#rendered mute

[onesmolhurts]

And from that day on he never spoke (over anyone) ever again. 🥹💖

Rendered mute / @badthingshappenbingo

[hurtcomfortguaranteed]

In L.A. Confidential, after spending most of the film as enemies, Bud and Edmund join forces to take down corrupt cops. By protecting one another during a shoot out, they come out the other side battered, but as friends.

[blaidd-gwyn]

BTHB: Rendered Mute

Stolen Words

Read on ao3 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Additional Tags: Sick Jaskier | Dandelion, Illnesses, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Caretaker Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bad Things Happen Bingo, no serious illnesses, it's more a major inconvinience, since jaskier's whole thing is talking non-stop Series: Part 1 of Bad Things Happen Bingo

Summary:

Geralt had believed Jaskier at first when he'd said it was just a cold. Within a few days however, he'd lost the use of his voice and spent most of his time asleep. Geralt couldn't help but worry so he turned his nervous energy into making sure the bard was looked after.

Tagging: @flosimo @badthingshappenbingo

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

So how about a mute whumpee?

Whumpee disappears, for weeks and months to end, until they are eventually found by Caretaker, their SO, who never gave up the hope that one day they're gonna find their Whumpee again, that Whumpee is still somewhere out there.  When Whumpee is rescued, as desperately as they cling to Caretaker, as overwhelmed they are to be back in Caretaker's arms...they only manage silent whimpers, their crying only noticeable through the tears soaking Caretaker's shirt and heavy breathing as they sob almost soundlessly. 

Caretaker takes Whumpee home, assessing their injuries, and eventually...they seem to get better. It's a long, tiring process for both of them - and though Caretaker is relieved that Whumpee seems to be slowly healing, one thing bothered them right from the beginning. Whumpee never told Caretaker what happened, and they did it off as a normal, though harsh response to their Trauma...until one day, they can't hold the questions back anymore.

Caretaker sits them down, gently starting to ask Whumpee - and suddenly, it all makes sense.

How Whumpee didn't whimper when they treated their injuries, though it must have been so painful.

How when Whumpee wakes up in the middle of the night from another nightmare, shaking, their cheeks stained with silent tears, Caretaker never noticed right away - only when Whumpee eventually shakes them awake each time, seeking the reassurance that they're not alone, not back wherever they were before. Or was it really each time? How often did Caretaker plainly sleep over the terror that was shaking Whumpee, that was keeping them awake at night, just because they didn’t cry out, didn’t scream when they were startled awake? Just because they couldn’t? 

Caretaker’s worst suspicion that'd been growing in the back of their mind ever since they found Whumpee again, fueled by their sudden silence, is confirmed. Whatever happened, not only did it take Whumpee away from Caretaker for an unbearably long time - it also took the feature they loved most about Whumpee. Their beautiful voice.

Every time Caretaker complained about the formerly bubbly, so talkative Whumpee talking too much, about their voice, about their laugh being so obnoxious, can they just stop and shut up already?! It all comes crashing back down on them as they realize that while now they might be able to take Whumpee in their arms again, in a bit of time maybe they could do things they used to do together...they're never going to hear Whumpee laugh again, never going to hear them ramble about something so irrelevant again for hours to end, never hear them give one more of their sappy love confessions or bad flirting attempts for Caretaker again.

They hug Whumpee, they tell them everything is going to be alright again, together they can work through this - though that night, it’s not Whumpee that’s crying. Not just Whumpee.

It’s Caretaker, and though they know that none of this is their fault, they can’t help but feel that deep, disgusting guilt eating them away for every time they told Whumpee to shut up. Whumpee, who is sitting next to them, cradling Caretaker against their chest as they so desperately want to give back the reassurances Caretaker gave them earlier, that it’s all going to be alright, they shouldn’t blame themselves, but all sounds that fill the room are Caretaker’s sobs as they curl into Whumpee’s shirt. After all, Whumpee’s tears fall silently now. 

[studyofwhump]

Whump Prompt 54

“Hey Whumpee, can you look at me for a second?”

Caretaker does their best to breathe steadily as Whumpee turned their head in their direction, but doesn’t look up at them. It’s been several hours now, and they still haven’t said a word since being rescued. Caretaker sighed and sat down in front of Whumpee, holding a hairbrush up in front of them.

“I was going to brush out your hair. It’s pretty messy, and it might help you feel a little better.”

Caretaker watches as Whumpee slowly reaches up to touch the brush, gripping the bristles and running their fingers over the smooth backside. Caretaker smiles, happy to see some response from them.

“Now I’ll try to be as gentle as possible,” Caretaker said as they carefully walked behind Whumpee, making sure to make no sudden movements. “It looks pretty tangled, so it might take a little longer than normal.”

As they take the brush to Whumpee’s hair, they slowly begin to unravel dozens of tangles and knots. Every so often, they hold the brush in front of Whumpee, just to remind them that it was harmless. Whumpee is frozen stiff at first, but as their hair is smoothed our over time, they begin to lean into it. Caretaker takes the fresh, long hair and ties it into a firm, but not tight braid.

“There we go, how’s that feel?”

[blosoms-writing-blog]

Bad things Happen Bingo: Rendered Mute

Fandoms: None

Characters: Dimmy, Artemis Triggers: None

“You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut could you?” Artemis asked dragging Dimmy back to their cell, forcing their arms behind them. “Honestly that was your fault.”

“Shut up,” They growled at him, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry what was that?” He asked, grabbing their hair and forcing them to look up. “I said SHUT UP! Neither of you have no right to do this to any of us! We didn’t do anything wrong! You just couldn’t handle the fact that without Jaci you will die. Garlen couldn’t let go of his “projects” or the person who wronged him. You’re all petty and stupid!” They panted after their little explosion of words. “And I know it’s my fault! Try telling me something I don’t know.”

Artemis looked down at them with a smirk. “Anything else you’d like to add?” “No I think that’s it,” Dimmy muttered. 

“Good.” He grabbed a knife smirking. “Because that’s going to be the last things you ever say…” He slammed the handle down on their head making them black out.

Dimmy awoke in a small padded cell they knew was not theirs. They sat up before noticing they were trapped in a straight jacket. They smirked and looked at the door.

“You think you can contain me?!” They tried to shout before freezing. No voice had come out of their mouth. They tried again, screaming and demanding to be let out but to no avail. 

“Xen? Rhion? Someone hear me! SOMEONE HELP ME!” They screamed before coughing up a storm,  even coughing some blood out. They teared up and cried out, trying to scream, or make any kind of sound for someone to hear them. They ended up curled on the floor, crying themself back to sleep.

“Wakey wakey little jester!” Artemis said coming into the room. Dimmy woke up and just stared at him as he put food down. “Are you going to behave or am I going to have to make you eat without your hands.” They let out a soft sigh and nod. “Oh good.” He got them out of the straight jacket and stood back.

They came over and snached the plate before going into the corner and eating. Artemis watched them smiling before coming over.

 “Come, let me see your neck.” They let out a small growl before turning back to him. He checked over their neck which they now noticed had bandage wrapped around it.

“Good good, everything still works. Well except your voice. I thought that was an appropriate punishment no? After all, mouthing off will only get you hurt more.” They glared at him, raising a middle finger. “Yea yea whatever. Anyways you’ll be in here for the foreseeable future. It’s a safe place, fully magic resistant. The cells were supposed to be but I guess you overpowered. Clever.” They smirked and let out a breathy chuckle. “Behave yourself Dimmy, I have no problem forcing you to watch me hurt someone. Maybe...Xen?” 

They let out a soft gasp and glared. “Don’t you dare touch him!” They mouthed before coughing again. 

“Mmm that’s a problem.” He placed a finger on his chin before grabbing a muzzle. They tried to scream and run away but didn’t get far before being grabbed. They were forced back into the straight jacket, along with the muzzle being forced in their mouth. 

“There we go,” Artemis said smiling. “Now behave yourself and you’ll be let out of there soon.” With that, he left the room laughing softly. Dimmy glared until he left, before breaking down in tears, crying heavily on the floor. 

@badthingshappenbingo

[virgilmydarkstrangeson]

Mute

Prompt: Rendered Mute

Summary: Kino's life got flipped turned upside down.

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of pain, caught in a burning building, amputation, character waking up injured, character becoming mute

Word Count: 732

Characters / Fandom: Kino // Dysfunction, my own Sides

When Kino was small, they had been an extremely talkative kid. Almost always talking or yelling or laughing, noise was constant for them. It was a comfort, and having to be quiet was always hard for them to do without feeling a burning desire to speak at all times. 

This incessant chattiness persisted into Kino's teenage years, even though most kids were becoming broody and gloomy and downright moody. Even as Kino started struggling with their gender identity, they communicated with their mother through the entire process, to the point that when she suggested the name Kino, Kino tried it out and it just stuck.

Kino was fourteen when the incident happened. It was a Saturday, and Kino's mother was out at work, while Kino was in their room, working on homework. It was a normal day, and Kino was singing along to the music they were playing, enjoying themself as they worked through the worksheet. After they finished, Kino decided to take a quick nap at their desk before getting up to make some lunch.

Kino woke up to the smell of smoke, and as they opened their eyes they saw thick, black smoke filling their room. Immediately, they started coughing, looking around to figure out what was happening, and as they got to their doorway they saw the flames, and started running to get downstairs and outside. 

While running, Kino tripped and landed on their face, and that was when a crack louder than a clap of thunder ring out, and Kino only just flipped onto their back in time to see one of the rafters falling down and colliding with them, and then Kino screamed. The beam had landed right on their throat, pinning their left arm and neck to the floor, and flames began to spread to their skin and hair as they screamed and cried and wailed. They were sobbing now too, screeching as pain seared through them, more furious than anything they had ever felt before in their life, and as they began to black out, all they could do was scream and cry.

When Kino woke up, they saw white and blue, and immediately they recognised that they were in a hospital. Slowly, they sat up, feeling a sharp, burning pain in their left arm, but as they instinctively went to grab it, their arm instead just grabbed at their side. That was weird, Kino was sure that the way they had moved their right hand, it should've at least hit their left arm. Slowly, they looked down at their left arm, and then they screamed. Although, hardly any sound came out as they did so.

The entirety of Kino's left arm was gone, the sleeve of the hospital gown they were wearing was completely flat against their torso, and now Kino was crying, breathless sobs going unheard as they struggled to figure out why they couldn't hear their own voice. 

Just then, a nurse came into the room, and smiled when she saw that Kino was up and awake.

"Ah! Miss Kaminari," Kino visibly cringed at the use of 'Miss', but the nurse kept going. "I'm very glad to see that you're awake. You inhaled a lot of smoke before the beam hit you, and you might have noticed some changes." The nurse sat down next to their bed, changing her tone to be serious. "Due to the irreparable damage time your left arm, the doctors had no choice but to amputate. Besides that, the fire singed a lot of your hair, and left scars on your neck and face. And, lastly," the nurse sighed, as if she didn't want to say the last bit. "Due to the force at which the beam hit your neck, and the subsequent burning until you were found, the doctors were unable to save your vocal cords. Unfortunately, this means that you will never be able to speak again, or make noises that rely on the vibration of vocal cords." Kino sank back as she spoke, a fresh wave of tears flooding down their cheeks. They could never speak again? They were now rendered mute for the rest of eternity? It was too much to bear, Kino just wanted a black hole to swallow them up, or for this to just be one elaborate nightmare, but the pain they were feeling was very real, this was really happening.

[non-human-whumper]

Bad things happen bingo: rendered mute

Fandom: N/A

Characters: Rayet, Artemis, Nepenthe (mentioned), Dextre (mentioned)

_____________

He was tired, so tired. Tired of hurting, tired of running, tired of fighting. Aching. Every breath was painful. His right arm was bundled up in his shirt as a makeshift sling - his shoulder was still throbbing from being reset days ago. He ached desperately from hours of walking, and the twinge in his ankle had developed into screaming white noise. Maybe it was worth it, though, because he might just be free, he just needed to get home. They didn’t know where he, Artemis, Dextre and Nepenthe lived: once he got home, he would be free.

He wouldn’t put it beyond them to be able to find him again. To hurt him worse, and to hurt his friends. No. No, he couldn’t let them hurt his friends. If they came looking, he would go it alone.

Rayet emerged from back alleys into what looked like a high street. The scenery was lit by the pink glow of the sunrise and the bright fluorescent lights of shop windows. Mannequins watched from every side. Not exactly a comforting sight, but at least he was nearer now to other people: if he got in trouble, someone might hear if he screamed loud enough. Somebody would be kind enough to help even a monster… right? If he were lucky enough, perhaps there would be a magic user, or another werewolf, to help him.

That would endanger them, too, though. His life wasn’t worth endangering somebody else’s.

Ahead, Rayet saw a light not coming from a shop window: A cracked, flickering, yellow light, backlighting bold, black letters reading telephone. A phone box. His salvation. The only method he had of contacting his friends.

He entered, and shut the door behind him. Regretted that. Made sure the door still opened, and left it ajar to make sure it couldn’t jam shut. The phone box stank of urine. Rayet, still gasping for breath, hardly cared: he would take all the air he could get, no matter how it smelt. By this point, he preferred the smell of urine over the smell of blood.

Money. Right, money, he needed fucking money.

Tears began to pour. He was so tired, he’d fought for so long, and now he was thwarted once again by capitalism. Over and over, every time he tried anything he was knocked back again. Worthless, stupid, monster. Failure. He always failed, he failed everything he tried. He deserved to fail.

Nonono, that was what they wanted him to think. He wouldn’t think what they wanted him to, no, never. That wasn’t Rayet. Everything he stood for was against the government, those were his core beliefs, those were the foundation of his personality. They couldn’t warp him. They wouldn’t corrupt him. Never, never, never.

He just couldn’t shake the word. Monster. He wondered, not for the first time, whether they were right.

Shut up. Don’t think about yourself. Think about finding money.

Money. Was always money, wasn’t it? Money could very definitely buy Rayet’s happiness at this moment. Money made the difference between going home to his friends and facing torture.

The sun was still rising. The streets would soon fill with people, and Rayet had nowhere to go. He needed to get out of here in the next few hours.

He left the phone box, glad of the fresh air. Nothing to do but search the pavement for dropped change. All he could smell was tarmac and concrete and discarded chewing gum, so that wasn't helping as he scanned the ground.

He tried to ignore the fact that he was shaking just from standing. That he would have to search this pavement for hours, and would probably have to beg once there were people to hear. He was going to find a way, because he had to, he had to get home.

A deafening crack echoed behind him. It gave Rayet no time to think: he ran. The crack sounded again, this time accompanied by a roar. Rayet reached a tree - unable to run any further, he backed up against it; still and silent and just what they wanted. An obedient monster. The roar got closer and closer, louder and louder, right on top of him. Then faded. Rayet hazarded a look. It had been a motorbike, which was now innocently continuing down the road.

Blimey. Had he always been this jumpy?

He relaxed against the tree, breathing the diesel fumes. Gradually, the air cleared again. This time, one smell was prevalent: leather. The fact that it was different captured Rayet before he even began to consider what it could mean. It was the only thing out of place, the only thing worth tracking. He pushed his weight away from the tree and back onto his feet, trying to ignore the swaying.

He meticulously scanned the pavement once more. The scent was coming from his left, where there was a dingy shop window of a jewellers: all the lights were off, and the security grating pulled down behind the window. And underneath the window lay the source of the scent: a leather wallet. It jingled as he picked it up.

For once, chance was on his side.

Rayet wanted to sprint, but could only manage a limping jog that he very much regretted, back to the phone box.

Leaning on the wall, breathing hard, he pressed coins from the wallet into the payphone, then fumbled to enter the phone number for home. For Artemis, Dextre and Nepenthe. They had to answer. They had to come and get him, and take him home, and make everything okay again.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

“Hello?”

It was Artemis. Oh, thank fuck, Artemis. Rayet opened his mouth to speak, to tell Artemis where he was and to come get him, come save him, please, he was scared. Monsters didn't deserve to talk. It always led to pain - but he had to, he had to go home. He had to tell Artemis where he was. His breath caught. And the sound was there, somewhere, he could feel it - but it couldn’t reach his vocal cords. His throat was frozen. Chance had been on his side until this moment. It was right at his fingertips, the first chance he’d had to escape, and he just couldn’t do it. He couldn't force out the sound. He couldn't speak.

“Hello?” repeated Artemis, “Anyone there?”

Rayet tried again and again to produce sound that just wouldn't come. He wanted to scream, but the harder he tried, the further his sound disappeared, forced back down into him like swallowing air.

“Is - is someone there? I think I… can hear you breathing. Say something. … Please say it's you, darling. … Darling? Are you there? … Please just let me know you're alive. … Say something. Please say something.”

_____________

@i-blame-my-love-of-whump-on-ryan