piplupfluffwritingstuff2

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Ah

I'm sorry everyone, I kinda jumped the gun there

Google docs isn’t deleting your docs just because they have lewd text.

OP turned off reblogs of the post due to being debunked, but here’s a link of the reblog so you can still read stuff. Hate Google all you want but misinformation helps no one.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

whump that's framed by the whumper as anything but the senseless violence it truly is - whump they call training. whump they call punishment. penance. correction. purification. clinical terms that obscure what they're doing, that obscure the abuse, institutionalized or interpersonal. terms that enforce you deserve this. this is your fault. there's nothing wrong here.

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"It's quite adorable, really." The villain's index finger followed the brim of the glass in lazy circles. They let their gaze wander to the wine and then back at the hero.

And the hero couldn't help but stare. Stare and pray.

Their hands were icy.

"Your invitation, I mean. I didn't know you were interested in going on a date with me," the villain said. Their grin reached from ear to ear and the hero couldn't help but stare at the villain's delicate fingers around the wine glass.

"I wouldn't consider this a date."

"I would. Food's fantastic."

"...it is." The hero stared at their own plate. They had mostly shoved food from one place to another, barely being able to get anything down. It seemed like guilt needed them to starve to make up for their actions.

"You look a little down," the villain said. "Shouldn't we be celebrating? This will probably the first and last time we are agreeing on something"

There wasn't going to be a first time.

The villain raised a glass and the hero only nodded, mirroring their enemy's action.

"To us," the villain said.

"Uhm...to us, yeah."

"To Gods amongst humans."

"Oh..." The hero didn't repeat that but they put on a fake smile they deemed to be very convincing. "Of course."

Without much further ado, the villain let their glass clink against the hero's. It was quite a pleasant sound.

As so many times this evening, the hero watched their enemy take a sip. They clenched their hands into fists but all their nervousness, their nausea and their anxiety was for nothing - the villain simply smiled and set their glass onto the table.

And the hero continued to sweat. They didn't know why fate was torturing them like this but they hoped, truly hoped it would pay off.

"You look very lovely, if I am allowed to say that."

"You're allowed to say whatever comes to mind," the hero said. The villain raised a lazy brow.

"Is that so?" They took another sip.

And the hero didn't quite understand. They had put enough poison into the villain's drink to kill an elephant.

"Of course. I've always respected you for your honesty."

The villain smiled lovingly.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same thing about you," the villain said. The hero swallowed. They could feel cold sweat run down their back. "You've always been a little liar. No matter how heroic."

"I never...I wouldn't..."

"This wine, for example." The villain raised the glass and the hero was ready to drop dead on the spot. They knew. They knew about it. They were going to kill the hero right here. With everyone else in the restaurant. "You told me this is the best they have but...darling, it's really not that good."

The hero let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, did I say that? I...I'm not really an expert when it comes to quality. I just...eh, I just drink whatever, honestly. And I liked this one the last time I was here, so I thought you might like it? Maybe?"

"That's very considerate of you." The villain tilted their head as if the hero was an adorable animal they didn't know if they should pet. "But you chose something else to drink?"

"I wanted to try something else. I like, you know, experimenting."

"Oh? Cheers, then."

Once again, they let their glasses bang against each other and before the hero could say anything, their enemy downed the drink.

Had the hero messed up somewhere?

"That reminds me..." the villain said. "Cheers is skål in Swedish. Isn't that funny? That's exactly the same word for bowl."

"Oh, I didn't know that," the hero said. They tried to smile but it was increasingly more difficult not to worry about being cut into pieces right here at the table.

Suddenly, the hero could feel the villain's foot on their bare shin, teasing them as if they were two lovers under the table.

"Do you know why?"

"...no."

"I heard somewhere that vikings used to serve their drinks in bowls," the villain said. They smiled sweetly. "And when their bowl banged against the other's, their drinks would mix. They did that to make sure the other wasn't poisoning their drink. It would be quite bad to have some of the poison in your own drink, wouldn't it?"

Holy shit.

"I..."

"But that's just a silly story I've been told. Dunno if it's actually true." The villain shrugged and leaned back in their seat. However, that didn't mean their teasing under the table was less significant. In fact, it felt a little too scandalous.

"I think I have to use the restroom," the hero mumbled. Their heartbeat was completely out of this world. They knew their heart was going to jump out of their throat any second now. "I'm sorry, I'll be back in just a second..."

The hero stood up, nearly knocking over the table.

"Wait, darling. Come here first." The hero did but they didn't expect the villain to grab their jaw and pull them down to their eye level gently. They turned the hero's head in their hand as if the hero's head was some kind of toy until they could whisper into the hero's ear. "Remember not to use any poisons I am immune to next time. But like I said. It's quite adorable. I enjoy your company."

They pressed a soft kiss to the hero's cheek.

The hero could barely walk to the restroom.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Which oc of yours isn't actually immortal but somehow just... doesn't die... even though they really should have a looong time ago

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“Don’t turn around. That’s it, good job. Raise your hands, nice and slow. Keep ‘em like that and no one gets hurt, okay? Well done. Now step into my car and we’re gonna take a little drive, just you and me. Don’t forget to buckle up” 

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

A wound which, when revealed, reveals also a character's identity- or rather, a secret identity or that the character is one and the same as the previously anonymous or disguised one who has done some deed that resulted in injury- a telling, distinctive injury that now identifies this character.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

During a brutal beating, whumpee's knees buckle, they go limp. The only thing holding them up is their assailant. Whumpee is bleeding and slack.

Their assailant shakes them a few times to see if they might come back.

— they don't.

They're out cold.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Piece of Cake

I wanted to try something mostly fluffy. I used gendered pronouns this time. This was mainly an exercise to play with OC dynamics, so that’s why. I hope you enjoy! This one is a bit long, so it's going under the cut.

The kitchen was all prepped. The ingredients sat on the counter, the measuring tools were out, and Hero had washed up thoroughly. Now all she had to do was whip up the cake and give Villain the best birthday ever.

There was, however, one slight, minor, infinitesimal problem. Hero had never baked before. Okay, that sounded really bad. Hero was an adult for goodness’ sake. She had never baked before unsupervised. Yes, that was a little better. She knew how to mix and measure just fine. It was the oven that was the problem. Aside from not knowing how to operate it, Hero was a cryogenic.

In simple English, she had ice powers. In more scientific language, her very DNA carried a cold gene that affected every part of her physiology. Her blood maintained the consistency of ice slush. She had poor circulation, meaning her nails were always tinged purple. Her lips would sometimes turn blue for no reason. She always, always felt cold. And finally, she was extremely sensitive to heat. Hero couldn’t be near a campfire for long before she would pass out.

Hero shook her head and adjusted her apron. So what? It was just a little oven. It wasn’t going to kill her.

She started to assemble the ingredients in a large, metal mixing bowl. She was careful to measure each item exactly, following the recipe down to the letter. Hero set the bowl under the mixer and turned on the appliance. She started at a low speed then slowly turned it up.

Usually, Villain was the one in the kitchen. They had a system, he and Hero. He would cook the meals, and she could clean up. Hero could make anything that didn’t require prolonged heat exposure, but that seriously limited her cooking options. Villain, having the power of energy manipulation and telekinesis, didn’t have this problem. He was more than happy to make their meals. Hero could make some killer ice cream though.

Hero turned off the mixer. Her batter looked pretty good, if she did say so herself. She poured the contents in a cake pan and tapped on it a few times to even it out.

She set the mixing bowl aside. She would lick it clean in just a minute.

She had looked up online how to pre-heat the oven, typing in the specific model she had. There were several helpful pages and even some videos. She opened the door, and a rush of heat greeted her. She shook off the dizzy spell and slid the cake onto the rack.

She closed the door as quickly as she could. After pressing the start button, she busied herself with the residual batter in the mixing bowl.

…

Hero was reading in the living room when the scent of something burning wafted through the air. Her eyes going wide, she slammed the book shut and rushed into the kitchen. She opened the oven door and was greeted with a blast of smoke and heat. She went to take the cake out but faltered. A much stronger dizzy spell had come over her.

…

“Hero!? Hero! Wake up! Come on, Love! Hero!”

Hero’s eyes fluttered open. When had she fallen asleep? She looked up at Villain. He knelt on the kitchen floor, supporting her but keeping her in a mostly reclined position.

“Are you okay?” Villain asked.

It was plain to hear the concern in his voice. Hero held a hand to her head; it was still spinning a bit.

“My cake!” she yelped suddenly.

She scrambled to get up. Villain held her fast. It was a good thing, too, because she felt her body give out on her the moment she tried.

“Easy, easy,” Villain said.

Hero looked around the now-messy kitchen. All of her ingredients were still out, including the ones that needed to be refrigerated. White foam covered the open oven. A fire extinguisher sat at the foot of it. The puzzle pieces clicked together, and tears welled up in Hero’s eyes.

“Hey,” Villain said, lifting her closer to his face, “You’re not hurt, are you? Did you hit your head at all? Twist anything?”

Hero shook her head. A choked sob escaped her throat.

“I ruined your birthday!” Hero cried.

“What?” Villain sounded genuinely confused.

“I had it all planned. I was gonna make your favorite cake. I-I even looked up oven tutorials so I could bake it right! But it’s ruined now.”

Hero sobbed harder. Villain shushed her, pulling her into a full embrace and rubbing her back.

“Hero… you know how dangerous the oven is for you. I wasn’t expecting you to bake me anything. The only thing I wanted was to spend time with you.”

“You’re just being nice!” Hero wailed.

“Come on, silly, I’m a villain. When have I ever ‘just been nice’?”

“You do it with me all the time! And the old lady across the street!”

“Well, first of all, Miss Carter grows the best cucumbers around here. So really I’m just playing a long-con. Secondly, I love you.”

Villain wiped Hero’s tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“You know, cake is overrated anyway. It’s just sugary, chocolate-flavored bread if you think about it. I’d much rather have ice cream.”

Hero’s eyes lit up hopefully.

“I can make you some!” she said.

Villain chuckled. He pressed his lips against hers in a gentle, chaste manner.

“Let me clean up the kitchen first,” he said, “and maybe tomorrow you could make us a batch.”

Hero wanted to argue that his birthday was today, and if she made the ice cream tomorrow, it wouldn’t be as special; but the thought faded to the back of her mind when he kissed her again.

“Can I at least give you your presents?” Hero asked.

“You got me presents!?”

Villain couldn’t hide his eagerness. Hero giggled and nodded. She went to stand again. She was still a bit wobbly, but she managed. She led Villain into the living room, where decorations hung on the walls and presents sat stacked in a neat little pile. Villain was going to have a good birthday after all. Maybe not the best he’d ever had, but certainly one of the more memorable ones.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

AO3

Tags:@mythixmagic@infinityshadows@fishtale88@thelazywitchphotographer@the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm@memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog@electrons2006@just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad @bacillusinfection@noseyowes@whump-till-ya-jump@writinglittlepains@m4iloblu3@annablogsposts @alwaysstrangeanddelusional @theultimatespicysandwich

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Single Part Snippets

Single Part Snippets, Prompts, Imagines, etc.

Single Part Snippets Part 2

Single Part Snippets Part 3

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Single Part Snippets- Part 3

Piece of Cake

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Piece of Cake

I wanted to try something mostly fluffy. I used gendered pronouns this time. This was mainly an exercise to play with OC dynamics, so that’s why. I hope you enjoy! This one is a bit long, so it's going under the cut.

The kitchen was all prepped. The ingredients sat on the counter, the measuring tools were out, and Hero had washed up thoroughly. Now all she had to do was whip up the cake and give Villain the best birthday ever.

There was, however, one slight, minor, infinitesimal problem. Hero had never baked before. Okay, that sounded really bad. Hero was an adult for goodness’ sake. She had never baked before unsupervised. Yes, that was a little better. She knew how to mix and measure just fine. It was the oven that was the problem. Aside from not knowing how to operate it, Hero was a cryogenic.

In simple English, she had ice powers. In more scientific language, her very DNA carried a cold gene that affected every part of her physiology. Her blood maintained the consistency of ice slush. She had poor circulation, meaning her nails were always tinged purple. Her lips would sometimes turn blue for no reason. She always, always felt cold. And finally, she was extremely sensitive to heat. Hero couldn’t be near a campfire for long before she would pass out.

Hero shook her head and adjusted her apron. So what? It was just a little oven. It wasn’t going to kill her.

She started to assemble the ingredients in a large, metal mixing bowl. She was careful to measure each item exactly, following the recipe down to the letter. Hero set the bowl under the mixer and turned on the appliance. She started at a low speed then slowly turned it up.

Usually, Villain was the one in the kitchen. They had a system, he and Hero. He would cook the meals, and she could clean up. Hero could make anything that didn’t require prolonged heat exposure, but that seriously limited her cooking options. Villain, having the power of energy manipulation and telekinesis, didn’t have this problem. He was more than happy to make their meals. Hero could make some killer ice cream though.

Hero turned off the mixer. Her batter looked pretty good, if she did say so herself. She poured the contents in a cake pan and tapped on it a few times to even it out.

She set the mixing bowl aside. She would lick it clean in just a minute.

She had looked up online how to pre-heat the oven, typing in the specific model she had. There were several helpful pages and even some videos. She opened the door, and a rush of heat greeted her. She shook off the dizzy spell and slid the cake onto the rack.

She closed the door as quickly as she could. After pressing the start button, she busied herself with the residual batter in the mixing bowl.

…

Hero was reading in the living room when the scent of something burning wafted through the air. Her eyes going wide, she slammed the book shut and rushed into the kitchen. She opened the oven door and was greeted with a blast of smoke and heat. She went to take the cake out but faltered. A much stronger dizzy spell had come over her.

…

“Hero!? Hero! Wake up! Come on, Love! Hero!”

Hero’s eyes fluttered open. When had she fallen asleep? She looked up at Villain. He knelt on the kitchen floor, supporting her but keeping her in a mostly reclined position.

“Are you okay?” Villain asked.

It was plain to hear the concern in his voice. Hero held a hand to her head; it was still spinning a bit.

“My cake!” she yelped suddenly.

She scrambled to get up. Villain held her fast. It was a good thing, too, because she felt her body give out on her the moment she tried.

“Easy, easy,” Villain said.

Hero looked around the now-messy kitchen. All of her ingredients were still out, including the ones that needed to be refrigerated. White foam covered the open oven. A fire extinguisher sat at the foot of it. The puzzle pieces clicked together, and tears welled up in Hero’s eyes.

“Hey,” Villain said, lifting her closer to his face, “You’re not hurt, are you? Did you hit your head at all? Twist anything?”

Hero shook her head. A choked sob escaped her throat.

“I ruined your birthday!” Hero cried.

“What?” Villain sounded genuinely confused.

“I had it all planned. I was gonna make your favorite cake. I-I even looked up oven tutorials so I could bake it right! But it’s ruined now.”

Hero sobbed harder. Villain shushed her, pulling her into a full embrace and rubbing her back.

“Hero… you know how dangerous the oven is for you. I wasn’t expecting you to bake me anything. The only thing I wanted was to spend time with you.”

“You’re just being nice!” Hero wailed.

“Come on, silly, I’m a villain. When have I ever ‘just been nice’?”

“You do it with me all the time! And the old lady across the street!”

“Well, first of all, Miss Carter grows the best cucumbers around here. So really I’m just playing a long-con. Secondly, I love you.”

Villain wiped Hero’s tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“You know, cake is overrated anyway. It’s just sugary, chocolate-flavored bread if you think about it. I’d much rather have ice cream.”

Hero’s eyes lit up hopefully.

“I can make you some!” she said.

Villain chuckled. He pressed his lips against hers in a gentle, chaste manner.

“Let me clean up the kitchen first,” he said, “and maybe tomorrow you could make us a batch.”

Hero wanted to argue that his birthday was today, and if she made the ice cream tomorrow, it wouldn’t be as special; but the thought faded to the back of her mind when he kissed her again.

“Can I at least give you your presents?” Hero asked.

“You got me presents!?”

Villain couldn’t hide his eagerness. Hero giggled and nodded. She went to stand again. She was still a bit wobbly, but she managed. She led Villain into the living room, where decorations hung on the walls and presents sat stacked in a neat little pile. Villain was going to have a good birthday after all. Maybe not the best he’d ever had, but certainly one of the more memorable ones.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

AO3

Tags:@mythixmagic@infinityshadows@fishtale88@thelazywitchphotographer@the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm@memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog@electrons2006@just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad @bacillusinfection@noseyowes@whump-till-ya-jump@writinglittlepains@m4iloblu3@annablogsposts @alwaysstrangeanddelusional @theultimatespicysandwich

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Yandere Poll

Here are their bios:

Jasper

Alaric

Viridis

Lucien

Jacinth

Kai

Kiran

Colt

Caius

Feel free to reply/reblog with your reasoning!

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Priority WIP for August

the poll choices are in descending order from oldest update to newest update

I didn't include my fanfics in the poll but they would fall under other. The two fanfics I'm working on are:

Pym Particles and House Spiders

Something To Do With The Multiverse

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Give me a Dick Grayson who got some super annoyingly painful injury on a mission, and now he’s lounging in a family room of Wayne Manor. He’s so high on painkillers that he’s slurring his words and he can hardly move. Bruce is sitting with him, making sure he has everything he needs, adjusts his blanket every so often, gets him a new ice pack when the one he’s using melts too much.

And Dick may be high as a kite and half asleep, but Bruce has a Gotham Knights game playing on TV, and he’s awake enough to be arguing with the TV, “That wasn’t a strike! Fuck this guy!” and, “I hate the way this guy fuckin’ pitches, looks like he’s fuckin’ bowling what a weirdo.” And Bruce is trying not to laugh too much, because Dick will get upset and think he’s being laughed at. And when Dick’s favorite player gets a home run? He lets out the silliest sounding, “Yay!” that makes Bruce so nostalgic for when Dick was little and would cheer every time their team hit the ball and got on base, or would get huffy when the other team would catch a fly ball.

Dick’s knocked out before the game is over, and Bruce tucks his blanket around him and makes sure he has a full bottle of water next to him. He doesn’t leave him alone in here though, doesn’t want to leave Dick alone at all while he’s in pain. So he sleeps in the recliner and wakes up to check on Dick anytime he so much as stirs or mumbles in his sleep.

Dick wakes up at one point in the middle of the night, but it’s clear he’s still half asleep. He’s mumbling nonsense and can’t quite sit up all the way. Bruce lowers him back down onto the couch gently, slowly, as to not aggravate his injuries. He assures Dick everything is fine, it he can’t quite make out what he’s mumbling about. The painkillers give him wild, vivid dreams, so Bruce knows whatever he’s saying is probably nonsensical.

“You’re alright,” Bruce whispers, smoothing back his hair. “Go back to sleep.”

“My jaw’s gone, fell right off,” Dick mutters.

“It will be better in the morning.”

Dick lets out a huge, jaw cracking yawn, then his neck rolls to the side and he’s out like a light, drool trailing down the corner of his mouth.

Bruce keeps smoothing Dick’s hair off his forehead for a few minutes, waiting until he’s sure Dick is back asleep, before he goes back to the recliner he’d been sleeping in.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

YES

THIS

PLEASE MORE OF THIS

I love this trope so much!!

Listen I know we all love Living Weapon Whumpee,

But if I may so humbly put it out there:

Living Weapon Caretaker

Like previous Whumpee LWC, suddenly put in charge of something, someone, much weaker and smaller than them, and at first it doesn't compute. How could anything be this weak, this fragile?

How could something this small rely on them?

But whether forced to or of their own volition, Caretaker knows this tiny, shaking thing, must live to see another day.

And overtime taking care of Whumpee has LWC healing stuff from their own past.

and if they're both in Whumper's clutches, they gain the strength to break out, and if not, if now safely with their team, they start to understand some of the looks the rest of the team gives them. The horrified looks, the looks of sympathy LWC doesn't get.

Whumpee trusting so heavily in LWC that they start questioning if all they're good for is combat.

Living Weapon Caretaker

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

forever thinking about "i'm fine" meaning please ask again.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Priority WIP for August

the poll choices are in descending order from oldest update to newest update

I didn't include my fanfics in the poll but they would fall under other. The two fanfics I'm working on are:

Pym Particles and House Spiders

Something To Do With The Multiverse