#attempt no. 29

[galactic-rhea]

DROP HIM, DOOKU, DROP HIM AND RUN

[turbent]

Zutara and yuezula stay bringing the fire nation and southern and northern water tribes together. Like these two ships could bring world peace fr!!!

[dailykeiji]

keiji shinogi world’s oldest man at age 29

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 19, 27, 28, 29

Sobbing | Dissociation | Stairs | Display | Last Resort | Numb | Gag | “I’m so cold.”

Please heed the warnings. Dead dove: do not eat.

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Contains: lady whump, aftermath of noncon/SA, dissociation, helplessness, hopelessness, restraints, gag, suicide attempt

WC: 950

Wet-paper petals

The body on the bed was still. It could move, but moving hurt. Moving dragged skin, reddened and burned by friction, over wool and cotton that mercilessly scratched. Moving shifted the light, illuminating blossoming bruises.

Bruises—broken blood vessels—temporary, violent purple in their prime, but not eternal.

Involuntary shivers wracked the body, however: the tiny tremors of limp, exhausted limbs. Bluish lips formed soundless pleas to no one: Please. I’m so cold. Please.

If there was only stillness, then there was no pain. Frigid numbness, perhaps, but numbness was bearable.

It was a body on garish display: arms spread wide and bound in place, showing off tender skin now marked. Adorned. Pink and abraded beneath the ties.

A body, and nothing else.

A door crashed open, casting a resounding clang throughout the room, and the illusion was shattered.

The maidservant stirred, bringing her knees as close to her chest as she could, her eyes squeezed shut. Please. No more. No more.

Footsteps slowly approached.

She tried to hold back a sob and failed, mewling into the leather tied around her mouth. It tasted foul: dust, sweat, oil. She couldn’t remember when it had wound up there, or where it had come from. A belt from a uniform, perhaps? It didn’t matter. It had served its purpose, stifling her frantic cries when her enemies decided they’d had enough of her tongue being free—after it, too, had served its purpose.

The footsteps halted, and her eyes flew open.

The soldier. He’d promised to kill her one day. He’d dragged her before the prince. He’d kept his distance, he hadn’t touched her. But he’d stayed silent.

He’d done nothing.

He reached toward her now, and she flinched, unable to disguise how she wept, condemned again to the indignity of freely flowing tears while he stood by and watched.

“No,” she begged. Some dried substance at the corner of her mouth cracked with the movement of her lips. “Please.”

He didn’t answer, but simply reached for her bound hands again; silently, he untied them. Torn strips of red fabric, ripped from a mass that had once been a gown, fell away. The soldier stepped back.

The maidservant fumbled with frozen, clumsy fingers and found she could not untie the leather belt. She pulled it from her mouth instead, letting it hang slick and dripping around her neck.

“Get dressed.”

Two words, a simple command, brimming with unbridled disgust.

She coaxed her unwilling limbs off the bed, stumbling toward the heap of once-ravishing silk, now ruined, stinking of pond-water and sweat. She struggled into it anyway, hungry for the scant warmth and comfort it would bring.

Her arms screamed, as unhappy free as they had been restrained. Her legs ached. Trembled. Burned.

The soldier said nothing, offering no release from . . . wherever she was. A dungeon cell? Perhaps. Likely. She dimly recalled stairs and windowless corridors. She’d fought and screamed and cried. Earned welts and bruises for her efforts.

Efforts ultimately in vain, like everything else she’d ever done.

An unexpected weight, hidden in the depths of the dress, bumped against her leg.

“Come here,” the soldier said. She looked up to find him watching her with narrowed eyes. The scratches on his face had clotted to perfect, parallel scabs, muddy brown in the poor light. “Move.”

She obeyed.

“Give me your hands.”

She did.

He tied them together in front of her, not torturously tight but securely enough that she could not wriggle free. She watched numbly, pretending those dirt-and-blood-stained fingers belonged to someone else. He thought he was being clever and cruel, lording his power and control over her yet again, protecting himself from another attack.

Didn’t he realize? She was done fighting.

Another tear slid down her cheek, splashing against his hands as he tied the final knot.

With a scowl, he shoved her away from him, back onto the cot with its mattress still damp. She caught herself clumsily, whimpering in pain. “Sit still and stay quiet while I find out what to do with you.”

He turned away.

When the lock clicked, that means of escape barred—not that it had ever been within her grasp—the maidservant felt for the makeshift pocket she had made what seemed like lifetimes ago.

I’m sorry.

She’d whispered those words to the food taster, and she’d meant them. What had become of him? Had the prince found him? Was he dead? Imprisoned? Coerced into bending to the prince’s darkest whims?

I’m sorry.

If only she’d had the chance to say those same pitiful, inadequate words to her brother.

Her stiff fingers struggled with the knots in her skirt. She wept, forcing them to keep working until, at long last, the knots came free.

She laid out the crushed flowers methodically, inspecting each. They were beautiful, even in death: wet-paper petals of soft yellow, like summer sun dimmed by mist. That colour, warm and lovely, hearkened back to golden days of long, long ago—before her life had been upended, ravaged, and utterly destroyed.

Back when her life was worth something.

She found two flowers with their poisonous spines intact and lifted them reverently from among their fellows.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but there was no one to hear, no one to see, and no one to mourn.

She sank the two sharp, spindle-like thorns into her fingertip; a cool sense of numbness spread outward. One prick, he’d promised, and you’ll be on the floor. What about two?

She fell, matted hair fanning out over the soiled mattress, poison coursing through exhausted veins.

A body, still living, but only just.

A broken heart, pulsing with strength enough to decorate her finger with a single, welling drop of blood.

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[carmen-berzattos]

since when did negging become a normal part of dating? why does this guy think that negging me on the second date is cute or endearing? does he really think I have no self-respect or is he banking on me not knowing what being treated well means? and then the audacity to be annoyed by me calling him out on it?? what?

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 29: Not Allowed to Die ♡

@febuwhump

omg last day! I'm done! That being said I accidentally wrote two for this prompt. I decided to post this one but I might do the other later cause it's about Solstice and I love them.

So here's another little thing to go with my series, 'Ripe, About to Fall.' Takes place some time before Onthyes shows up.

Content: pet whump, ! suicide attempt ! , intimate whumper, jumping off a balcony attempt, defiant whumpee, nonhuman whumpee, drug addiction/withdrawls, non explicit dub-con (or non-con depending on how you see it), transactional sex

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Not so fast, little bird."

Ventis yelps as Athos's hand snags his arm and pulls him from the railing of the balcony.

"No!" Ventis grabs the railing, holding himself there as Athos tries to drag him back inside. "Let me go!"

Suddenly, Athos stops pulling and pushes on Ventis's head, causing his face to hit the railing so hard that he blacks out. When he comes to he's sprawled out on Athos's bedroom floor and the man is locking the balcony doors.

"Did you really think you could escape like that?" Athos asks as he returns to Ventis, grabbing his horn harshly to pull him up to his knees. "That fall would've killed you!"

"I know!" Ventis snaps back.

Athos's face goes from shock to rage faster than Ventis can comprehend. His hand flies, striking Ventis across his cheek and leaving a cut in the wake of his ring. Ventis's head snaps to the side but Athos uses his hold on his horn to pull it back to face him.

"Stupid boy. You would really rather kill yourself than spend another day in luxury?"

Ventis averts his eyes, earning a hand on his jaw, squeezing too hard. "Look at me," Athos demands.

Ventis looks, his eyes filling with tears.

"You aren't allowed to die," Athos hisses in his face. "Not unless I want you to. Your contract states it very clearly."

"I hate you," Ventis snarls. "Death would be better than having to look at your ugly face all day."

He's slapped again, then shoved to the floor. He curls into himself as Athos's foot slams into his ribs and leaves him gasping for air. After a few more kicks Athos grabs Ventis's wrist and drags him over to the bed where he cuffs it to one of the posts at the end.

"You're sleeping on the floor tonight," Athos says as he secures the chain. "And no nightspill until you learn to be grateful for what I do for you."

Fear rushes through Ventis and he can't help but let out a sob. He can't go through withdrawals again. It hurts too much. "No, please. I'm sorry." He reaches for Athos, catching the edge of his robe and pulling on it. "I'll make it up to you. I'll be good, I promise."

Athos sighs, reaching down to pet Ventis's hair. "I wish you would be this sweet to me when you aren't in trouble, dearest."

Ventis stares up at him, batting his lashes. "Please, master," he says again. "Let me show you how good I can be for you."

Athos cups Ventis's cheek gently, smiling at him. "You're finally learning the way of things here. I'm very proud of you, treasure."

Ventis takes a deep breath, preparing himself for what is to come. He's willing to take a few moments of discomfort tonight to ensure he won't have to go through withdrawals tomorrow. It's worth it, even if this man disgusts him.

Just a few physical acts and he can avoid punishment completely.

Except when it's over and Athos is satisfied, Ventis is banished to the floor again. and when the next morning comes Athos ignores Ventis's pleading looks and the nightspill box remains firmly locked.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Ventisposting taglist (aka a list of people who i want to bake cookies for):

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump

[serickswrites]

Lost and Found

Warnings: botched escape attempt, hypothermia, captivity, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper

Whumpee collapsed at the lake’s edge. They hadn’t realized the snow was so thick and deep. It was too cold to go any further, but they couldn’t stop. 

Whumpee held their arms close to their body, the bite of the cold steel cuffs around their wrists hurt deep in their bones. Whumper hadn’t attached the cuffs to the bed after petting Whumpee for an hour. They had merely left to go do whatever it is that Whumper did when they weren’t around Whumpee. 

And Whumpee had taken that chance. 

They had run. Run and run. Run towards the lake in the distance because if they could cross the lake they could get help. And then Whumper couldn’t touch them anymore. Pet them anymore. Caress them anymore. And do other things anymore. 

But they had underestimated just how cold it was outside. And how ill prepared they were for the snow. As they sank into the snow bank, they realized that they weren’t going to be able to get back up. Or to keep going. It was too cold and they had been still for too long. 

As darkness encroached their vision, Whumpee realized they weren’t that cold anymore. And the snow was soft. And they were so very tired. 

***

It didn’t take long for Whumper to find them. Whumper followed the chaotic, frantic tracks through the snow. They knew they would find Whumpee quickly. And that would be perfect. They could do whatever they wanted with Whumpee. Forever. 

“Ah, my little lamb,” Whumper cooed as they came upon Whumpee. Snowflakes clung to Whumpee’s eyelashes, making them more beautiful than ever before. “You were lost,” Whumper said as they scooped Whumpee into their arms, wrapping their coat tightly around Whumpee. “But I found you.”

[hammerhead-jpg]

Do any Nate Wexler designs exist?

I kinda hate this lmao

[ronanziriano]

Augusnippets Day 29 - Tending to Non-Human Whumpee’s Non-Human Parts

The tide was low, leaving the shore a stretch of jagged rocks and slick, muddy patches. Rescuer picked her way carefully along the shoreline, eyes peeled for the lobster traps she’d been tasked with checking. She never expected anything else among these rocks aside from seashells and driftwood, but today, something caught her eye, half-concealed by a cluster of boulders. She would have missed it entirely if the sun hadn’t reflected a strange silver-blue that drew her attention and curiosity.

Expecting to see something glass or metal that someone had left behind, or perhaps that had floated over after being dropped off the side of some boat, Rescuer clambered toward the shimmer, and was stunned at the sight that met her.

A merman lay sprawled on the rocks, unconscious and deathly still. His tail - gradient of grays and blues, the source of that reflected sunlight - was pinned to the muddy ground between the rocks by a harpoon, the shaft jutting out obscenely from the wound. His skin was visibly dry, rough and peeling along his arms and chest, and his lips were cracked and colorless. The gills on his neck fluttered weakly - moving, but barely.

Immediately Rescuer dropped to the ground beside the merman. It was extremely doubtful that he had crawled this far onto shore on his own. He probably had been stuck here since high tide. The blood streaked along the rocks had long since dried and blackened, standing testament to how long he’d been on dry land.

Her first priority, then, was getting him unstuck. She knew that leaving an object embedded in a wound was the rule, but this was different. He needed water - fast. If she didn’t act quickly, he wouldn’t last much longer.

She grasped the harpoon, trying to steady herself. She had never been in the position of needing to save a life before, let alone a non-human one, and the situation had her trembling with nerves.

"Sorry about this," she mumbled, bracing herself. With a single swift, forceful motion, she yanked the harpoon free, wincing at the squelching sound it made upon its exit. Blood welled up from the gash, dark and viscous, but she couldn’t address it yet.

Ignoring the slick blood that found its way onto her hands, she grabbed the mer under the arms and heaved, dragging him toward the water’s edge. He was heavier than she’d expected, and her muscles strained and burned as she lugged him ungracefully across the rough ground. When she finally reached the water, she collapsed into it, taking a moment to enjoy the refreshing cold before returning to the task at hand. With a grunt, she pushed the mer further, until his head and torso were fully submerged, leaving his tail still sprawled out on the shore.

Through the rippling water Rescuer could see the mer’s gills flare to life, gulping in all it could. A relief to be sure, but the work wasn’t finished. His tail was still bleeding heavily, clouding the water around them.

With a vigorous tug, she managed to rip a strip from her shirt. It would have to do as a makeshift bandage. Trying not to jostle the mer too much, she wrapped the strip around the wound, tying it off tightly. The bleeding slowed, but didn’t stop, and she chewed at her lip, unsure of what else to do. She had gotten him back in the water, yes, but she knew he still needed more help than she could give.

Her attention returned to the mer’s face when a few bubbles of air from his mouth broached the surface. His eyes peeled open, then began darting around, confusion and fear clear as he took in his surroundings.

Then, for a moment, his gaze locked on Rescuer. Before she could say anything, he jerked away from her, plunging fully into the water. “Wait!” she cried, scrambling to her feet. “Don’t go! You’re hurt, you need - !”

It was no use. He was already swimming away, his tail lurching erratically through the water, leaving a trail of red in his wake.

Rescuer tried to wade out after him, but of course, the mer was much faster in the water. His form quickly became a blur, then disappeared entirely beneath the waves. She was left standing there, nearly waist-deep in the surf, knowing there was nothing left for her to do but unwilling to turn away just yet.

What if he didn’t make it? The thought gnawed at her. He was too injured to swim far, and she didn’t know where he could go for safety. If the wound didn’t finish him off, something else might.

@augusnippets

[jtl-fics]

Smalls AU for this wonderful Wednesday of WIPS?

WIP Wednesday - 9/27/23 (Closed) | Smalls AU

Janie Smalls' moment of weakness. She looks at her wrists, with white lines and the still pink ones, well her most recent one. It's not the first time that she has dealt with the hand that Janie Smalls' actions had dealt her.

She did just get out of the psyche ward due to Janie's attempt to do what she had managed on complete accident. She can't help a bit of resentment and god her life is so weird now.

"Do you really think I'm going to manage it with a plastic knife?" she asks watching as Wymack struggles to cut neatly through his Lasagna with the damn thing.

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[reliquiaria]

by the way the age gap is what makes verimaia and maiarei dynamics funnier . . .

[hexjulia]

holy shit lol. I knew when i ordered it that this would be a larger book but i somehow didn't expect it to be this huge. Pen for scale

[kj-munch]

fucker to try and practice drawing faces that arent my own ocs lol i need to work on stylizing people while keeping them recognizeable

[ftl-faster-than-life]

Imagine falling in love with someone who died centuries before you were born.

Imagine falling in love with someone you knew was fated to die young and brutally.

Imagine falling in love with someone and then finding out they're fated to kill you.

Imagine realizing the closest you'll ever be is when they have their hands around your neck.

[glacierfront]

zoe: makes a multi

me: hmm... what if

[viscerast]

Gang we need to talk please.

what so you can tell me how you think itd be cool to eugenics your high support autistic sister in a server full of disabled people again orrr???