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whumpsday · 2 years

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Kane & Jim #E1: Crunch

~ Whumpmas in July Day 9: Falling ~

Masterlist

content: child in danger (unharmed), vampire whumpee, mild gore, begging, fluff, hurt/comfort

my first epilogue piece! the advantage of a non-chronological story is i can do whatever i want, including posting epilogue chapters while the story’s still in progress.

takes place 8 years after the beginning of the present arc.

Kane had never been the outdoorsy type, but Liz was the most outdoorsy person he knew. Jim would often accompany Liz’s family on hikes, usually during the day. Jim was okay going out at night now, so long as he wasn’t alone, but he still felt safer during daylight.

Tonight was different. Tonight, they would be setting out at sundown, so Kane could join in. He was a little nervous, to be honest. Liz was always friendly toward him, but there was an air of tension whenever Billy was around. It was obvious she didn’t like having a vampire around her child. Kane tried his best to respect that, keeping his distance whenever possible. It wasn’t hard: Liz had only ever allowed him around the boy a handful of times in the three years since his birth.

But tonight, Billy would be in attendance. Laken wasn’t even coming along, the early bird that they had become since retiring from being a hunter, but Billy had reportedly thrown a tantrum about not being invited until Liz and Laken gave in.

Kane wasn’t great with children, always just felt awkward whenever he interacted with the boy. He was an uncle a dozen times over, something that tends to happen when you have six older siblings, but most of his nieces and nephews were hundreds of years older than him, and he hadn’t even met most of the younger ones.

They were meeting Liz and Billy there. Kane nervously fiddled with his backpack- it was Jim’s really, and mainly contained the supplies for Jim to cook the humans’ late dinner, but he’d offered to carry it. It weighed practically nothing to him.

“You ready to go?” Jim asked, a big smile on his face. For once he wasn’t wearing a turtleneck, finding it too restrictive to hike in, the twin scars on his neck out in the open.

“Mm-hm.” Kane confirmed, continuing to anxiously re-adjust the straps.

“Hey, you’re gonna love it.” Jim insisted. “I’ve done this trail once before, the view from up there is fantastic. It’s a full moon tonight, too. The only thing I ever get a problem with on these is getting too exhausted, or goddamn bug bites, and you don’t have to worry about either of those. Fuck, I’m still gonna be the only one out of breath, since Liz is a beast and she’ll be carrying Billy.”

Kane grinned. “I can carry you if you need me to.”

“Oh, ha ha, laugh it up.” Jim rolled his eyes. “Don’t complain if I end up taking you up on that.”

Kane laughed. “I won’t.” He was still nervous, but he was already feeling a little more at-ease. It was going to be fine. Jim would be there the whole time.

“What’s got you so antsy, anyway?” Jim asked, too good at picking up on Kane’s moods.

“Liz gets... tense whenever I’m around her child.” Kane admitted. “I don’t want to make things uncomfortable.”

“If Liz didn’t wanna bring Billy, she wouldn’t have. She knows how to say no to a three-year-old. Don’t worry about it.” Jim waved his concern away.

“Okay. Yes, you’re right.” Kane agreed.

Liz was cagey as usual, but still polite and friendly. She seemed genuinely excited to share her hobby with him, and had re-introduced him to her child.

“Do you remember Uncle Jim’s friend, Billy? This is Kane, remember?”

“He has big teeth!” Billy declared.

“Yes.” Kane replied awkwardly, suddenly shy about his fangs.

It was a beautiful night on the trail, the moon bright and round. Kane adored the early night’s sky, bringing safety from the sun. Jim was right. He did love this.

Kane was able to add something to the experience, too. He could see better in the dark than the humans could, had superior hearing and smell. Everyone, especially the child, was particularly delighted when he pointed out a deer they would have somehow missed- its presence was obvious to him, but apparently not to a human.

Other than the the glee when Kane pointed something out on the trail, Billy mostly ignored him in favor of the two adults he knew better, eventually falling asleep while Liz carried him.

“Ugh.” Jim complained. “This one’s so long. How much farther?”

“We’re almost there, quit whining.” Liz answered.

“Give me a break, I’m the oldest one here. How are you totally fine when you’re carrying a whole kid?”

“I’m more than eighty years older than you.” Kane interrupted, slowing his pace to match his friend.

“That doesn’t count, you goddamn spring chicken.” Jim retorted. “You know what, fuck it. I’m cashing that promise. Carry me.”

“Language.” Liz chastised.

“Pssh, he’s literally out cold. And a little cursing never hurt you when you were a kid.” Jim waved her off as Kane easily scooped him up in his arms.

Liz chuckled. “I cannot believe you right now. Looks like we’re both carrying babies, Kane. Mine cries less.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Jim said, but his smile betrayed him. Kane laughed.

They arrived soon enough at the peak, a clearing in the wooded area overlooking a cliff. Kane set Jim down and handed him the pack, Liz waking her child up for food.

Kane approached the edge of the cliff. He could see a flat, rocky area directly down below, as well as the wooded beginning of the trail a little further. The land seemed to stretch on forever under the starry sky.

“You were right, Jim. This is beautiful.” Kane said, dazzled.

“Told ya.” Jim agreed through a mouthful of human food.

The four of them sat around, chatting idly while they enjoyed the night. Billy got bored with the adults’ conversation, wandering around nearby.

The boy suddenly ran for the cliff and looked over in wonder before turning his head back around. “Mommy, we’re so far up!” he squealed in delight.

“Billy, get away from the edge!” Liz chastised urgently as she ran in a beeline for the boy.

Perhaps it was the sudden seriousness of his mother’s voice, or the way she was running at him, but for some reason, the child took a couple of steps back. His uncoordinated little feet tripped over a rock.

The child disappeared over the edge.

“NO!” Liz screamed, seemingly loud enough to shatter glass. It was a sound more full of anguish than anything Kane had ever heard in his life.

Kane didn’t even stop to think.

He ran as fast as he could, following Billy off the cliff. The fact that he’d propelled himself allowed him to catch up to the boy quickly, wrapping him in his arms.

The child was screaming. Kane quickly positioned himself under him, his back facing the quickly-approaching ground, and pushed up. The boy seemed to still in the air for a moment.

Crunch.

Kane’s back hit the ground and his entire body exploded with pain, only intensified when Billy landed on top of him with a thud a second later, still wailing.

He couldn’t move. Not an arm, not a leg, not his head. Everything was broken and everything hurt. His breathing was labored and ragged, the distantly familiar feeling of something piercing his lung greeting him. The back of his head hurt the worst, where it’d hit the ground.

Someone was screaming something. The voice was familiar, too. They were too far away for Kane to make out the words.

Kane hadn’t been in this much pain since- since-

No, he wasn’t there. He was out. He’d been out for years.

He could see the cruel grin of a hunter looming over him. He couldn’t move. He was strapped to the board.

No, he could hear a child crying. There were no crying children in the hunters’ compound. The only one who cried here was Kane.

Billy. It was Billy, Liz’s son, he remembered. Kane couldn’t move his head, and one of his eyes saw only the dark red of his own blood. He focused the other to his right, where the boy sat bawling. He appeared to have no major injuries.

Kane’s own body was a different story, he discovered when he looked down at himself. There was so much blood. Everything was bent wrong. He couldn’t look at it for more than a second.

The agony was all-consuming. It was not the worst he had ever felt, nothing held a candle to the sun’s wrath. But that didn’t matter. The sun wasn’t here right now, this pain was.

He needed it to stop. He needed them to stop, please stop, no more. He attempted to beg the hunters for mercy, but no words came out. Something was in his lung.

Time seemed meaningless through the haze of pain, but eventually he saw Liz, running past him to her child. She was followed shortly by Jim, who knelt at Kane’s side.

“H-hey man, you’re gonna be okay.” Jim’s voice was shaky and fearful as he reached out to brush Kane’s hair out of his face.

Jim. Jim was safety. Jim would help him. Jim would save him from the hunters. Kane looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Please. He mouthed.

Jim was crying, Kane noticed. “I know, buddy. You’re gonna be fine, I promise. I promise. Everything’s gonna be alright.” He turned to the side. “Liz, how’s Billy?”

“He’s okay.” Liz breathed, hugging him tight. She was crying too, even more than Jim was. The boy was still screaming in his mother’s arms.

“Thank god.” Jim sounded relieved. Kane was relieved too. The child was safe. Wait, he was confused. Wasn’t he with the hunters?

Liz locked eyes with Kane, looking like she was seeing him for the first time, her face streaked with tears. “Thank you.” she said emphatically.

Kane couldn’t respond. He couldn’t do anything.

Please make it stop. It hurts.

“Shit, Liz, how are we gonna get him home?” Jim asked.

Home. Home was good. Yes, please take him home.

Liz was still trying to soothe her son, holding him to her shoulder, facing him away from Kane. Her brows furrowed in concern. “Hmm... Ideally we could just wait for him to heal enough to be able to move him safely, but the sun would come up before then.”

Kane felt panic spike inside him. Please, the hunters couldn’t leave him in the sun like this. He couldn’t take it.

Please no, he mouthed. A weak whine managed to escape from his mangled body.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Kane. No one’s leaving you in the sun.” Jim assured. Kane relaxed slightly at the words. Jim was always right about these things.

“I think…” Liz continued, “We need to knock him out first. Otherwise it’s going to be pretty bad, in terms of pain.”

No more pain. He couldn’t do any more pain, not more than this.

“How?” Jim asked.

“I’ve got it. Here, take Billy. Don’t let him look.”

“Alright. Be careful with Kane, okay? I don’t think he’s a hundred percent… here.”

Kane felt fear rise in him as Jim left his side to take the crying child. He needed Jim. Jim was safe.

Liz knelt in his place. “Thank you. Thank you for saving my son. I know you’re in a lot of pain right now. This is gonna look scary, but I’m just gonna knock you out because it’d hurt too much to move you otherwise.”

She pulled her silver knife from her belt.

Kane whined as loud as he could, which wasn’t very much.

Please no. Please. I’ll be good. he mouthed desperately, his eyes full of fear.

The familiar-looking hunter looked sad. “I’m not going to hurt you, Kane. I’m just gonna make you go to sleep, okay? You’re… safe.”

Kane didn’t understand. Nothing was making sense. Where was he? The hunter moved the silver to the back of his head and Kane tried to thrash, to get away, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t take the burning on top of this, please.

For a fraction of a second, the gaping hole in his skull ignited in searing agony.

And then everything went dark.

Kane awoke to a world of pain.

He whined as he brought his hand to his head, feeling like his brain was pulsating out of his skull. His entire body hurt, especially his back and head.

“Hello, love. How are you feeling?” Bellamy asked.

“Urrrgh.” Kane groaned.

“Yes, that’s about what I’d expected.”

Kane blinked open his eyes blearily. He was in his bed, down in the basement at home. Safe.

Bellamy carded his hand through Kane’s hair. The motion felt nice, soothing, familiar. Despite the pain, Kane felt himself start to relax.

“I’m told you took quite the fall.” Bellamy continued. “I came as fast as I could. That was a very brave thing you did.”

“Wha’happen?” Kane asked sleepily.

“Oh, dear. Jim could surely explain better than I could, given that he was present. I can go fetch him right now, if you’d like. He’s right upstairs.” Bellamy’s voice was soft and gentle. Kane liked that.

“Jim.” Kane repeated.

“Alright. One moment, then.” Bellamy pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before standing up, the hand that had been petting his hair sticky with congealed blood.

Bellamy dashed up the stairs, returning a moment later just as he’d said, Jim in tow.

This was good. He couldn’t be safer than he was with Jim and Bellamy both here.

“Hey, bud. How you feeling?” Jim asked.

“He said he was feeling ‘urrrgh’.” Bellamy supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, looks about ‘urrrgh’.” Jim confirmed.

Kane tried to nod his head, stopping abruptly with a little cry as the pain increased tenfold.

“Don’t move like that, you’re pretty banged-up.” Jim said. “Bel, you got the thing?”

“I do in fact.” Bellamy pressed a pouch of blood into Kane’s hands, and he suddenly realized he was so hungry. The hunger scared him, and he sunk his fangs in immediately, sucking up all the sweet blood inside while Bellamy gently rubbed his shoulder. As he always did with the disposable packages Bellamy brought, he ripped it open and licked up every remnant sticking to the plastic, unwilling to let a single drop go to waste.

“Yeah, you’ve been out for a day, missed a meal.” Jim informed him. “You healed all the worst stuff while you were sleeping, though. You looked like spaghetti and meatballs with a lotta tomato sauce when we brought you home, but you only look a little out of sorts now.”

Kane knew spaghetti and tomato sauce, Jim made those with frequency. “What are meatballs?”

“Don’t worry about it. Point is, you’re already a lot better and you’ll probably be all the way better by the end of the day. You’re alright.” Jim said.

“Thank you.” Kane appreciated the assurance. He still half-expected his healing to be slowed like it was with the hunters, despite being fully fed. He hadn’t experienced too much of his normal healing in the years since, at least not with anything serious.

The knowing it would go away soon bled the last bit of tension from him. He was going to be okay. Looking back and forth at Jim and Bellamy, Kane knew he was loved.

edit: BONUS CONTENT AVAILABLE HERE! jim’s pov!!

don’t worry about physics inaccuracies because i sure didn’t

SORRY SORRY I KNOW i keep uploading everything except ch 26. IT IS COMING. i swear.

check out these other two things i also wrote for whumpmas in july hehe

Lost at Sea

Numbers Game

@whumpmasinjuly

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#kane and jim #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #comfort #hurt/comfort #wij2022 #whumpmasinjuly #vampire whump #whump writing

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whump-collector · 10 months

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Mark Waschke as Robert Karow in Tatort: Meta

For whumpmasinjuly Day 3: Creation Prompt - Stitches & Bandages

#whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day3 #whumpedit #tatort #tatort berlin #whump #mark waschke #robert karow #blood #cut #mine #whumpmasinjuly

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set-phasers-to-whump · 2 years

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me every single time i write cpr

#whumpmasinjuly #whump humor #whump meme #i say things #cpr keeps blood flowing to the brain and often it takes a while for people to wake up at the hospital #also the chances of survival are super low if you require cpr outside of a hospital setting #but for the drama and aesthetique of it all cpr works exactly the way i want it to all of the time

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verkja · 10 months

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Day 7: Favourite whump stories

I have a list of recommended stories; most of my favourites are on there!

But in addition, because I've linked that list before... Here are five ongoing stories I've been reading and enjoying recently (though I'm not caught up on all of them):

Hamster Interactive Story by @whumpinthepot

G/t whump is hit-or-miss for me, but this one's definitely a hit, and a lot of fun. It's an illustrated(!) CYOA; most of the whump so far has been environmental, which I enjoy.

Author's intro: Hamster is a palm sized girl who is kept as a pet by a bubbly human named Ashley. Ashley is often at work during the day, leaving Hamster in her small cage for hours at a time with very little to do. Hamster gets lonely while Ashley’s gone, and wishes she could meet someone her own size so they can become real friends. Little does she know, someone is already watching her from inside the house.

Immortal Cannon Fodder by @pigeonwhumps

Immortal whump is always a good time (well - not for the characters), and this is no exception. Great team dynamics and tentative friendships.

Author's intro: Phoenix, an immortal hero, joins a team that hurts them and uses them as cannon fodder. But their teammates are only doing what's necessary to help them all survive. Phoenix's regular sacrifices are necessary. And it's not like they've got anywhere else to go anyway.

It takes the arrival of Kai, a wolf-shifter and telekinetic, to help them see what's going on. But a friendship and a promised eventual transfer can't fix everything.

Karita by @galaxywhump

Another, and different, take on immortal whump - here, it's less about a character's immortality enabling severe suffering of various sorts, and more about the immortality itself causing pain. Not that there isn't other unpleasantness going on too. :')

Nightmare's Shadow by @lilac-whump

D&D-inspired fantasy whump is always close to my heart, and this quest for freedom and vengeance is a blast to read.

Author's intro: Inrissa is a tiefling who was enslaved from childhood, then escaped and killed her captors to embark on a quest to get her enchanted collar removed and kill the smith who forged it. Contains emotional whump, torture, slavery, dehumanization, betrayals, and death.

Oasis by @theres-whump-in-that-nebula

I'm not entirely sure what genre this best belongs in, but it has a dreamy, somewhat surreal atmosphere with a slowly building sense of Wrongness. Excellent descriptions of the environment, and from a perspective I rarely encounter on here - first person.

Author's intro: A person finds themselves transported to a beautiful, but strange world. Written in diary format.

#whumpmasinjuly #whumpmasinjuly2023 #WiJ23 #WiJ23day7 #alt text #whump recommendation #long post

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years

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The Same Bed: Lost (And Found)

CW: Trauma recovery, healing internal and external injuries, references to noncon and choking, brief suicide mentions at the beginning, references to past pet whump, consensual spice between survivors, brief masochism funtimes

(using the “Lost” prompt for @whumpmasinjuly day 2 for this! Loosely interpreted, but still...)

“Hey.” Jake drops the stack of folders, stuffed with paperwork, onto the table. “I brought these by for you to look over. I think I have it all taken care of, though.”

“Cool.” Jenna doesn’t look at him, sitting with her chin in her hand, watching a TV in the corner. Jake follows her gaze to see the chyron running along the bottom of the screen, a news anchor talking animatedly. The volume is so low he can’t hear it, but the subtitles are on.

NOTED FORMER CHILD STAR OWEN GRANT FOUND DEAD IN APPARENT SUICIDE…

Jake takes a seat across the table. “Suicide? That’s what they went with?”

“That’s what I paid the coroner to go with, yeah,” Jenna says, leaning forwards a little. She’s cut her hair short, to her chin. It suits her. “Figured it’d be better to have open-and-close suicide case then a bunch of cops looking for a murderer they’re not gonna find. Cops hate that shit, but they love getting to wash their hands of something and say it’s not their problem. And that Grant asshole doesn’t have any living relatives to push for it to be a crime, right?”

“Right. He just had his mom, some distant cousins that hated him as much as everyone else did.”

“Good. Yeah, the coroner’s going to find that Owen went a little off the rails after losing his mom. It’s believable.”

“Yeah. He definitely went off the rails, anyway.” Jake hesitates, and then offers, reluctantly, “Thanks, Jenna. For your help. I know how you feel about Kauri-”

“You know how I felt about Kauri,” She answers breezily. She sits up, then, pulling one of the folders in front of her, opening it up and looking over what she sees inside. “It’s been years, Jake. He’s not who he was then, and neither am I. Plus, I don’t like the idea of people fucking with us after we’ve started to really get better. It wasn’t that big of an ask.”

“Jenna.” Jake barks out a laugh. “I asked you to drive around with a dead body in the trunk to help Antoni get rid of it, that's not a small ask!”

“It is,” Jenna says, almost primly, “When I don’t mind doing it. I didn’t mind following him to make sure he went to that house like we thought he would, and I didn’t mind helping Antoni out with the body. Besides, I used Vincent Shield’s money to bribe a coroner to say Owen Grant is dead by his own hand, you can’t tell me that’s not some poetic fucking shit right there.” She sighs, looking over at him. “You can always ask me for help, Jake.”

“Can I? Since goddamn when? You’ve been calling Kauri a whore for a decade-”

“Nah, I haven’t done that in a while. Since I decided to stop like five years ago. Since, you know, I realized… I was just taking out on him what I wanted to say to the other pet in the house I ran from.” Jenna sets the file down again. A frightened young woman’s face looks back up from a printed out copy of stolen WRU records. Someone new to hunt for, someone listed as ‘assisted walk-in’, an abduction in flowery language. Someone they can save and if they make it public, WRU can’t try to take them back without running afoul of the law again.

“Jenna, I don’t-... I don’t understand-”

“People change. I changed. Just… let me have changed, Jake. I was scared, and pissed off, and just… lost… for years. I was angry at her for nearly getting me killed, and Kauri reminded me of her, so I took it out on him. But, years back, that little one, uh, your brother-”

“Chris.”

“Right. Years back, Kauri called me for help with him. And I helped, because I’m not a complete asshole, just like seventy percent of one, and after that… I don’t know. Kauri really stepped up for that kid, and I could see how scared he was. Kauri and I are never going to like each other, but that doesn’t mean he’s not one of us.”

“Well… yeah, okay. Thanks. I won’t push you on it anymore.”

“Welcome. And thanks. Congratulations on the marriage, by the way.” She waved at the ring on Jake’s finger. “Good fucking luck with that. Marrying two people sounds way worse than marrying just one.”

“Nah.” Jake shrugs, and opens a file himself. He circles what he sees - ‘referred by foster mother, assisted walk-in’. “It’s way, way better. They’re pretty cool to be married to.”

“If you say so. No marriage for me, thanks. Too much like being kept all over again.”

“That’s fair. Live the life you want to live, right?”

“Right.” She smiles, then, looking around the little kitchen in the small brick ranch she lives in. “Damn straight. Live the life you want to live, all yours, on your own damn terms. Okay, so I say we start with this one, she’s part of a bonded pair. We can get them both.”

“Where are they located?”

“That’s the best part. They’re handler’s pets. They’re local.” Jenna grins at him, sparkling and full of mischief. “Ready to break into a handler’s house and fuck some shit up?”

Jake can’t stop himself from laughing. “Clearly not as ready as you are.”

“... so yes or no?”

“Yeah, Jenna. Let’s do it. Let’s plan a raid.”

“Cool. So how do you feel about setting his house on fire?”

“... I might know someone who can help us with that.”

“She’s said sorry like seven fucking times.” Jameson lays on his side on his bed, his back pressed to the wall. “If she says it again, I might lose my goddamn mind, Allyn.”

“She just feels bad.” Allyn smiles at him, laying a hand against the side of his face, their thumb rubbing over his cheekbone, over a small scar. He shudders, closing his eyes as sparks seem to light and dance down his skin, buzzing just under the surface. When they move their hand away, he can still feel the weight of it, the ghost of pleasure.

“I know, but I already told her, I don’t mind hurting for her. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t even that bad, I’ve been hurt worse than that!”

Between them on the bed Trash Cat lays curled in a contented little ball, eyes closed. Her ear flicks whenever Jameson speaks, as if listening to him, keeping track of the emotion in his voice. Reading it for potential trouble.

“But she never wants to hurt you. She never wants to hurt anybody. I get it.” Allyn’s hair falls in loose red waves over shoulder and neck and lays against their face. He tucks a little of it behind their ear, watching their freckles shift as they smile at him, flashing white teeth against pink lips, sparkling gray-blue eyes.

He listens to their voice, tastes the rainshower that comes with it.

“I don’t mind hurting,” He repeats, but softer this time. “If it’s the right person hurting me.” There’s an unmistakable flirtation in his voice, then, although it’s tentative. He’s never sure how to start this, now that he isn’t having to guess at a master or owner’s mood, read the tension in the air and break it down by handing his body over to the whip and the cane until they are both bonelessly satisfied.

No, this is… something else.

Something honest.

Something equal.

If Allyn hurts him, he knows, it will be because he asked to be hurt. Not because it’s his place. The idea feels like wandering in a new landscape. Touching unfamiliar trees that at least still have bark and leaves, but wondering at colors and shapes he’s never seen. Lost, even with map in hand, because the place he is in is so like but not at all the same as the world he knows.

Jameson shifts forwards, as best he can, back curving a little so he can kiss them. Their lips are warm and soft and his own are a little rough and chapped. For a second they go still, and then they’re kissing him back. It’s perfect, at first, too perfect, and then both of them drop the instinctive training and the kiss goes clumsy and they both laugh as they bump teeth.

Trash Cat chirps, lifting her head to look back at them, and then slowly stands up. She stretches in a perfect arch before stalking down to the end of the bed.

“She’s giving us our space,” Allyn whispers against Jameson’s lips, and giggles. The sound of their laughter sends warmth down his spine, and he moves closer, until they’re touching from collarbone to knees, even their feet twining together. His bandaged hand moves slowly up their side, feeling the slight curve, nearly an angle, from narrow waist to larger ribcage. His thumb is so, so close to their chest, and they inhale in a soft hitch.

“She just doesn’t want me to push her off the fucking bed in a minute,” Jameson answers, a little breathy, and he hates his hoarse voice - can remember he had a normal voice, with Nanda, before Brute and Robert made him scream until it was gone over and over until it stopped coming all the way back.

“Can I-... can I try something?” Allyn asks in a whisper, and when Jameson nods, they give a little smile and reach up, taking his hand from their face and holding it in their own. Their soft sotto voice is like subtle droplets on Jameson’s tongue, a burst of the way the air taste just before it really starts to rain. He watches them, meeting their eyes with his own, as their thumb settles just over the center of his palm. Beneath that, a healing cut, where Nat had jammed a GPS tracker as deep as she could get.

And Jameson hadn’t screamed.

He knew how to hurt.

“Can I push down?” Allyn’s eyes search his. “While I kiss you, can I… push down on the cut a little bit?”

His mouth goes dry. Jameson’s body is a lightning rod, and he stares at the storm and wants to beg for the roll of thunder that follows the strike. He nods, a little jerk of his chin. “Yes,” He breathes.

Their lips are on his own, again, opening to slide their tongue against his, and he hums into the kiss, pressing his body to theirs. Warmth stirs deep in his stomach, his body waking up, answering the firmness of their kiss.

Then they press down, pain racing down Jameson’s arm and into his body, and he moans, unmistakable and louder than he means to be. He’s rolled onto his back with Allyn pressing into his hips before he can think, and Allyn’s mouth is on his neck, teeth bearing down on soft skin as they roll their own hips against his, and he moans again.

The front door closes, muffled downstairs.

Allyn pulls back, startled. Then they burst out laughing, leaning over until their forehead touches Jameson’s. “Oh, no, I forgot she was home.”

Jameson breathes in soft gasps, and laughs, too. He tips his head back, baring his neck. The place they were biting is cold where air and the remnants of drying saliva meet. “She’s not home anymore,” He offers.

Allyn leans down to bite again, and presses their thumb into his hand at the same time.

“I love this,” Jameson groans, eyes fluttering closed. His hips move to meet theirs right through their clothes. It doesn’t occur to either of them to take them off… not yet. “I love, love this-”

“I love it, too,” Allyn murmurs, nipping at his earlobe.

Neither of them says what they really mean. Both of them have loved men who could never fully love them in return. Both of them know the words have always been hollow. But both of them think it, if not consciously, then with every inch of skin where they touch.

I love you.

“Antoni.” Kauri’s voice, still hoarse as he heals from the hands that had tried to choke the life from him, is laced with a kind of affectionate irritation. “I don’t need it.”

“You do.” Antoni sets the mug down on the side table next to the bed. The tea within is faintly pink, see through, not marked with milk. Kauri can look down into it and see, a little muddied, the image of a cat face painted on the bottom. He sighs and looks up at Antoni, whose eyebrows raise. “You do,” He repeats. “Tea is good for sore throat.”

“Yeah, for like… when you have strep or the flu or some shit,” Kauri groans, but he pushes himself slowly up to seated, back cushioned by approximately eleven million pillows Jake and Antoni have both insisted on keeping near him at all times. Not that it isn’t really, really nice to have one to sit on when he leaves the bed and ends up in a chair like a dumbass. “I was choked, Ant, it’s not the same. Not even the first time I’ve been choked. Not even just Owen! There was this one guy I went home with once…” He smiles, but the laugh dies in his throat before it comes out as he meets Antoni’s dark eyes.

“I remember,” Antoni says. “I remember that night.”

“Of course you do.” Kauri sighs, and pats the bed beside him. Antoni sits, just at the edge, as if he might flee at any second. Like he wants to run from the pain still marking Kauri’s skin.

Kauri leans over, and places a hand over his. Long fingers that have been slightly cool for so long are warm from too much tea and time under the covers. His ring glimmers in the light, back on his finger where he plans to never ever take it off again. It overlays Antoni’s own.

“Ant,” He says, softly. “For the thousandth time. It isn’t your fault. I knew what might happen when I went into that room. I was… I was ready for it.”

I was ready to die.

“I should have been inside faster,” Antoni says, and he leans slowly over until his head rests on Kauri’s shoulder. The soft, messy nearly-black hair tickles Kauri’s cheek and he smiles, pulling Antoni’s hand to his mouth to kiss his knuckles, gently, one by one. Bruised knuckles, torn and bloodied the night of the rescue, now healed but still scarred. “The fight with the other one was not supposed to take so long. We had a plan, and we nearly-... you could have been dead-”

“I’m right here,” Kauri says, voice low. He turns and breathes deep. Antoni’s hair smells like tea-tree and mint shampoo, and there’s always something of a kitchen around him. Smells like flour and baking things and sweetness. “I’m right here, Ant. I am alive, I’m right here, look, I feel like a flip flop left out in the mud but I’m here.”

“If not for Vince-”

“Then you would have saved him.” Kauri smiles, and he keeps that smile in his voice. “And that’d be something, wouldn’t it? Secret runaway pet saves multi-millionaire movie star…”

“It would not matter. It would be nothing, if Jasha and I lost you.”

“You would still have had each other-”

“It would be nothing. You are the… the piece of puzzle that holds two others together. You are color, we have none without you.”

“Bullshit.” Kauri’s smile widens, though, and he flushes a little at the praise, at being told he is needed. Not just needed but wanted. That, at least, he’s never quite lost, and he wonders if that was inherent in Liam Harker, the man who once walked around in his skin. What parts of him have survived within Kauri?

Maybe just a need to be loved, and wanted, and needed.

Maybe Liam had that, too.

“Kasha, I love you,” Antoni whispers. It’s hard for him to say the words. Kauri kisses his forehead. Then the tip of his nose.

He pulls back. “I love you, too, Ant. You and Jake and I… we’re forever.” They sit in silence for a few minutes. In the background, a soap opera plays, which both of them are entirely ignoring. Then Kauri says, softly, “Antoni… will you go get my phone? I forgot it in the bathroom and I don’t think I have the energy to go get it on my own just yet.”

Antoni stands, retrieving the phone where it lays on the bathroom counter. When he comes back, he climbs right into the bed, lying on his side under the blankets, near to Kauri without quite touching him. Kauri doesn’t push, this time.

Antoni offers touch, when he wants it.

“I’ve been thinking,” Kauri says, taking it and tapping idly on the screen, listening to his fingernail click against the shining black. “About a lot. Since I, uh, didn’t die. Lots of time to think when your partners won’t let you leave the fucking bed.”

“Mmhmm.” Antoni doesn’t take the bait, but he smiles a little, pleased with himself. “What do you think about?”

“I think I should call my mom.” Kauri says it all in a rush. He barely gets the words out, even so. The old drumbeat begging him to run from what’s behind him is still so strong, it nearly drowns him out inside his own mind. But he clings to this thought, because he needs Antoni to either encourage him or talk him out of it. “Well, Liam’s mom. I was thinking, if I had died… she’d been trying to get ahold of me, but what if I died and like, she found out Liam was alive and then I got his body killed anyway? Before she could see him?”

“You are Liam, Kasha,” Antoni says. He watches Kauri with inscrutable eyes, looking up at him from where he lays propped up on one elbow.

“Yeah, but… what if I’m too different, and she hates me for stealing him? What if she thinks Liam is lost, and Kauri is what came back from the dead?”

“You cannot do this,” Antoni says, shaking his head. “Steal him. WRU stole, and he is not lost. You are him. I think it is a good idea to call your mother.”

“But… what if she hates me?”

“Then you never speak to her again, and she can go fuck herself.” Kauri’s eyebrows nearly raise to his hairline, and Antoni laughs, low and soft and deep. ‘What? You think I can’t swear?” He takes Kauri’s hand, and presses warm lips to the back, right in the middle of blood vessels and nerve-endings, making Kauri shiver pleasantly. “Call her. Kauri Grant is brave, and strong-” He kissed again. “Smart, and good. I think that Liam Harker would like this Kauri Grant. So I think Liam Harker’s mother will like Kauri Grant as well.”

Kauri swallows. “Are you-... are you sure about that? I’ve done some pretty seriously fucked-up shit to this body, Ant. Remember when I spent like a month straight on ecstasy?”

“I do, yes.”

“Plus, there have been, like, seven orgies…”

“Sssshhh. Kasha. Listen to me. She will love you. She loves you already, she is Liam’s mama and that means yours. And also… it will probably help if you do not talk to her about the orgies.”

“Right, right, keep a lid on the orgy talk. Got it.”

“Oh, one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t talk to me about the orgies, either.”

Laughing hurts, but Kauri discovers that once he starts, he can’t quite make himself stop.

“And… and, and then they… laugh at me.” Chris sits with his knees pulled to his chest, the heels of his feet just barely balanced on the edge of the chair, arms wrapped tightly around his calves. He won’t look at everyone else, keeping his chin tipped down so the shimmering light purple of his hair hides his green eyes. “And, and, and say, um, you-you wanted me to, and when I, um, when I say I, I, I-I didn’t, they, they, they… get angry.”

He has a silicone feather pendant on a small cord stuck in the corner of his mouth, slightly muffling his speech.

“They say then, um, then why did you you you sign up? Like… like they, they don’t already know that, um, that I didn’t, and… and then they, they say, let’s go again, and I start… I, I, I start crying, because, because they sound just, um, just like… like my-... like him. And they, um, they put me on my, my my my my, my, my… on… on m-my… stomach…”

There are tears in Chris’s eyes, running down his cheeks, but no one moves. No one speaks. Not yet.

“And, and, and then… I wake up.”

There’s a breath of silence, and then a man to the left of Chris leans towards him, putting a hand to his back. “I have dreams like that, too.”

Chris looks over at him, resting his head on his knees. His eyes are red-rimmed, wreathed in shadows. “You, you do?”

“Yeah. I’ve been married for, like, what, three years now?” The man gives Chris an encouraging, soft smile, rubbing at his back a little. “And free for ten. And I still, sometimes, I wake up just gasping for air because I remember how it felt. And sometimes I dream that my wife is the one hurting me like he did. Probably-... probably all of us have nightmares, right?”

He looks to the rest of the group of twelve, seated in a circle of folding chairs in a small side room in a community building they rent for these meetings. The others, men and women from their early twenties through their late forties, all nod.

“It just… it goes with getting better, is that-” The man’s eyes flicker to the therapist ostensibly in charge of this meeting. Dr. Francis just nods, gesturing with one hand for the man to continue. He has a cup of bad, bitter decaf coffee in his hands, slowly warming the styrofoam cup, with powdered creamer stirred in and bits still floating a little on the top, refusing to fully dissolve. “That your brain doesn’t always know that you’re safe. And nightmares are just… how your mind tries to, to put together the two parts of your life.”

“It’d… it’d be, be, be be-be nice if it could, um, could do that some other way,” Chris mutters, and there’s a scattering of soft laughter, kind and well-meaning, from everyone else.

“It would be,” The man says, and gives Chris a final pat on the back before sitting back. “But that’s not really how brains work.”

Dr. Francis clears his throat. “Isaac is correct,” He says, and moves to take his own seat, sipping his coffee and steadfastly making no expression at the awful taste. “It is, indeed, more common than not to have nightmares, and for many those nightmares can last for years. But they are just that - nightmares. They are your minds working inside of you to put together a life of subjugation with one of freedom, and struggling to reconcile the details. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t doing that. It’s only that our brains must adapt in order to survive at a lightning speed. But… it takes so much longer, doesn’t it, for our brains to realize those adaptations are no longer necessary.”

More nods from everyone around the circle.

“It… it, it does help,” Chris offers, without uncurling himself. “To know everyone else, um, does, does those dreams, too, that it it it doesn’t… they wouldn’t ever, um, hurt me… they wouldn’t.”

Dr. Francis nods. “But someone did. And our bodies and minds catalog those hurts, and hold on, because they are trying to prepare you for that pain to start again. Your body is trying, as hard as it can, to keep you safe. Let’s take a moment to close our eyes, and just-... you can do this silently, everyone - just say thank you to your body for keeping you alive, and safe, to get this far. Just a quick thank-you. All that fear and pain, that was adapting to survive. Let’s thank our bodies for those adaptations.”

There’s another silence, heads bowed and eyes closed. It looks like a prayer. Some of their lips even move, but no one here is thanking God, not really. Instead, they’re whispering a prayer of thanks to nerves and bone and blood that bruised and broke and sent screaming pain signals to brain cells that rearranged, rerouted, made new pathways of survival where none had previously existed. They are giving their gratitude to lungs that fought to expand even with hands around their throat, to a heart that refused to stop beating even as it broke again and again, to hands that slapped and punched, feet that kicked out, lips and tongue that held desperately to the memory of words they weren’t supposed to say.

Words like fuck you and I don’t want this and stop touching me.

Words like we did not sign up for this.

Words like no.

Dr. Francis ends the moment of silence by clearing his throat again. Some of the men and women in the circle have glimmering eyes when they look back up, rubbing just under them in ways they think are subtle, but which everyone recognizes and no one remarks on.

“Now,” Dr. Francis says, “We have someone new here tonight, and he would like to tell his story. Would it be all right if I call him in? Remember that there is no wrong answer here. And he won’t be listening to any of your stories, just telling his own.”

Some of the group meet eyes, and then they look back to the doctor and nod. Some carefully, others more enthusiastically. A few even smile, kind and soft, agreeable.

The doctor stands and steps out of the room.

“It’s the guy who came with you, right?” A woman asks Chris, and he nods without uncurling, chewing on the silicone feather. He starts to sway, just a little. “I wondered why he didn’t come into the room right away. He’s one of us, right?”

Before Chris can answer, the door opens again. Dr. Francis steps in first.

Vincent Shield steps in after him.

He moves with a slow, slightly shuffling step, showing the aches that haven’t quite faded in a body still working hard to heal itself. His movie-star megawatt smile is subdued, simply lips pressed together. The shadow of a bruise still wreathes his eye on one side, another clings to a cheekbone. Finger-shaped bruises are finally fading enough from his throat to not be immediately visible for what they are.

“Hey, Chris,” Vince says, voice low and slightly rough. Chris hums a greeting. There’s a whisper from a few of the circle participants, people who have seen his movies. Their eyes are wide, surprised, but no one comes at him. No one even stands.

They respect the circle, and the people within it.

“Okay, Vince,” Dr. Francis says amicably. “The circle agreed to hear your story tonight, and welcome you to our meetings from here on out. Gang, let’s make some room for Vince to sit down.”

“Uh, Dr. Francis-”

The doctor looks over at a woman in her thirties, while others are shifting their chairs with soft scrapes along hard floors so Vince can unfold a new one and put his own into the empty spot, slowly sitting down, looking around and smiling with a nervous shyness utterly at odds with the empty friendliness he has on the red carpet.

“Yes, Trin?”

“He’s… he’s not a Romantic, though,” Trin says, glancing to the side. “Sorry, Vince, no offense.”

There’s a bit of low laughter, not unkind, from the participants. “It’s not exactly something anyone should apologize for not being,” Isaac says, good-naturedly. Trin blushes a little and looks down and away, shrugging, smiling a little uneasily. “But she has a point, Dr. Francis, this is group for Romantics only, isn’t it?”

“Normally, yes. But Vince’s story is a little different. He’s been seeing me for a couple of weeks now, and I think it’s worth all of you hearing it. So many of you struggle with feeling separate from the world, and that’s because of the laws and societal isolation, of course, but… I want you to hear this. Your stories, your experiences, they are connected with the experiences and stories of people outside of WRU, outside the system. I think it could help to see that you are not set apart in that way. Vince, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Vincent Shield sits back. He doesn’t look like a movie star - his hair is shaggy and unwashed, he’s wearing an old Nirvana t-shirt he borrowed from Nat and sweatpants, a pair of sandals that don’t even match. You’d never know who he was, if you saw him on the street.

You might wonder if Kauri Grant was having a bad day, but looking at Vince, you’d never see the movie star beneath the real man.

“Hi, um. Hi everyone.” Vince smiles. “Dr. Francis asked me to talk to you all tonight. He thought it might help, and I’ll… I’ll talk about my, um. What happened to me, and then you can… I’ll step out and you can vote if you want me here. If you don’t, no harm no foul, I totally get it. I’m not sure I even want me here.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m… I’m really lost, if I’m honest. I’m totally lost at what to do with… everything now. I have this entire life and it’s just… hollow. I’m just doing what everyone told me I wanted to do, but-...”

“But it’s not what you want,” Trin suggests.

“It isn’t. I’m not sure it ever was, or if I just… was told so many times…”

“They tell you that you want it, the way they treat you.” That’s another young woman. “They tell you you’re a flirt, but they make you flirt to get everything, to get food, to get a place to sleep. They make you… they make you pretend, over and over, and tell you that you’re not pretending.”

“They call, they, they call you a slut,” Chris whispers. “And, and, and if you say you’re not, they, they, they say you’re so good at acting that, that, that you must really be…”

“Right.” Vince clears his throat. “Shit. I didn’t know that I would feel… I told myself for forever that what everyone told me was true. But I can’t… I can’t lie to myself any longer. I just can’t. It’s been eating me alive for so long, and I don’t know what it’s like not to feel that way, and… I guess we’re going to find out. But Nat suggested… therapy, and… maybe not lying to my therapist so much this time.”

“You lied to Dr. Francis?” A third person, a man Chris’s age, asks in a scandalized hush.

Vince smiles - it’s a real and sincere smile. He shakes his head. “No, my old therapist. I’m not seeing her any longer. I wanted to start over. I’m… I’m starting over. So. Uh, where… Dr. Francis, where should I start-”

“Anywhere you like,” Dr. Francis says, voice low and gentle.

“Uh, okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll start kind of like I start when I go to AA, if you all don’t mind?”

“I go to AA,” Isaac offers, a kind of hand outstretched, in words if not in gesture. “Every week. I’ve been sober for two years.”

“Congrats,” Vince says, sincerely. “I’m, uh, it’s been… a few weeks, but after I got to Nat’s I kind of, I fell off the wagon. I wasn’t sleeping, every time I closed my eyes I saw him... what happened. At the end. Drank until I blacked out and woke up on the floor with Nat’s, uh, that Jameson guy pouring water on my face. Then I got so sick I could barely move, turns out when you stop drinking and then start again, your liver gets really angry… it doesn’t matter. I’m starting over. So here’s to… three days sober, I guess?”

“Here’s to three days,” Isaac says, and smiles. “Three days is a start.”

Vince looks up, then, letting his eyes drift over the ceiling. He shifts and his chair creaks beneath him, as if castigating him for pausing for so long, for letting the silence draw out. Then he takes in a deep, deep breath. He fills his lungs with the oxygen until it burns, lets it slowly, slowly push out again.

“My name is Vincent Shield, and I’m an alcoholic. Sorry, just. That bit’s habit. Anyway… When I was twenty-one,” He starts, still not looking at anyone. His voice shakes a little. It’s thin and strained, pushed out past twenty years of keeping secrets and bruised from Owen’s hands. His throat wants to close around the truth, the way it has always wanted to close. The way he allowed it to close over and over for so, so long. His hands find the sides of the chair and grip, white knuckled. “When… when I was twenty-one, my best friend - my only friend, really, kind of my only real family, my parents had already stopped talking to me by then - told me he loved me.”

The room is silent, except for the soft hissing crackle of the coffeemaker and the hum of air conditioning blowing cold air through vents.

“I told him I didn’t… feel that way about him. He said okay. For a little bit, things were okay. I thought it was fine… and then he-... he acted normal for a while, but… but then he drugged my drink. And when I woke up, I was tied to a bed.”

Vince swallows.

“Naked.”

Perfect silence, nodding heads. They’ve been tied to beds, they’ve woken up naked, they’ve faced down what had felt like such a unique horror to Vince. A terrible thing that it felt like didn’t happen to other people, and here is an entire room of people for whom it was so commonplace they were told their entire lives revolved around it.

Here they all are, with new lives, hobbies, friends. Things they do that aren’t pretending to be someone else, or being… or…

“I was raped.”

It comes out all at once, a single breath of air, a slur of syllables. Iwasraped.

The next words, somehow, harder to say. He forces himself to speak more slowly. He makes his mind dwell on each and every single word. On what it means, on what it’s always meant, on what damage it’s done. He fights not to cry.

Vincent Shield confesses someone else’s sin.

And grants himself absolution.

“Owen Grant raped me… and it wasn’t my fault.”

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

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pumpkin-spice-whump · 2 years

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Caretaker: why didn't you tell me what happened to you before?

Whumpee:

#whumpmasinjuly #wij #now to disappear again #whump meme

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callaeidae3 · 2 years

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Whumpmas in July Day 24: Rescued

@whumpmasinjuly

Rescued, wrapped in more blankets, and carried away from the place that almost took his life...

Scene from The Case of Kindall, K.

#wij #wij22day24 #rescued whumpee #carried #unconscious #bridal carry #whump art #hurt comfort #kindall k series #kk1 #the case of kindall k #yuuki takahashi #kyle kindall #whumpmasinjuly #my art

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aceofwhump · 10 months

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5. What character do you wish to see whumped more in canon/fan-made media?

Where do I start! Do you know how many shows I've wanted more whump for. How many characters I wanted whumped but got nothing in canon and then go into AO3 looking for fan whump and found NOTHING! So so many. So many have none. So many have little. Here are a few:

Roger Mackenzie (Outlander). He gets some great whump in show and book but i really want more. More fics. Any fics really. More in show consequences and whumps.

Prince Eric (this is very recent but thanks to the live action little mermaid i crave prince eric whump so damn badly)

Ted Lasso. There's a bit on ao3 and tons of good Jamie Tartt but I want more Ted whump.

Jack Carter (Eureka). There's barely and fics for him and the ones there are are shipping him with nathan and i just want gen whump dammit! there is SO MUCH POTENTIAL! i mean he was a US Marshall before Eureka and I know there's gotta be some good whumps we could get out of that. Then all the stuff that happens to him in Eureka? Yeah make that worse please. I crave it. I can't find it. It makes me sad.

Steve Jinx and/or Pete Lattimer (Warehouse 13). every fic is bering/wells focused which is great but i need my boys hurt.

Mike Warren (Graceland). My boi!!! I know this show ended ages ago but look I'm still obsessed and always will be and I think I've read every fic out there and I NEED MORE WHUMP! There's tons in show but I need more fics!

Jake Peralta (Brooklyn Nine Nine)

Jonah Simms (Superstore)

Will Gorski (Sense8). Theres good Wolfgang fics but man do I crave Will whump.

Jess Mariano (Gilmore Girls). Literally begging for non shippy/romance focused fics for Jess where he is whumped.

Jack Robinshon (Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries)

James Herriot (All Creatures Great and Small 2020). I found a few Tristian whump fics but no James!

Anthony Bridgerton. I always need more Anthony whump.

Jaskier (The Witcher). I need the bard to be whumped and have it last long and be dire please!!

#wij23day5 #whumpmasinjuly2023 #whumpmas in july 2023 #whumpmas in july #whumpmasinjuly #whump #mod post

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whumpmasinjuly · 2 years

Photo

Now introducing the prompt list for Whumpmas in July 2022! And two weeks before July even starts, no less! Shout out to @herkatively for designing the graphics this year!

The prompts are divided into three categories: questions, prompts, and community activities. Everyone is free to participate as much or as little as they want–there’s no completionist requirement! This list provides a preview of the prompts, but on each day a more detailed post will be released with more context and additional suggestions for each day’s task. Similar to previous years, all prompts and other important information will be found under the #infowhumpmasinjuly tag for ease of access.

Below the cut is a text list of this year’s prompts:

(Re)introduce yourself

What’s your first memory of whumperflies?

Lost

Share a TV show, movie, story, or any media that gives you the whumperflies

Who is your favorite whumpee?

“Hold on.”

Brag about a creator or piece of whump you think is underrated

How did you find the whumpblr community?

Falling

Check out some whump outside of your preferred genre

What are your favorite flavors of whump?

Rebellion

Share a sneak peek of something you’re working on

What are your favorite whump character dynamics?

Numb

Read and comment on a piece you’ve never read before

What trope do you adore that you wish there was more love for?

“Make me.”

Check out a new whump blog and drop them an ask

Do you identify with any particular roles in whump?

Bleeding

Share a link to your all-time favorite whump work

What are some of your favorite niche whump tags?

Rescued

Create a whump meme

What’s a memorable moment that gave you whumperflies?

Peace

Send people asks about their OCs or favorite fandoms

What do you love about the whump community?

Free choice prompt!

Who is someone who has made your time on whumpblr special?

#whump #whump community #whump event #whumpmasinjuly #infowhumpmasinjuly #wij2022

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whumpinthepot · 9 months

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@whumpmasinjuly 2023

19. List your fave whump blogs

OK, I wrote as many people as I could find and if I missed anyone I’ll add them in as i come across them ^_^

@gritpyre - long time mutual/friend who does amazing amazing artwork. Its so nice seeing her oc’s change and grow over the years. We stan buff ladies <3

@for-the-love-of-angst - Longtime good friend of mine who I love so much. Their writing is so full of flavour I just want to eat it, its so descriptive and the characters feel so raw with emotion.

@whither-wander-whump - Pucks historical whump is so impressive, I don’t know how she does it. The dialogue and everything is on point. I also just love hearing about her day and what she’s been up to because its always something really cool.

@whumpshaped - Excellent writing and concepts, its always so different and just seem to hit right. Especially the gore and how unapologetically brutal it gets! I always have fun reading its work.

@figuwhump - This is just a really fun art blog that popped up in the last month or so, ive been having a lot of fun with the event and seeing what other people create. Its run by two of my fave people as well so thats just a bonus.

@whump-in-the-closet - Troy has a really fun blog and he does a CYOA story that I really enjoy reading a LOT. Very good descriptions that have a lasting effect on me, theres always something noteworthy when ever I read a chapter. Also, we have similar usernames so his blog always stands out to me haha.

@just-horrible-things - long time friend/mutual with amazing writing and characters. Everything I’ve read from him has been engraved into my brain, and stuck there.

@burntcoffeewhump - Amazing artist and friend!! Seriously, go commission him when they’re open again he’s selling them for very affordable prices and they are professional level work. Its just gorgeous they way he paints.

@demondamage - Good friend/mutual who has such amazing talent for art and writing I am always in awe, and love seeing it every time he posts. The lab whump has me swooning. Period.

@whumpsday - Mill is such a nice mutual to have, and a really great member of the community. I think about his characters all the time, and he somehow manages to organize all of his writing which is something I really admire. He wrote whumper to whumpee trope is such a way that it makes you feel BAD for the poor guy…

@i-can-even-burn-salad - Elli is really funny and writes like a BEAST. I don’t know how she does it but I am so envious!! She has some books finished, and available as Ebooks! Go check them out its seriously impressive, and something to look up to.

@sunshiline-writes - We have a lot in common which is like finding a chest during a treasure hunt. Very good characters, poc whump, lady whumper, and writing that I really enjoy a LOT. I really like her characters they vibe perfectly with me.

@verkja - I love Verkja so much, he’s always a pleasure to talk to and a very good friend. He does adventure fantasy -esque writing with a lot of detail to the world the characters are in. He’s talented in so many artistic ways, I love seeing anything he’s working on any given day.

@ilasknives - LAB WHUMP MOOT, Ila does amazing lab whump with a load of psychological torment stuffed into it. As well as a lot of pet whump concepts that are really fun and different. I love hearing about their oc’s, they feel so real to me.

@redd956 - Redd has the biggest galaxy brain when it comes to world building, prompts, and writing. Its so fun to see all of her posts on my dash, I don’t know how she does it but its a TALENT.

@leyswhumpdump - Leys is really good at plot building with a sprinkle of whump twined into it, which makes those scenes all the more exciting. Leys understands writing structure very well and it makes their writing flow verrrryyyyy nicely.

@blackrosesandwhump - Amazing writer, does circus whump which I LOVE and don’t see enough of, as well as a handful of other stories with different tropes! Lovely mutual and very helpful with writing advice which I am so so so thankful for all the time.

@hollowgast1 - Very good moot to have, we trade drabbles to edit often and its really fun. She writes a lot of supervillain, pet, and lab whump its really heavy on the psychological end of it, which I enjoy immensely. Its always a pleasure to read her works!

@distinctlywhumpthing - Excellent writer, with some completed stories. Their writing is often tragic, and really pull the reader in emotionally. Highly recommend reading, they’re some of my favourite works!

@whump-blog - Red is such a sweet friend, and so good with ideas, I always get so excited hearing about them! He has wonderful artwork and its all linked on his page for easy access. Im so intrigued by his writing I can’t wait for more to be posted!

@alittlewhump - Shy is incredibly helpful I can’t express my gratitude enough she’s so amazing at strengthening writing and I would have never posted my works if it wasn’t for her. She knows how to bring a story to life through words which is such a huge talent that so many people strive to have.

#wij23day19 #fave whump blogs #whump #whump blogs #whumpmasinjuly #whumpmasinjuly2023 #breezy’s post #shout out #long post

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pretty-face-breaker · 2 years

Text

Rebellion - WIJ Day 12

CW. fictional politics, kidnapping, blindfolding and gagging, referenced broken bones, manhandling, creepy noncon touching

First

@whumpmasinjuly

—

Tariq gasped awake through a cloth gag in his mouth, his first sensations being that his tongue felt like sand and that something damp clogged his breathing. The constant rumble he had felt below him in his semi-consciousness suddenly became acute. As the car hit a bump in the road, his body jerked up and collapsed back down.

Into someone’s chest.

“Ah, our prince is awake.” A voice rumbled into his shoulder from behind.

Tariq groaned and shifted in discomfort, not yet coming to his senses. As he tried to respond through the gag, he could only manage a raspy mmh- before a hand pulled his head back painfully.

“Don’t move too much, prince.” The man crooned as he adjusted the cloth. “Wouldn’t want to disturb that leg anymore.”

At that, Tariq’s eyes snapped down to the rest of his body, widening when he noticed his wrists fused together by a confident knot of rope and that one of his legs hung unnaturally loose over the seat.

His heartbeat picked up. “Mmhm-”

“Shh, sh- sh-”

“Sweet thing panics so easily,” another voice added through an entertained chuckle. It came out almost like a foghorn to Tariq, gravelly and rough and battering against his sore head. “I almost like him better, squirming like this than screaming about his fucking leg.”

With another bang, the wrangler jumped another foot in the air before colliding with the sand, almost throwing Tariq between the seats if the arms behind hadn’t snapped around his waist.

It was then that pain hit him like a thunderbolt.

What started as a pinch in his foot shot up his dangling leg like fire, nearly blinding him.

Tariq tried to scream through the gag but dizziness reached him quicker and his wail came out as a weak moan, another desperate mmh which the man behind him answered with a laugh.

“Don’t cry, little prince.” His hand found Tariq’s eye sockets and a coarse thumb wiped away the tears Tariq hadn’t even realized he had shed. “The painkillers shouldn’t take too long. I fed you a few after you went out on us the first time.

The first time?

“Now, my pretty prince, you may call me Hassan-”

The voice behind dropped into a noticeably dangerous register.

“-and answer my questions before I break your other leg.”

Tariq returned a ragged sob and struggled against the arms holding him but Hassan soothed him with the same sharp shhh from before. It sounded more like the warning of a snake. He shuddered as a hand passed over dried tear tracks on his cheek to rip out the gag, leaving his mouth bone-dry.

“B-Blin’fold,” Tariq managed after a few hacking coughs. “Can’t see.”

Despite the darkness surrounding him, he knew that it must have been night from the silent echo of the wrangler, the cool, dry dustiness of the surrounding desert.

The cool on his face could have almost soothed him if the scream of the engine didn’t overpower it, along with the stench of petrol suffocating what might have been Juniper trees.

He wanted water so badly.

As if his mouth might crack from the dryness, Tariq tried to swallow but all he got from it was an awful, unidentifiable taste.

“I’ll take it off when you’ve earned it,” Hassan hummed before roughly patting his cheek. “State your full name, your position, and where that adorable plane intended to take you before we jacked it.”

Tariq groaned at the flashing memory of the hijacking. “My n-name-... is Adnan-”

Before he could press out his last name, his vision exploded with stars as Hassan rammed his head sideways into the driver’s seat.

Tariq cried out fully that time and slumped back against the man who mockingly shushed him in return.

“Now is not the time for silly rebellion, Mr. Rahman.”

With every sentence, his blood ran colder.

“Your name, in its entirety.”

Was this a game?

“Tariq-.. Tariq Rahman. I’m a diplomat- an ambassador, I meant-”

He cringed at the braying laughter from the passenger’s seat.

“I hope he was planning to speak better than that,” a woman spoke up.

Hassan hummed and nodded - at his answer, Tariq hoped than the mockery. “Excellent, my prince. And your plane?”

“I was f-flying North.”

“Mhm, and what incident were you intending to absolve your country of? Or was it a vacation?”

Tariq’s heart hammered in his throat.

Your country.

“Who-...Who are you?”

A beat of silence from his interrogator and Tariq’s breathing quickened. He felt the air around him change as a hand drew up to his face and suddenly took hold of his chin. Then, his face in a crushing grip.

“Who I am,” Hassan began, almost strained with his tightened grip, “or where I am from is none of your concern, Mr. Rahman. You can delay this questioning with offhand questions and rebel against your circumstances as you wish but a rebellion has been growing under your nose.”

Blood began pounding in his ears.

“In your own country, nonetheless.”

Rebellion? No.

“And you, my little prince, have just absconded from a diplomatic mission in a time of mounting suspicions and pressure.”

He was going to throw up. Tariq shook his head but it felt full of lead. If he had tried to talk, it would have been barely intelligible stammers.

This wasn’t his fault.

He hadn’t engineered this.

Hassan nestled his chin in the crook of Tariq’s neck, stopping the jerking head shakes in their tracks. “How undiplomatic of you. And I won’t even bother touching on your government.”

This wasn’t his fault.

“This is a classic example of stirring the pot. What happens when one nation is disturbed by an unbalanced alliance between two others? They’re trying to prove that we are unreliable, belligerent, and willing to go to war over minority complaints.”

“Mr. Rahman, are you sure there isn’t an internal threat?”

“I prefer to be called Your Excellency.”

Tariq could no longer hear the car’s engine.

“So, Ambassador,” Hassan hissed, still not having let go of his face. Crooking his hand up, he let his fingernails sink into Tariq’s cheek as the man whimpered in fear. “No sweet talk is going to remedy your incompetence here.”

Screwing his eyes shut, Tariq felt the words forming before he could stop himself. “I don’t understand-”

"I’m going to make your life hell, if that clarifies it for you, Tariq. Then, I’ll destroy what little you have left of it.”

Tagging: @straight-to-the-pain @suspicious-whumping-egg

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #whumpmasinjuly #wij22 #wij22day12 #Whumpmas in July no.12 #fictional politics #kidnapping #blindfolds #referenced broken bones #manhandling #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #gagged and bound #noncon touching

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