#tw shock collars

[nii-chans-rabiddogs]

Training

TWs: pet whump, dehumanization, shock collars, panic attacks. sorry it took so long<3

@cupcakes-and-pain @maracujatangerine

I jerked awake, trying to yank the collar off as it shot pain through my neck, burning and fierce. It stopped just as fast as it started, and I whimpered as my eyes focused on Seren, standing in front of me. I wheezed, trying to recover my breath, but the muzzle made it extremely hard to do.

“Finally. We have stuff to do today, puppy, so let’s get right in. I have a special training room set up just for you, so get up.” Seren snapped, opening the kennel door and yanking me up by the collar around my neck. I flinched back, trying to get away, shaking.

That- she said the collar wasn’t gonna hurt, didn’t she? She said she wouldn’t hurt me, why- I wanna go home, I want Detective or the heroes, they would stop this, they wouldn’t hurt me, they wouldn’t- I shrieked when the collar lit up again, burning and hot and painful. I crumpled to the floor, trying and failing to breathe through the stupid muzzle. It hurts, and I can’t breathe and I’m tired and I just wanna go home, please, I just wanna leave, it hurts and I’m scared and I’ll be good, please just let me go home, please please please-

“Jesus christ, it was just one shock, calm down. It wasn’t even that bad.” Seren said as she undid the muzzle and pulled it away. I gasped, trying to get as much air in my lungs as I could.

She yanked me to my feet again, keeping a hold on the collar this time. I tried to keep up, even though my head was still spinning and it felt like I wasn’t getting enough oxygen even with the muzzle off. I followed her as she led me out of the kennels and down towards the large room I first saw Hunter in. No one was inside, and she didn’t slow down as she tugged me across to another door. She only let go of my collar to scan her badge to open the door, then held the leash with both hands. We were in another hallway, but I focused on trying not to panic and keep my breathing steady. She abruptly stopped at a heavy metal door with a deadbolt on it. I stepped back, not liking how the deadbolt was on the wrong side of the door, but Seren yanked me into the room before I could spiral any further. She kept going, ignoring me as I stumbled, and led me into the very back corner. There’s a dog cage, dog bed, and a chain all set against the wall. I clamped my jaw shut, trying not to whimper. She roughly disconnected the leash, clipping the chain in its place. 

“You really need to calm down. Getting panicky over one tiny shock isn’t goin’ to help you any. Literally all you need to do is listen and obey, puppy, that’s it. I need to grab your food and water bowls, and some treats, alright? You’d better be all calmed down before I get back.” She warned, before whirling around and walking back out with the same fast pace she had since she woke me up. I tried to say something, but my throat closed up and I shrunk back into the wall.

I’m so scared, and I just want Detective to get me already. I just wanna go home and hide in my blankets and get the stupid damn collar off, and not be hurt or called “puppy” or “mutt” or anything, why did I have to be here? I didn’t do anything, I always stayed with Detective and I never went after villains or heroes or anyone, I’ve never done anything, why am I the one getting hurt? I just wanna go home and hide in my blanket nest with Detective nearby like before, please… 

I sniffled, glancing around the rest of the room. There was a shelf with hooks underneath that had a wire muzzle and another harness to the left of the door. Next to it, farther from the door, was a large wooden cabinet which was a dark grey. Lots of things are dark grey in this place, which is weird. Makes everything dark and gloomy, and I don’t like it. There’s a box of dog toys near the right wall, and I frown at it. I hate being treated like a dog, I’m not an animal. It makes me feel sick and scared and stupid, and I wanna yell at them to stop but everyone else is stronger than me and I don’t wanna get hurt any more. Detective woulda noticed I’m gone by now, so he’ll be looking for me, right? Or the heroes, they would notice I’m gone and look for me, but why haven’t they come yet then? The heroes and Detetive always work together to find people, and they’re doing the same for me… Right?

I bit my lip, shaking my head. They have to come for me, they wouldn’t ever leave me here. I glanced down at the chain connected to my collar, fiddling with the latch part. It had a normal latch part, but it just wouldn’t move or do anything. I huffed, before rubbing at my face and plopping down to the floor. I sat with my legs crossed, rocking back and forth idly while looking closer at the dog cage. It had a thin pink blanket on the inside, but on the top of the cage there was a black blanket, covering the entire thing except for the door. It looked like it was for really big dogs, but I dunno if I wanna ever go in there, cuz it has a padlock on the door, and I hate being locked in things. I always feel like I’m back in the freezer again, and it scares me so much and makes me wanna cry or scream. The dog bed is one of the soft, fluffy ones that pet stores always have, and it looks like it would be nice to lay in if I wasn’t being treated like a stupid little dog. I huff again, before clicking my tongue just for some noise. The only thing I can hear is the buzz of the lights and my breathing, and that feels way too quiet. I keep rocking back and forth, but I speed up cuz it feels like I have electricity in my veins and I can’t roll around or spin so I haveta settle for rocking. It’s fun, though, and I don’t feel really, really panicky anymore.

“Oh? Good boy, puppy. You’re such a good boy, being quiet and calm, aren’t you? Does the good boy want a treat? Yeah, you want a treat, boy?” Seren called, and I jerked up to stare at her. 

“I- I’m not a dog!” I snapped, trying to ignore how shaky and quiet I was.

“Now now, puppy, I know this is a big change for you, so I’ll let that slide just this once. I know you have trouble learning new things, so I’ll be nice, okay? We have all the time in the world for you to learn your place, after all.” 

“That- Hey! I’m not, I’m not a stupid dog. I don’t- what do you even mean by ‘learning my place’? You can’t, you can’t treat me like this, it isn’t-”

“Nope, stopping you right there. I can treat you however I like, because there is no one to stop me, and if I say you’re a dog, then You. Are. A. Dog. I am your trainer, and you will obey everything I say. You aren’t a person, you aren’t important, you do not get to make demands. My word is law, and if you don’t treat it as such, then I’m taking away your speaking privileges, because a mutt like you sure as hell doesn’t need to talk to obey. Do you understand me?” Seren spat, stalking over angrily, glaring at me. 

“I- wait, please, I didn’t- I just-”

“Do. You. Understand. Me.” She snarled, and I shrunk down, shoving into the wall. 

I nodded my head rapidly, turning my head away and staring at her boots. She stood over me, before crouching down and grabbing my jaw, forcing me to make eye contact. I stared at the wall behind her instead.

“Hm. We need to curb that backtalk, don’t we? Well, I guess it’s not entirely your fault, puppy. I knew you were stupid, but I guess I have to state things extra clearly just for you, huh? That’s my fault, I suppose. But you do need to be punished, so we’re goin’ to get a special little collar for you, puppy. And you did so good before you opened your mouth, too.” 

I clamped my jaw shut, desperate not to anger her further. Seren walked over to the shelf to grab the extra collar, which looked like one of those bark collars people use to shut their dogs up. I flinched as she brought it closer, trying to cover my neck with my arms.

“Wait, wait, wait, I didn’t, please, I don’t- I’m sorry, please, I’ll be quiet, please, I- wait, Seren-” 

“No, you were a bad dog. Bad dogs need to get punished. And it’s Mistress to you, mutt. Don’t make me shock you again.” She stated, wrapping the bark collar just above the first. 

I tried to grab her hands, but she just shoved them to the side and wrapped the collar super tight until I stopped. She moved the spikes to the side of my neck, pulling it until they dug painfully into my neck. She clicked the collar closed, then tugged at it lightly. After making sure it wasn’t too loose she sat back, crouching in front of me.

“There we go. I need to order a custom collar now, you know that? I don’t fancy needing two collars just to keep you quiet. Whatever. Let’s just continue with your training, okay, puppy? We can start with ‘place’, that should be easy enough for you. Alright boy, go place!” 

Seren snapped her fingers and pointed at the dog bed, backing up a couple of steps. I frowned, not moving from my spot. She sighed, before repeating the command. I chewed on my cheek and glared at the floor near her feet. 

“Okay. Maybe ‘place’ is a little too hard for you right now. Is that it? You’re just a stupid little puppy, aren’t you? My poor, dumb puppy, you must be so confused. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need, pup. We can work on ‘sit’, ‘stay’, and ‘come’ until you understand.” Seren said, reaching back to grab the bag of chocolates. 

“I’m-” I choked on air as the collar went off, slamming my head against the wall when I jerked back. I yanked on the bark collar, trying to pull it off. Seren watched, before laughing and shaking her head. I bit my lip, nearly drawing blood and tried not to make any more sounds. I felt my face heating up in humiliation, and glared at Seren. She just raised her eyebrow at me. 

“That must’ve hurt, puppy. Now, come here, boy. Come.” Seren patted her thigh, shaking the bag of chocolates at me. I hesitated for a minute, then slowly got up and walked towards her, the chain pulling taut. 

“There we go, good boy! That wasn’t too hard, was it? Here’s your treat, puppy.” Seren praised, holding out the chocolate for me. I tried to grab it with my hands, but she pulled back. “Uh-Uh, nope. Dogs eat with their mouths, puppy, I thought you knew that. Open up, boy.”

I glared at her, but eventually opened my mouth and she dropped it in. The flavor helps make me feel better, but I also kinda hate it now that I haveta act like a dog to get it. 

“Atta boy, puppy! Sit, boy, sit. Okay, on your knees, back straight. There you go, good boy, good puppy.” Seren dropped another treat, and it didn’t taste as good as before. I stared at the floor while she continued to praise me, and I ignored the urge to scratch at my arms, and started wringing my hands instead. 

“Wait, I can’t just keep calling you ‘puppy’. You need an actual name, but I don’t think Ghost fits. Hmmm, maybe…” Hey, Ghost is the best name! And you can’t just change my name anyways, I’m still a person, you’re just a weird, mean creep. 

“How about Arlo? It’s one of those ditzy names, so it’ll suit you fine. Yeah, Arlo it is.” She walked over to the side, then patted her thighs again. “Arlo, come! Here boy!”

I bristled, and decided to glare at my lap instead. She repeated the command a couple more times, before sighing and muttering something to herself. Suddenly, my collar lit up, burning my throat and I yelped, setting off the bark collar too. I screeched again, before biting my cheeks to keep myself quiet. Tears blurred my vision as I sat hunched over, trying not to make anymore sounds as the pain faded. 

“That’s what happens when you disobey, puppy. Come here, Arlo, come.” Seren held the remote, ready to press the button again. I blinked back tears and moved towards her. She dropped the chocolate on the floor this time, and I stared at it, trying to figure out what she was doing. 

“Go on, eat it. You wanted a treat, did you not? Eat. It.”

I just stared, before realizing what she meant and felt humiliation and dread rip through my body, coiling in my chest. I took a step back, shaking my head. Seren just sighed, and held the remote up again. I flinched and ground my teeth together, waiting for the burning pain, snapping my eyes shut so tears wouldn’t escape. 

“Who the hell is calling me now?! Fine. Arlo, sit!” Seren snapped, yanking out her ringing phone and answering it before I registered what she said. I dropped down so she wouldn’t change her mind about using the remote while on a call. 

“I’m busy, what do you want?... What do you- How in the fresh hell does that happen? Fine, I’m on my way just give me a minute. Just started training a new dog.” She yanked me up by my arm, pulling me towards the dog cage, and unlatched the chain with a weird motion I didn’t get to memorize before she shoved me down to the floor in front of the cage. She undid the padlock, and motioned towards the cage.

“Get in your cage, Arlo. Now.” I flinched away from the door, but she just growled wordlessly to herself. “I said, Get. In. If I have to force you in there, I’m goin’ to shock you until you pass out, get. in. there.” 

I held back a whimper at her anger, before slowly crawling in the cage. It was cramped and I couldn’t keep my back straight or my head up. I wriggled to turn around, barely managing it. Seren slammed the door and padlocked it, before dropping the rest of the blanket over the door, leaving me in the dark. I felt my breathing stutter, and scrunched my eyes closed to try and ignore how much this felt like the freezer. I felt tears leak down my face, and wrapped my arms around myself. I feel like I’m back in the freezer, but the only difference is that it’s actually warm in here. I really, really want Detective now, why hasn’t he gotten me already? …He hasn’t left me here, has he? I dug my nails into my arms, trying to ignore the fear crawling around my heart. Detective will get me. He always does…

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2024

Day 8. “Why wont it stop?”

—

Whumper presses the button on Whumpees shock collar, but it malfunctions and doesn’t turn off. Instead of a little zap like Whumpee is used to, they’re being electrocuted until whumper can find some rubber gloves to safely remove the device. The damage done is probably severe, and almost kills Whumpee. Its bad enough that Whumper considers using a different form of punishment from then on.

[toyybox]

It’s everyone’s favourite angel, Onyx from The Winged Servant by @rainbowsandwhumperflies 💝 He’s so cute I love him, go read TWS now!!

[oddsconvert]

My brain: make friends! Send asks! Exist in more then just your blog!

Me: but what if I'm scared of friends!?!?!

Anyway, can I request Ronan catching Issak hurting Henley?

Flowers for author. 💐💐💐💐💐

Friends!!! It's official! No being scared! <3 I am so sorry for the delay with this but I hope this ticks your boxes! :D

---

“How do you sleep at night?”

Henley stirred awake, his world a blurred mess of throbbing pain. Crusted sleep clung to his lashes, he blinked fiercely to chase away the haze. He could only just about make out a hulking silhouette looming over him. When his vision finally sharpened, he instinctively clutched his scratty blanket closer to his heaving chest - his futile shield.

Cold dread flooded Henley as he saw Izaak, free of the chains that usually rattled with every twitch of a muscle. The chains that kept Henley safe and sound, out of harm's way. Far from Izaak’s reach.  Izaak's fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white, his face contorted in a feral snarl. Panic squeezed Henley’s chest like a vice. He was a rabbit trapped in a fox's den. 

“Wha-?” Henley’s voice was a hoarse rasp. He’s half-convinced no sound left his lips at all. 

"Oh, did I interrupt your sweet dreams, Henny?" Izaak's voice was a low growl, sending shivers trickling down Henley's spine. That nickname. The way it dripped with mocking familiarity, but years of ingrained fear hid within it. It made all the hairs on Henley’s arms stand on edge. 

Izaak suddenly lunged forward. One massive hand clamped around Henley's throat, squeezing every last drop of air from his lungs. Henley's wrists burned in protest against his chains, straining as he fought for a sliver of slack, a desperate inch to reach his throat and fight Izaak off. "You," Izaak spat, barely containing his rage, "are the reason for my suffering. The cause of my anguish. Every scar on my body has your name written on it.."

Tears pressed from beneath Henley’s eyelids, and he shook his head furiously. Passionately. No. It’s not true. He’s not responsible for this. He didn’t land them here, he didn’t start all of this. This is all Izaak’s doing. This is the price he has to pay. 

“So answer the question,” Izaak demanded, now nearly crushing Henley’s windpipe as he choked and wheezed, “How the hell do you sleep at night? No. Scratch that shit. Better yet. How do you live with yourself? After what you’ve done to me?”

“I-Izaak, pleas-”

Izaak’s fist came at Henley with such speed it was like a cannonball. It connected with a sickening crunch as Henley felt his nose cave in, and hot-white pain erupted. The force of the blow sent him sprawling, the floor rose up to meet him with a jarring thud. He lay helpless. Cool blood dripped from his nose and pooled on his lips, he could taste the metallic tang. 

“You dare call me that again, and I’ll put you six feet under this fucking cement. Understand?” Izaak seethed through gritted teeth, with spit spraying and a vein pulsing from his temple. Izaak didn’t even give him the second to respond, Henley was still reeling and seeing stars. “I SAID, “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” he roared. 

“Yes!” Henley wailed miserably. Tears mingled with blood and dirt. He sniffed pathetically and whimpered as new pain flared through his obviously broken nose. He stayed glued to the floor. Too afraid to move, to even dare lift his head up. Henley didn’t see Izaak reaching for his long curls of hair and wrenching them in his fist. Yanking his head back, Henley’s Adam's apple bobbed against his collar as he gasped and gulped back the fear.

“‘Yes’, what?” Izaak whispered. It was hard to miss the element of enjoyment in his voice. It sounded like old times. Must feel like it to him too. 

But Henley immediately knew what he was looking for.

“Yes, sir!” Henley gasped out. There’s not a beat of hesitation. Izaak can say many things about Henley. A bad pet, he is not. 

Henley’s head smacked to the ground, his forehead banging against cold, unforgiving cement as Izaak threw him out of his hand. He’s on a warpath. He paced back and forth, contemplating what to do next. 

Izaak's foot then swung into Henley's gut. The air whooshed from Henley's lungs in a strangled scream that ripped free from his throat. The world lurched sideways, a wave of nausea crashing over him. Bile rose in his throat as pain lanced through his abdomen. Izaak unrolled Henley from his cocoon and straddled his hips, slamming his palm over Henley’s mouth, “Shut the fuck up! Don’t you dare make a sound.”

Henley obeyed. He forced himself to seal his lips, now sobbing silently and huffing through the pain. 

“You got us into this fucking mess. You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you. I’m going to make you wish you were never born-”

“I already do-” Henley croaked.

Izaak doesn’t hold back anymore. He unleashed a flurry of punches, raining blow after blow down on Henley. Henley’s already-battered body convulsed with each hit - he twisted and flailed in a desperate bid to shield himself from the onslaught. It was no use. Darkness cornered his vision, and ringing screeched in his ears. His entire body was slowly growing limp.

Henley squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sweet relief of unconsciousness. He waited for the next punch. And waited. But it never came. Confused, Henley cracked open a swollen and purpling eye.

Izaak was no longer looking at him, and a flicker of raw terror replaced the unhinged rage that had plagued his eyes before. Henley groaned as he lifted his pounding head, and turned to follow Izaak’s petrified stare.

A shadow shifted at the top of the stairs, a tutting sound emanating from the darkness.

“What are you doing to my boy?” Ronan asked, cool as a cucumber on the surface, but fury bubbled below. The calm facade didn’t last. Ronan flew down the stairs, and pulled that oh so familiar remote from his pocket. In the blink of an eye, Izaak was a quivering, jittering wreck as his shock collar lit up and shocked him stiff. He collapsed from Henley’s body like a tonne of bricks. His screams pierced the sound barrier - his fingers scrabbled and ripped at the collar, kicking his legs and bucking his entire body. Ronan punched the button again, and again until the screaming stopped. It’s just silent gargles, with drool dribbling down the edge of Izaak’s blue lips. 

Ronan threw Henley a single, and quick look as he bolted past. It wasn't a look of reassurance, but a quick flicker up and down to acknowledge him. Reaching his locked cabinet, Ronan fumbled with the combination and finally, the cabinet swung open, and he snatched a vial and syringe, and a length of rope.

He wastes no time in racing over to where Izaak is heaving and panting on the floor, and stabbing the syringe in his neck. Izaak roared, a sound that curdled the blood, but it was cut short by a weak gasp as the muscle relaxant began to take hold.

“There, there. That should settle you down, big-un,” Ronan chuckled, patting Izaak on the chest.

“F-ffuc- fuckk y-yoou,” Izaak slurred, his eyes rolled like pinball machines in their sockets. Henley watches as all the tone in Izaak’s muscle depleted and he flopped lifelessly. Izaak lay sprawled on the floor, a pathetic mew escaping his lips as the muscle relaxant coursed through his veins. His previously violent thrashing had dissolved into a pathetic trembling, his limbs heavy and unresponsive.

Henley's cry echoed through the basement. Now that the threat was neutralised. "You didn't tie him tight enough, sir! He almost—!" His voice choked on the rising panic, his gaze locked on Izaak's slack form. “He was going to kill me.”

Ronan paid no mind to Henley, the shivering wreck that he was. Instead, he focused on yanking Izaak’s arms behind his back. With rough rope, he bound Izaak's wrists together with a vengeance, the knots pulled tight, drawing a choked gasp that did little to faze Ronan. Next, he secured Izaak's ankles with another length of rope, the slack yanked out until Izaak's legs were splayed uncomfortably wide. Finally, with a cruel twist, Ronan bound Izaak's ankles to his secured wrists, hog-tying him in a position that screamed discomfort. Izaak's gasps faded to choked moans as his body contorted in a way it wasn't meant to, forced into an arched bow.

Ronan left Izaak on the ground and approached Henley slowly. With a touch that could have been gentle or cruel, he cupped Henley's bruised and bloodied cheek. Henley flinched at the contact, a hiss escaping his lips. Ronan’s eyes flickered over the damage and he tsked, disappointed. Then his eyes met Henley’s and locked in. “Do you really think I’d let him break one of my favourite toys?”

“He - He got pretty close, master.” Henley snivelled. He flinched as Ronan’s arms moved, expecting another blow, but instead, his arms wrapped around Henley’s tiny frame in a sudden and suffocating embrace. Ronan’s grip was tight, possessive, leaving no wiggle room. Defeated, Henley sagged into the hug and rested his head on Ronan’s chest, letting his eyes flutter shut. It was always easier to give into this than brave the pain. Ronan began to stroke Henley’s hair, twirling it in his fingers. It wasn’t a gesture of genuine affection and Henley was never under the impression that it was. It was Ronan’s sense of ownership. Like Izaak’s claim was the bruises and scars. Ronan’s was more inside than out. For Henley, at least.

“Shh Shh. Come with me. I’ll get you patched up, little one”. Grunting with effort, Ronan hoisted Henley to his feet, a hand wrapped under his armpit to guide him up the creaking stairs.

Ronan turned at the very last step, leering at the sight of Izaak, bound and subdued. "That little temper tantrum of yours was cute, pet" he called down, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "But playtime's over. Now, you get to lie there, nice and quiet, and contemplate all the fun things I have planned for you when your little cocktail wears off. I want you to feel every second.”

----

Taglists!:

Henley taglist: @livelaughwhump @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @sorrowful-hyacinth

Ronan taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

Izaak taglist: @emmettland @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @sorrowful-hyacinth @whumpsoda

Drabble taglist (which I forgot existed and have recently rediscovered assdfghjkl so will be using from now on unless you would like off it <3 ): @whatwasmyprevioususername @whumpsday @sparrowsage @whumperfully @wolves-and-winters @canislycaon24 @happy-little-sadist @darkthingshappen @whumping-in-the-dark @vagabouund @turn-the-tables-on-them

[generic-whumperz]

When Whumper’s threats aren’t working anymore & Whumpee won’t shut up so Whumper pulls out -

⚡️⚡️ZAAAAPPP⚡️⚡️

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee would struggle against the whumper no matter what, even after the whumper had fastened a shock collar on them. The whumpee would have to ignore the shocks and pain of the too-right device. The whumper has tried everything, and they’re growing frustrated now that they see that the shock collar isn’t working.

[firapolemos05]

Whumptober 2024

Day 2: Alt prompt 'Shock collar'

CW: minor whumpee, sleep deprivation, confinement, child abuse, electrical burns

Gajeel whump taglist: @ostensiblywhump , @ayyden-apoloe , @heartonxions , @grayseyebrowscar , @blackberry-bloody

Gajeel already learned that his teeth wouldn't make a dent in the magical wards Jose placed on the door.

And unfortunately, no matter how he twisted his head, he couldn't bite through the collar around his throat either. It hurt to jostle it, the metal scraping against fresh burns. Attempts to pick the lock only left him with a couple broken claws. His hands kept shaking too much.

Fuck, how long had it been? When was-

Another surge of electricity seared through his blood, blinding him with white hot pain and making his ears scream. A metallic tang filled his mouth as he bit down on his tongue. 

He just wanted to sleep. 

Jose had been working him ragged that week, training after training until Gajeel could barely stand without his overexerted muscles giving way. And barely any food to compensate. The dragon slayer was quite experienced now with sneaking done to the kitchen unseen to get more snacks during the middle of the night. 

Most of the time it was a quick grab-and-go; pick a random, easily missed food item then head back to his room to eat in bed. Still giving time to sleep. 

Burned flesh had an awful smell. Too much. The ringing in his ears. The scattering dots in his vision. Too much. The skin of his neck under the collar was raw and red and his body shook with tremors he couldn't stop. It was all too fucking much.

He'd almost been caught, a couple nights ago. A few? Last night? An older member of the guild came down to the kitchen, forcing Gajeel to hide. It shouldn't have been a problem, he would've waited until they left. But then the guy stayed, for over an hour.

Gajeel didn’t get much sleep, evidently. 

And Jose did not appreciate it when the boy dozed off during his lesson the following day.

The shocks didn't come with any warning, only the inevitable passage of time. It must've been every five or so minutes the damn thing went off. No rest. No respite. No matter how heavy his eyes felt or how often he saw impossible eyes on the walls. Just crackling agony and the gnawing anticipation for the next.

Jose didn't tell Gajeel how long he was going to be punished. 

He was so tired. 

[inkblot22]

Idia and the expression of displeasure

Uh, shoutout to that guy who I thought was my friend, asked me if I wanted to hook up despite being over 1000 some-odd miles away, despite me being very openly not that into men and, more importantly, telling him very clearly that I have no interest in dating him specifically. You're so cool for that, man. I just love to feel like an object. The "something about me" is the crippling c-PTSD, anxiety, and possible psychotic illness rotting my brain and your reading of me as a "Creepy Goth Chick", thank you.

Anyway, I hope I was able to direct that shitty man behavior onto our beloved Idia. I did tag you, it's later on and if you'd like me to remove it, I can absolutely do so, just let me know. Also all I can think about is this vine.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

TW for verbal abuse, manipulation, emotional abuse, captivity, use of a shock collar, mention of physical abuse, Idia is an asshole, abusive relationship dynamics, lack of communication.

Idia is the type of person to believe he is pragmatic, when, in reality, he is rather mercurial. He will fly off the handle at the smallest thing but be completely unbothered by larger issues.

I imagine this could lead to a few problems for his dear, sweet partner. (By the way, I refer to Idia’s darling as his partner because that is what they have rationalized their situation to be, currently: they are Idia's captive partner. Idia doesn’t label them very often, and although he does call them his partner, he definitely sees them as an endearing pest, kind of. Despite them being there because of him, he often acts like they're a mouse or roach that popped up one day and he grew attached to.)

Idia is not the type to like striking or physically harming his partner. He’s the type to get rude and nasty, and play victim. This does not mean he doesn’t ever physically harm his partner.

See, that shock collar around their neck? We have previously established that this is connected to his technomantic energy, and his technomantic energy is connected to his inherent magic ability.

The collar is set up with a warning system. If Idia’s partner does anything he remotely dislikes or any set of pre-established actions that they are not made aware of, they will receive three low-voltage, quick-tap jolts of electricity right against the column of their pretty throat.

These actions include, but are not limited to: acting in any way to harm Ortho or Idia, attempting to harm themselves (this one had to be added after the hanger incident), walking too close to the door or the covered-up window, touching any of Idia’s current or past projects without permission, touching Idia’s gaming setup, ignoring Ortho (this only is put in place if Idia’s partner is hostile towards Ortho at any point, even just once) and refusing any food or drink given to them by Idia specifically. It's important to reiterate that Idia has not told his partner literally any of these rules. Much like the ways that some people train a dog, they have to learn the hard way.

After the three taps, Idia’s emotions and/or intentions dictate how intense the next shock is. Sometimes it’s a bored little zap, like a fourth warning to cut it out before he gets mad, sometimes it’s a rolling pulse that pulls them away from whatever they’re doing, sometimes it’s a tidal wave that literally brings them to their knees and makes them throw up. It really depends on the most annoying kidnapper in the world. 

Idia is very aware that holding this person hostage because of his own predilections and perversions is a wildly morally incorrect thing to do, but Idia also doesn’t give a steaming shit. He’s been given what he wants, having grown up as a member of the upper crust, and if he doesn’t get it given to him, he finds a way to get it.

This means that, as much as we all love him, Idia is a whiny pisslord. The second his partner doesn’t do what he wants, he’s grumbling about it, he’s whining, playing victim, getting huffy.

While that might not sound bad, please remember that Idia’s partner has a bunch of exposed wires situated with the intent of shocking them around their neck at all times, and the shock collar is connected to Idia’s emotions. While getting shocked in a more violent manner isn’t very common for them, it can still happen, and therefore it's possibly best to do a little eggshell walking.

Besides that, it’s not very pleasant to be around someone who is so volatile, even if at their most disappointed they just complain for a few hours or days. Having to deal with someone else’s displeasure in life while being more or less unable to discuss your own does not do wonders for your mental health.

Let’s go over some scenarios and the punishments connected to them.

Idia has been playing some online fighting game all day, pretty much ignoring his partner. He hears them move during a cooldown between matches, turns around in his chair, and asks demands that they come over and let him kiss them a little. Of course, Idia’s partner declines. In this situation, Idia would usually get upset and complain about it for a while, name calling included. His words and mood definitely have the vibe of, “How dare you breathe around me and then not let me touch and kiss you. That’s just leading me on, breathing around me.”

Idia’s partner made some cup noodles while Idia was taking a nap after he raged all night and well into the afternoon. He wakes up and sees them sitting in his gaming chair, facing away from his computer and eating. In this situation, Idia would straight up zap them for two reasons. Number one, they didn’t make him anything to eat, and number two, they’re not supposed to be sitting in his chair or at his desk. Anywhere near his computer/anything that could possibly be used to contact someone on the outside without supervision is a huge issue. Keep in mind that he never deigned to share this rather important rule with his partner.

Idia’s partner has a bad day and snaps at Ortho, shoving him away very, very gently. It almost goes without saying; they’re getting zapped to the point of unconsciousness, because Idia panics and then gets mad, in that order and in rapid succession. The emotions blend together for a moment which makes the jolt stronger. This is when the “no ignoring Ortho” rule would be implemented, because they’d better be really nice to Ortho for the next few months before Idia decides he can trust the two of them to interact without his watchful eye. He trusts his little brother, but he doesn’t trust his partner.

In honor of a certain discussion I had with @tht0nesimp (thank you so much, you're very insightful,) Idia’s partner has a meltdown (understandably) and starts throwing things, including a glass of water that was brought to them after they had a bit of a cry in the shower (stay hydrated, everyone.) The glass, still with the water in it, sails across the room and clocks Idia right in his pretty face, ideally breaking his nose. While it’d be understandable to assume that Idia would be mad enough to hit his partner with a jolt of electricity that would bring them to their knees, Idia is sensible enough to understand that this is a display of some form of hysterical emotions that his partner has been bottling up until this point. Therefore, instead of electrocuting his partner, he just starts complaining, more loudly than usual. It is not peculiar for his voice to rise in volume but not in inflection, we hear this in game, but imagine that just a bit louder and more whiny.

“Wow, and here I thought you were an adult. I can’t believe you can’t even control your emotions.”

“My nose hurts. No, don’t apologize. It’s your fault anyway. I don’t even want to know what you’d do if you were really mad.”

“If you want to make it up to me, you could- don’t make that face. Whatever, I knew you weren’t being serious. Whatever. Just ask Ortho to get me an ice pack and go sit somewhere away from me. It's fine. It's fine!”

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Beautiful Blood -- Sadistic Vampire Whumper Keeping Human Pets Masterlist

TW: violence, blood drinking, intimate vampire whump, death, forced servitude, sadistic vampire master

Summary: a young boy named Asher has a very unique gift: regenerative blood that gives him rapid self-healing properties. But that gift can easily become a curse when a certain Vampire finds this ability absolutely fascinating. Does his blood taste different from other humans...?

Part 1 - Human Auction

Part 2 - A Gamble With Death

Part 3 - Newby

Part 4 - Friend?

Part 5 - Life of a Bloodbag

Part 6 - Hard to Adapt

Part 7 - The Party

Part 8 - Unwelcome Guest

Part 9 - Help from a Monster

Part 10 - Near-Death

Part 11 - Aftermath

Part 12 - How To Murder a Vampire

Part 13 - Vampire's Wrath

Part 14 - Expensive Blood for Rich Customers

Part 15 - Rent-a-Bloodbag

Part 16 - Kindness from a Stranger

Part 17 - The Wolf in Human's Clothing (Literally)

Part 18 - Escape

Part 19 - Reunion

Part 20 - Vendetta of a Vampire

Part 21 - Less Bark and More Bite

Part 22 - Enemies to Hostile Allies

Part 23 - Surprise! Plot Twist

Part 24 - Something's... Different Now.

BONUS SCENE - Asher's first time feeding as a newly-turned vampire.

Main Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@otterfrost @sausages-things

[angel-in-shibari]

hey, I wrote a thing

Its a spinoff of one of my favorite stories on ao3 called The Matron's Handmaiden.

just... trigger warning for a lot of shit. please read the tags. and also read MH too

[3-2-whump]

Wow Birthday Event Day Four:

Electrocution

I’ve never drawn this specific torture circumstance before, so if the poses are off or the expression is bad, go lightly, I am still learning 🙇🏻‍♀️

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Company Property

for Angstpril, Day 1: Liar

cw: manipulation, electrocution, violence, mentions of death/dismemberment

masterlist ///// next

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

He shrunk back from the light when the door opened, by now associating any shift in the darkness with pain.

But the silhouette in the door didn't belong to a guard, and it didn't even step forward, instead setting something heavy on the ground, nudging it further into the cell with a foot.

"Morning, scum."

(Thrum, hum, drum.) Lex raised his head, taking in the thing that had been sent towards him. Two identical items, long and metallic. They looked almost robotic, almost like…

Hands? Arms?

He looked up at the man in the door, a question silent on his face. The man grinned.

"Wanna get revenge?"

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

"How many?"

"Four or five. We aren't certain."

"And you want them all dead?"

"Dead or alive makes no difference to me."

"Dead then. Location?"

"We'll give you coordinates before you depart."

(Coordinates, bore-dinates, get down on the floor-dinates.)

Alexei Wilder sat stiff-backed in the leather chair, flexing new, inorganic fingers and staring towards the man he was speaking to without quite looking at him.

Overkast had gone rogue---or so Corporate said--- and they wanted him to take care of it. Become Cinder again and burn the hero who'd destroyed him.

Today was… his gaze flicked to the corner, where a calendar was tacked to the wall. A picture of a tree frog below an all-caps 'JUNE'. (Dune, noon, moon.)

Today was June the something, then, and it had been either one month or thirteen.

Both were far too long a time to spend in the dark.

But now he was unchained. Out of the cell, out of the darkness. He'd been fitted with a shock collar, but he couldn't fault these men for being cautious. After all, he was still a weapon, wasn't he?

The office was simultaneously too bright and not bright enough. He wanted to bask in the light as much as hide from it, to drink in the sunshine, the sky out the window, even the damn wallpaper pattern. He wanted to lie on the wooden floor and run his hands along the grain, to blow out the cinnamon scented candle on the desk and drink in the smoke.

But he didn't.

He sat still and pretended he wanted to obey the man at the desk. Uriah Fox, or so his nameplate read. The big CEO, head of Titanium, one of the companies that dealt in Hero contracts. The kind that would hire Lex to do their dirty work one day and call for his arrest the next.

"I am glad you decided to take my offer, Alexei," Fox continued, and Lex wanted to bristle at the casual use of his name. Whether Fox owned the tower that had kept him prisoner or not, he clearly had the power to take his life in his hands any time he wanted. Not someone to like, and certainly not someone to trust.

"We understand that there's some bad blood between you and Overkast. I trust that will serve to motivate you. Fan the flames, so to speak."

So there was. Overkast had taken his arms, left his body broken. He'd barely survived that fight. But the Corporate-run Tower, made for imprisoning bad guys like him, had taken the rest.

Everything that had once been normal, that he'd taken for granted, now felt strange.

Yesterday he'd had his first hot shower in a year. His hair had been cut, he'd been able to shave, brush his teeth. He could move his arms, flex his fingers, grab things, touch things. And he couldn't feel any of it, but ghostly memories of how it felt to hold something remained, and he could pretend.

Lex was given new boots and clothes to work in---the weight of the cloth and leather felt odd now, but he welcomed feeling almost human again---and was sent on his way at dusk. The collar stayed on, and a handler stayed with it, assigned to keep an eye on him. Make sure he didn't try to run. 

The coordinates brought him to an unassuming apartment building.

By the end of the night, he'd have it reduced to ash.

He'd been given leave to improvise. To do whatever it took to take out the rogue team. Something he was good at. He'd be rusty, sure. A year in the dark, a year without use would do that to a tool, no matter how sharp. But he would prevail. He always did.

"Almost always," he reminded himself aloud, curling his new fingers into a fist. He was still getting used to the arms, the replacements for the flesh that had been taken from him.

The building seemed largely empty, aside from a single lighted window on the third floor. Lex circled the complex once, just to be certain, then began to scale the fire escape. The ladder made a soft tinging sound beneath the metal of his fingertips, singing like a wind chime as he climbed.

Even that scant amount of exertion was enough to make the muscles in his back ache. His body wasn't used to this amount of movement anymore. It wasn't used to the freedom of being able to walk more than a few paces. It was already tired, but he ignored its plea for rest. Years of training had left him able to push himself past his limits.

On the other side of the third-story window, a stout young woman sat on a beat-up sofa, reading. A pair of glasses rested on top of her head, above a round face and large brown eyes. Vision impaired. If he acted quickly, he'd have an advantage. 

She certainly wasn't Overkast, but Fox said there were other teammates who'd sided with the rogue hero. This woman could easily be one of them. He considered finding another window and sneaking in, snapping her neck before she had time to scream. It would be easy.

But something gave him pause. She was too human. And sure, he'd had no problem with that in the past, but now it halted him where he stood.

What was stopping him? The way she had her legs curled up on the couch? Her laser-focus on the book, the way a few strands of her dark hair had come loose from her ponytail?

It occured to him then, that this was the first person he'd seen in over a year who didn't want to hurt him, or use him, or hate him. She was just existing. Knowing he was about to change that almost saddened him.

He'd strike quick, then. Non-lethal. Use her as a hostage if needed.

The window was locked from the inside, but Lex had no problem forcing it open, summoning his fire and feeling a rush of energy as it connected to the left cybernetic, the metal heating to a molten orange.

The woman was on her feet in an instant, throwing the book at him with an aim that would almost be impressive, if Lex wasn't able to catch it mid air with his activated arm, setting it aflame.

"Shit— Firebrand!" the woman shouted over her shoulder, taking hasty steps back as Lex advanced on her.

"I don't need to hurt you," he said, reaching out to seize her wrist with his cool hand when she turned to run. "Tell me where to find Overkast."

"What the hell— you— you're Cinder, aren't you?" the woman stammered, then, without warning, delivered a hard kick to his shin, trying to pull away.

He barely felt it. "Where is he?"

"Overkast is dead," she said through clenched teeth. "Who sent you? Was it Uriah? He's playing you. He just wants to get rid of us without getting his hands dirty."

Dead? Not possible. Overkast was at the heart of his mission. His vengeance. Fox had even said he didn't care about anyone else. "Bring them back dead or alive." 

"You're lying," he growled. A quick footfall sounded nearby; someone rushing down the stairs. He pulled the woman into him, wrapping an arm around her throat and readying for an attack.

"It's the truth, I swear," the woman protested, her voice coming out strained. "Fox lied to you to get you to play attack dog."

"He didn't—"

"Bullshit, I saw your collar."

(Holler. Dollar.) He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow the shame that threatened to rise in him. It didn't matter. He'd wear a collar if it kept him out of the cell.

The steps drew closer, and the door across from them swung open. A girl stood on the other side, firelight in her clenched fists, glinting off of the beads that had been woven into her thick, braided hair. She couldn't have been more than fifteen, but there was murder in her dark eyes.

"Let her go," she spat, raising a glowing hand. She was still in her pajamas. Despite the threat she presented, despite her affiliation with Overkast, she was still very much a kid.

He wasn't all that surprised at the notion of Titanium employing children as heroes. For all their posturing, they really weren't so different from the Underneath.

"Tell me where Overkast is, and I will," he replied.

"Try six feet under," the girl shot back, but didn't try to close the distance. Lex raised his burning arm, holding it near the woman's head.

"Last chance to tell me the truth."

"He's dead," the girl snapped. 

"How?" Her insistence was starting to seed doubt. "Who killed him?"

"Who do you think?" the woman in his grip said. "It was Titanium. Fox. And now they're after us too."

"Got enough brains to believe us, cyborg?" the girl in the doorway snarled. "Or are you just another one of their puppets?"

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

Getting away from the pair was easy enough. He'd shoved the woman forward, sending her crashing into the girl, and even when the kid was quick enough to send a stream of flame his way, it meant nothing. Fire couldn't hurt him, didn't she understand?

He ignored the onslaught, ignored their shouts for backup, ignored the objects flung at him as he took hold of the sides of the fire escape ladder and slid all the way to the ground.

His handler was still waiting in the alley adjacent to the building, looking puzzled and alarmed as Lex stalked toward him, hand flying defensively to the remote at his hip.

"Cinder— is the mission complete? I didn't see—"

"Where is Overkast?" Lex asked, towering over the other man.

"Did—Did you not see him?" the man stammered, voice pitching higher with fear.

"He's dead, isn't he?" If there had been any doubt left, it fled as a look of panic crossed the man's face.

"No, he's— he's alive. His team must be hiding him. If you—"

Lex didn't let him finish, dealing a swift backhand across his face that sent him sprawling.

"I didn't realize Titanium was full of liars," he muttered, closing in on the man. But before he could strike again, the handler remembered the remote, quickly pushing the center button.

Electricity surged through Lex, stopping him in place, locking out every muscle, burning him in a way that fire never could.

The man held it as Lex dropped to the ground, convulsing, unable to breathe. He didn't let go until his vision had gone dark.

When he was finally able to open his eyes, the man was gone.

"Tsk tsk. I expected better from you, Alexei," a voice crackled from the collar. Uriah Fox. He wondered if he'd been watching the whole time, if the thing had a camera as well as a comm link.

"Y'... lied to me," Lex mumbled back.

"I also got you out of the Tower. Is this how you're going to repay that kindness?"

Blindness, he thought dizzily. Any strength he'd gathered for the mission had been sapped by the shock. He didn't even have the energy to pick himself up off the pavement.

"What do you say we forget this little outburst?" Fox continued. "Come back to HQ and we'll talk. Re-evaluate. I still think you can be an asset to us."

"And what if I don't? You'll kill me?"

"If you don't, I'll put you back in the Tower."

His mouth went dry. "I'll die first."

Laughter on the other end. "You think I'd let that happen? You're company property, Alexei."

Lex tried to ignore the words. Pretend they meant nothing to him, that they were just a label that would keep him out of the dark, but they made him feel nauseous. Trapped.

"One way or another, you'll be useful to me."

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

next part

tag list:

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor

[whumpyfungus]

E is for Exhaustion

Elle makes a choice. content: reluctant whumper, lady whump, stress position, suffocation

Elle isn’t sure how long it’s been since Ambrose turned the lights off. 

A long time. Long enough for her legs to cramp and shake under her. Long enough for her arms, forced straight and pulled up behind her, to have turned to twitching agony. Long enough for the rope around her neck to have rubbed livid marks into her skin. 

It’s sloppy work, as amateurish as everything Elle has seen from Ambrose so far, but that’s doesn’t mean it isn’t effective. Her breath has been reduced to shallow gasps and sips of air and every gasp hurts.  

Yesterday Elle would have sworn that anything, ‘anything’ would be better than the maddening jolt of her collar shocking wakefulness into her on a strict quarter hourly schedule. When Ambrose had finally turned it off she’d been able to sleep for a whole hour before being forced awake as her arms were pulled up and behind her. 

 After an hour of being tied like that Elle would just have sworn. She had done so, loudly and at length, and spat in Ambrose’s face when he had offered to cut her down. 

“Just beg me!” He’d said with that imploring note in his voice that made her almost tremble with rage, “Call me Sir and ask nicely and I won’t even make you kneel. Just… give me something Elle, for gods sake this is ridiculous.” 

Elle had thought about it. Had thought about how good it would feel to curl up on the concrete of the floor and sleep.

Then she’d spat in his face and searched the depths of her vocabulary for fresh invective to use when suggesting where he could shove his offer. 

Even the painful rasp of breath through her throat couldn’t blunt the pride Elle felt at how many times she’d managed to bite Ambrose before he was able to wrestle the rope around her neck. She had tasted blood and smiled. 

That had been some time ago. 

Now Elle can’t taste his blood anymore and she isn’t smiling. The rope around her neck is fastened with a slip knot. When she gives in to exhaustion and lets her head drop forward it tightens, when she is forced into alertness by suffocation and pulls her head up it loosens. At least, it’s supposed to. 

Elles legs are spasming like Ambrose has the cattle prod held to her calves and his finger pushing the button over and over. Her shoulders barely feel like joints. She can still move her fingers but it doesn’t feel like it’s her doing it. Each movement drives a fresh lance of hot iron into her arms. 

Elle keeps moving anyway. She twitches her fingers and shifts her weight as much as the restraints allow. She can hear herself, harsh raspy breaths and broken whimpers, but she can’t hear any sound of footsteps approaching the basement, any hint that Ambrose is going to let her down soon. 

The rope around her neck is, like everything Ambrose has done so far, amateurish and half assed. Elle’s sweat is starting to soak into the hemp. The rope is swelling and the slipknot, already tied too tight for the roughness of the rope, isn’t loosening any more.

‘Mom would have kicked my ass if I fucked up my knots this bad.

Elle’s thoughts feel muddy, like she’s looking up from the bottom of a swamp. It’s getting harder to breathe at all.

‘I could die like this’

If she dies like this it won’t even be because Ambrose decided she was too much trouble to break. It will be because Ambrose is a bitch-ass loser who doesn’t know rope and it will be stupid. Ambrose isn’t going to quit trying to break her until he thinks he’s succeeded, or until she dies, a victim to someone else’s incompetence. 

…I don’t want to die like this. 

When Ambrose cuts her down Elle slumps on the floor sucking in air and coughing it out in broken spasms. Her voice is barely a voice, but she manages to rasp out “Please Sir. Please no more.”

She doesn’t look Ambrose in the eyes. 

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

My other half

masterlist

TW: implied kidnapping, captivity, implied domestic violence, starvation, shock collar use, manipulation, lady whump

There was a clumsy knock at the door. When Claire’s mom opened it, she found Lucas standing on the porch, trying to adjust a bouquet of roses. He was Claire’s partner of a few years, fiancé of a couple of months. It wasn’t out of the ordinary that he showed up at their doorstep, when Claire spent the weekend home, to surprise her.

“-evening Mrs. Denning!” he smiled following a passing look of confusion as to why she was the one opening the door “I thought I’d drop this off” 

“Luke, what a surprise! Is Claire coming home later then?” she asked, reaching for the flowers.

“I don’t know, I haven’t talked to her today, I just wanted to surprise her, it’s really hard on her that she can’t help out with all the renovations”

“All that stress! She really shouldn’t take on this in her state” she took a step back  “Come on in, you can wait for her inside”

“Did she say when she’s gonna be back?” Luke asked as he stepped over the threshold into the hallway.

“No, last week we agreed you two would come over this afternoon together, with all her things” he could barely hear the end of the sentence, because his soon-to-be mother-in-law was already in the kitchen, presumably continuing with where she left off doing the dishes.

“Last week? Didn’t she say anything before she left today?” he yelled as he took off his shoes.

“What?” He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t she say anything today?” he repeated.

“What do you mean?” she looked up at him, just as confused.

“Before she left today?” he tried again.

“Left? She wasn’t here” Luke frowned.

“She came over yesterday afternoon. Didn’t she?” They stared at each other for a long moment. Claire wasn’t at the new place with Luke yesterday. She wasn’t at home either. 

Luke put the flowers down on the kitchen counter and grabbed his phone from his pocket to start calling Claire.

“She’s not picking up” he stared at his phone as it went to voicemail. He dialled again. Claire wasn’t in the best shape the past few weeks. She had violent nightmares almost every night, sometimes she was barely able to tell reality from dream. Once she fell down the stairs at their new place, almost breaking her arm, but getting away with a bunch of large bruises. Noone knew what set all this off, that’s why she was advised to move back in with her parents, because they could care for her better than Luke, who beyond his studies at the medical college worked part time at an electronics store.

Or at least she was supposed to move back.

“I’ll try to call as well” Neither of them moved from the kitchen for a good long while, leaving calling and calling, leaving voicemails after one another. When Claire’s dad got home from work, he joined as well “I’ll call her therapist” he suggested. Luke called around her friends, although she hasn’t spent much time with them lately, and he had a feeling suggesting Claire isn’t with her friends, he had to try.

“We have to call the police” her mom whispered finally, her face white as a ghost. Luke and his father-in-law agreed.

The dispatcher picked up on the fourth ring, and asked what they can help with. After a brief introduction to the situation, they advised the family to come to the station to provide their statements so they can report her missing. 

The first time it was said out loud, that Claire is missing, it made no sense to any of them. As days went on, its reality set in. She was nowhere to be found. 

...

The dingy old car pulled up to the house with unmistakable noise. He stepped out, and slammed the door in, with no care in the world. He was in the middle of the forest, at his great aunt’s property. No civilization in any direction for miles.

It was rather cold inside, as he opened the door he made a mental note to bring some firewood inside later. He hung his jacket next to the door and headed inside. Took a quick glance at the empty living room and turned right, fumbling a bit with his keys he opened the door to the basement.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he addressed the girl lying in the middle of the room. She shuddered as she heard his voice, but didn’t seem to have enough energy to answer or move.

He walked downstairs, and crouched down next to her, checking on the chains keeping her from moving away from the middle of the room where a hook was installed in the cement.

He petted her head gently, trying to coax some kind of reaction out of her.

She was lying on the concrete floor for days now without food or sleep. There was a shock collar on her neck that went off periodically keeping her up. She was at the point, where she'd seen more things that didn't belong there than she perceived reality.

"Hey, I asked something" he laughed softly, but stopped petting her head to reach into his pocket for the remote to the collar. She twitched in her whole body, when she breathed in to try to answer, granted she already forgot the question.

"Can you tell me who you are?" His voice asked from above her. Something changed in it, but she couldn't make out what, she barely understood the words.

"I-i-i, don-know wha-what-sh happening" she stuttered barely audibly.

"You're not going to leave now, will you, darling?" he chuckled and there was something terrifying about just how true it was.

"I, uhm, I'm..." She did not remember. All she knew was the cold concrete under her body and the cold blue eyes watching her like a hawk.

“That’s alright, love” Luke hushed, almost proud of her. He unlocked the chains around her limbs and lifted her up. 

She was laid on something soft, something that smelled familiar. It was good. She heard a click and her collar was lifted from her neck, leaving the skin vulnerable under it.

"You can rest now, sweetheart” he cooed into her ear softly "You will get something to eat tomorrow too" And she finally closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep.

He just watched her. She was so pure, sleeping on the bed buried under the sheets. She seemed dangerously fragile and way too thin, but she would be perfect now. He was honestly intrigued to know how much she'll remember, when he let her recover, just for a while. He couldn't take her back to their place again, which he did a few times before, when he brought her here. She was officially missing. He was leading search groups every evening he could manage, while also spending time with her parents, he was her fiancé after all.

[inkblot22]

The Infection I Don't Want

I don't have any words. Don't look at me. In all seriousness, I definitely love the savior trope. I tried to give it a cute little twist. Idia feels funny in this one too. Also sorry if the formatting is weird. I write these in Docs and then I transfer them to tumblr and for some reason in this fic's document I used Amatic SC and I have bad vision to begin with. No clue why I love torturing myself. Dividers by @/cafekitsune. This fic gets a little heavy. If you start feeling unwell, stop reading. I won't take it personal, promise.

This fic is aimed towards afab readers, but uses they/them pronouns. Mentions of periods and wombs. I may have been a bit less impersonal with this one, but the reader doesn't go on my weird love rant that I have in my self-insert Idia fic so there is that.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, DIY abortion which could also be read as miscarriage, I guess, abortion, Idia is incredibly mean in this and possibly OOC, Ortho being unintentionally creepy, parasites, sort of misogyny relating to periods, shock collars, electric shocks, captivity, implied forced marriage, implied forced medical procedures. PSA: don't try anything the reader does in this fic. It's an excellent way to get sepsis, and you don't want that, I promise.

Part 5 of the Pants on Fire series.

You don’t want to admit it, but a bit too much has changed about you. In the past few weeks, you’ve noticed plenty of things, but the largest and most blaring was that your period never came. Before when you would have it, Idia would sulk and pout, acting like you were bleeding on purpose, throwing a heating pad and a blanket and a pillow and the necessary products at you so you’d be comfortable in your distress. He kept talking about figuring out some technology to rid you of that pesky trait, and you really can’t think of anyone who likes having a period, so if he had, you wouldn’t have fought him on it, 

It’s too late for that now. For the last few days, you’ve been waking up early and vomiting. The smell of Idia’s favorite noodles makes it worse. Your poor tummy is constantly roiling, and you can hardly keep anything down. Ortho has been staring at you incessantly. You think he’s being annoying, really, and Idia’s been getting on your last nerves as well. 

Today, you woke up, vomited, and just sat in the bathroom for a moment, coming to terms with the fact that you could very well be pregnant. You feel conflicted. On one hand, you don’t want to talk or think about this. You’re stressed enough as it is. On the other hand, you absolutely don’t want this. You don’t want this creature in your stomach. You know it's there. You can’t feel it, but how often can you feel something before everything goes absolutely wrong? You can’t. 

But it’s unimportant. A knock comes at the door and you scramble to your feet, flushing the toilet and rinsing out your mouth before opening the door. It’s Idia. He gives you a look and starts stripping, turning on the shower and handing you a hair tie.

“You look sick.  What’s wrong with you?”

“O-oh, I… I don’t know. I feel fine.” You’re not sure how to tell him, so you lie. Maybe you won’t have to tell him. You pull his hair into a bun and he hops into the shower. 

You stand there for a moment and he peeks his head around the door at you, “What are you doing? You want to join me?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Just thinking.”

“Go see if Ortho can get you some aspirin or something so you can start acting normal again.” He mutters.

You leave. It’s fine. Idia’s dorm room is always cold. He keeps it like that on purpose. If you’re cold and he doesn’t provide much more than these stupid skimpy pajama sets that are cute but are also thin, so you’re more likely to cuddle up to him or wear his hoodies. At least he has good taste in that.

You don’t really feel like undertaking the task of looking through his closet, so you take a seat in Idia’s gaming chair, which is still warm from him sitting in it, and sigh, laying a hand over your belly. He said that Ortho was here, but he must be out getting breakfast, since you didn’t immediately hear his high voice  shrilling in your ears, “Good morning!”

You like Ortho just fine. He’s not your ally, but being around him is better than being around Idia. You wished he’d been gone for longer. You sigh and your head begins to hurt, “Hi, Ortho.”

He giggles a little and puts down the takeout bag, smiling as he turns back to face you. And then he just stares, chartruse eyes boring into you.

“Ortho, is there a problem?” You can’t hold your tongue about this any longer. You have a headache and honestly you just want to take a fat nap and let the world, small as it has become for you, deal with itself.

Before he can respond, Idia strolls out of the bathroom, lazily greeting Ortho, “Hey, Ortho.”

“Hello!” His voice is just so grating. You want to throw something.

“Mmm.” Idia glances at you, walking over and nudging your shoulder with the back of his hand, like he’s shooing an animal, “Go lay down.”

“I don’t-”

“Did you ask Ortho for-”

“Would you stop interrupting me?” You snarl, turning to look at him.

He stiffens ever so slightly, then hunches down and digs through the takeout bag Ortho brought in, “Are you acting like this because you’re on your period?”

“Did you really just ask me-”

This time, it’s Ortho, not Idia, who interrupts you, “Oh, they won’t be having a period for a while.”

Idia freezes. You freeze. Ortho goes back to what he was doing, humming as he makes the bed. Idia turns to narrow his eyes at you, his eyes sliding down to look at your midsection and feet, and his eyes roll back into his head and he’s hitting the ground. Maybe if you cared more about him, you’d check to make sure that he was fine, but as it is now, you don’t really have the energy or wherewithal to do so. You rush into the bathroom and cower near the toilet, like there’s a tornado or something outside. You’re distressed.

He doesn’t know it, but Ortho just vocalized the actualization of all your fears, the culmination of your meager existent, all rolled up into this… this parasite in your stomach. You swallow your incoming hysteria and make a decision. You’re going to get up. You’re going to get a change of clothes. You’re going to take a shower. And you’ll be fine. You’ll figure this out. You always have before. You’ll do it again.

When you exit the bathroom, Ortho is blowing air into Idia’s pallid face, and Idia is groaning. You ignore the pair and go to the closet. You grab a change of clothes, the rabbit-themed set of pajamas, you walk into the bathroom, you turn on the water. About as soon as the stream hits your back, you’re screaming. Sobs break from your chest like a hammer going into ice, smashing its way out despite every effort you make to keep it together. You’ve barely got the peace of mind to quickly wash yourself, and when you exit- the water is cold, too cold for comfort- you dry. You feel twitchy, after crying so hard. You tug on the spaghetti strap shirt, the bunny face stretching against your skin, and then you’re staring at the hanger.

You remember reading something, a long, long time ago. You were far too young to be reading this type of thing, the gorier parts of feminism and women’s rights, but… you remember a passage. The wire twists apart easily as you remember the story. A woman, desperate to be rid of the parasitic growth in her womb, just as desperate as you are now, used a wire coat hanger to remove it. It’s been so long that you can’t remember how it ended for her, but you remember the rest very clearly. The bent end, no longer crooked after you bent it, slips into your opening so easily. You can barely feel it. then the door opens, you freeze,  and you hear Ortho scream.

“Idia!” He yells, and there are footsteps and a moment of silence.

You look up at Idia’s honey-colored eyes that are glued to the wire hanger sticking out of your body, see the way both of the Shroud boys are looking at your current unfinished action, see the slow spread of crimson into Idia’s long hair, starting at the tips and spreading like, well, like fire, to the roots. There’s that familiar three-tap warning, and then you drop the hanger, clutching at the collar as the strongest shock you’ve ever felt hits you like a truck. It’s worse than the time you didn’t want to hang out with him, worse than the times you’d stray too close to the door. It forces you to your knees, sets your body into convulsions that shake the twisted hanger out of you, makes you foam at the mouth.

Somewhere under your anguish, you think you hear Ortho robotically say, “BPM reaching critical levels.”

The current stops and your body stops convulsing, relaxing so hard that your world, small as it has become, goes black. When you awake, you’re reliving a distant memory: you’re bound, hands and ankles, on the bed. You’re dressed again, one of Idia’s hoodies draped over you like a blanket, and Idia is just staring at you, holding your collar. He looks pissed, but his hair isn’t red, at least. He’s noticed you’re awake, but he’s not saying anything. He turns slightly in his gaming chair and throws the strap of leather on his desk, the wiring fried. There are holes burnt into the leather, and Idia stares at it blankly before he starts typing away on his tablet, his own voice coming through the device.

It sounds about as burnt out as the shock collar looks, “I bet you feel pretty bad, huh?”

You don’t dignify that with a response. It doesn’t matter to him, since his fingers fly as he keeps typing away.

“You’re a fucking moron. Only someone stupid would try to-” He doesn’t finish the sentence and hits the desk, standing up and pacing. You can’t see him, but you can hear him panting. 

You try to de-escalate, sort of. The shock collar isn’t around your neck anymore, but you really don’t need him to work himself up again, “The word is ‘desperate.’ I don’t want… I don’t want this. This thing growing inside of me, I don’t-”

“You’re not the only one with a parasite.” His voice is quiet but seething. It breathily cuts through the air like a knife, aiming for your soft parts, “You just have the privilege of being able to get rid of yours comfortably.”

“Really? So you putting this thing in me isn’t as bad as I think it is?”

He paces back into view and you notice something missing. Someone missing. You lift your head a bit to look around and Idia takes a heavy seat at his desk again. This state is rare. It takes him a while to relax when he gets like this, but you’ve only seen it aimed at others, like that time his account got temporarily banned because one of his party members was hacking. At least that had an easy solution for him- you’ve never seen him grin as much as when he had the poor guy swatted and watched through the CCTV cameras around the poor fool's house.

“We’re going home. I’ll fix your little problem twofold, since I’m the only competent one between the two of us.” He types out, his recorded voice not lagging once.

“What? And what do you mean you have a parasite?”

He doesn’t look at you, but you think you see him wipe his cheek with his sleeve, typing with only one hand, “Ortho is gonna come back with some burn cream. I lost my temper and you got hurt. Not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“I didn’t deserve any of this. I asked you if you had a condom.”

He doesn’t respond to that statement, instead typing, “I don’t love you. You know that, right? Love is for the idealistic masses, those who aren’t capable of keeping their feet on the ground. You’re just someone who has taken up a space in my mind. So the solution to yours won’t be permanent. Seven knows my parents will be getting on my case about providing them an heir eventually.”

“So I’m just here for eventual marriage security?”

Idia doesn’t respond. Ortho strolls in, placing a tube on Idia’s desk and goes out of your line of sight, seemingly to tidy or something. You don’t really care. He’s not your ally. He’s never been.

Idia sighs, then goes back to working on something on his desk. You don’t know how much time passes, but he loops it around your throat and unties you. It’s sitting a bit lower on your neck, just against your collarbones. There’s a three-tap warning, but no shock afterward. Just the flat look on Idia’s face.

“I should start calling you ‘baby’, kitten. It’d be so much easier for you to understand your position.”

“That’s not funny.” You say, “I never asked you to bring me here.”

Idia shrugs, “Well, I don’t think of you as a pet. With the way you act, you might as well be a pest.” He grins, sharp teeth on display, “Maybe I should put out some glue traps… or start dosing you with raw garlic and ivermectin.” 

He starts laughing, and you feel your eyes well with tears. You tell yourself it's the pregnancy hormones. Idia laughs harder at your expression.

“Aw, kitten, I’m just teasing. Come sit with me.”

“But I-” That three-tap warning from your new collar cuts you off. You stand up and start walking the two steps between the bed and Idia’s desk. When you reach your hands towards the collar, it zaps you. It’s quick and not too painful, but it gets you moving towards Idia. When you take a seat on his lap, he leans to bury his nose in your hair, a thrilled noise escaping him. He drops the burn cream in your lap.

He just watches you as you unscrew the lid and reach for your neck. There’s a three-tap warning again- bzz bzz bzz- but you ignore it. The second your fingers barely graze your throat with the cream, you get zapped, short and swift, but uncomfortable enough. You drop your hand and it goes away. When you look up at Idia, he takes the cream from your other hand and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, using his free hand to click into one of his many tabs for some anime streaming site.

“Good. It works.” Is all he says.

As he dabs the cream onto the electrical burns on your neck, you have to blink away the despair again. It’s settled over you like a blanket, eaten holey by moths and worms. Every move you make is accompanied by tentative fear, a worry that Idia will do something awful if you do certain things. You never once considered it would go this far, though. Ortho drops something onto Idia’s bed, a hefty-looking luggage set, and Idia pays him no mind as he tucks away some clothes. You don’t want to admit it, but you don’t want to be around any more people under Idia’s thumb, whether they know it or not.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

A Life in the Hands of the Enemy -- Villain reluctantly saves Hero's Life part 15

Warnings: captivity whump, cruel Villain whumper, forced living weapon, Hero whumpee

Excitement danced in his eyes, and Amber could tell he was eager to play around with her powers some more.

"...All right," he eventually sighed, caving. "I'll let that be enough for today. Follow me back to your room, and I'll get you some food once you're properly contained."

Amber snorted in disgust. The audacity to call her prison cell a 'room'.... unbelievable.

Zack cut her a sharp look and she quickly glanced away submissively, getting the hint. She needed to be more careful with how she acted.

Even if she hated Zack with every fiber of her being, at least he was good to his word. He decided to leave Amber with only one wrist cuffed and chained, allowing her at least some range of motion. And he brought her a much larger meal this time, and Amber took her time indulging in the perfectly-cooked steak and veggies. He was decent at cooking, she had to admit.

But Zack returned before she was finished, making her stiffen apprehensively mid-bite. "A small reward for your cooperation today," he announced, and tossed something on the ground next to her before briskly leaving.

Amber waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore before glancing down in confusion -- that turned into surprise. It was... a cookie? She peered closer, wondering if her eyes were tricking her, but yup. Wrapped in plastic, was a single, full chocolate chip cookie. All for her.

Once I know you won't act up, you can earn certain amenities, Zack's words echoed in her mind. She'd thought he was lying at the time, but now... maybe cooperating wouldn't be as bad as she expected. He was good to his word, if nothing else. She was slowly beginning to realize that more and more.

It was strange, really, how cold and cruel Zack could be, yet still treat her with basic kindness and dignity… if she earned it.

Amber hungrily devoured the rest of the meal and only hesitated for a heartbeat before digging into the moist cookie. It could be drugged, but she couldn't care less because it was the best thing she'd ever tasted in this awful place.

-------------------------------------------------------

That night she slept better than the nights before. She woke up refreshed and ready for whatever challenge Zack would force her to overcome next. She waited for the villain to bring breakfast, but she must have woken up earlier than she thought, because she counted roughly half an hour that passed with no sign of him. But it was hard to tell for sure how much time truly passed with no clock in her cage.

Amber stood up and did some stretches to wake up her muscles, which were still a tad sore from sleeping on the hard concrete. Then she took to restless pacing, as far as the chain on her wrist cuff would allow, which was only a few meters. It was better than nothing, and she made the most of it. The silence was unbearable, aside from her own footsteps, and she thought she might go crazy when Zack finally showed up.

"About time," Amber grouched.

Zack smiled charismatically, carrying a plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Dang. He really put effort into it. Amber tried not to look grateful or relieved when he set it on the floor for her and backed up to leave.

"I'll leave you to eat in peace, but once you're finished, I have something new for you today," he announced chipperly. She'd never seen him in such a good mood before. Was this all because of how well she'd done yesterday?

Amber decided not to question the miracle, and quickly wolfed down the breakfast. Zack returned the instant she was done, an uncharacteristic eagerness in his face that put her on edge. He wasted no time taking the cuff off and leading her out, and Amber's stomach sank with dread when she realized they were heading toward the medical area where he'd pulled bits of shrapnel from her body previously. Her anxiety worsened with every step, and it was a conscious effort to force herself to follow Zack all the way in.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

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