: "Oh man, then I want to be one of those groceries to get THAT look from you!"

Me: "Ach, now I missed the last part of the song."

*presses repeat and waits for the part with the "groceries".

#private stuff #whump #just silly stuff #I'd rather die than telling anyone irl #But obivously sometimes my facial expression betrayes me #shrugg

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lizzyverydizzyyo · 5 months

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Happy Whumpmas (੭ˊᵕˋ)੭🎅⛄❄️!!! You have just been snowballed by a secret whumper. Help to keep the snowball fight going by anonymously sending this to five other whumpers with a whump-related question of your choice: what's your favourite symptom of illness to inflict on a whumpee?

Aaaaah!!!! Thank you anon!!!! I can't believe I got to be "tagged" to this kind of chain ask on my sideblog!!!!!

My fave is obviously high fever, who doesn't love a good ol' feverish delirious whumpe? As a bonus, I also love sprained/broken legs so that they can't walk and has to be carried by caretaker (or whumper, but I prefer caretaker tbh)

#anonymous #ask #answered #whump #whump community #whump trope #me

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shesinchargeareyoukidding · 1 year

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oh my god i love ur whump soo much idk why i love reading eddie going through it

Aaaaah thank you!!!

Yeah I honestly don´t know what´s wrong with us. 'Oh I love this character, let me put them through unimaginable pain! :D'

But I'm glad that you're enjoying it! I'm not writing for a huge amount of readers (most people want to read romance and smut and I can't write those) but you guys are just the best! Every single one of these enthusiastic messages makes it worth it. I love you all so much!

#eddie munson whump #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson sickfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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askthekuvaqbrothers · 3 years

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Seagull giving Rufus hell over wrecking sth. and the brothers (and Hermes) reacting to that. Your choice if you make it angsty, mischievous or hurt/comforty

(TW: Blood, Injury, Child Abuse (Seagull is a bad human))

“Now, this is going to the mayor-”

“I'll take it!!"

Rufus leapt from his seat, dashing and jumping for the box that was much too high to reach.

“Now Rufus, this is fragile, so I don't think-"

“Pleeaaaase! I promise to be careful! Promise promise!"

Cletus swung his legs, absently patting Poisonous, “Why do you really want to go?"

“I wanna go see the Mayor! He's a big important guy who found clean water and made all of Kuvaq! Dad says we should be thankful to him for giving us a home, and I bet he has all sorts of neat stuff in his house.”

“And there it is, stuff.” Cletus rolled his eyes at his brother’s kleptomaniac tendencies, but Rufus seemed undeterred.

“Pleeeeeeese!”

Hermes stared down into those pleading eyes and felt himself melt. He knew he’d gotten soft after building the prototypes, but playing the role of Father to these three had been swaying his objective views to subjective ones.

“Alright, but be careful.”

He rested the item in Rufus’ hands, not letting go until he was sure the boy had a secure hold on it. Rufus grinned up at him, and with a small skip in his step, hurried out the door. Neither Cletus nor Argus spared a look, but Hermes' gaze lingered after.

“…Could you two please follow after him? I worry-”

Cletus sighed, “That's all he brings-"

Argus snagged his brothers’ sleeve, fixing him with a ‘don’t start’ look.

“We'll go.”

With an audible groan, Cletus let himself be dragged out the door. The two didn’t have to travel far to catch up with Rufus, who had quickly given up on the more energetic movement, and was now slowly strolling across town, twisting his delivery in hand.

“If you break it, Dad won’t trust you with anything anymore.”

Startled, he almost dropped it, but managed to resecure his grasp and glare over his shoulder.

“Why are you here?”

“Dad sent us to keep an eye on you because, you know...” Cletus made a general gesture to his hazardous brother, though Rufus didn’t look to understand.

“He doesn’t trust you.”

Argus’ blunt words got through faster, and now Rufus chose to get upset.

“Why would he not trust me?! I’m SUPER trustworthy!”

There was an intake of air from Cletus, which was quickly stopped by an elbow to his ribs. Choosing the option of least argument, Argus pushed Rufus and dragged Cletus along, following the most direct path to the mayor’s private residence. It was a separate building behind the Town Hall, though almost equally large, apparently filled with belongings that didn’t fit in his office. A steep ramp angled up to the front door, where Rufus stopped their parade at the bottom. He turned to his brothers, and pointed to the ground.

“Wait here.”

“What? After coming all this way?!”

“Yes, Dad put me in charge of this, and I don’t want you messing things up.”

“Me-?!”

Cletus got a hand over his mouth, while Argus’ other hand waved Rufus on.

“Yeah yeah, hurry up.”

With a wide smile Rufus dashed up the ramp, knocking on the mayor’s front door. After a moment, it was opened by the mayor’s secretary Plovera.

“Delivery for Mr Mayor!”

The lean woman stared down, expression entirely blank, save for the eventual twitch in her eyebrow.

“Oh, please come in. The mayor won't be long.” She ushered the boy inside, “Please refrain from touching anything. You may wait on the chair over there.”

She pointed to a lone chair next to a statue of a large, furry beast. As Rufus wandered in, completely distracted by everything before him, Plovera closed the door behind them.

-------------------------------------

Time was passing slowly without their whirlwind of a brother around.

Argus kicked at the dust and Cletus plucked at a loose thread on Poisonous, neither particularly focused. Due to the heavy metal sheets that built up the walls, they hadn’t heard anything from inside, though normally not even the laws of nature could prevent the sound of Rufus’ destructive force. Cletus opened his mouth to suggest they wait in the comfort of their own home rather than the filthy outside-

There was a ground shaking THUD, ringing through the metal behind them. The two shared a look at finally hearing a typical Rufus caused noise, though the sound of someone else shouting was growing louder too.

As Argus and Cletus turned towards the mayor's dwelling, the door flew open, and the body of their brother came tumbling down the ramp, stopping as an unceremonious heap just past the end.

“YOU INFERNAL LITTER BUG!”

The booming voice of Mayor Seagull called out as he stormed down toward the boys, furry in his face and posture, and a sudden burst of flames licking at his heels from the building behind. Both Argus and Cletus recoiled at the unbridled rage he radiated, stepping back in time with his own steps forward. When their heels collided with Rufus’ twisted limbs, they both snapped out of their trance.

Argus turned enough to check his red-haired brother, carefully making out the shaky rise and fall of his chest. Alive- good, but hurt, the sight of blood and fast forming bruises triggering something in his mind. He glanced up to check on Cletus, but his green-haired brother was already gone, so his attention returned to Seagull. Something deeply ingrained in his core was telling him how to act, reminding him of the two things he’d always been aware of;

Directive One: Protect and Serve Elysium(?) Hermes.

Directive Two: Protect and Serve the Organon(?) his brothers.

At this moment, with his brother lying still, Directive Two was compromised, so counter action was called for. Argus knelt and plunged his hand off the side of the walkway, clenching a fist around the first thing it touched, wrenching a piece of metal free from the rest of the junk. It was rough edged and not very long, cutting into his own hand, but it classified him as armed and that was all he needed to run at Seagull. The man seemed to startle at the intended attack, but quickly recovered and stepped aside, easily avoiding the boy’s short reach.

They both turned back to face each other, and Argus charged again. The large man was ready for him this time, kicking as he came into reach, foot colliding with the boys’ upper arm and sending him flying.

“The INSOLENCE, the AUDACITY! Has no one taught you MANNERS, BOY?”

Argus picked himself up, adjusted his grip, and charged again. Seagull didn’t move this time, grabbing the arm with the weapon when it came in reach, holding it out to the side as he glowered down at the struggling child.

"Pay attention when your elders are talking, boy.” He twisted the limb enough to make him drop the improvised weapon, “I should have recognised from the start that your family was more trouble than it’s worth. Nothing but discarded scrap!”

He had nothing to say to the man, and his wriggling failed to loosen the grip, so instead Argus curled himself in on Seagull’s arm. He dug his free fingers into the soft joints of the trapping hand and wrapped his teeth around the largest soft space, earning him release and a shout of pain. In the free moment, Argus retrieved his weapon and swung it with all his strength into Seagull’s thigh, breaking through fabric and skin.

“YOU MONGREL!”

Seagull swung downwards, fist colliding with Argus’ brow. Skin split and flecks of blood flew, but Argus caught himself before he completely dropped, glaring up through the haze of red slipping into his eye. Seagull pulled back and moved to swing a kick, but found a weight around his ankle.

Looking down, Rufus was awkwardly wrapped around the mayors’ leg, uselessly biting into his pants. With a growl of frustration, Seagull added enough power to swing the boy along with his leg, colliding brother with brother to send them both tumbling away. When they came to a rest, Argus forced his clear eye to open, only to see the mayor swiftly approaching again. From his position sprawled over his chest, Rufus coughed, showering Argus’ arm in red flecks.

Seagull was towering over them again.

Metal piece still in hand, Argus threw it at the man’s head, hoping for the throat or an eye, but only managing to catch him in the cheek. In response, with a loud growl, the man drew a leg up and brought it down on the two of them, drawing out a strangled noise as the air was knocked from their lungs.

“What is going on here?!”

Hermes and Gizmo arrived on the scene, with Cletus closely trailing behind. Both men looked shocked at the sight before them, with Hermes paling when his eyes fell upon his bloodied sons. Gizmo hesitated in the moment, but when Seagull went to swing at the downed children again, he flicked to law enforcement mode and stepped in to restrain him.

“Stop! This is excessive force!”

Seagull writhed in the hold, pointing towards Rufus, “This is self-defence! That one almost killed me!”

Gizmo did spare a look between the child and the flames still flickering in the building, but he remained firm in his first choice.

“Hermes, take your boys to my clinic and do what you can while I secure the mayor.”

He snapped out of his shock, “R-right, of course.”

He quickly moved in, stooping down to pick up the worryingly still Rufus. Cletus moved with him and offered a hand to Argus with controlled reluctance, lifting his brother to his feet. Hermes spared one look up into the face of the man who had once offered shelter and work to a complete stranger, before the hateful glare became too much. He stood without further delay and headed directly to the ever-familiar clinic.

------------------------------------------------------

Hermes fumbled with a roll of bandages, muttering under his breath as he failed to untangle the length. There was a shake in his arms, and his old heart felt as though it would give out if it continued to beat at its current rate. He couldn’t get that angered face to leave his mind, and it was dredging up memories he’d longed to forget.

“Dad?”

He was doubting everything again, all his life choices he’d made to this point. He was trying to do better, trying to do what he could to better the lives of those around him, but still he couldn’t find a solution to make everyone happy. If he couldn’t even help this settlement, how could he find a new solution to save both Elysium and Deponia-?

“Dad…”

A small hand laid atop of his own. Hermes stopped fiddling, raising his gaze to Argus. He was sitting on the edge of the examination table, eye swollen closed with blood still dribbling down to stain his now torn shirt. Despite his injuries, his expression remained determined, and his posture was taught, ready for another fight.

“…I don’t believe it’s safe here.”

“What tipped you off?”

Cletus was seated on the floor by the clinic's entrance, similarly ridged with Poisonous in a death grip. His eyes flicked wildly anytime there was a noise.

“It’s okay now, Gizmo is handling the mayor. We’re fine.”

Neither of the boys relaxed. Seeing them like this truly reminded him what they were: children in form, but programmed soldiers, made to serve their purpose to the death. It had been wishful thinking they would break their instilled nature with a bit of civilian life. He rolled the ball of fabric in hand, and it unravelled.

“To remain would be too great of a risk.”

“And where do you suggest we go? Find a hole somewhere?”

They spoke around him. Standard Organon would follow procedure and upper command, but these three had more free thought that conflicted with each other, letting them discuss and plan. He carefully began wrapping Argus’ head, the boy ignoring the action.

“There are other settlements.”

“That are very, very far away. And could potentially be worse than here.”

“A potential threat is better than an imminent threat.”

“A hundred potential threats are MUCH worse than one manageable threat. Besides, you haven’t really proven yourself capable of even defending one little idiot from a threat.”

As Hermes tied off the bandage Argus dropped his head, glancing back at Rufus who was lying behind him. His external injuries were covered, but he was still breathing shallowly. They had to wait for Gizmo before they could find out what internal damage there really was.

“…”

After checking the damage to his boys, Hermes understood what they were talking about. He’d put trust in Seagull, and ignored the man’s shortcomings over the generosity of a home and job, but he knew deep down there would be no forgiveness from the mayor. He would now be a constant antagonist in their lives should the grudge hold, and they’d have to watch their step at every point in town. Perhaps it really was time for them to move on. The only settlements he knew were close to Ascension stations, and therefore Organon bases, but maybe this was a sign he should return and try to convince Ulysses and the Elders once more. The only problem would be what would become of the three-

Rufus groaned, which suddenly became coughing as he stirred. Argus spun to inch closer to his brother, putting his hands down to stop him from trying to sit up. Hermes did similar, though he chose to rest a hand on his head, avoiding the suspected broken bones and bruised organs.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just stay there, don’t move. We’re here.”

The coughing continued, and when he managed to turn his head a trail of spit and blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Hermes grabbed a rag to wipe it away, waiting as seconds ticked by before the coughing subsided into shaky breaths. Argus remained still watching closely, and to Hermes' surprise, Cletus was now standing by the bed too. Finally, Rufus managed to open an eye.

“… ‘s wr-ng ..ur face?”

Cletus snorted, though his shoulders relaxed a little, “Should I fetch a mirror?”

Argus made a shooing motion, but kept his eyes fixed on Rufus, “Can you tell us where you’re hurt?”

Lips twisting into a slight pout, Rufus subjected his family to an agonizingly slow blink, long enough that Hermes almost considered shaking him to check if he was still conscious. Once they were open again, his gaze fell somewhere in the distance.

“…’vrywher-?”

“Very helpful.”

Hermes allowed himself a small smile, glad to hear his son's banter again, but his nerves were still running his heart. They were made to be hardy, but internal injuries were still a potentially fatal thing, and Gizmo was taking longer than he’d hoped. He patted Argus on the shoulder.

“Don’t let him fall unconscious again, best to try to keep him talking. I’m going to find Gizmo.”

Before he could turn a hand grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, while another balled around his trouser leg. The looks of concern he got were both heart-warming and eerie, with even Rufus managing to swing his eyes over. They were probably worried about him coming across Seagull.

“Please, it’s okay to worry about yourselves, I’ll be fine.”

Their looks continued, tiny fists grounding him on the spot. The longer he looked, the more their wide eyes shimmered, flicking to each sibling briefly, and after a long moment it began to dawn that he was wrong.

They were worried about themselves, about each other.

And they were looking to him for guidance, for reassurance as a figure of authority- no, as their guardian.

He’d thought he’d gone soft and was playing the father role well, but it was now clear that wasn’t true. He’d still been Hermes the Engineer this whole time, trying to do his old work in a new environment, still hung up on his past failures, still seeing his creations as things when right now it was clear that they were children; hurt, scared, unsure and looking to the one person who had always been there for them.

He had to realise that he wasn't responsible for the world’s problems; he had his own little world right in front of him.

And he needed to make them his priority right now.

He needed to be their father, first and foremost.

#deponia #rufus #cletus #argus #hermes #kuvaq brothers #deponia au #gizmo #Seagull #TW blood #TW injury #TW child abuse #Aaaaah whump #Mmh this got out of hand so I had to wrap it up #How do I pace things ahhhh #Long post

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bardicious · 2 years

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A Little Angsty Headcanon

Something that's been rolling around in my mind:

Jaskier being triggered by soft shushing noises because that's all Rience did as he was torturing him. Mock comfort complimented with cruel actions. So now Jaskier freezes just a little when he watches Yen or Geralt comfort Ciri. And he doesn't know why, but he blanks out right until someone finally calls his name.

Eventually Geralt and Yennefer become suspicious, but one day when Jaskier is injured during a hunt gone wrong and he's delirious, they find out the hard way just how visceral Jaskier's reaction is to comfort of all things. There's no sweet nothings in his ears anymore, no soothing shushes. Yen and Geralt are dumbstruck, afraid to say anything lest it upset him. So Yen hugs Jaskier first, places his head under her chin and pets his hair, as Geralt holds on to his hand and gently holds it.

Jaskier falls asleep soundly after that, and the next morning Yen and Geralt wake to his familiar jabbering. Jaskier doesn't mention the night before, does not seem to remember it, and he especially doesn't seem to notice his trigger. Yen and Geralt keep to themselves and speculate on whether it's best to confront Jaskier or not. They choose not.

#Jaskier #Yennefer #geralt of rivia #yennskier #gereskier #geraskefer #witcher netflix #rience #jaskier whump #whump #two torture #angst #A Bard A Witch A Witcher And A Witchy Princess #I do love my whump #this headcanon almost turned itself into a fic #I think about this a lot actually #riences shushes are just aaaaah!!!! freaking love #that fake tenderness gives me chills #and the way he talked to Jaskier after - just wow -

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whumpering-heights · 3 years

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Alternate ‘take’ of first chapter

[A/N: I found this first try of the opening chapter of Villain and Hero in my drafts! I completely forgot about it, which is kind of a shame, because I really like this bit. It’s delightfully cruel, and totally something Hero would do. Ah well. Consider it alternate canon, I guess?] Taglist: @octopus-reactivated CW: thirst, withholding water, power play.

This is part of a series, you can find the masterlist by clicking here.

Hero drank the water in large gulps, and Villain’s throat tightened. He saw the water level in the bottle get lower and lower, until it was almost half-empty. The man stopped drinking and sat back with a satisfied sigh. Then he seemingly noticed the look on the villain's face. He held the plastic bottle up. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want some?" Villain thought over his options for a second. He could deny it, maybe make a snarky remark. But what would that accomplish? Nothing, is what. It would end up with him receiving a beating and still being thirsty. No, best to play along. Keep his head down, do as he’s told, and wait until he can escape. He nodded. Hero laughed. "Well, why didn't you say so? Tell you what, ask me politely and you may have what's left." Villain took a breath. Just sit this out, soon he’d be out of here. "May I have some water?" The other man did not respond. Instead, he opened the bottle and took several sips. "You might want to try again properly." The villain looked at the bottle, which was really half-empty now. "May I have some water...please?" A small smile crept around the corners of Hero’s mouth. For a moment, Villain thought he'd done it, but then he took another gulp. Villain stared at his bobbing adam’s apple, as his own throat ached. There was just barely four fingers of water left. Hero sat back in his chair and wiped his mouth. "Who are you talking to? Santa Claus? Try again, and adress me this time." Villain almost didn't want to try again, in case it would lose him some more water. But he needed to try. What would appease this man’s ego without sounding ridiculous or sarcastic? He licked his lips, nervously. "May I please have some water...sir?" The man seemed to ponder this for a moment, casually twirling the bottle around. "Hm, sir...alright, that'll suffice.”

#hero and villain #villain and hero #thirst #my stuff #my writing #villain whump #whump #im currently beating this story with a stick #i have the juicy bits written! I just need to stick the plot together #aaaaah #behind the masks

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whumpyourenemy · 3 years

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Lovers to Enemies (the breakup snippet) - "to think that yesterday I would have died for you, and today all I want is to slit your throat"

A storms into the training room where B skilfully twists and drives a wooden staff through the air. Wrought with fury, A enters the ring behind him and grabs the back of his shirt in her fist. Startled, he turns. The bottom of his chin is met with a cool, steel blade and his chestnut eyes become aware of the wrath beneath hers.

'What are you doing, A?,' his voice is low and wary.

'Drop the staff.' she says roughly, her voice devoid of feeling.

He does as she demands, his eyes on her the whole time, searching.

A removes the dagger from beneath his chin, leaving a droplet of blood running down his neck. She holds it up so that he can see the dragon insignia engraved on the blade, the intricate scaled pattern of the hilt.

'Look familiar, B?'

'Let me explain, I -'

'Shut the fuck up, you dirty, lying bastard,' A cannot hide the hurt in her voice as she says these words. She continues - trying to hide her broken heart with poison tipped words.

'My parents were murdered by someone they trusted, by a blade that was sacred to them. I've been looking - God, YOU KNEW, I'd been looking for this blade for fifteen years.' A is screaming now, tears well up in her eyes and are so close to spilling down her face. B stands there expressionless, just watching as she falls apart.

'So tell me why the fuck I finally find that dagger under YOUR mattress, the morning after I tell you I love you.' A's voice is a hoarse whisper and tears stream down her face.

B looks at her, his lips parted slightly as if he's about to say something. His brows furrow and he reaches out to her waist - hoping with vain hope that if he could just hold her one more time that she'd calm down and let him apologise. A steps back from him.

B's voice cracks slightly as he says, 'I was going to tell you. I just needed to know - '

'Know what? Know that I loved you before you killed me?'

His jaw clenches. It was initially his plan to take everything from her and brutally too. But it was her he hadn't planned on.

'Know that I loved you enough to throw it all away,' B says quietly, eyes shining.

A shakes her head slowly and turns to walk away.

'A.' B calls after her.

She stops in her tracks. Turning her head she says, her voice just above a whisper,

'To think that yesterday I would have died for you and today, all I want is to slit your throat.'

And just like that, she leaves.

#aaaaah #emotional whump #lovers to enemies #it hurts so good #breakup #enemies to lovers #whump #whump prompt #whump fic #hurt #emotional h/c #hurt/comfort #dagger

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bloodsweatandpotato · 3 years

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Whumpay day 15

Alt prompt: Sleep deprivation

Fandom: DHMIS

Characters: Tony (the clock), Harry (red guy)

Tw: Raw meat I guess?

Summary: Harry just wants to sleep.

He slapped Harry’s knuckles, the ruler leaving a red, stinging mark.

Harry’s head jerked up. He jumped in his chair, eyes wide and unfocused, gaze darting about the room.

“There’s a time and a place for sleeping in bed. You missed your time.”

Harry grumbled something, hand massaging his forehead. Grey and purple shadows under his eyes stood out starkly against his caramel skin.

Tony hadn’t been letting him sleep lately, and by lately, Harry meant he hadn’t slept in two days. He hadn’t known there was a ‘bedtime’, and he certainly hadn’t known Tony would ‘enforce’ it.

Harry wondered how long he could go without sleep before he just keeled over... Maybe that would be better than this. This... torture. Maybe he had read something somewhere about how much sleep the human body needed. Maybe. He wondered if he still had that book...

Another slap and Harry jolted back awake.

Tony stared at him with disapproval.

“If you don’t go to bed on time, you don’t go to bed at all.”

“I said sorry... ‘lright?” Harry groaned, fingernails clawing at his knuckles.

A small trickle of blood oozed out of a cut on his hand. Red, stinging welts lined his hand, from his fingertips to the end of his wrist. Harry dully mused that the pain was the only thing keeping him awake enough to be up and talking.

Tony straightened his bow tie, slipping the wooden ruler back in his pocket with a gloved hand. Tony was, of course, as neat and proper as ever. It seems like the clock-turned human didn’t even need sleep.

Harry, on the other hand, was painfully human, and just about ready to collapse from exhaustion.

He stood, wobbling on his feet as the world tilted around him. For as heavy as his head felt, he seemed to be having a hard time keeping it from drifting off.

Harry needed some food, some coffee, anything to try and keep himself from passing out.

Gripping the kitchen table (he had been trying to keep from sitting anywhere comfortable), Harry stumbled his way over to the fridge.

His numb fingers seemed to be too tired to close around the handle, instead limply sliding on the smooth surface. Fingers finally closed around the handle, Harry closed his eyes, feeling the world sway.

“Wake up!” Tony shrieked, his voice shrill and sharp.

Harry’s eyes snapped open, gaze wandering around the kitchen. What was he even doing?

Fridge, right. Harry tightened his grip on the handle and yanked it open with more force than was probably necessary. He slid back, legs giving out from under him.

Harry exhaled sharply in pain, leaning back against the leg of the table.

The refrigerator seemed to glow, the fluorescent light bathing the tiles, the kitchen, and

Harry in sharp, unnatural light. Harry clutched his head in his hands, fingers knotting in his long red hair.

Once his headache died down enough to be ignored, Harry’s gaze lifted to the contents of the fridge.

In some cruel joke, the shelves were filled with chicken. Raw, slimy, pink, blood laced chicken.

Harry felt as if he would be sick. Bile rising in his throat, he squeezed his eyes shut, lurching back from the raw poultry.

Slamming the fridge door shut, he curled up on the floor, tears coming freely now. Maybe it was just the sleep deprivation getting to him, but Harry had never felt so hopeless.

The last thing he felt was the sting of a ruler, before he slipped completely into sleep, curled up on the kitchen floor.

#dhmis harry #dhmis red guy #whumpay2021 #dhmis tony #dhmis #don’t hug me i’m scared #whump fanfiction #whump #funnily enough #i wrote this while sleep deprived #i’m going to sleep #aaaaah #don’t hug me you’re not real

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