#tw: suggestion of torture

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

He dreams of revenge pt. 1

Dallon

this is going to be a two chapter story, inspired by this dream I had

word count: 2.7K

masterlist

TW: sibling death mention, suicide mention, referenced captivity and torture, suggestive themes (nothing 18+/nsfw happens, but there's a vibe), choking, fade-to-black ending, gun mention (hopefully i got all of it? lmk if i missed something)

I'm going to kill Wesley Shaw tonight.

I tried to accept it as a fact, doubting it would only bring about a load of unnecessary anxiety, and I didn't need anything that could potentially poison the success of this mission.

We had been planning the hit for months now, everything had to be perfect. Every step had been thought through well, we had plan Bs and Cs for each and every one of them. By the end of the night that monster would be dead.

Before we entered the convention centre, Bailey and I went over our cover stories and aliases, quick, as if we were reciting a a well-learned poem.

The only good thing, I could honestly say I liked about her, was that she spoke fast. Sure, she was a great cop, with a steady aim, and she was awfully insightful, she just never shut up, and I could never get over that.

I fought the assignment hard, when the project started, I'd have been willing to work with anyone, but her. If there was a chance for a slip of a tongue compromising the mission, I would want to prevent it, even if it ruined my reputation as a good partner to be assigned with.

Fuck Bailey. I planned on doing this right, thankfully our cover stories let us spend the first half of the evening separately. It was a safety measure we took, we pretend not to know each other, so if anything goes south, we don't drag each other down. I was entirely convinced this was put in the plan for my safety, I would never let myself get in trouble like that.

She got out of the car a block away from where I did. I was to arrive from another direction, at a different time.

"You're gonna do great, Dallon!" I heard the captain's voice throught the earpiece, I would discard immediately upon arrival. We didn't wish for luck on high stakes missions like this one.

"I know" I replied with full conviction. I was going to do great and Shaw would die and it was going to be perfect.

I got out of the car just in time to spot Bailey saunter inside, flashing her wristband to the security guard. I heard her laughter from where I stood, and felt an uneasy shiver run down my spine at the thought of having to "accidentally" run into her inside and rejoin forces for the takedown.

Phase one, I go inside and mingle. I already hated it, every ounce of willingness to talk had evaporated from me, as Bailey entered the building before I did. I still had a list of conversation starters and a hell of a great ability to lie my ass off going for me. I would not enjoy a second spent in this phase, but I'd do well enough.

It was too bright inside. My skin crawled with how many bodies pressed to my side as I tried to push through the crowd. I had to keep my eyes open and actually look, which took tremendous effort to keep up against the onslaught of sensations.

My heart jumped every time I saw a feature that slightly resembled the one haunting me in my nightmares. Every glimpse of light reflected from a pair of glasses, every face with black stubble on set me off to no end.

Phase two started, when I finally spotted him. He stood off to the side, surrounded by a close circle of people with a glass of champagne in hand, a horrendously smug smile on his face. The latter might have been my imagination, he could only have been smug if he considered himself the winner of the fight already, and he didn't even know about the operation. At the end of the night I planned to make that expression, while he bleeds out on the ground and I claim self-defense.

It started off easy, I positioned myself in the crowd so that I could keep an eye on Wesley at all times. This made it significantly harder to find my partner, who should also be looking for me after she found the target. He was hard to miss and however annoying Bailey was, she was a lot more comfortable getting lost in a crowd and had a decent amount of precision to spot him, maybe even faster than I did.

It wasn't time to get closer just yet, I needed to find Bailey, and start a conversation innocuously. For that to happen I needed to actually talk to people.

I joined a larger group, where a few others seemed to be just as much of an outsider as I was, so it isn't too weird that I joined. I laughed when the others did, tried to get a word in edgewise here and there, but I wasn't paying much attention.

I was scanning the crowd for my partner's outrageous golden dress and bright ginger hair. Against all odds, she was a lot harder to spot than Wesley Shaw, in his simple black suit. We locked eyes, it seemed she had found him as well. We had entered phase two.

We had to find our way to him. Not do dwell on the details, Bailey joined my group, then we went for drinks and pretended to introduce ourselves. We weren't missed after we left and let the crowd carry us to Wesley.

He wasn't surrounded as exclusively as I imagined, he was just an attendee like we were. It made our job all the more seamless.

When we joined the conversation he was a part of, we entered phase three. Get him alone and find something to arrest him for. We had a list of everything Wesley had ever done, incriminating himself, but it would be much easier, if he gave us a reason. I wasn't one for planting evidence and such things, that was usually below me. Not this time. Wesley Shaw was going down one way or another.

His voice was deep, I could feel it rumble in my stomach and if I didn't know who he was, I would have even enjoyed it. Maybe... It was hard to say. All I could think about was Marci and the way she looked at me when we found her, and that I'm so close to making the fucker pay for it. I hated waiting.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Wesley aimed the question at me, looking me up and down. I shivered.

"No, I don't think so" I smiled politely, and reached a hand out for him to shake. "Max Brown" It's Dallon Burke, and I'm going to kill you.

"Wesley Shaw. I swear I feel like we've met before" Do you even remember Marci? Here's a hint you, kidnapped her and tortured her for almost a year.

"I guess, I have one of those faces" She was my twin. We looked alike before you destroyed her.

"Yeah, probably" She killed herself. Did you even know that?

I had no way of keeping time as it passed by. People came and went, someone brought drinks at one point. I never left Wesley's side. The conversation was superficial, we chatted away about events, fundraisers and the dresscode, and I spoke to the best of my knowledge of what I thought Max Brown would say.

He didn't like strict black and white attires, much like the one Wesley wore. He preferred some frill and colour, as demonstrated by my dark blue, satin button-up.

I forcibly smiled as much as I could. I was used to doing it all the time, especially throughout the preparation process for this operation, because I didn't want to let everyone know how much I despised having to work with Bailey. I had reached my limit that evening and my jaw started to hurt.

I flirted with her and she with Wesley. We agreed on this beforehand, because there was no way in hell I would be able to keep up the facade for him, at least with her, I could practice beforehand.

She was smart to leave for a little while, so we didn't raise suspicion, as far as everyone else was aware, we we're strangers to each other as much as we were to them. After she got back, stumbling and slurring her words a little, acting drunk - at least I prayed it was an act, a rather prejudiced thought on my part - we set phase four into motion.

"Would you two care to join me for another drink?" the monster asked. Bailey stood close to him, leaning slightly on his shoulder, giggling like it was the best night of her life. Even though I knew it was fake, the sight left a sour taste in my mouth. "Maybe somewhere more private?"

"This place is crammed with people, do you know of some VIP area we hadn't been invited to?" I meant for the question to sound light, I think it came out a little awkward. He didn't seem to mind. Arrogant prick.

"I have a suite booked in the hotel next door" he replied smoothly. Bailey inched even closer to him, batting her eyelashes with not-so-secret intent.

"A suite? Are you rich or something?" She played dumb well. Her voice, usually sharp, even grating at times, was not soft and feminine. I wished she spoke more like that.

Wesley Shaw laughed and pulled her close by the waist. His hand didn't wander lower than it was appropriate.

"And you, Max?" He raised an eyebrow, as he inquired, I found it sort of comical as the frame of his glasses obstructed the view of the lower one. The sight of this monster of a man with only half a brow gave me enough material to laugh and smile in his direction.

"I'd love to" I made my voice deeper on purpose, so it sounded like I was actually into the idea.

We made our way back to the gates and walked over to the hotel. We locked arms with Bailey from both sides to keep her upright. I was starting to doubt whether she was actually sober.

Wesley Shaw's luxury suite was on the fifth floor. He invited us to sit in the living room, and opened up a bottle of wine from a wine cooler.

I wondered if he had brought that with himself for this occasion, or it was the courtesy of the hotel staff.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" Wesley stood up abruptly, just after filling our glasses and making himself comfortable. "I have to make a phone call, it can't wait" He apologized again. I nodded, sure, it was fine, I was understanding. He walked into the bedroom and pulled the sliding door panel shut.

As soon as he was out of our line of sight Bailey straightened up and poured out half of what her glass contained on a plant next to the couch.

We heard as he picked up the phone, he paced the room. We couldn't hear much. Bailey immediately relaxed back against the cushions, when we heard him walk closer.

"This is going to take a while" Wesley came back to the living room, covering the microphone with one hand, he was half whispering. "You could make yourselves comfortable in the bedroom until then, my laptop is out here"

"Are you sure?" I asked with fake concern. Max Brown wouldn't want to be a rude guest. "We can leave and catch up later"

"I'm sure" He smiled warmly. It burnt my face. "Ten minutes at maximum, I'll try to make it in five, though" Wesley winked at me. I wanted to strangle him, but instead, I grabbed Bailey by the arm, maybe a bit stronger than it was necessary and pulled her up to come with me to the bedroom.

I pulled the door in, leaving it open an inch, so we could hear better.

Bailey was tense again, no sign of the alcohol induced lazy relaxed version of her. She sat on the edge of the bed, listening, still as a statue.

I concentrated as well. And when I finally picked up the thread of the conversation, I looked at Bailey in disbelief.

It couldn't have been this easy. He was dictating account numbers into the phone, with names and places. Wesley Shaw started phase five by himself.

The microphones sewn into our clothes were sensitive enough to pick all the sound up. We needed to get at least one of the devices out of here, so it can be traced immediately. Bailey was the one delivering it, I was tasked with keeping him there, using force if necessary, until we get the okay to arrest him.

Bailey put the drunken act back on. She stood up, swaying a little on her feet and walked out of the room. She whispered incoherently, from too far away and Wesley waved her off, apparently way too lost in his laptop screen.

She was out. I undid the top two buttons of my shirt and sat on the edge of the bed. I thought about how I should have drunk that glass of wine at least. Not like I needed the courage, I felt determined now more than ever. All I had to do was pull my gun, that had been safely tugged into it's strap on my ankle under my wide-legged dress pants...

I didn't feel the weight of it as I lifted my leg up. I tried the other, since I'm bad with directions, because maybe I just forgot.

There was no gun. I desperately tried to find the last moment I remembered having it. In the surveillance van I checked before I headed inside and then nothing.

Wesley had stopped talking, I realised a second too late. He was standing in the doorway, with a questioning look on his face. I looked terribly awkward, patting the side of my ankles, looking for my gun. I hoped he was drunk enough not to notice, though I didn't remember him having a single sip of any glass of beverage he had in his hands through the night.

I don't know why or how, but that set me off, and I knew that he knew. Still I tried to save the situation. If ot came to it, I would kill him with my bare hands.

"Ba- Ashley f-felt sick, she said she'd, she'd be back later" I gulped. I fucked up, I was panicking and he knew "I- I told her not to come back, if, if she gets suck" I stammered. He merely hummed and crossed the space between us with three long strides. I was sitting on the bed, he looked tall.

I really thought I was a good liar. I had been a flawless one all night, why do I have to fuck it up the single most important minute?

"Maybe it's better like that, I'd hate to have to get rid of her, if she witnessed what's happening here" Wesley lifted my chin with a finger so I had to look him in the eye. I was frozen under his gaze. At least he didn't figure Bailey's cover out.

"You look so much like her, Dallon" he leaned down. He turned my face around to inspect it from every angle.

"I didn't think you would, but it's like she's right here. I don't know why you expected this little plan of yours to work"

"I'm going to kill you" I finally found my voice again. I pictured Marci's face, that was a carbon copy of my own, beat up, bruised and pale as a ghost. I looked healthy, no bruises or scars, maybe a slight tan I got from visiting our mother back home.

I was nothing like Marci.

"Sure, you will" Wesley laughed and his hand slid down from my chin to wrap around my throat.

"If only you had your gun" he whispered in my ear, hot and sticky, and he pushed me down on my back.

My hands flew to claw at the grip on my throat, but it was futile. I felt dark spots starting to dance around the edges of my vision, and they grew and grew until it all faded to black.

[kankuroplease]

Since you’ve made a few new Inuzuka ocs that live during your founders era au, what are your headcannons for the clan’s culture during that time? I know that Kishimoto hasn’t given us much information on the clan in general but what are your ideas? (:

Discord friends know exactly why I shouldn’t be trusted with Inuzuka HCs and now everyone else well too 🤣

I’m pretty much HC them as nomadic/brigands during the founders era; they didn’t stay in one place too long as they understood over hunting wasn’t ideal or sustainable + they didn’t

Because they are a brigands-like clan, they are ROUGH around the edges

The more assertive the Inuzuka, the more respected they are

If they happen to be timid, that just tends to make their parents or partners more protective of them

They believed in quick and swift justice when it comes to crimes committed against one another. Should a grievance be great enough and the accused is found guilty, it often ends rather brutally via disembowelment, blood eagle, or being boiled alive. Making sure they feel the pain of their victims

They did there own thing, but some of them would work with the Senju as tracking aids from time to time (for money of course)

Their attire is as ragtag as them. It’s pretty much whatever they’ve taken, sew, and repurposed

They were probably a much larger clan do them taking in others and teaching them their ways. Also do to the fact that their birth rates were significantly higher than average

Marriage ceremonies weren’t really a thing in their clan. Pairs were considered a married couple after spending a conservative amount of days and nights with their partner alone

They were considered “divorced” after spending an extended time apart or when they are publicly rejected by their spouse

Monogamy and polygamy were both wildly practiced. Cheating was extremely frowned upon

They can smell sex on each other and arousal, it would take an absolute dummy to try and cheat and get away with it

Marking one’s partner isn’t really a thing that has to be done by instinct, but it’s pretty common for a few bites or scratches to occur with them during sex

It just comes with the territory of having an Inuzuka lover with sharp teeth and nails

Smell is an important part of life for the Inuzukas.

If they like someone’s appearance but not their scent, it’s almost impossible to move forward with their relationship

They smell big storms in the distance

They know they’re in the right location by scents and sights

They use scents in storytelling (yes, you need to know what great grandfather Jun smelled like. It’s important!!)

Everyone is equal but elders were held in higher esteem for surviving so long

leaders were chosen based on who everyone felt was qualified to represent them (which generally were individuals that were confident and rational)

If a leader was proven to be weak willed, they would be sat down. Immediately.

No Inuzuka will go into battle without their ninken. That means if a ninken is sick, that person has to stay back with their companion(s)

Because they are so good at tracking, relocating, and hunting, they themselves are extremely hard to track. unless you know their markings they leave for their young

Their diets mostly consist of meats and some root vegetables. Good luck getting them to try anything leafy

They have a lot of festivals and traditions, including;

moon viewing - a time to get together and observe the new moon (in reality they do this whenever there’s a clear night. It’s their excuse to party under the stars. There will be howling, possible fights, and definitely new couples forming)

Hunting games - who can get the biggest (insert animal) that season. The winner usually gets paired handsomely and then all meat is then smoked and preserved by everyone. It’s also a time when they teach their children about how to cook properly

Canine celebrations - anytime a ninken has returned from war and did an excellent job, they throw a celebration just for it/them.

Virginity - the random HC I warned about lmao. I just picture them as sex positive people, so howling after their first time having sex is like an odd tradition. Which results in a bunch of congratulation howls from the clan, not everyone does it, but enough do that they all know what that means💀

However, if their partner doesn’t have as good of a howl as them, people will assume the sex was bad 💀

Birth celebrations - it’s tradition for births to be announced immediately and it’s customary to have a celebration that night in honor of the new life. The parents aren’t obliged to attend for obvious reasons, but they’ll probably overhear the singing of their child’s name at some point.

This tradition can get tricky with multiple births in a day and cause a prolonged celebration that might annoy the new parents and other residents

Heirlooms - typically cords, accessories, and furs that are gifted to them on their coming of age birthday. These are usually divided amongst the children and deemed as selfish of a parent choose to keep the item instead of gifting it to their child(Ren)

Ninken gifting - once a child is old enough or has proven themselves to be responsible enough. They are gifted a ninken to bond with and aid them moving forward

Memorials - if a Inuzuka should lose their ninken, it’s considered as bad as the the loss of any other member of the clan. The ninken is to be given a proper funeral and their owner/partner will receive many condolences

If a ninken is lost do to recklessness. The Inuzuka responsible will also receive the anger and distancing of their clan. Not so much if they are a child, but they still will not be given another ninken for years.

They raise their children together, meaning; a may have birthed the child, but b - z look out for the child too.

Children are not raised with hardcore gender roles in mind, so they would often be confused during this time when someone outside the clan talks about gender roles

It is not a big deal when someone leaves the clan, because they always know their way back to the pack

it’s just rare for them to leave the clan as they don’t typically fit in with outsiders

If someone brings someone into the clan, they are given light jabs for awhile until they can prove themselves (just yell at them to stop and that person will be quickly accepted) or their partner tells the others to back off

They are in touch with nature and know the wild animal’s habits, therefore are known to be a clan able to “talk with animals”. Which isn’t the case, but it’s a nice assumption, so they don’t correct it

[savagefenty]

According to the US State Department, Russia interrogated, detained, or deported somewhere between 900,000 and 1.6 million Ukrainian citizens through July of this year. The United Nations Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights has verified the existence of the security checkpoints and "arbitrary detention, torture, ill-treatment and forced disappearance" of Ukrainians perceived as being pro-Ukraine or with tenuous-at-best links to the armed forces.

[holyhounddog]

Heyyy

[sylvctica]

if i ever feel bad abt writing i can just look at this and instantly feel masochistic pain and vindication that my god it cannot get worse than this

[starleska]

He's no Mad Mod, but I was suddenly reminded that The Superman Animated Series iteration of Metallo is also played by Malcolm McDowell and felt like sharing with the class 🥰

IRISOOOOO you are ALWAYS coming in clutch with the amazing villains to get obsessed with omfggg????? i know absolutely nothing about the Superman Animated Series but watching a few seconds of Metallo and i'm like 👀👀👀 Malcolm has a voice like melted butter...that laugh, my god!!!! 😳😳😳 lord though, reading up Metallo's backstory, i feel for the poor guy 😭 it's reminding me of that old creepypasta (content warnings for body horror, scientific experimentation, torture, mental illness and more...do heed the tags on the page and exercise caution!!!) Gateway of the Mind . i think anyone would struggle with the loss of so many sensations at once - that has to do a number on your psyche 💔 i'm gonna have to go away and watch his episodes now!! gosh, thank you as always for the excellent suggestion 🥰🥰

[lasplaga]

[ 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 ] : sender has made the receiver bleed

「𝔖」 Dionte would be made consecrated under the glory of God, made pleasured by the anguish of mortal flesh, in honor of the martyrs who died before the faith. Stretching racks & iron yokes were spared on behalf of a much more voyeuristic punishment --- FLAGELLATION.

" 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔳𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔠𝔨 𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔰. "

The snap of each whip, a living extension of the parasite, was heavenly upon a dishabille human body. Every minor cut the sickly, serpentine tentacle left, blood seeped from the victim ; Only for the flogging tendrils to hungrily lap at the liquids. NOTHING would be wasted or unceremoniously splattered upon the dungeon walls. Every strike was perfectly calculated, honed by decades of inflicting discipline. It was an intoxicating sight, a man half-bare & tied facing a metal cross. If one were to peer up to the heavens, for any hope of salvation, what greeted them atop the crucifix was the likeness of a snake, with many spindly, insectoid arms. This was not the works of Christ, but rather something Devilish --- fitting of a true 𝕃𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤.

The lashings had begun light, to not gash horrendously deep into muscle, if not through bone. The skin would be grazed, MADE RAW, before further scores would leave permanent scarring. Every squirm, grunt, wail or hoarse cry was a harmonic ensemble of pain, the young agent twisted into a personal instrument to play. However, between every thrash of his mutated limb, Osmund would afford Dionte the mercy of rest, in order to momentarily observe the labors of his work, 'clean'.

" 𝔈𝔵𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡, 𝔰𝔬 𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔢. " Each sting of the flesh-made flails would burn as if branded by a hot iron, before the cool sludge of his flexible appendages would stifle any prickling. The many slits, absorbed free of blemished crimson, were beheld as if Dionte served as a morbid, quivering 'painting'. Torture, passed generationally, was considered an unsightly, intimate art in The Saddler family. Clawed inscriptions were possible with anyone in possession of a carving tool, but SCOURGING one's sins upon their mortal vessel was an act of passion --- refined & in rare taste. Blemished, the scratched writings of Osmund began to form ; ' INTRUSO ', for the bloodied trespasser, which invoked a bite of his bottom lip & gravelly moan. " 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔞𝔫 𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔟 𝔦𝔫 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫. ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣, 𝔥𝔲𝔪𝔞𝔫... 𝔦𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔱. "

[greenthegreat]

Goretober (ALL OF IT!)

And then theres also my sona but I'm at image limit!

All of these have captions with them that are specified on their specific posts, so go check them out if you want to!

[kibouhero]

@ignitionxbomb said: "Oi, dumbass," Katsuki stated, and before he folded his arms over chest he motioned his thumb toward the other's room. And inside of the room, strapped to the table, was a hero who was blindfolded with a gag in his mouth. It was clear that the person was a 'birthday present' for the other villain. However, don't ask how, when, or where Katsuki had 'hidden' them until today. //obviously to Vil!Deku from Vil!Katsuki

"Hm?" Izuku had been in the middle of surveying the status of a recent Noumu he'd created. The computers had said that the creature had stabilized, so it was only a matter of time before his new "child" would come to life.

He blinked, looking up when Kacchan addressed him. He raised an eyebrow at the thumb pointed towards the next room.

Almost as if on cue, the poor hero began to make panicked sounds through the gag.

The villain's eyes brightened immediately as he walked over to his partner. "Ooh...! Kacchan, you shouldn't have...!" he gasped like Kacchan had just given him an engagement ring.

He entered the next room, flushing from excitement when he saw the state the hero was in. "...he's perfect...!" he exclaimed. "I can't wait to study him! I wonder what his Quirk is?"

He moved back over to where Kacchan was standing and raised up to give him a soft kiss. "Thank you, Kacchan! This is the best gift ever!"

Suddenly, his eyes lidded. "I'll be sure to thank you more properly later~"

[venusararara]

"We'll be together, forever! Don't tell Gatherine though, okay?"

Here's some Dawsin facts mwah

✭ Puppyboy

✭ Between 21-22 years old

✭ Harmless, very timid

✭ Barks occasionally, pants when he's excited or hot, shakes

✭ Easily excitable, sensitive

✭ Forbidden from leaving Nighthive alone

✭ Under Gatherine's protection for life, rescued age 18

✭ Extremely unlikely to hurt you, even on accident, but still enjoys playing in blood

✭ Medical school graduate, license revoked

✭ Impressionable, succumbs to peer pressure easily

✭ Addictive personality

✭ Mildly protective, keeps his best friend in line

✭ Sucks at taking care of himself

✭ Often quiet and unassuming, but gets very excited to see creatures he likes

✭ DNA most similar to: Earth's dalmation, cocker spaniel, yorkshire terrier

Sex facts below:

✭ Virgin

✭ Extremely horny and sexually frustrated

✭ Cums fast, can last 2 more rounds

✭ Whimpers when he accidentally bucks into you, squirms a lot

✭ Well-behaved

✭ Will cry if you're too rough

✭ Willing to top or bottom, no preference

✭ Not good at sex so you have to coach him {pensive}

✭ Breathing fleshlight

[hmshermitcraft]

The hermits were just enjoying their time the week before S8 to get a feel for the place when the sound of something exploding came from a ditch in the ground. They went there and found an unconscious deer hybrid with her antler cut of her head with only numbs remaining. Next to her was a weird fleshy lump that the deer girl was clinging onto.

Then Impulse made the stupid mistake to move and got too close to the girl, and the girl seemed to notice and stood up, grunting in pain as some other hermits took notice that she had a broken leg. Impulse stepped forward, and in reaction, the girl began to growl, and before Impulse could react, her hair burst to flames, and she attacked the hermits.

She lasted a bit before jumping back into the hole and grabbing the flesh mound and running off a bit before grabbing Impulse as well as knocking him unconscious. When Impulse woke up, he found himself in a damp cave. He looked around and saw the orange haired deer girl and another naked girl, which made him blush. They were looking at him.

The other girl had what looked like she had rips all over her body, her brown hair lightly bloody. Her body had wing stumps and hybrid parts of separate creatures along her body. Thr deer girl walked over to him and poked him in the face, Impulse being confused. Then her pointed to herself and mouthed "Gem" and pointed to the naked Mish mash Girl and mouthing "Pearl". Impulse guessed those were their names.

Impulse hopes the hermits find him but it seems he can teach Gem and Pearl how to talk so he can wait

They don't seem unintelligent. Gem knew how to introduce them, and Impulse replies with the same courtesy. He's just not sure why they took him. The pair don't seem afraid of him at all, and there's nothing in this cave to make it seem like a 'home'. Do they even have one?

They don't seem to mind Impulse moving around a little, though Gem keeps sharp eyes trained on him. Pearl seems to content to curl up on the stone and fall back asleep.

He can't find the entrance to the cave, so he's relieved to find the remains of a mineshaft to salvage wood from. He creates a furnace, and uses it to dry out some vines he found on the wall. They're not perfect in any way, but with the salve he's managed to make from the plantlife down here, it should help the girls' injuries. Being friends with Zedaph and Tango does have benefits after all.

Gem isn't willing to let Impulse touch either of them, so Impulse talks her through the process for both Gem and Pearl's injuries. She follows carefully, only messing up a few times. When she does, she huffs through her nose in annoyance, the ends of her hair sparking. She seems curious about Impulse and what he does, often following him around and simply watching him. He just wishes she'd stop doing it on her broken leg.

Impulse's next goal is to make some blankets. He's found glow berries - not the best food source but it'll do. There's a stream of water running through the cave, and he's able to weave the vines together into something passable as a blanket. The downside is he's only been able to make one.

He gives it to Gem, knowing she'll look after her and Pearl with it. Gem's been... He wouldn't call it talkative, but she's been more interactive. She's tried to get his attention, pointing at things, or showing him something she's learned. Pearl is perking up as well as she gets better.

Impulse still didn't expect for them to pull him under the blanket with them that night. The nudity has mostly faded to the back of his mind now, after that initial shock. It's still a surprise to find himself in this position, but Gem and Pearl both seem so comfortable cuddling into him... He guesses he's stuck here now.

He hopes the hermits will be able to help them.

[cdroloisms]

Re that time Sam got locked up, do you think Dream would ever ask/tell/make Sam call him Warden when he tops? As a power play?

like, in daedalus?

i think if we're talking c!awesamdream /sx in daedalus, yeah chances of c!dream topping are slightly higher than in the prison (frankly i think c!sam would like. not mind (#trust) c!dream topping in prison to prove how Normalcore their relationship is but he'd also be kinda paranoid abt it, and c!dream is just nawt gonna bring it up because the point of the sex ISNT to piss sam off, thanks.) but i also think he'd probably kind of ... stick to the script of the prison sex a little more, for copium reasons. power bottoming > topping in this scenario for him, i think, bc it proves more abt his Autonomy to both of them

in that same vein, i think c!dream would absolutely make loaded comments about the Warden thing--call c!Sam Warden in a very specific tone at very specific points to make him react, off-handedly mention "maybe I should make you call me Warden" like, while sam is getting undressed, that kind of deal. but he's not actually going to press the point or force it, because that ruins the point of the copium--i think c!awesamdream /sx in this scenario, where both of them are kinda holding onto the It Was Consensual 👍thing to explain how it went down, has both c!dream's autonomy copium and c!sam's "im not a bad guy" copium working in the same direction, so neither of them are super eager to disturb that

[albino-whumpee]

I believe I have already posted this before but recently found it again in my files and I need yall to see this again. 

[meraki24601]

Not Sick: Part 4

Whumptober day 6! Yeah... This one went darker than I thought it would when I started this whole many-part train of thought. What else is new? Don't blame me! Blame the prompt: Made To Watch.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

-----------*-***-*-----------

“Who… Who are you?” Caretaker’s eyes were wide as they took in the scene in front of them. They couldn’t hear Whumpee’s stifled pleas for them to run. 

“Oh, look at you! Kitten, you didn’t tell me they were absolutely adorable. How dare you, Whumpee. They’re so pretty. Just like a doll.” Whumpee could feel Whumper shifting above them. They pressed down on Whumpee, an unspoken threat to stay down, then stood. “Hello, Doll. You can call me Whumper. Or Master if you like. I’ve always wanted to be called Master.”

“What are you doing in our apartment?” Caretaker’s eyes flicked down to Whumpee and recognition sparked, “Wait, did you say Whumper? You’re Whumper?”

“Did my Kitten tell you all about me? Tell you about our games?” Whumper crept closer to Caretaker. The reached around Caretaker to pull the bedroom door closed. “Would you like to play?”

With strength they didn’t know they had, Whumpee pushed themselves to their hands and knees. They allowed the tears building in the corners of their eyes to fall and crawled to Whumper. “Please, not them. Play… Play with me.” Any air they had saved to beg disappeared as their chest tightened in a coughing fit.

Whumper’s hand in their hair made them flinch, “Good job, Kitten. That was beautiful begging. It makes me sad I can’t do what you ask.” The hand tightened, pulling Whumpee higher off the floor. “Tell you what, since you begged so prettily, I’ll make a deal with you. If you can close the window and pull the curtains, I won’t kill them.”

Caretaker gasped, but Whumpee didn’t waste time looking at them. Whumper’s patience wouldn’t last long. By the time they made it back to the bed they realized their strength wouldn’t last much longer either. Their fever had definitely risen again. They left a sweaty handprint on the sheet where they grabbed it to pull themselves up. Head throbbing and heart pounding, Whumpee lifted themselves up to their feet for the first time in days. 

Thunk! Whumpee came to their senses clinging to the window. It was closed. They had closed the window over their bed. The hard part was over. With a sigh, Whumpee fell back on the bed. Blue skies came into view, a comforting sight before they wrenched the curtain closed with desperation they had almost forgotten.

“Well done, Kitten.” Whumper clapped enthusiastically. “Now, you stay right there. You’ve earned a rest. I want you to watch though. I want you to see what its like from the other side. Maybe you’ll appreciate it more when it’s your turn.” As they spoke, Whumper searched the room. They took a small tool box out of the closet, a sharpened pencil from the desk drawer, and a pair of socks from Whumpee’s dresser. 

Still digging in the dresser, Whumper turned to Whumpee with a grin. “Oh, you naughty Kitten.” They pulled out a small box and a roll of bandages. The box rattled as they shook it, “Is this what I think it is? Glad to see you missed me too.” They placed the box with the other supplies.

“I must say, I am in a wonderful mood. That was a lot of fun watching you try to meet my challenge. I think I have a new challenge for both of you.” Whumper skipped over to Caretaker whose eyes were locked on Whumpee. They were completely frozen. At least they were until Whumper’s hand wrapped around their throat. “Whumpee, i want you to watch. Blinking is allowed, but hiding, looking away, and passing out is a no no. Caretaker, I want you to take it silently. Moaning and groaning are allowed and encouraged, but if you scream, you lose.” 

Whumpee could see Caretaker swallow around Whumper’s hand, “And. And what do we get if we win?”

Giggling, Whumper pulled Caretaker to the desk chair and pushed them down into it. “My lovely little Doll knows how to play. I’m so excited! Okay. Okay, if Whumpee watches, I promise to stop after 10 minutes.” They shift Caretaker’s position in the chair, using a couple belts they found to tie their arms in place. “If you win, I promise to leave. Since you’re both playing so well, I’ll even leave both of you here.”

Now, Whumpee would have never agreed to the deal if Whumper hadn’t proved in the past to be true to their word. They did terrible things to Caretaker, hurt them in ways Whumpee wouldn’t have thought of using the limited tools they had found, but they didn’t cheat. They even gave Caretaker the socks they had taken to hold in their mouth and protect their teeth before they used the razors from Whumpee’s box. Fortunately, they didn’t count it against Whumpee when their stomach revolted and threw up over the side of the bed. After 10 minutes were up, Whumper left. 

“Don’t worry, Kitten. I’ll be back to play with you and Doll again. I just love hide and seek.” Whumper left through the window, whistling the same tune they had when they first arrived.

“They’re gone, Whumpee. They, they, they’re gone. Gone.” Caretaker drooped in the chair. 

“Caretaker!” Whumpee cried. They threw themselves off the bed toward their friend, collapsing into the puddle of their own sick mixing with splatters of Caretaker’s blood. Their head pounded in their skull each time their arm stretched out to pull them forward. Darkness took over before they could so much as touch Caretaker’s feet.

Part 5

[lasplaga]

❛  you are sick in the head.  ❜ ( plops ethan down. a volunteer 😇 )

「𝔖」 --- 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃.

The Voice of Pestilence was not only sick with his prey, but ghoulish. Ethan, infamous for repairing his body from virtually ANY injury, was the perfect plaything for a cutthroat sadist. A toy, horrifically brutalized but hardly ever broken, would keep this vicious savage entertained for CENTURIES if he willed it. Not enough pain to completely desensitize, no, but enough to leave a victim hopeless, to believe that the light had died.

Mr. Winter's was dragged haphazardly to the squalid stone dungeon by the hair, the overwhelming presence of waste & bodily fluids nauseous --- if not gagging or incurring immediate vomit. Prior victims with their punishment CLAWED into their chests didn't leave much for the imagination ; Certainly he was to succumb to a similar fate, left chained & rotting to the bars of prisoners? Or, lucky enough to be set under the quick blade of the guillotine? Strapped upon a table rack, any of the iron chairs? Anything to not NEEDLESSLY draw out his pain?

" ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔰𝔬 𝔣𝔬𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫. " However, the horror which DARED utter from his lascivious lips offered a 'DIFFERENT' kind of punishment. Grip tight as a vice, the molded would not depart from his side unless he severed his own scalp from his skull. A cruel laugh, then blissful sigh followed : " 𝔗𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔳𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔞 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔵𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤. "

WHAT KIND OF TORTURE DID THIS BASTARD INSINUATE?

Metal, screaming as it scratched upon the ground, was deafening & grating to the ears. But not to The Lord which deliciously stared into the depths of the shadows, for he knew the sensual contraption that was about to emerge. A gilded feminine form inevitably presented itself into torch-light, but this was no undraped statue, it was the lid to a standing coffin filled to the brink with stakes.

The dreaded iron maiden.

The inevitable torment was enlightened as a zealot, under the thrall of his Master, swung open the spiked casket. A swarm of flies emerged, which had been feasting upon the prior deceased remains --- these degusting cultists no longer retaining the sense to CLEAN their devices, or finding enjoyment with the BILIOUS piles of filth.

" ℑ 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔵𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲, 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔰. --- 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔞𝔶, 𝔡𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡... 𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤? "

[otter-chaos-violence]

Here some whump. its been drifting in my google docs for a while, but here

its part of a larger series but won't be on tumblr

---

I lay on my back, reading the book Doctor Harland had just given me. I liked it thus far.

He kneeled next to me, petting my stomach while he hooked me up to some kind of machine. I dropped the book, remembering the page number, and I found myself unable to move.

“It’ll be over in a minute,” he whispered. I didn’t respond as my brain went foggy and I closed my eyes.

He bashed me in the side of the face, and my eyes flew open. 

I stared at him, and he said, “Begin test number G-1-7-8-8,”

My muscles tensed and I went numb as something inserted itself in both sides of my neck and my muscles spasmed and I thrashed abou-

—

I came to with my muscles stiff.

“Test failed,” Doctor Harland remarked. “We need to deal with the epilepsy,”

He fastened an oxygen mask over my face and put an IV in my skin.

“We’ll feed you tonight, ‘kay? Just sleep off th-,”

Darkness.

—

I opened my eyes in my bed, and Doctor Harland entered a few minutes later.

“Sit up,” he ordered. I obeyed, and he handed me my book again.

“I’ll get you a treat for sitting quietly and letting us test our new device on you,”

I didn’t respond, immersed in the book’s world. It was about a girl who discovered she was the daughter of King Oberon from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Doctor Harland said he would get me the rest of the series after giving me a modern translation of the play so I could better understand it.

He held out something that smelled sweet and I took it, then ate it, my tail wagging happily.

He pet my head and I purred.

“One-two-seven-three, any strange feelings?” He asked.

“No,” I chirped. 

“Good. Good. Nausea? Tiredness? Breathing normally?”

He checked my heart rate and breathing for any abnormalities.

“Normal. Okay. Darling little test subject, we’re going to try and treat the illness that made this test fail. We’re going to cure it,”

“What illness?” I asked.

“You- have a reaction to certain things, and it causes you to stop existing for a minute, meaning we can’t do certain tests. We try to treat it and you don’t respond to medications, so we need to cut it out,”

I felt something cold on my wrist and whimpered, “No, not again, don’t look at my brain- please!”

“What? No. The procedure requires you to be awake or you’ll die, we’ve already tested it, and it’s painful. We’d give you painkillers, but that’s unsafe until after,”

I shuddered and hissed when he brought his hand to my tail. I tried to bite him as he tied it under the bed and shackled my other three wrists and my ankles to the bed.

“Please! NO!”

“It’ll all be over soon,”

He called for Doctor Fletcher and Doctor Amatris. Doctor Amatris held my chest down and Doctor Fletcher attached electrodes to my skull, and I felt like I exploded a few minutes later. I shrieked and thrashed around, when I heard something snap.

“Oh shit!” Doctor Amatris shouted.

I felt the pain dull a bit, and Doctor Harland whispered, “Its over, you’re going to have morphine tablets now,”

“Okay,” I mumbled before changing form to my more human self and laying back, my forehead caked with sweat. They undid the shackles, and Doctor Amatris took my hand in hers and the trio set my leg in a splint. 

I cried out and whimpered, “Hurts,” when Doctor Fletcher shoved a capsule into my mouth and held my lips shut until I swallowed, then gave me water.

I rolled to my side and shivered, still in deep pain. I started crying and Doctor Harland sat me up and started hand feeding me between each sob. It was cold, barely seasoned chicken, like always.

When I was done, I dove under the bed, where it was calmest, no one trying to talk to me, even though it was dark.

“One-two-seven-three, don’t be like that,” Doctor Fletcher said. “Do you want to undo all the progress in training out that habit?”

I hissed at him and swatted at his ankles, then curled into a ball and continued crying into my fur.

Doctor Amatris kneeled in front of me and held out her hand. I didn’t take it. She very gently petted the fluff on my neck, and I continued sobbing, though it made me feel a bit better.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “The pain’s over now,”

She very slowly pulled me out, as though acclimating a fish from one tank to another. At one point I had a couple fish and a snail, and in a rage, Doctor Harland smashed the tank, killing all three of them. I cried for weeks after that, as at that point, I’d been taking care of them for four years.

“There, how do you feel?”

“Hurts,” I croaked, my voice raw. It felt like the color red to speak.

She lifted me and set me back on the bed, tucked me in like a mother would her child, and kissed me on where my forehead would be, and when she left, Doctor Harland inserted an IV into my skin. She wasn’t allowed to see it, for some reason, I wasn’t even sure if she knew.

I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

—

What was supposed to be a dreamless sleep became a nightmare, one where I was playing with a child, and we were about the same height. It was all flashing lights and pain and fear when someone grabbed me, and-

I woke up, screaming for someone whose name I didn’t remember. The IV had broken.

I took off my oxygen mask and sobbed in the dark. Normally Doctor Harland stayed to make sure I felt safe at night, it was too dark for me. I wished I had control of my lights, but past lights-out, they couldn’t be turned on unless Doctor Harland or someone else swiped a keycard.

I heard rapid footsteps, and a woman in a dark blue uniform with a thick black stick and a big spiky club opened the door, then said into a strange black box, “False alarm. One of them woke up, over,”

A garbled voice came from the box, “How?”

“Its IV looks broken,”

“Which one?”

She stepped back and looked at the sign that said my room number with a beam of light that came from a black stick. 

I ran over and took the lightstick after a bit of back and forth, then clicked the button on and off as she said, “It just took my flashlight,”

I called, “Room 5-6-6 B!” and went back to playing with the ‘flashlight’, then grabbed my book and started reading with the concentrated beam of light.

The woman repeated the room number I gave her and said, “I’m gonna need back-up to get it back into bed, its strong,”

I got under my bed and continued reading, until someone else in a dark blue uniform grabbed me and bashed me with a spike on their club. I dropped the ‘flashlight’ and-

-

I came to with my upper wrists shackled to my bed’s headboard and my entire body numb.

“Okay, so, two hundred million watts can cause seizures. Duly noted,” the one who’d hit me with the spike muttered.

“Seizure? Watt?” I parroted, trying to get feeling back in my tongue. “Why’d you do that?”

“Holy shit it talks,” the woman said. 

“Yes I talk, why wouldn’t I talk? Also, I’m not an it, I’m- I’m a girl,”

“Someone get one of the night shift doctors,” the woman ordered. Another person left the room.

“It’s dark!” I complained.

The woman groaned and said, “Deal with it, how old are you, seven, eight?”

“Thirteen, fourteen in four months and two days,”

“How are you that old? Why haven’t you committed suicide yet?” the man asked.

“Suicide?” I’d parroted. I knew what it met at a base level, but in books they always said it in association with a stupid battle plan. 

“You know, killing yo-”

“I know what it means, I just thought it only went with wars?”

“What?”

“In books,” I chirped. I motioned to one that said it, then said the page number.

“Oh-kaaay, you can read,”

“Isn’t that normal? Well except illiteracy rates in fantasy places, but isn’t it normal now?”

The man who’d left returned with Doctor Amatris.

“One-two-seven-three, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“I had a nightmare,” I replied.

“Come here,”

“I can’t,”

She took a key from one of the security guards and unlocked my manacles, then lifted me into her arms, though it was much more awkward than when I was little, considering I was about as big as her now.

I laid my chin on her shoulder, and she carried me away, off to another room, this one with more light.

“We oughta get you a nightlight,”

“Nightlight?” I parroted. “What’s that?”

“Its a little light that plugs into a wall and makes the room brighter,”

She unhooked a little square that glowed blue until it exited the wall, “Normally they come in fun shapes, but until I go shopping tomorrow, we can use this one. I’ll get a bunch of them and let you pick them out, okay?”

“Okay,” I chirped.

She carried me back to my room and lay me on my bed, and I grabbed her arm and whimpered, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone,”

“I have to go back to work,”

“I’m scared,” I whimpered. 

She turned back around and fastened my oxygen mask on my mouth and nose.

“You’ll be fine. And if you wake up again, I’ll come back and keep you company ‘til you fall asleep again. Now close your eyes, goodnight, don’t let the bed bugs bite,”

“What’s a bed bug?”

“You don’t want to know,”

She shuddered and tucked me in, then kneeled next to me and rubbed my forehead to calm me. But sleep would be a long time coming. I didn’t fall asleep until all the lights turned back on.