RMH
Fai_Ryy
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
oozey mess
Sweet Seals For You, Always
noise dept.
No title available
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Cosmic Funnies
Love Begins
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
if i look back, i am lost
⁂
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Stranger Things
h
Peter Solarz
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Xuebing Du
seen from Puerto Rico
seen from Puerto Rico
seen from Puerto Rico
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Poland
seen from Colombia
seen from Colombia
@pumpkin-spice-whump
Masterlists
Kensington
my own slavery universe, 17 yo whumpee, generally pretty violent, threat of noncon (will never actually happen), disproportionate retribution. listed chronologically. (ongoing verrrry slowly)
847481: Jesse
box boy universe, platonic box boy, heavy themes of ocd and anxiety, some noncon (never explicit. really only heavily implied). listed chronologically. (ongoing)
other - Adler, The Despair of Silence
"Don't try and save me. I'm already dead."
I need someone to write code 8 fanfic I'm desperate
Whumper/Carewhumper who realized they pushed Whumpee too far. Maybe Whumpee has been stoic this entire time and now just won't stop sobbing. Maybe Whumpee was defiant and now is just... complacent. Maybe there was something Whumpee always cared about, a comfort object or person, and now when Whumper tries to tempt them with it Whumpee just shakes their head. Especially good with a Whumper or Carewhumper who thought that what they were doing was best for Whumpee, but now they very clearly pushed them too far.
A Whumper who is just doing a job. They tell Whumpee it's not personal. They are very professional about it all. Whumpee fights back? "It's okay, it makes sense you feel this way." Whumpee finally breaks? "There's no shame in it, everyone breaks." They say it as if it's simply a fact.
When they have the information they need, they're nicer to Whumpee. They feed them properly, give them a book to read, a pillow to sleep on. "You have given us what we need, there is no need to suffer more. It's not personal."
Finally, Whumpee escapes. Whumper is in their way. And as Whumpee drives the knive in Whumper's chest, they only have one thing to say to them. "It's not personal."
Whumper understands.
Underused Microexpressions for Attraction
We’ve done lip biting to death... Let’s evolve.
• Eyes flicking to someone’s mouth mid-sentence • Forgetting what they were about to say • Leaning in unconsciously • Mirroring posture without realizing • Smiling at something that wasn’t that funny • Adjusting hair or clothes when the other person enters • Noticing and remembering details no one else bothers to • A pause before pulling their hand away • Shoulders softening • Looking away first and then back again • Swallowing before speaking • Voice lowering slightly • Turning their body fully toward the other person • A delayed reaction to a touch
Whumper entering the room and the air changing immediately, heavy and expectant and tense, as Whumpee tries to steel themselves for whatever comes next
six months early or six months late, here is joey's first new year's eve at aaron's.
tw/cw: descriptions of scars, being shot at, fear of death/being killed, mutilation of wound with knife, general dehumanisation. slow and exposition-heavy writing. plot details at the end that may or may not be expanded upon further if i can make them fit later, don't think too much about them i'm posting this at 1am
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Instead of going up to his family’s place in Rochester like he used to, Aaron had asked Marla to join their Christmas celebration at home.
Aaron couldn’t bring Joey back home until they had had some clear communication and had come up with a believeable story as to why he had an injured, traumatized man with separation anxiety living in his house. It didn't matter much to Aaron whether the story they eventully would tell was true or not. He was more invested in not giving his mother a heart attack, as well as wanting to preserve Joey's dignity and respect his wishes for the narrative.
Maybe next year's holidays would present a better opportunity for Joey's introduction, Aaron thought, and pointedly did not think about how long Joey would stay with him. Sending him back to Mike, or some other equally seedy, exploitative organisation, was out of the question.
Similarly unthinkable was the prospect of leaving Joey home alone in a big, dark, cold house while he went up to his family himself. The possibility had lingered in his mind, if only for a brief minute. He could make a day trip out of it on Christmas Eve or Day, fly out in the morning and come back late at night and have time to ingest at least one of his mother's homecooked meals in the meantime. Then, he thought about Joey, who undoubtedly would sit at the door and wait for him all day, and probably into the night because of holiday lines and delays, and he thought better of it.
Thus, the week leading up to Christmas had been a quiet affair with a few movies, napping on the couch, hot drinks and a Joey who gradually took shorter and shorter time to slink into Aaron’s side in the evenings. Physical touch really was the way to his heart.
Marla had a few days off and joined them when she could. For the first time in years Aaron pulled the few boxes of decorations he had down from the attic, and they spent an afternoon hanging wreaths and stockings. In the evening, they untangled the Christmas lights and Joey, bundled up in Aaron's old parka and seated on a deck chair placed on the snow-dusted lawn for the occation, watched with poorly concealed awe and fear as Aaron balanced on a ladder leaning on the porch roof and Marla pointed to where the lights should hang. Aaron bought a Christmas tree on a whim as he passed a vendor in a parking lot, and they spent the evening decorating it with paper chains and ornaments so old they had almost no glitter left on them. As Aaron joined Marla in the kitchen to prepare spiced cider and something to eat, Joey stayed in the living room, seated in an old leather recliner with Dolly on his lap, watching the tree. He still sat there when they came back out thirty minutes later, the many bulbs of the Christmas tree lights reflecting in his big, dark eyes like stars in the sky.
Christmas was, as a whole, a relaxing, comfortable event. Much more so than if he had spent it with his own immediate and partially extended family, Aaron thought, without mentioning that particular fact to his mother when she called on Christmas Morning to wish him happy holidays.
New year’s would be an equally quiet and calm affair.
At least, that was Aaron’s intention.
Destroyer (Vol.II) - Hauntology
(Content: living weapon whumpee, institutional child abuse, dehumanization, PTSD, flashbacks, stress position, past abuse, child death, fainting, comfort)
Δ-107 was eight years old and he was sitting by himself in the corner of the classroom. It was quiet across the entire floor, the period carved out for independent study. He went over his notes diligently, remembering to hold the pen correctly, remembering to write in full sentences.
A ruler slammed abruptly against his desk, nearly causing him to drop his flash cards.
“Sit still.” His teacher’s voice was pure venom.
Δ-107 flinched, mumbling a soft “Yes, sir” in response. His focus fragmented further, now dedicating effort just to keep himself from rocking.
Plot the following plane.
How would you find the volume of this irregular solid? Show your work.
At what temperature will the fluids in the body begin to evaporate?
How much pressure does it take to create a diamond?
The door creaked open. A scream echoed down the hallway, the faint sound of struggle. Nobody acknowledged it.
Sports player Whumpee uses the hem of their shirt to wipe the sweat from their brow during a game, completely forgetting that their abdomen is absolutely littered with bruises. The cameras catch all the damage. The commentators aren't quite sure what to say. Whumpee drops their shirt and keeps playing.
You have to shove your whumpees to the ground on their stomach and yank their arms behind their back to tie their wrists before pulling them back to their knees with a harsh yank on their hair otherwise they're not getting proper enrichment
One of the biggest “whump awakenings” I guess you could call it came from a book I read as a kid where the main character was accused of a crime and declared a “wolf’s head” which was described to mean he was no longer considered human, he could be killed or harmed or anything by anyone and they would face no consequences. So in a lot of things I write, that’s a concept I think about a lot. It’s not that a character is being actively hunted, it’s that there’s nothing protecting them. The only thing keeping them safe is someone else’s decision to do so.
roleswap au
solitaire masterlist: act i / act ii (but this can be read alone, no prior knowledge necessary)
cw: institutionalized slavery/pet whump (kinda leaning into the pet thing more than usual here), comparing whumpee to an animal, somewhat defiant whumpee, misinterpreting commands, injury reveal, minor homophobia in some sense, complicit carewhumper vibes?
hitting the taglist so this doesn’t get lost in the sauce. don’t worry if you don’t like it because i don’t intend to write more; this is just a one-off :P
Fielding (aka Port) is ~20 years older and never went into the system. Oz, on the other hand, is ~20 years younger and did. (never thought this would be the circumstance of Port’s birthname reveal o_o)
* * * * *
Fielding very carefully not did not reveal the surprise on his face when he realized his boss was talking about a human pet.
The way John spoke about Oz, he had always pictured an unruly dog. He'd say: He’s well-trained, but got a lot of personality. Or I hate it when he goes on the furniture. Or, even more bizarrely in light of the new context, I have to put him in the crate when he misbehaves. In hindsight, Fielding probably should have questioned it when he mentioned Oz liked to “talk back.” He’d thought it was just a funny way to describe barking. Or, heck, maybe Oz was a parrot.
It was only when John mentioned needing to buy him new shoes that the thought even crossed Fielding’s mind. He was still in short-lived denial about it until John went on to say he was a size 12. Had to do a whole lot of mental recalibration in the span of about one second. Was he joking about the crate, or…?
How embarrassing. To be fair to himself, Fielding didn’t interact with that world much at all. He hadn’t even been a free person himself when the system was instituted— imagine that. You go into prison and everything is normal, come out ten years later and all of a sudden there are human pets running around.
Giftober 2021 + @mcuchallenge prompt Day 3: In pain/Hurting.
Ive been working on more Jesse (shocker i know) and I've decided to change August's name. Probably just to Auggie to keep it easy and similar but the name August has changed it's meaning to me irl and I can't deal with it in a whump context anymore 😅 so I'll be updating all the chapters with it soon!
I want to CREATE and my mind is not LETTING ME
Hostage - Buck Never Leaves AU
3 people asked for more Buck Never Leaves AU within 2 months (which is a lot when you consider this series came out 6 years ago) (FUCK) (I'm 30 tomorrow isn't that wild?) so I whipped up a little somethin' somethin'.
tbh a lot of my creative thought production for this world is going towards The Pros and the unwritten but 80% complete in my head sequel, so I hadn't thought about BNLAU (which is what i'm gonna call it so i dont have to keep writing it) in a while, even tho when I first put it out I remember being like "there's so much more I could write for this!" well, i guess I shoulda written it down, because I don't remember.
ANYWAY... enjoy. And thanks for still giving a shit about my work. :)
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Fletcher may have introduced Buck to the new trainees as someone who “works for” them. They may have told the new trainees not to hurt him - not to lay a hand on him - unless Fletcher tells them to do so. And they reassured Buck that they would only ever tell them to do so for a lesson. If any discipline was required, Fletcher would only handle it themself. And they trusted Buck was wise enough about his situation that they wouldn’t need to call on anyone else to help “wrangle” him.
But the relationship was clear. The power dynamic was glaring. The way Fletcher ordered Buck around, the way Buck labored without argument. The way Fletcher volunteered him for lessons, the way he cowed in their presence. The scars. The tracking bracelet.
The trainees were not bold enough or dumb enough to hurt Buck outside of the lessons. But that didn’t mean they didn’t bully him.
