#bthb pleading

[emcscared-whumps]

Johnstone, Johnstone, my darling boy Johnstone. "Pleading" on the BTHB card for him?

ID: Bad Things Happen Bingo Card

BTHB 1C - Pleading

BTHB Masterpost

Sorry about the wait, but I don't like rushing UwU Johnnybastard is certainly tough to make plead, but I think I have a way of forcing him :)

CONTENT AND WARNINGS: Dehumanisation, it/its as dehumanising pronouns, whumper turned whumpee, this episode, on 'How Homoerotic Could This Conceivably Get?' (even though Dathrir's gender is unfathomable, the spirit is there, (it's sfw tho dw)), wait, how the FUCK did I write hand whump (sliced thumb, EW), noncon turning (not a vampire thing, but a demon thing... even though vampires are a type of demon in these realms... idfk but Johnstone gets the worse deal) it's not transformation /yet/, forced blood drinking

wc: ~1k

“On your knees.”

Dathrir grabbed the restrained human’s throat, and with their free hand, their fingers wandered through its hair, and the clawed tips scraped over its scalp. The threat sent a chill down the human’s spine despite the snarl that stayed fixed on its face.

It took nothing to force it down, despite its viciously growled protests.

Compared to when he stood tall as a House Master, the human in front of them was small. It was probably the ragged clothes, and grimy, bloodied face that gave that impression.

Fallen from humanity’s grace.

A traitor.

A smile crept onto their features. “What a fun game…” they purred.

Fury burnt in those strange, odd coloured eyes. Dathrir recalled that eyes of odd colours were unusual in humans. It’d make a striking demon…

The human gnashed at the cloth gag, as if sensing the malice Dathrir exuded. The way it tried to cling desperately to any power or authority it previously had was amusing, but did not excuse its insubordination and crimes.

“You stole that belunae from me, you know. By getting greedy, sloppy. By getting stupid. I thought you were one of the more intelligent ones. If you had simply followed protocol, well... perhaps even... made a special request...” Dathrir drawled, “we wouldn’t be in this little mess now, would we?”

Their wandering fingers snapped shut and gripped a fistful of ratty blond hair, tearing scalp. The human let out a muffled roar that was as angry as it was pained. Blood seeped through its hair and a thin trail slid down its forehead.

“Hm, let me think… You failed to appoint another Head Hunter, lied in reports on multiple occasions, knowingly appointed a belunae in your Squad—one that you should have passed up—and you kept another as a pet in your little power fantasy. I must say, I admire your ingenuity… but not your stupidity.”

The human glared.

“Sorrel Johnstone, wasn’t it?” they asked. A shadowy smirk darkened their features as they tugged the gag from the human’s mouth. They spoke again, “You broke the House Order. Beg for forgiveness you pathetic fucking dog—give me one good reason not to execute you for treason, and I just might let you live.”

“NEVER, YOU FUCKING PRAT,” it spat.

Dathrir’s eyes narrowed, “You might consider trying again.”

“I. Will. NEVER YIELD!”

“Ever the fool… That’s okay though, I’ll enjoy spilling your blood.”

In a flash, a blade spun in their hand, the tip finding the snarling human’s throat.

The human inhaled sharply and froze, eyes going wide with an entertaining mixture of fury and fear.

Dathrir hummed a giggle, “Cat got your tongue…?”

The spark of defiance in the human’s eyes brightened to flames at the taunt. Its body quivered. Dathrir could hear the way the human’s hands worked in their bindings, itching to break loose and unleash the rage that so clearly roiled within. In the face of Dathrir, the bravery was almost admirable—it was willing to start a fight it surely knew it would lose. Then again, bravery was just a term to comfort the foolhardy.

Dathrir released the human, but not after a light swipe that left a fine, weeping mark across its throat. Perhaps now it would consider the command.

“This can go on as long as you’d like, but I’m sure you’d like to get back to business and rebuild your House,” they said with a quirked eyebrow. “So, why don’t you make it quick. Beg sweetly for me, and I will let you go.”

This got the human’s attention.

Clearly, it had expected to die here, but a change in tactic seemed to yield the results Dathrir desired. The rage still burned beneath its skin, its heavy breathing was a sure tell.

“Let me go,” Johnstone started in a low tone.

“Tsk tsk, the magic word...?”

“Please. Let me go please.”

“Oh I’m sure you can do better,” Dathrir quipped, “after all, you’ve heard it plenty of times, haven’t you?”

Even if only a mockery, the human’s next attempt was at least a fraction more believable, “Please let me go—I’ll do anything...!”

They would make them beg.

Dathrir stroked its hair. “Good boy... That wasn’t so hard now was it? There’s just one more thing before you go,” they drawled with an odd smile, unlocking the cuffs that bound the human.

“And what’s that?” it said, strangling its harsh tone.

Perhaps there was hope, it knew its unspoken boundaries and attempted to adhere, if only as a means to an end.

“This—” Dathrir sliced their thumb on the knife. Thick, dark blood immediately pooled at the tip and dribbled down in a fast stream. Dathrir lunged at the human faster that, it could blink, and shoved their thumb between its lips.

The human recoiled instantly at the taste of Dathrir’s foul blood and tried vainly to spit it out. Dathrir sealed its mouth, but it bit down hard through its clear disgust, tearing at their skin with blunt teeth, clearly trying to dismantle their hand one digit at a time. Had Dathrir been human, they would have screamed.

Instead, what they called pain was a warmth that blossomed and spread up their thumb and through their hand. The tears in their skin simply released more of their blood, prompting a muffled, frustrated scream from the human at their mercy. It struggled harder. It gave up causing them pain, instead trying to quell the sickening burning in their mouth and remove the substance that caused it.

Dathrir smiled, satisfied when the human had swallowed enough. They released it suddenly, letting it hurl itself across the floor. Blood glistened on its lips and the corners of its mouth, and more, mixed with saliva dribbled out of its mouth as it coughed and gagged, groaning lowly.

“What the fuck was that,” the human spat in a raspy voice.

Dathrir smiled, revealing fangs. “Oh,” they purred, “you’ll see.” It won’t be human for much longer, they thought, to be hunted by one’s own people is the most fitting punishment for a traitor.

“Guards, get rid of it. Take it to an alley near here, and then leave me,” they said, “I’d like to watch the show.”

“What the fuck—do you mean, you demon piece of shit?!” the human seethed between coughs.

Before Dathrir deigned to give another vague answer, the human twisted suddenly with a scream, no doubt caused by the corruption that flooded its body.

“Make it stop—! ARGH!” it yelled, agony cracking its strained voice. “Let me go and I’ll—consider letting—you live! If the other houses found out—”

“They won’t,” Dathrir said, “they haven’t for almost a thousand years~ Besides, no one would ever listen to a demon.”

“Let me FUCKING GO!” it screeched, leaping up and lunging toward Dathrir.

The guards caught it and held it back a mere inch from the unflinching Dathrir’s throat. It scrabbled in their hold, the bout of corruption seemingly over. The first ones they endured, Dathrir noted, always seemed less severe, and were shorter. For now, the pathetic creature that struggled restrained before them, murder in their eyes, would be fine. Perhaps it wouldn’t even notice what was happening until it was too late.

It was always captivating to see what a hunter would do when stripped of their humanity. Perhaps this one would be especially interesting, given its ego.

Dathrir hummed lowly, an ominously victorious, jovial sound, “As you wish.”

If you read and enjoyed this, please consider a reblog ^-^

Taglist

@dang-i-like-whump

@whump-cravings

@willowtreewhump

[devirnis]

Don't Listen When I Scream

Rating: M Relationships: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz Word count: 10.9k Cover art by @ronordmann

The man shoves Buck into the chair. Picking a hunting knife up from the tray, he points it at Eddie. “If you fight back or try to escape, I will slit his throat before you can even blink. Understand?” Buck’s eyes cut to Eddie, wide and fearful. Eddie shakes his head vehemently, but he already knows it’s pointless. Buck is going to endure whatever this sick fuck has planned for him because Eddie would do the exact same thing in his position if he thought there was the slightest chance it would spare Buck. Still, Eddie pleads with his eyes, trying to tap into their wordless communication that Buck should fight to get free, to not just sit there and take it. But Buck just stares back at him with grim determination, and Eddie feels his heart sink. Looking back at their captor, Buck nods. BTHB: forced to watch

(read on ao3)

[leothil]

can you recommend some long eddie whump fics?

Hi! Sorry, it took me a bit longer to get to this than I intended. I'm probably not the best person to ask for whump recs from as it isn't my first choice of genre, but I'll see what I can come up with. This fandom is also heavily buck-whump oriented, so I'm afraid not all of them will be that long.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania The one, the only! Amnesia, presumed deaddie, what more could you want! 44.4k words, rated M

dead reckoning by euadnes A helicopter crash leaves Buck, Eddie, and Ravi stranded in the wilderness. Technically whump for all three of them but /shrug! 28k words, rated M

something fiercer (something softer) by renecdote In which Eddie gets hurt during a call. Established relationship. This author has written a lot of BTHB fics, so you can look through that tag on her profile for more! 2.5k words, rated T

I'm still standing in the same place where you left me standing by trysetmeonfire Bobby POV. Eddie and Bobby are trapped together and Eddie is in really bad shape. He tells Bobby he loves Buck, because he needs Buck to know. 8.3k words, rated T

i'd spend a lifetime giving you my heart by hammersmiths Where they meet in the earthquake when they get trapped in the same space under the hotel. Again a whump for both of them, but it's Buck POV so he's more focused on Eddie. 10.4k words, rated T

dreaming, given a name by colonoscopys Eddie gets badly hurt, and Buck pleads with God and the universe to let him wake up, while also having to handle Eddie's family. 8.5k words, rated T

The rest I found in my log were more hurt/comfort than whump so I'll leave the list like this! Hope there are at least some new fics for you on here!

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hi Cal!

I'm super stoked for your BTHB! I'm also titillated about what Athena noticed in your last snippet for the whodunnit...

As if that weren't enough, I'm doing the pre-season rewatch and just saw the episode with the baby box this evening, so I'm also looking forward to seeing how the boys handle it together in the switcheroo.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

🫶🏼, ~Maxi

HI MAXI!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!

12 for 🚨:

---

“I’m sorry you didn’t save those other people,” Chris whispers. “But you saved me.”

Buck takes a deep breath. His eyes are glued to Christopher. 

“And I get to be alive,” Chris says. “And live here, with you. And you get to be my second dad. So that’s good, right?”

He asks the last part in the tiniest, most hopeful voice Eddie has ever heard. Like he’s terrified to hear, no, sorry, it’s not enough. Eddie looks at Buck with pleading eyes. Don’t turn him away right now. 

---

27 for 🦷:

---

Eddie drops his hand to his side stiffly, embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

Christopher’s mouth shifts to the side strangely; an expression Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen him make before. Like he’s holding his jaw at a very uncomfortable angle, teeth all out of alignment. 

“You have a mustache,” Christopher says. 

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, raising his hand to touch it a little self-consciously.

“Why do you have a mustache?” He asks.

Question of the damn month.

“Uh, I don’t know.” A lie. Great start, Eddie. “I needed a change, I guess.”

“It looks sort of weird,” Chris says.

Eddie tries not to sigh. “That’s what Chimney says, too.”

“What does Buck say?” Chris asks. 

A tiny smile finds its way to Eddie’s mouth. 

“He likes it,” Eddie replies. 

“Okay, well don’t do that stupid thing where you twirl the endings,” Chris warns. 

“I won’t,” Eddie promises. Not even a thought in his mind, truly. “Uh, you ready to go home?”

It’s a loaded question, Eddie knows. But he doesn’t mean it more generally. He just means, is Chris ready to get out of this damn airport.

---

27 for ☠️:

---

“I’m just hoping Maddie and Chimney are having a good time on their vacation,” Athena says. “They really deserve it, don’t you think?”

Bobby smiles. “Yeah. They really do.”

vi.

The next day, Athena does the only thing she can think to do. The only thing that feels right. 

She gives Hen a chance. 

Of all the members of the 118 implicated in Gerrard’s death - as far as Athena and only Athena knows - Hen is the one she feels she owes the most benefit of the doubt. They’ve been close friends for over a decade. They know each other very well. They trust each other. So she has to give Hen a chance to dispel Athena’s doubts. 

Then she will decide how to move forward. 

She arrives at Hen and Karen’s without warning. She doesn’t want to give them a chance to prepare. Consult with Buck and Eddie. Though maybe they already have, given the grocery store run-in. Regardless, Athena wants their most spontaneous reaction possible. 

“Athena?” Karen asks, eyes wide, when she opens the door. “Did you and Hen have plans?”

“No,” Athena replies. Karen’s hesitation at seeing her is answer enough. “I was hoping to talk to her though. Is she home?”

Karen nods quickly. “Yeah, she is.”

---

15 for 🚨:

---

“I’m sorry,” he says to Christopher. “I know. You’re right, buddy. That’s so… That’s so good.” 

Eddie exhales, relieved.

“Do you remember what you said?” Chris asks him.

Buck pulls out of the hug a little to look at him.

“When?” He asks shakily.

“During the tsunami,” Chris clarifies.

“What did I say?” Buck asks. He looks like he really isn’t sure what Christopher remembers. 

[unforgivenn]

UUUU id be curious to see the "You can scream all you want" prompt from the bthb!!! <3

Decided to do this for Noah baby because I haven't played with him for a long time :)

SHACKLED BY ROYALTY MASTERLIST

CW: Violence, suicidal thoughts, abuse, dehumanizing words, psychological and physical torment, emotional distress

Noah lay on the cold stone floor, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He knew Andrey would be here soon, and the fear gnawed at his insides like a ravenous beast. He had messed up again, made a mistake that would cost him dearly. His hands trembled as he wiped away the tears that blurred his vision.

The door creaked open, and Noah's heart skipped a beat. Andrey stepped inside, his face a mask of cold fury. He shut the door behind him, the sound echoing through the room like the tolling of a death knell.

Noah tried to stand, but his legs were weak, and he stumbled, falling back to the floor. He looked up at Andrey, his eyes wide with fear. "P-please, Andrey," he stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

As if with lightning speed, Andrey slapped Noah across the face, harder than he had ever been before. He fell down on the hard tiles making him scream. He felt as if his nose was broken. The way it started bleeding now probably meant it did.

"How many times?" Andrey interrupted, as he lifted Noah up by the hair forcing eye contact.

Noah's heart sank. What was he saying?

"H-Huh?"

Irritation was obvious through Andrey's face. Another slap connected with his cheek, and the sheer intensity of it made his ears ring. "How many fucking times have I told you to call me 'sir'? A child would've understood by now!"

Noah's mind raced. "I'm sorry, sir," he managed to choke out.

"Shut up! And that's not even it, you know?! It's as if no matter how much I try to go easy on you, you just fucking keep disobeying me. But no more of it now." Noah flinched violently from the anger in Andrey's voice. He had never seen him this angry.

Andrey took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light. "You think you can disobey me and get away with it, pet?" he snarled. "You think your pathetic excuses will save you?"

Noah shook his head frantically, his body trembling. "No, Sir, please... I'll do better, I swear..."

Andrey's fist came down hard, striking Noah across the face. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground, his head ringing with pain.

"Pathetic," Andrey spat.

He wasn't so sure why that had made him cry. He had taken much worse. So why.. like this..?

Noah tasted blood in his mouth, the coppery tang mixing with the salt of his tears. He tried to push himself up, but Andrey was on him in an instant, kicking him in the ribs. The pain was excruciating, a white-hot explosion that left him gasping for breath.

"Get up," Andrey commanded, his voice like ice.

Noah struggled to his feet, his body screaming in protest. He stood there, swaying unsteadily, his eyes locked on Andrey's, pleading silently for mercy. But there was none to be found in those cold, dark eyes.

Andrey grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the wall. "You always think you can get away with whatever you do, don't you?" he hissed, his breath hot against Noah's face.

Noah's vision blurred with tears as he shook his head violently, as if that would stop the cruel torment.

But Andrey wasn't listening. He drew back his fist and punched Noah in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs. Noah doubled over, gasping for breath, but Andrey didn't give him a chance to recover. He punched him again, and again, each blow sending waves of agony through Noah's body.

"Beg," Andrey demanded, his voice cold and hard. "Beg for mercy, you worthless little worm."

Noah fell to his knees, his body wracked with pain. "Please," he gasped, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, sir, I-I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

And he was sorry. He hated how much he wanted to crawl at Andrey's feet, he hated how he meant every word he said, he hated that he wanted beg for mercy. He hated He hated He hatedhehatedhehated-

God, he hated himself.

Andrey kicked Noah in the chest, sending him sprawling to the floor. Noah curled up into a ball, trying to protect himself from the blows, but it was no use. Andrey was relentless, his fists and feet a blur of motion as he rained down blow after blow.

Noah's world was a haze of pain and fear, his mind a chaotic jumble of thoughts.

Why? Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve such cruelty? He had wondered that a lot of times but there was never any answer expect pain pain pain and pain.

He could hear the sickening crunch of bone, feel the searing pain of torn flesh, but it was the terror that consumed him, the knowledge that there was no escape, no salvation.

Noah's voice was a broken sob as he pleaded. "Please, please... oh god.."

But Andrey's rage was unquenchable. He grabbed Noah by the hair, yanking him to his feet and slamming him against the wall again. Noah's head cracked against the stone, a sharp pain shooting through his skull. He felt dizzy, his vision swimming, but Andrey didn't give him a moment's respite.

He punched Noah in the face, the force of the blow snapping his head back. Noah's nose exploded with pain, blood gushing down his face. He tried to scream, but no sound came out, only a strangled cry.

Andrey's hands were everywhere, grabbing, hitting, hurting. He punched Noah in the stomach, kicked him in the ribs, slapped him across the face. Noah's body was a canvas of pain, every nerve on fire, every movement a fresh wave of agony.

Noah's world was a blur of pain and fear. He could barely think, barely breathe, his body a mass of bruises and broken bones. He tried to scream, to beg for mercy, but his voice was a hoarse whisper, lost in the storm of Andrey's rage.

Andrey grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the wall. Noah's vision covered with black spots, his breath cut off, the pain a white-hot explosion that consumed him.

"You will-"

Fuck. He couldn't breathe. He didn't even process his hands going up to claw at Andrey's face, hands, literally anything to make him let go of his fragile neck.

-learn your place."

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see either now. What was happening?

"You will-" The words were becoming too wrapped now. "learn.."

There was a strange ringing in his ears now. What was he saying?

"to obey."

Noah's body went limp, his mind slipping into darkness. He could feel the life draining out of him, the pain fading into a distant echo.

He was dying. He was sure of it. And he was ready to welcome it now. Death had become a long-lost friend with everything he went through.

When Andrey released him, letting him fall to the ground in a crumpled heap, he had been almost disappointed. Just a few more seconds and maybe Noah would've been free from the torture.

Noah lay there, gasping for breath, his body a wreck of pain and terror. He could barely think, barely move, his mind a haze of agony and fear.

Andrey stood over him, his face a mask of cold fury. "You will learn your place," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "You will learn to obey."

His hands were still clawing at his throat, still feeling the unforgiving fingers on them. He could only manage a small nod.

But Andrey's eyes were hard, his heart a stone. "You can scream all you want," he said, his voice cold and merciless. "No one will hear you. No one will come to save you."

And a broken sob escaped Noah, because he knew it was true. Because he knew that no matter what, no matter how much Noah would beg and plead and pray. And oh lord, did he pray. Noone was coming for him. And even if they did, how did it matter anyways?

How did anything matter now?

Shackled by Royalty Taglist: @miireux134/ @nuriiz134/ @noeul-whumpsss/ @morning-star-whump/ @parasitebunny/ @anutz1234/ @whatwasmyprevioususername/ @whumped-by-glitter/ @lordcatwich/ @someoneoninternettt/ @natthebatt/ @noeul-whumpppssssss1234/

@electrons2006/ @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @lolrpop(let me know if you want to be added, removed or only be tagged in teh main series :D)

[blackberry-bloody]

Masterlist

This is a masterlist for my written content!

And if you like any of these, I have a Discord server that I'm working on putting content in! It's pretty chaotic, but it's fun!

While there is some overlap between series, since they all take place within the same universe, they can be read independently of each other.

Also, Stay down, doesn't really have an order to be read in, It's very up in the air and a bit jumbled. So while some context may be lost, it can essentially be read in any order (as it stands right now. This may change later.)

Meet my ocs-

Meet Mibium

Meet Berkley

Series-

Pick Your Poison:

Masterlist

A Choose your own adventure whump story where the player/reader is the whumpee to a mad scientist.

Contains: Lab whump, creepy whumper, paranoia and gaslighting, horror elements.

Characters: Berkley, Mx. Doe, Rain, Marley

Stay Down:

Dayzel's half- A somewhat jumbled story of Dayzel, a demon, and the multiple bouts of whumping he has endured throughout his life.

Contains: Living weapon whump, villain whumpee/outcast whumpee, whumper x whumpee, spousal abuse, manipulation/gaslighting, defiant whumpee, self-loathing whumpee

Characters: Dayzel, Mibium, Rupert, Nox, various background characters from flashbacks.

Nox Marking him

BTHB Pleading

"Have You come to Laugh at me in my miserable state?"

Unforgivable

Sensory Deprivation

Zapping

Dayzel's rescue pt.1

Dayzel's rescue pt.2

Sleep

Mibium's half- A "spinoff" in flashbacks about Mibium's time as a whumpee in Hell as an angel.

Contains: Creepy/intimate whumper, pet whump, objectification/dehumanization

Characters: Mibium and Octavian

BTHB Chained to a bed

BTHB Blindfolded

BTHB Non-con Touching

Overstimulated and Carewhumper

Half Lies and Hidden Truths:

Masterlist

Three connected stories, told separately through The Heart, The Mind, and The soul.

(Content and characters in masterlist)

Snake Bite:

Whumper Berkley- A story detailing his experiments on his two main whumpees, with some flashbacks to a previous whumpee.

Contains: Lab whump, horror tropes, multiple whumpees, lots of character death (non of the major characters, and offscreen/implied)

Characters: Berkley, Rain, Marley, Mindy (mentioned but not present)

Quiet and Lament Prompts

Whumpee Berkley- An "epilogue"/"spinoff" where he is captured by a demon when he's forced to visit Hell.

Contains: Creepy/Intimate whumper, whumper x whumpee, Stockholm syndrome, whumper turned whumpee, nsfwhump (any chapter involving this will be posted to @blackberry-sour-and-sweet)

Characters: Berkley, Octavian

(NSFWHUMP) Octavian being Bored

Failed escape

(Untitled) Demon Mishap:

A story idea about a demon having been "accidentally" kidnapped and sold to a high ranking demon who's eager to break him in.

Conatains: Creepy/Intimate whumper, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, defiant whumpee, nsfwhump (any chapters containing this will be posted to @blackberry-sour-and-sweet)

Characters: to be announced later :)

(Untitled) Space demons:

A story about two bounty hunters in the far, far future when humans/angel/demons have begun exploring the stars.

Contains: Scif-fi whump, enemies to lovers, "enemy of my enemy is my friend" trope, morally bankrupt/ villain whumpees

Characters: Zeke, Omen, (others tbd later)

Lore/worldbuilding-

Timeline

Claim Marks/Magic brands

One offs, RP, extras, and non-canon-

Random Mindy fact

Nox, Rupert, Berkley whumper answer

Berkley whumper answer

Character questions (cheese, flexible, and pets)

Character questions (touch starved, sleep, breaks, and strength)

Character questions (smooth talker, graceful/clumsy, instruments, self-sacrifice)

Magic "anon"- Human Fates

Octavian, Rupert, Nox whumper answers

Berkley Whumper answers (with Mindy)

Nox, Nom, Octavian character questions

Whumpee Nox 1/2

Whumpee Rupert

Dayzel "red flags"

Dayzel tattoos

Rupert= Malewife potential?

Character questions (mibium)

DnD content-

Forgotten Familiarites- A DnD campaign run by @obsessedwithegos for myself and @emmettnet

Contains: Self sacrifice, religious trauma(?), abysmally low self esteem, whumpee being reckless/lacking self-preservation, character death (mentioned)

Characters: Nom and Alithea (both belong to me), Dirk, Teddy, Dirce (belong to @/emmettnet), Nilam, Selin, Aevid, Kavius, Mantra, various other NPCS, etc. (all belong to @/obsessedwithegos)

BTHB "I just want to have friends"

Help prompt

Laugh

Falling Feathers- A homebrew campaign I'm running for @/emmettnet and @/obessedwithegos.

Contains: Lab whump, non-con body modifications, major character death (temporary), reluctant whumpers, carewhumper, living weapon whump, multiple whumpees, whumper viewing/treating whumpee as "family", whumpee turned whumper, horror tropes

Characters: Denice (belongs to @/emmettnet), Eliza/Esheh (belongs to @/obsessedwithegos), Berkley, Marley, Rain, Dren, Mindy, The Fates, various NPCs, etc. (all belong to me)

[mythgirlimagines]

BTHB Masterlist

1- Self-harm (Syomaru, Danganronpa)

2- Shot with an Arrow (Honami, Project Sekai)

3- Hyperventilating (Katarina, Hamefura)

4- Facing their Phobia (Tokohina, Danganronpa)

5- Superpower Overload (Komaru, Danganronpa)

6- Survivor’s Guilt (Aoyama, DVHS)

7- Pleading (Miyuki, DVHS)

8- Scar to Remember (Makoto, Danganronpa)

9- Never Got to Say Goodbye (Saki, Project Sekai)

10- "Get Well Soon" Gift (Leo/need, Project Sekai)

11- Comatose (Ishikawa, DVHS)

12- Not Used to Freedom (Sora, Hamefura)

13- Hypothermia (Rei, Pokemon)

14- Neglect/Abandonment (Keith, Hamefura)

15- Secret Caretaking (Ichihona, Project Sekai)

16- Busted Lip (Korekiyo, Danganronpa)

17- Tonsillitis (Aoyama, DVHS)

18- Misunderstanding (Geokata, Hamefura)

19- Loss of a Pet (Toko, Danganronpa)

20- I Will Only Slow You Down (Hiyobuki, Danganronpa)

21- The Silent Treatment (Ruikasa, Project Sekai)

22- Road Rash (Katarina, Hamefura)

23- Attack the Injury (Chat Noir, Miraculous)

24- Spinal Injury (Hajime, Danganronpa)

25- Terminal Illness (Oshiro, DVHS)

Honorable Mentions:

-Never Got to Say Goodbye (Katarina, Hamefura)

-Busted Lip (Alan, Hamefura)

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Mariano ft. Tears of Fear? Idc if he's doing the crying or making someone cry I just love him

BTHB 2023 - Fill 4 - Tears of Fear

Oh I have a fun idea for this one c:

TWs: non-graphic beheading, nightmares, guilt

"Please. Please." Mariano didn't recognize the face in front of him. He should've. "Don't do this."

He recognized the throne, though. Gilded, dark with tarnish, Mariano knew that throne. It filled him with the same dread, the same awe, the same fury as always. It made the back of his neck itch, and the ghost of burns crawl over his skin.

It made his magic snap its sun-white teeth, the insatiable tongue hungry for blood.

"Mariano, my brave boy, do not do this." Mariano remembered these words. He also remembered the late winter voice that hadn't come out of this face, either. "Don't kill me, you know better than anyone what that would do. It wouldn't change a thing. Death never does."

Mariano felt the weight of his sword against his fingers. Its ornate hilt swirled and flickered in the firelight that raged around them. It mocked him.

"I know that death matters." Mariano said. "I know it changes people. And places." The new face in front of him was still unfamiliar. He knew he'd seen it before, but couldn't place where. He didn't need to. They'd all been lit by fires like this one. "Death does more than you say it will."

There were no thundering footsteps this time. No din of fighting, no screams of agony as Bastian spit his fire and swung his tail to buy Mariano time. Mariano knew in his heart what this was.

He knew as surely as he saw his former king's eyes widen. The old man shrank back in his throne, recoiling back into his luxurious old-world furs. He raised his hand, as though that would stop Mariano without his curse. Finally, he looked like he should have, wizened and aged by the years.

Mariano remembered how it felt when his own lip raised in a snarl, how heavy his arm had felt, and how the room lit up like the brightest day when his magic raced up the blade. Had tears been rolling down the king's face when he begged and pleaded? In that moment, had he regretted taking in the tiny child who'd begged for shelter and mercy?

He couldn't ever be sure.

His blade bit through the king's neck in a clean swipe. Everything wobbled with the dancing fire, and this time, Mariano didn't pick up the head. He didn't sprint for his dragon to escape, he didn't feel any triumph. He could see himself, standing still and tall above the corpse, gleaming sword at his side.

The king's eyes had gone blank. His own were dark, except for the silver rings that seemed to glow like the fire that Bastian wielded. Their gazes met, and even this time there was still no closure.

Mariano opened his eyes to the stars above and the fall chill nipping at his ears. Hot tears sliced down his face as he sat up, swallowed in one of Bastian's shirts. His heart hammered in his chest, as quickly as his king's would have been. Scrubbing at his face with his palms, he sat up and curled his knees to his chest.

As always, the memory left anything but triumph in its wake and Mariano couldn't untangle it just yet.

The quiet of the night swallowed his tears though, and the lingering terror. The stars played on Bastian's scales and hair, making him glitter as he breathed. The knot in his stomach didn't begin to unwind until the sun started to peek over the horizon.

[pythagoreanwhump]

BTHB—Pleading

This is meant to contrast with BTHB—Fingore, but you don't need to have read it to read this. There's not really any CWs in this one tbh

“Come on,” Anastasia stopped Kai before they could disappear into their room for the night, a hand on their shoulder turning them toward her.

“Ma’am,” Kai startled. “I was just g-”

“Come,” She interrupted, increasing the pressure on their shoulder. Not enough to pull, but they followed her, still hesitant but showing no overt resistance. She lead them to a room they were familiar with, meant for punishments, though there was rarely any purpose of chastisement behind what was done to them there. The same hand ended up at the base of their neck, pushing them against a wall, followed by a quiet order to take their shirt off.

“Please, ma’am. Not today.” Even as they tried to refuse, they followed her order, unbuttoning their jacket and handing it to her.

Anastasia did not reply, taking Kai’s jacket and shirt before unceremoniously throwing it onto the table in the centre of the room, her hand never leaving Kai’s back. They closed their eyes, silent as she pulled out a knife and carved a straight line down their back, from their left shoulder blade to their waist.

“Anastasia, please,” Kai tried to turn to face her as soon as the blade lifted from their skin, before she could continue. “I’ll be good, I swear. Could we please do this some other time?” She could do this whenever she wanted, they knew that, and they did not have the choice to fight her. Still, they squirmed as they asked, trying to get her to understand that they really didn’t want this.

“It’s okay, Kai, I won’t take long. You just have to take it.” She pressed them harder into the wall, but the only touch she gave them was one hand, the other not even resting on their skin as only a few millimetres of metal dug into their back. They weren’t sure if it would be better if there was more of a gentle touch, a hand brushed over exposed skin to soothe. Maybe that would only add to the unwelcome burn of pain now, every sensation filling what little free space was left in their mind after a long day.

The lines kept digging in, each one deeper than the previous and more painful. Kai alternated before straining their head back, trying to pull away as much as possible without it counting as fighting back, and resting their forehead on the cool concrete, tears streaming down their face. “I can’t-” They gasped out when half of their back was covered in long cuts, and the latest ran down their spine until it dipped into the divot at their waist, sending a spark through their body and seized every muscle they could feel. “Please, Anastasia, I can’t.” Can’t relax like they always did. Can’t enjoy it after what they did today, their head filled with images of how they hurt someone who was not like them, who couldn’t enjoy it but had to face it anyway.

“Please, please, no,” The next cut cued more tears, no longer silent as they choked on a sob, and they repeated the same two words over and over like a prayer. They knew what Anastasia thought, that they wanted this and she was only doing it for them. Maybe they deserved it for what they did today, but they didn’t want it now, couldn’t even try to want it. Please, Anastasia, no more. Please. They couldn’t tell if Anastasia heard them, if they even succeeded in forcing the words past their lips. The only relief is that Anastasia was always predictable when she was like this, and Kai knew that they could be done once the right side of their back was laid full with the same long lines of red. Before then, all they could do was beg, hoping the pleas would fill their mind more than any memories.

“Good work,” Once Anastasia was done, all she offered was the short praise and a firm pat on their shoulder. It should’ve been enough, it usually was. Usually, the acknowledgement that they’ve done well enough for her was enough as the haze of pain lulled them to sleep, but tonight, as she walked them back to their room in silence, holding their clothes for them, all they could think of was their own voice, capable of speaking only two words. No. Please.

[ultracreativelywritten]

I tried to post this last night, but something went wrong. 

I was in the mood for fire emblem three houses.

“Claude?” Lorenz looked over at his once schoolmate, now friend with confusion.

“Yes, love?” The violet-haired male shivered as Claude walked towards him.

“Please don’t do this.” Silent tears fell from Lorenz’s face.

“Why are you crying, my love?” Claude kissed the side of the lord’s face, licking some of the tears away. “Would you like some tea?”

“Please-” Lorenz was cut off as Claude pulled him into a kiss.

“I have your favorite right over here~” 

“Please don’t hurt them.” 

“Hurt who?” Claude handed Lorenz the cup of tea.

“My people… Our people, our classmates, the professors!” Lorenz took a shaky sip of the tea, “what in this?”

“What do you mean? I would never hurt you, or any of our friends.” Claude’s grin grew as Lorenz’s eyes tried to stay open.

“Please, don’t hurt them.”

“Never my love.” Claude took the tea cup and placed a kiss on Lorenz’s forehead and played with his hair as the lord fell asleep.

[devirnis]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz @honestlydarkprincess @exhuastedpigeon @princessfbi MWAH 💋

Feeling the itch to write more hurt/comfort BTHB fics, so have some more of the follow-up to The Shadows of Every Spark

Buck shifts in the chair again, drawing Maddie’s gaze back to him. He doesn’t dare shake his head, but his pleading is evident in his eyes. Don’t do it, he’s begging her. Save yourself. Maddie steels herself in determination. She’s getting them both out of this; she just has to wait for the right moment. She shrugs off her jacket and snaps the handcuffs on. Without being asked, she walks over to Doug and presents her wrists for inspection, and Doug smiles with such pride that it makes Maddie’s skin crawl. Evidently satisfied with her restraints, Doug fists the back of Buck’s shirt and yanks him out of the chair. Buck grunts out a muffled noise of surprise as he struggles to get his feet under him, and Maddie has to resist the urge to reach out and steady him.  “Jacket over the handcuffs,” Doug reminds her. “And then you’re going to check to make sure we have a clear shot to the street.” “And then what?” Maddie asks, picking up her jacket. “We’re going for a drive.”

if you wanna @bigfootsmom @homerforsure @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @spaceprincessem @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bvckandeddie @loserdiaz @monsterrae1 @eowon @messyhairdiaz @shitouttabuck @sunshinediaz @lemonzestywrites @underwater-ninja-13 @daffi-990 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @watchyourbuck @tizniz 💜

[saccharine-suffering]

Personal Branding

I’m back! I’ve been writing a lot of non-whump story, but the next like nine are all super whumpy. So :)

Read it on AO3

Masterlist

When he awoke, the first thing Micah noticed was the cold. The air around him was damp and cold. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he tried to hold onto himself for warmth- but he couldn't move. The intense chill distracted him from the rope binding his wrists and ankles to a worn wooden chair.  As he continued to wake up from his forced sleep, he noticed more and more- like the cloth gag shoved far into his mouth and light footsteps.  A feminine voice broke the deafening silence.

"Are you awake? You've been out for hours." Micah could barely make out her tiny silhouette. She couldn't have been any taller than five feet. Plus, it was near impossible to see anything in the suffocating darkness. The girl flicked on the light, practically blinding Micah. There was a dull, yet intense pain shot through his head the second the light came on. Micah retracted and whined from the discomfort. 

"Do you have a concussion?" She jumped in again, "We've been trying to stop doing that." There was no way this girl was his captor. She was tiny. Blonde and skinny- dressed up in baby pink and wearing gentle makeup. Her glassy green eyes had a look of care and softness behind them. No way. No fucking way. The person who beat him up and drugged him was almost his height. They were strong. He refused to believe it. 

"Now, I know what you're thinking- 'Where am I? Who are you? What's happening?'" She began to flick through a file folder as she spoke in a casual tone, "Don't worry- well, do worry. I guess you are in a lot of danger. You are somewhere no one will find you. You're here because someone paid a lot of money to put you on a list. And you can call me Dollface- and you're my property now." She smiled at him, provoking him to struggle in his restraints. 

"I can already tell you'll be a fun one." She continued sorting through pages in the folder, "Micah Santonio." She read, closing the folder after. "I like that name. I won't change it." Micah started to take in his surroundings, following her as she walked around the room. From what he could see, there was a staircase against the far wall- which seemed to be the only way in and out. There was blood on the floor and chair, chains hanging from several spots on the ceiling. On the far left wall, a series of metal cabinets and counters. Next to it, a few shelves. From what he knew, displayed on the wall, was a few knives, a whip, a blowtorch, and a stun gun. But Dollface was digging through a cabinet, clearly looking for something specific. She eventually pulled out a hot glue gun- a hefty looking one, without a cord. She then moved to grab the blowtorch off the shelf. 

Micah continued to panic and struggle. Dollface smiled at him as he fruitlessly tried to speak through his gag. She placed the items at his feet and leaned in close to him. Micah could finally see her up close. Her eyes were soft, but they pierced his heart like a blade. He couldn't pinpoint what was so threatening about this girl. 

"Do you have something to say, love?" Her voice was like poison. A voice that Micah knew would be more than enough to send him to his knees in the near future. He frantically nodded. Dollface untied the fabric wrapping around his head and pulled out the ball of cloth in his mouth. He took a wheezing breath and let his jaw relax. "So? What did you need to tell me?"  Micah realized he needed to say something. He wanted to get out of the gag so badly that he neglected what it actually meant. He had to think fast. After a few seconds of him shaking his head in panic, Micah was finally able to choke out a few words. 

"Please... I don't know what you're about to do, but don't do it. We- we can talk! Let's talk." His voice sounded more desperate than he meant it to, causing Dollface to giggle slightly. 

"Cute voice, too. And don't worry- this won't even hurt. Compared to everything else I'm gonna do."  She lightly tapped the tip of his nose and smiled. At this point, the glue gun was heated up and dripping the melted plastic. She circled back of him as he continued to try to plead with her. Dollface pulled down his shirt enough to expose his left shoulderblade. 

She then delicately seared a symbol into his shoulderblade with the gun. When he tried to squirm away from the white-hot burning, she delivered an elbow to his gut. He clenched his hands so hard his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. Blood pooled in his hands as he let out a soul-piercing scream. Micah was breathing heavily when she pulled away. He let out a quivering breath as tears fell down his cheeks. 

"You made a lot of noise." Dollface's voice had a kind of spice to it. What was once bittersweet now was just bitter. He could almost hear her cruel smile. "That was just the outline. Things are gonna get a lot worse." His heart sank when he heard the gas of the blowtorch ignite. His thrashing grew more violent when the flame made contact with his skin. He felt it burn deeper and deeper into his flesh. The smell was repulsive. He just kept screaming louder and louder until his voice fell into a raspy whine. He was crying so hard hat no more noise came out, despite his bloodshot eyes and teardrops staining his face. 

The torch clicked off and Micah swallowed hard, trying to stop sobbing. She gently touched his skin, which was more than enough to make him whimper. The cold water she sprayed on the wound was completely blissful. The old rag less so. After a few moments of picking stray bits of glue from his skin, Dollface came back around the front of her victim. 

"You don't seem to have a very high pain tolerance." She lifted his chin to force eye-contact. Micah shook his head no in response. "Well," she softly cupped his cheek, "things only get worse from here." 

[moonstonemoonlight]

Pleading - DS Dream and DS Nightmare

Dreamswap by Onebizarrekai

Warning for mild violence

Nightmare hated the cells. It was dark, it was cold, and the very air felt heavy with dread like a noose around his neck that he would one day fail to escape. Thank stars for Error and Cross or he might not have gotten out those past times, given the new defences in JR. Sneaking out alone was a lot harder than it used to be.

He had tried already to slip out of the handcuffs, but they were too tight - way too tight, unnecessarily tight, he doubted he could get them off even if he broke his thumbs - and the entire cell was carved with runes that suppressed his magic, even if he did somehow manage to get the cuffs off.

Giving up for the time being, Nightmare lay on one side on the cot and let himself rest a bit. It was sometime in the middle of the night and he was tired even if he didn’t dare sleep here. He just had to hope that Cross and Error realised he was gone and could save him soon, or that he could find a way out himself.

Some time later, he heard shuffling and footsteps nearby, and turned on his side. Nightmare assumed it was another prisoner being brought in, but the footsteps came towards his cell. He only had a few moments to sit up and tense before they were unlocking his cell, opening the door, and he launched himself at the first one who entered. The first guard was stunned still for a moment, but the other wasn’t and grabbed at Nightmare before he could make it out the door, picking him up by the back of his shirt as the negative guardian kicked the air. The guards grumbled and with difficulty got a firm hold on him, carrying him out of the cell between them. Nightmare struggled somewhat dejectedly, knowing he had missed his best bet at freedom, and wondered if he was being taken to the lab for the infrequent tests he got when he was captured. But why in the middle of the night? Usually nothing happened until the morning.

The corridors were familiar at first, heading towards the medical facility, but a few turns took them into an area Nightmare had never seen before. He began to feel a knot of unease in his chest despite telling himself everything was going to be fine. Finally they entered a room and Nightmare wished he was back being dragged through corridors; most of the room space was taken up by a huge looming machine, massive gleaming pipes snaking around the corners and two person-sized pods prominently displayed and hooked up. It looked nothing like anything he’d seen in the labs. With growing panic Nightmare kicked at the guards, earning a grunt and a whack to the back of the head, but as they approached one of the pods his struggling became frantic.

“No! Let me go! You’re not putting me in there!” He had a horrible suspicion what the machine was for. He kicked at the lid of the pod but failed to shatter it, squirmed around like a madman to try and stop the guards from tying his legs down to the board inside, his handcuffed arms hung on a hook above his head despite his efforts, his yelling and protests going ignored. Once his legs were tied down Nightmare was reduced to pulling at the binds and trying to work the handcuffs off the hook, starting to shake. He told himself it was adrenaline. The lid of the pod closed over him and everything outside was muffled, but he could still clearly see the moment Dream walked into the room.

Golden light tinted the walls and the CEO of JR himself stepped in, wings tightly folded, and started talking to the guards. He didn’t even look in Nightmare’s direction. Nightmare couldn’t make out everything, but he heard something about being unable to follow standard policy and ‘part of a separation procedure’. It felt like the breath was knocked out of him for a moment and he forced himself not to choke on his panic. “No no no-! You can’t do this!” He thrashed in the pod, as much as he was able. His shouting gained Dream and the guards’ attention, but his words went unacknowledged. Dream ushered the guards away to stand by the door as a Sans in a lab coat came in. Nightmare shouted as Dream approached the other pod, “Dream no don’t- Please don’t! Dream!”

He saw Dream flinch as he hesitated to open the pod. The Sans did it for him. Nightmare felt panic well up inside him; he didn’t want to die.

“Nono Dream brother please don’t please! I don’t want to die! Please mercy!” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth but he hardly registered it, writhing in place like a man possessed. His pleading and crying went ultimately unheeded. Before he could say any more Dream turned his face away, disappeared inside the pod and the Sans went to a control panel. Nightmare felt like he was hyperventilating, unable to scream from the words and sobs clogging his throat. The Sans pushed a button. Within moments he felt pain lance through him like fire and heard them both scream.

-

Consciousness came back to him fuzzily, stirring faintly as he felt his legs being untied. Everything ached and burned unpleasantly. His magic was out of sorts and battered, weak and worn out, feeling… different.

There was movement and his hands were brought down gently and he was being lifted, held. He felt warmth. He’d expected pain and fear and discomfort, not warmth. Something wet stung his cheeks and a hand lightly wiped it off, rubbing a circle on his cheekbone before disappearing. Voices murmured but they were speaking too quiet for him to make out in his half aware state, he only shifted and clung to the warmth holding him, cracking open sleepy eyesockets to get a look around. He saw bright yellow and orange and grumbled, burying his head into the soft, bright fabric as he closed his eyes again. The brightness was too much, almost headache inducing, and he’d rather go back to sleep. Something important lingered in the back of his mind, like a heavy weight, but it wasn’t enough to bring him back to full awareness; instead he lay in someone’s arms and felt himself being jostled slightly as they walked, an echo of footsteps reaching him, a gentle touch ghosting over his face. And there was quiet, sorrowful whispering that he couldn’t decipher, and the faintest impression of a kiss left on his forehead.

Whoo!

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Sunrise

Glass Shards

*fluffs up cute pastel blog header*

*polishes colorful, happy story banner*

*looks around*

*drops warnings* :)

Warnings: Captivity, restraints, lady whump, torture, gore, fun things to do with knives, suffocation, broken bones, hand/finger whump, mutilation, forced to watch, character death, wishing for death, unreality (not sure that’s the right word; it’s all a nightmare, and it shifts), disgustingly sweet fluff

This almost 5k thing is a fill for my BTHB and if this wasn’t a dream, the dove would be fucking dead, yo.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

“We need to go.”

Damien stared at the girl in front of him, at stormy blue eyes, and light brown hair bound into pigtails. Not a girl — a woman, even if she seemed so young, so innocent. Her face was familiar, but she looked at him as if he was a stranger.

“Come.”

She held out her hand for him to take. Damien stared at it, squeezing a muffled, pleading sound past the cloth stuffed into his mouth. Couldn’t she see that he couldn’t take it? Not with his hand chained to the wall above his head, his fingers long gone numb. He pulled against the chain, whimpering quietly as the shackle dug deeper into his already raw wrist. It was no use. 

Disappointment crossed her face and she slowly pulled her hand back.

Don’t leave me here, please, please don’t leave me.

Another desperate pull sent a wave of pain through Damien’s shoulder, bringing tears to his eyes; or he was already crying, the despair of seeing her take a step back, leaving him to his fate, too much to bear.

Don’t go, don’t go please, I need you. He sobbed, gasping for air as it became harder and harder to breathe. Please, please save me.

In a last, desperate attempt he reached out with his other arm. The hand was gone, nothing more than a black, rotting stump in its place, partially covered with the shredded, blood-soaked linen of what had once been his shirt. The pity on her face turned to disgust, and she took another step back. Behind her, the darkness of his cell shifted, and Damien’s stomach turned.

Run! Run, oh please run. Turn around turn around turn around, don’t let him get you.

She didn’t understand his unintelligible noises, not noticing the shadow looming behind her. Then a hand wrapped around her waist, and another pressed down on her mouth. Damien could see the panic in her eyes. She kicked out at Gaston’s legs, clawing at his hand, squirming and struggling. It was hopeless. 

“I see you have company.” As Gaston stepped out of the shadows, the cruel smile on his face became visible. “It’s a shame. No one must know I was here.” Something was wrong about the words Gaston spoke, a memory that didn’t match. It made Damien’s skin crawl as the man added, “I have to kill her.”

His grip on her face was so strong, she seemed to have trouble breathing. Her movements became erratic and slow; her feet slipping over the floor, her hands weakly hitting Gaston’s arm.

“Please, don’t. Don’t hurt her.” At the sound of Damien’s voice, her gaze found his. The terror in her eyes squeezed his chest as he choked out, “You have me. Please. Hurt me, kill me, do whatever you want, but please, let her go.”

“She means that much to you, huh?” Gaston shoved her closer; so close Damien could have touched her, if only his arm was still there. “It’s time you see how it is to watch someone you love die, unable to do anything about it.”

At those words, her eyes widened in horror, but she seemed to be too weak to struggle already. Her hands sank down as her chest desperately tried to expand, to suck in air that wouldn’t come.

“Please,” Damien whispered. “She’s innocent.”

“Has that ever stopped you?” Gaston asked as he kicked at her legs, forcing her to her knees. He crouched down, pressing one knee against her back while pulling her head back. “My cousin,” he hissed, roughly tearing the fabric of her shirt apart, “was innocent, too.”

Damien sobbed, looking into her tear-filled eyes, wide in fear. He’d do anything to save her, anything, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing to get that hand off her face, slowly suffocating her. Nothing to prevent Gaston from ripping off the last shreds of her shirt. Nothing to stop him from dragging a knife over her exposed skin, not breaking it yet, but making her shudder all the same.

“I never hurt him!” Damien shouted. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he had to try anyway. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me!”

Gaston ignored him. The knife pressed down a bit harder each time, drawing thin, red lines first, then a single drop of blood. Damien could only watch, tears welling in his eyes, each muffled cry, each attempt to flinch away from the blade like a stab through his own heart. He tried to get up, as if that could help him to somehow reach her, but his legs were as numb as his hand, not obeying his will.

Damien gave up, sinking against the wall, his whole weight resting on the shackle around his wrist. Blood ran down his arm again, fresh crimson lines next to older, dried ones. 

“It wasn’t me… please. Stop. It… it wasn’t…”

His desperate cries fell on deaf ears. Gaston didn’t even pause, didn’t look as if he had heard him at all. The knife cut deep now, blood running down her body, slowly staining her skirt. Behind his hand, she cried out every time he cut her, followed by heart-wrenching sobs she didn’t quite have the breath for.

“Please stop. Please. You’re killing her, you’re killing her.” 

“This won’t kill her.” 

Gaston raised the knife, moving his fingers aside so he could cut open her cheek. The blood mixed with her tears, staining his hand, dripping pale red off her chin. Damien could see the bone beneath her flesh and panic in her eyes. Her pulse was hammering, visible at the side of her strained neck as Gaston pulled her head so far towards him her back arched.

“Or this.” 

He trailed the knife down her throat, pressing it against her skin as she swallowed. Drawing a single drop of blood, then another, while Damien cried at the look of pure terror in her eyes. When the blade dug in deeper, she raised her right arm in a desperate attempt to push it away. Gaston made an unwilling noise, catching her hand effortlessly, bending it backwards.

New tears welled in her eyes as the pressure increased, her eyes pleading where his hand over her mouth prevented her from speaking. It didn’t stop him. If anything, it made him grin as he slammed her arm down across his knee, snapping the bones in her wrist, then bending it further before finally letting go of her hand. Her whole body shook as her arm dropped to hang uselessly at her side.

“Or this.”

As if nothing had happened, Gaston set the knife on her left collarbone, slowly cutting along it. When he had reached the middle of her chest, he paused for a moment, twisting the knife — and then dragged down, splitting the skin from her breasts to her navel. Her muffled screams were almost hysterical now, using up what little breath she managed to take.

“But this will.”

Without hesitation, he rammed the blade into her stomach. Damien screamed, throwing himself forward. When the chain on the floor held him back, almost yanking his shoulder out of its socket, he sank to the ground with a strangled sob.

Crying, he dug his fingers into the stone, trying to get up, then shoving himself forward when he failed. In his despair, he tried to reach for her with his stump, ignoring the pain as his rotting flesh scraped over the floor. 

Gaston laughed, pulling her backwards, just out of Damien’s reach. While her body convulsed around the blade, he held it there, the hilt pressed against her skin. He let go of her mouth just long enough for her to scream, only to press down again harder than before. His fingernails dug into her skin, and into the cut on her cheek, while his hand covered her nose. She struggled against it, then froze when her movement pushed against the blade. Way too soon, the panic of not being able to breathe took over and she fought to break free again, widening the wound in her stomach.

Only when her eyes started to roll back did Gaston lift his hand. It wasn’t enough for her to regain her strength, to fight; just enough to stay conscious. He let go of her face, to let his hand wander over her body. Prodding and pinching her skin, digging his fingers into the cuts, anything to make her squirm around the blade.

Every so often, Gaston raised his hand to her face again, covering mouth and nose until she couldn’t help but struggle. When she grew too weak, he let go, moving the knife instead; shoving it further in, wriggling it, twisting it. Damien could do nothing to help her, nothing to stop him. He had given up on begging, trembling from the exhaustion of pulling against the chain. Wincing at every pained noise she made, at every shiver running through her body, he felt like his heart was slowly turning to ice, burning in his chest.

Until she didn’t react at all anymore; not to the knife, twisting once more, nor to the hand, roughly grabbing her breast. Even as Gaston let go of her mouth, she made no more noise, other than the ragged breath her body drew on its own.

Damien cried, the floor beneath his cheek wet with his tears. He looked up at her, at her vacant expression and her mangled body, and at the blood, pulsing out of the wound with each of her heartbeats. Meeting his gaze, a twisted smile on his lips, Gaston slowly pulled the knife out and let go of her. 

She fell to the side, without trying to catch herself, or even any indication that she noticed how her head slammed against the stone floor. Her gaze seemed to go right through Damien, her eyes unfocused and dark. Her face was covered in blood; her right cheek where the deep cut gaped, her left where Gaston’s fingers had smeared the blood. Even though her lips moved weakly, no sound made it out. Damien still recognized the ‘help me’, while she used the last of her strength to push her left hand towards him.

He pulled against the chain, ignoring the pain as his wrist ground against the metal. He had to reach her. Nothing else mattered. Pressing his shoulder, his hip, his temple on the floor, dragging himself towards her, her fingertips almost touched him when someone reached for her hand.

Damien blinked the tears away to see Ed crouching over her. Pinning her down with one knee on her lower back, he placed the other on her arm, locking it in place. Then he grabbed her finger, the smallest one. He bent it to the side, caressing it before positioning his knife at the first joint.

“Don’t. Don’t don’t don’t, Ed, please.” Damien’s breaths came too quickly now, leaving him lightheaded as the floor pressed against his chest. “Please. Let her go.”

“You know the rules.” The tone of Ed’s voice was as dangerous and cruel as always. “You do it, or I will.”

Damien stared at him, uncomprehending. He couldn’t do it. Ed must know that he couldn’t, not with the morlit so horribly cold against his skin.

If he knew, he didn’t care. 

When the blade cut through her finger, she screamed again, but it was a broken, choked scream. Her feet scraped over the floor, but the knee on her back held her down. Blood dripped off her lips, forming clumps in the sand beneath her cut cheek as her body convulsed once more.

“You know how to stop this,” Ed said, placing the blade on the next finger.

Desperately, Damien reached for his magic. There was nothing. Not even the burn of the metal, just emptiness. He sobbed, inhaling dust with the next breath, making him choke and cough.

I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t please stop.

Of course, Ed didn’t stop. She cried out as the knife pressed down, severing half of her ring finger. The rest of her fingers curled into the sand, but Ed grabbed her middle finger, placing it flat on the ground. Stroking along it, first with his own finger, then with the tip of his knife, until she was trembling in anticipation, whimpering quietly. When he cut it off, her scream was barely more than a pained sob, her eyes burning into Damien, silently begging him for help.

“Only you can stop this, Nightmare.”

Damien wanted to close his eyes. He couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her alone like this. He knew it was hopeless, but he reached for his magic again. The tiniest sliver would have been enough, if not to save her, then at least to take away her pain.

There was nothing.

Crushed by the knowledge that there was nothing he could do, he whispered, "I can’t, I can’t. I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

When Ed cut off half of her index finger, only bubbling blood left her lips. Her body twitched under his knees, but there was no strength left behind her movements, and no will.

The last cut, removing her thumb, left her silent, her broken eyes staring straight ahead.

“Useless,” Ed said as he lifted his knee, and Gaston said as he got up, shoving her, rolling her towards Damien.

Her limp body slumped against him, face down. Using his stump and his right leg to pull her even closer, he managed to turn her. Her head lolled to the side, eyes open and unmoving, half dried blood all over her face. He wasn’t sure if she was still breathing. 

When Gaston stepped closer, Damien propped himself over her lifeless body. Protecting her, as if there was anything left to protect.

“A shame you attacked this poor innocent thing,” Gaston said, walking around Damien, stopping behind him. “A shame I came too late to save her.”

Damien’s hand was pried open and something placed inside it. His fingers closed around it, finding smooth wood, slick with blood. The knife. He knew it without seeing it.

He pulled against the chain, but his arm was stretched to its limit already, not allowing him to make any use of it. Before he could consider letting go of her, to get closer to the chain and regain some room to move, Gaston stomped down on his hand.

Damien screamed, curling up around her in his instinctive attempt to get away from the pain. Gaston’s boot came down, again and again and again, crushing his bones, tearing his flesh apart. By the time he stopped, it felt like all that was left of his hand was a bloody mush. Seconds might have passed, or minutes; the pain had washed away any clear thought, and Damien was sure he had thrown up. He couldn’t remember it. There was only the bitter taste on his lips, and the smell of blood, so much blood.

That, and the awareness that in that time, she hadn’t moved at all. 

No wince as his weight pressed down on her wounds, no sound, nothing. He tried to listen for her breaths, her heartbeat, anything, but his own sobs were too loud in his ears. Lacking the strength to lift himself up, to look at her, he could only bed his head on her chest. It didn’t move. The cut skin under his cheek felt wrong, the blood disgusting and slick, but he couldn’t let go of her. He couldn’t.

“Look at what you’ve done.”

When a kick hit his back, Damien barely had the breath to scream. He wrapped his horrible arm around her, trying desperately to hold her close, to shield her. He couldn’t let Gaston near her again.

“You killed her.”

Somewhere under what was left of his hand was the knife, stained with both their blood now. He hadn’t been holding it, hadn’t cut her, but she was still dead because of him. 

“It’s all your fault.”

Gaston kicked him again and again; his side and his legs and his head. Breaking one rib after another, shattering his knee, splitting the skin on his temple. Damien didn’t have the strength left to scream. His pain didn’t matter; not anymore.

“You deserve this.”

He couldn’t see. Everything was red and black. Like the blood on his face, on his lips, her blood and his. Like his rotting flesh and her eyes, dull and lifeless, burned into his memory.

“You deserve this.”

He couldn’t breathe, only searing pain where his lungs should be. They refused to work, refused to move against the stabbing in his side. Perhaps he would finally die. He was ready for it. He only wished he could have saved her.

“Wake up.”

The boot crushed his shoulder, leaving the rest of his arm as useless as his shattered hand was. Blood trickled down his side. A ridiculous sensation, almost like a soft touch, a trace of warmth and gentleness in all this agony.

“Wake up!”

He was shoved and grabbed, pain exploding in his head and shoulder. There was no breath left in him to scream, to cry. Why did Gaston even care? Just to hurt him some more. Damien wouldn't do him that favor, not when the end was finally so close. 

“Wake up. Damien, please wake up.”

He didn’t want to wake up, never again. Even if waking up wouldn’t mean more pain, he didn’t want to face a world without her; a world where she had died because of him.

“Please, you need to wake up.”

It was her voice, though. It couldn’t be her voice, but it was. A desperate spark of hope made his heart beat faster. Even if she was dead, if it was only her memory haunting him, he couldn’t deny her this wish.

“Please…”

Something about her tone, almost-but-not-quite crying, finally managed to snap him out of it. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the dungeon. Instead, he saw a room; moonlight falling through the open window, illuminating a bed and a table and a chair and… Merridy.

It took him a moment to realize that he was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, and she was kneeling in front of him. She wasn’t close enough for him to touch her. Before he could reach for her, to beg her to come closer and hold him, his gaze fell on her face.

It was covered in blood. Damien sobbed, willing himself to wake up, while knowing deep down that he was already awake, that this was real. She was hurt, she was dying, because of him. He pressed himself into the corner, shaking and freezing, his vision swimming with fresh tears. 

Merridy came closer, her face mostly in the shadows, but he still could see the gaping wound, leaving her cheekbones exposed. He should look away, but he couldn’t; if he did, he’d find her fingers cut off, her chest sliced open, and the wound in her stomach, letting her slowly bleed out.

He would see her die, all over again, and again, and again, and he couldn’t take it, he couldn’t take it.

“Damien, please, it’s me. Merry. It was just a dream. You’re safe.”

It wasn’t a dream though, not anymore. He stared at the blood, glistening on her lips as she spoke. She raised her hand to her lip, wincing as she touched it, then flinching.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, raising her arm, frantically wiping her sleeve over her face. “Fuck. Damien?” 

She looked at him, her storm-gray eyes shimmering so unlike the dull ones in his dream; or was he still dreaming? There was so much blood, despite her attempt to wipe it away, and more welled up every second.

“Damien, can… can you close your eyes for me? Please?”

The moment he closed his eyes, he was back in the dungeon, and back in the steppes, and bound and bleeding and dying. He owed it to her though, for all he had done. He sobbed as Gaston reached for him, and Ed touched his face, and it was neither of them, because the touch was soft and warm and gentle. For a moment, he was nowhere, leaning desperately into the touch.

“Listen to me, please. We’re safe. We’re in Dragon’s Reach, in our room. No one hurt you.” She swallowed audibly, her fingers on his temples trembling. “No one hurt me. It was just a dream.”

One hand stayed on his temple, moving towards his hairline. The other followed his arm from his shoulder to his hand, closing around his fingers. The touch made Damien flinch, but she didn’t let go; this once she didn’t. Instead, she pressed her palm against his, interlacing her fingers with his. His fingers, not a bloody pulp; no shackle around his wrist as he lifted his hand to return her grasp.

With his eyes still closed, he felt everything so much more. How she inched her way towards him, her legs pressing against his thighs. How the pressure on his hand increased as she steadied herself to lean against him. The soft touch on his temple, and the smell of blood, and the wooden panels at his back, and her head under his chin.

“Everything is all right.”

Her voice was muffled, her words tickling his chest as she spoke. The smell of blood was still there, but the lavender scent of her soap was stronger now. Damien buried his face in her hair, taking a deep breath, even though he hated that his tears would drip into it.

They sat like this for a while. Long enough for his racing heartbeat to calm down, for him to dare open his eyes again. The room was warm and familiar and comforting. Not as warm and familiar and comforting as Merridy’s weight on him, the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest. She was breathing, and she was alive, and this, this was real.

“Are you back with me?” she asked after a while.

Damien nodded, weakly pressing her hand, not trusting his voice.

“Okay. I’ll get you some water.”

Only when he heard her words did Damien realize how much his throat hurt. Perhaps he had been screaming for real. He only hoped he hadn’t disturbed any of the other patrons, but then, if he had, they’d probably have come knocking at their door by now.

He noticed that Merridy was careful not to face him. Not as she pushed herself up, not as she let go of his hand, not as she walked to the table. She poured some water into his cup, and some in the washing bowl. When she dipped her hands into the bowl, cupping a bit of water and splashing it in her face, the drops falling down were dark. She scrubbed her face, leaving dark stains on her fingers, and on the towel she picked up to dry herself.

Panic spiked again. The blood was real, it was real. But when she turned around, the blood was gone, and there was no cut, just the red, swollen skin around her split lip. Which still meant that she was hurt, that he had hurt her. 

“Merry,” he croaked, pressing himself against the wall as if he could vanish into it.

“Hey. It’s fine.” She picked up the cup and hurried back to him, sitting down in front of him. “It’s nothing. Here.”

When she lifted the cup to his lips, he drank. The water was soothing and cool and so real, he clung to the feeling as it ran down his throat. As soon as the cup was empty, she put it aside, reaching for his hand once more. Her other hand, she raised to wipe some stray drops off his chin, then let her fingers rest there, brushing over his stubble of a beard.

Always those small touches. Damien wondered if she even knew how much he needed them, how much they meant to him. Perhaps she knew. She kept watching him, as if she was looking for something in his expression. The gods only knew if she found it.

“Let’s go to the beach,” she said. Her voice was unsure, but it wasn’t a question. He wouldn’t have to decide, but he knew he could decline. He didn’t.

She got up, still holding his hand, pulling him to his feet as well. When she took a step back, he tightened his grip around her fingers.

Please don’t let go.

He managed to hold back the words, but a quiet, desperate noise slipped out. He looked away, trying to avoid her gaze, afraid of what he’d find in there.

“I’m here,” she whispered, crossing the distance between them again. “It’s all right. Come.”

This time she pulled him with her, her fingers firmly closed around his. She nudged a pair of wooden slippers closer, the ones they usually used when going to the toilets at night. Damien slipped his feet in without letting go of her hand.

Merridy found her own shoes, grabbing a blanket off the bed and the room key off the table before leading him to the door. He let her guide him, hold him, anchor him in this reality. It was dark in the hallway, but after so many months, they both knew every corner, every step. Side by side they walked down the stairs and into the backyard, illuminated by pale moonlight.

It was late; or early. Not quite morning yet, but the night was already fading, the faintest hint of light at the horizon. The air smelled a bit of fish and a bit of salt, and it was nowhere close to the stench of his dungeon cell. The city wasn’t yet awake, not here. Their footsteps were the loudest noise, a quiet clattering on the cobblestone, then an even quieter crunching noise when they left the city behind and reached the beach.

Merridy led him along their usual path, towards the cliff, to a spot with soft sand and tufts of grass. She only let go of his hand to spread the blanket on the ground, pulling him down with her as soon as she was done.

Damien settled on the blanket, his legs crossed, his hand in hers again. She shuffled closer, leaning against him, looking out across the ocean. He followed her gaze, taking in the view. It was calm and peaceful, soft moonlight glistening on the waves lapping at the shore. This was his life now. The beautiful sea, and crowded marketplaces, and a cozy inn room. And Merridy at his side, because she had saved him.

When she leaned her head against his chest, he let go of her hand, to wrap his arm around her instead. Holding her again, but this time she was alive, huddling up to him. The rushing of the waves and the smell of salt and seaweed helped him to push back the images, but some parts of the nightmare still lingered. 

Watch someone you love die.

Did he love her? He never thought he could love, but right now, he knew he’d rather die than ever see her get hurt again. Holding her like this filled him with a strange warmth, unlike any he’d ever known. Her touch, her laugh, her voice made him feel alive. Not having her at his side left him feeling empty, like something was missing. Something he had never missed before, because he had only just found it, and now he couldn’t imagine ever living without it again.

When Merridy twitched, the involuntary movement of someone almost falling asleep, it startled him out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry…” she mumbled sleepily. She tried to sit up, but Damien pulled her close.

“It’s all right. Sleep,” he whispered.

Damien had no idea how long she had managed to sleep before his nightmare had woken her up. He was tired as well, but he wouldn’t dare to go back to sleep anytime soon; not even with her next to him like that. But perhaps she could get a bit more rest. She surely deserved it.

Merridy mumbled something he couldn’t make out, snuggling closer. Her hands were clenched into fists, clinging to his shirt, but her breaths were even and calm. They stayed even and calm as her body relaxed, and Damien made sure to keep holding her.

He didn’t know where the tears were coming from. He wasn’t sad, not at this moment. Lost in thought, he stared out across the ocean, watching the seagulls wake up as the sun rose. The dark sky above had turned blue, gradually becoming paler towards the ocean. The last stars were fading quickly, the moon hidden behind the cliff at his back. Above the sea, the horizon was gleaming orange, almost on fire, turning golden, then white to meet the sky. 

It was beautiful. Like so many sunrises before, and so many that were still to come. So many he had watched with her, and so many he would still watch with her. Perhaps he didn’t have to figure out the details. Perhaps just knowing was enough. He leaned his head against hers, watching the golden streaks the rising sun painted on the crests of the waves. 

I love you, he thought.

It felt right.

Am I tagging people in this, I don’t even know. Well apparently I am not, because it’s broken. Thanks Tumblr.

[whumpwillow]

whump tropes i like

by no means an exhaustive list as I’m sure there’s more I’m forgetting, but here’s quite a few (mostly garnered from various posts and bthb cards) 

—

hiding an injury

knife to the throat

forced to beg

broken ribs

slammed into a wall

stumbling and staggering

trapped in a net

bruises

shot with an arrow

buried alive

impaled palm

grabbed by the hair

through the cold

used as bait

‘more expendable than you’

‘take me instead’

locked in a cage

hand stomp

carved mark

tied to a chair

shock collar

collared and chained

painful wound cleaning

‘leave me alone’

worked himself to exhaustion

nightmares

taking the blame (for what, idk)

self-loathing

sleep deprivation

‘dont you dare pity me’

cry into chest

fever

voice breaking

backhand slap

black eye

‘it’s all my fault’

crying themselves to sleep

prisoner exchange

touch starved

no anesthetic

defeated and trophified

caretaker kissing whumpee’s scars

caretakers gently changing the dressings/bandages of whumpee's wounds and murmuring soothing nothings as they hiss and wince in pain

Brushing their hand through the whumpee’s hair to soothe them

holding them while they cry

Sitting with whumpee while they have their wounds treated, maybe letting them grip their hand as some way of dealing with the pain

Helping whumpee get up when they fall/ helping them walk by letting the whumpee brace themselves on them

Letting the whumpee rest their head on their chest or shoulder

lost their voice from screaming

stitches

whipping

power fatigue / exhaustion

hair matted with blood

caretaker cradling whumpee in their arms

electrocution

muzzled

hiding an illness

conditioning / conditioned whumpees

locked up and left behind

damaged wings

shaking and shivering

grabbed by the chin

hidden scar

passing out from the pain

‘please don’t leave me’

forced to participate in prize fight

taunting

humiliation

captivity

beaten with a cane

panic attack

vivisection

traumatic touch aversion

betrayal

grabbed by the hair

trail of blood

hurts to breathe

‘dont let them see you cry’

on a leash

surrender

shackled / handcuffed

forced to hurt someone

dehumanization

tearful smile

black eye

blindfolded

clawing at own throat

flashbacks

trying not to cry

banished

broken / bloody nose

kick them while theyre down

dissociation

dragged by the ankle

nervous breakdown

bloodstained clothes

fever

bundled up in blankets

betrayal

losing their temper

caught in a storm

bleeding through the bandages

hypothermia

rejected apology

broken angel

magical curse

used in sacrifice / ritual

chained to a wall

survivor’s guilt

tied to a pole

outnumbered in a fight

‘get it over with’

hyperventilating

trust issues

on the run

bounty on their head

hostage video

dragging themselves along the ground

isolation

made a slave

public execution / torture

pleading

reluctant caretaker

misunderstanding

wrongfully accused / arrested

loneliness

‘should have been better’

made a lab rat

trying not to cry

undeserved reputation

branding

pleading

disowned by family / team

hallucinations

forced to kneel / bow

enemy turned caretaker

unhealthy coping mechanisms

bedside vigil

coughing up blood

fainting

memory loss / amnesia

rage against the reflection

delirium

prank gone wrong

compelled / ensorcelled

self blame

disproportionate retribution

truth potion / serum

magical exhaustion

cleaning Whumpers shoes

nervously tapping the bell on their collar

accidental confessions

-

sorry for the long post, its not letting me add a readmore with the bullets :>

[blackberry-bloody]

Hi, I was the one who sent the ask about being confused! I am still confused, you listed the order events happen in the timeline but not the order your work should be read.

Hello! Thank you for the follow up!

I will be remaking my entire master list hopefully within the next week, but since I've just started a new job and don't know how much energy/time I'll have going forward for the next few days, I can't make any specific promises.

For right now I am going to pin this until I can get a new master list in place.

And link the characters/timeline post as well

But for right now this is best I can provide for each of the stories/timelines in chronological order at the time of writing this.

Mibium:

BTHB non-con touching

BTHB blindfolded

Dayzel:

Nox marking him

Dayzel and Mibium early relationship angst

Rupert's henchmen kidnaping him back

Sensory deprivation

Unforgivable

BTHB pleading

Non-canon pieces or side pieces that can be read in any order:

Hung by tail

Snippets

Rupert whump

---

Berkley:

BTHB: (Dnd) Tampering with food and drink

Pick Your Poison masterlist

---

I don't have much yet of Nom and Alithea, but these should be in order:

Laugh

Alithea rescues Nom

BTHB: "I just want to have friends"

---

This is the master list for canon/full chapters of Half lies and hidden truths

But here are some older writings/snippets (did my best to keep them in order):

Richard prying into Dare's mind

Metaphorical gunpoint

Ian failed escape attempt

Dare imprisoned

Ian comfort

Jane unhealthy coping mechanism

Dare going back for Mindy