#whump cookie anyone

[whumperofworlds]

Whumpee having a nasty scar. Caretaker and the team were so worried about them because of it, thinking that they got hurt by Whumper or that they got the scar from a traumatic incident.

But then Whumpee just says casually "Nah, I got this scar when a violin string snapped on me."

(Inspired by @whumpprentice 's dumb injury whump prompt LOL)

[lilacthebooklover]

since the new crk theatre of lies update ruined me, i've decided to open up sfw writing requests about it! requests are open until around february 18 or so, i'll always respond to your asks, and i hope i will be able to complete anything you wish for me to write- all you have to do is ask :D

[whumpookies]

Found a new series 😱☺️ Gurbet kadını...teasers of what's to come...

Starts here

[blazinghotfoggynights]

Crazy things you'd like to see happen in season 8 or (if ABC is so kind enough to greenlight it) season 9.

I'll start:

1- Eddie stops being straight and the priest stops being celibate. Together.

2- Buck has to watch Eddie slowly venture out of the glass closet he's been in forever.

3- Buck spirals and bounces between whore and hermit.

4- Eddie spirals and gets stuck on whore for a while. A loooooong while. And he is a proficient, popular, busy one.

5- I want to see Eddie start number four with women, get a therapist who helps him dig through the beliefs vs truth and religious guilt, and he realizes he isn't as straight as he thinks.

6- I want Eddie to add men in after number five.

7- I love messy drama, so I want a Tommy return, but not for a second chance. I want Buck to feel like he has to cling to Tommy to have a chance at a partner, so he seeks him out for closure only for Tommy to ask if it is true Eddie is dating men now and then ask why Eddie didn't go for his wooing attempts.

8-I want a Buck breakdown. (I have times that I love whump.) Abby left. Ali left. Taylor couldn't be trusted. Tommy was with him only because Eddie didn't want him. Eddie is never around because he's putting in lots of hours making up for all those dry spells. Cue self-loathing, self-doubt, self-esteem issues, his abandonment issues eating him alive, and the guy having no clue he is jealous af. I want crying. Lots of crying.

9- I want Tommy to run into Eddie and hit on him. I want Tommy to tell Eddie he did everything to try to date him, but thought he was straight. I want it to end with a fight. (I told you, I like messy drama.)

10- I want Buck to come close to leaving because he feels he can't stay, but he doesn't know why. Every member of the 118 family should ask him why he thinks leaving is a good idea. He can't articulate anything other than he can't take it anymore, but can't tell anyone what "it" is. They should all remind him of what he has in LA and what he would be losing. Just before he goes too far to turn back, Eddie begs him not to go and Buck goes off, asking him why he cares, since he isn't even around anymore. Buck tells him to go find some rando for the night like he's been doing for months and get lost. I will give the writers cookies if Buck is shoving Eddie out of his door and yelling at him to just go.

Then, Eddie breaks because he sees boxes being packed, Buck's loft being emptied, and realizes Buck is slipping through his fingers. Buck stops because he realizes why he is losing it.

The have realizations at the same time.

Buddie canon begins.

Add your own headcanons or wishes in the replies.

As always, this may or may not become a fic. If anyone else wants to try it, remember to hit me up with the link to read your work!

[galexibrain]

WIP Wednesday!

“You don’t have to go to sleep yet. Once you’re ready for bed you can play video games all night.” “Yes!” the boys shout in unison and run off, leaving a trail of cookie crumbs on the floor. Bulma types an order to the cleaning bots on her phone and takes a breath. One half Saiyan kid is hard enough, but two? How is Chichi doing this, all by herself? Granted, Gohan is way more human in his mannerisms than these two, and also more mature, but still … Vegeta spends a lot of time with Trunks these days and he tires him out during training, but that’s not an option with Goten staying over. Vegeta doesn’t allow anyone besides himself and Trunks in the gravity room. Goten, naturally shy around strangers, used to be scared of him but thankfully he’s gotten over that by now, mostly because all Vegeta does these days is glare. “Will they be this loud all night?” Speak of the devil. “No, only until they crash like kids their age do at some point.” She watches Vegeta take five cookies at once and stuff them in his mouth. “Kids their age used to tire themselves out on the battlefield instead of playing around and making noise,” he grumbles with his mouth full. “Alright, thanks for the lecture on Saiyan child rearing. I’ll make sure they play in the living room and not outside of our bedroom.” Bulma chuckles and hands him a beer can and taking one for herself. Vegeta makes a face but seems to be satisfied with that reply. “How long is Kakarot’s brat staying?” Bulma rolls her eyes. Charming tonight, are we? “Two nights before Gohan comes to pick him up. He has a name, by the way.” She doesn’t have her hopes up on that front; it has taken months to get him to call Trunks by his name, back in the days. “What’s up with you?” she asks when Vegeta stills, with a bowl of soup in his hands that he just took from the fridge to put into the microwave. Vegeta shrugs and continues what he’s doing. “Nothing.” Bulma tilts her head, wondering what that was. She knows his mannerisms, and she knows when he’s tired, or angry, or bored, horny, amused, content … and concerned. But about what?

First chapter of my upcoming WIP, a Vegebul-centric longfic with lots of drama, pain, whump and Dadgeta :3

[thewiz9062]

Smiling Critters: Together, We Resonate (No.6) - Catnap

NOTE: THIS IS NOT RELATED TO CANON IN THE SLIGHTEST. An accurate description of this au is that I took every playtime.co poster art and promotional material from the game and lit up the rest of canon in a bonfire. This means that EVERY character is part of one big cartoon. That's it. No bigger bodies project, no child souls, no experiments, just a depiction of a cartoon. PLEASE do not ask me to do anything suggestive with anyone.

Let's start:

Catnap had a fairly normal childhood up until four, where his parents died in front of him (cause of death is still pending)

After that, he was put in the system, and he quickly learned that it wasn't exactly the safest place, so he ran.

He ended up wandering for a while, sleeping in alleyway to alleyway until he found a random abandoned house (shack? Its one room and fairly small) in a secluded part of a neighborhood, and set up 'home' there. But is it really home without them?

Anyways, he made himself as comfortable as possible in his living conditions. If the residents heard crying near that secluded part of the neighborhood, they didn't say......well, except for Boxy Boo.

Boxy was the only one who dared to go check out the slight commotion and was attacked on sight. Well, pounced on, as boxy is about 3 times bigger than catnap at the moment. Even once he got him to calm down, he still didn't say a word to him, just glared at him until he left. What if it was my fault? What if i was the reason theyleftwhatifpeoplediebecauseofmeleavedontcomeclose But boxy made a vow to check on him at least once a week.

(Time skip- present day? Technically)

Bobby bearhug and picky piggy were picking apples in the forest next to the former neighborhood when they started hearing noises. Picky demanded that whoever was "messing" with them show themselves. And out came catnap. Picky dug into him about being creepy, but bobby was more worried about the state he was in. He looked way skinnier than he should be, assuming that he was their age (he is dw) so before picky sent him off Bobby offered some of the cookies she made. He was a little distrustful at first, but practically lit up for a second before quickly changing back to his blank face. But she noticed, and told him she could meet him back here tomorrow with some other food she wants him to try. He waved his hands and shook his head in a 'no' motion, but they were already off before they could register his response.

For the next few days, bobby brought him food to try, and he gave his best input for someone who doesn't talk. But she never really got to know anything about him, because any questions would be met with a blank stare. She pondered...maybe she should bring Dogday next time? He's great at making friends!

Guys look I traumatized him :D

This is supposed to be the whump but I feel like I overhyped it ngl

Additional notes:

-Insomniac (duh. I tried to give him eyebags in the little drawing I made but idk if they actually look like that)

-Situationally mute

-the whole red gas thing doesn't exist. I know it appeared in the little cartoon introducing chapter 3 but it feels extremely out of place here sooo

-instead, he hums or sings a little lullaby or melody to try and help him (others eventually ;) sleep. It usually has an opposite effect for him though, as the only ones he knows are his mothers, which reminds him of.....yeah.

-he really likes music because of this, even if he doesnt get to listen to it often. its sorta the one thing that he sorta still hangs on to.

I really enjoyed this one!! Next is gonna be our resident friend making machine, with a built-in recap to go with. Anyways BYEEE

[samantitheos]

Weekly Tag Wednesday

thanks for the tags @deedala and @mybrainismelted <3

——————– 

Another this or that! The rules are simple: here’s two things, you must choose one from between them!! aaand go! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

iced coffee or hot coffee? hot coffee

iced tea or hot tea? hot tea

lemonade or sweet tea? lemonade

minty gum or fruity gum? minty gum

pasta or potatoes?

olives or pickles? pickles

rice or bread? bread

cookies or brownies? ehhhh, brownies

hand written reminders or phone reminders? hand-written

pull-over hoodie or zippy hoodie? pullover

jeans or sweatpants? sweatpants

flip-flops/thongs or slides? flippity flops

paperback book or ebook? paperback

enemies to lovers or fwb to lovers? fwb to lovers (but childhood friends to lovers even more so)

only one bed or fake dating? fake dating

hurt/comfort or whump? hurt/comfort (i still don't really understand the distinction lol)

mutual pining or amnesia? mutual pining

cannon compliant or alternate universe? alternate universe

soulmate au or sports au? soulmate (Is There Somewhere, my beloved 🥹)

celebrity au or coffeeshop au? coffeshop au (hello, None the wiser 🥰)

one-shot or longfic? loooooongfic

AND FINALLY….😈

milkovich or gallagher?

tagging some lovelies and anyone who wants to play @yeah-all-of-it @whatthebodygraspsnot @energievie @tv-obssessions @ian-galagher @ohkate @stocious @deathclassic @gallavichgeek @heymrspatel @lingy910y @creepkinginc @vintagelacerosette

[whumperofworlds]

Whumper kidnaps the team and places them all in separate cells. Whumper threatens Team Leader to do what they say, or else they'll kill them and the team. Team Leader is released and forced to retrieve the MacGuffin for Whumper, with Whumper keeping a close eye on then so they wouldn't do anything funny.

Meanwhile, as they wait for Team Leader to return with the Macguffin, Whumper tortures the rest of the team to not only pass the time, but to show Team Leader when they return how they shouldn't have messed with Whumper.

[michellemisfit]

Tag Game Wednesday 🤟

Tagged by these lovely humans who have not given up on me, even though I have suuuucked at playing games with y’all. Thank you @heymacy @mybrainismelted @darlingian @creepkinginc @suzy-queued @energievie @guinguin1984

Special thanks to @deedala for enriching my little paddock 🦙

THIS OR THAT - The rules are simple: two things, you must choose one.

iced coffee or hot coffee?

I don’t drink coffee and hate the flavour so… iced, as taste buds work less well at colder temperatures 🧊

iced tea or hot tea?

Hot, please 🫖

lemonade or sweet tea?

Lemonade. Sweet tea dries my mouth out

minty gum or fruity gum?

Mint. Always freaks me out when I accidentally put fruit gum in my mouth lol

pasta or potatoes?

Pasta. There some potato things that I LOVE, but others I’m meh about. Whereas ALL PASTA IS GOOD PASTA.

olives or pickles?

Pickles 😋

rice or bread?

Bread!! I love risotto, but otherwise rice is meh.

cookies or brownies?

🤤 I want them both, but Chani was 100% correct. Homemade cookies are amazing!!! But shop bought cookies are sometimes incredibly meh, whereas even a meh brownie is pretty fucking good!! So I choose brownies!

hand written reminders or phone reminders?

Phone reminders. My phone calendar, alarms, and notes section literally runs my life. Sometimes there’s a phone reminder telling me to write hand written reminder… lol

pull-over hoodie or zippy hoodie?

Zipper Superiority 🤟

jeans or sweatpants?

Sweatpants. Not worn jeans since 2019 lol

flip-flops/thongs or slides?

Neither, as I need arch support, but… the flip flop strap between my toes makes me want to claw my eyes out so… slides?

paperback book or ebook?

Paperback book. I always read with a pen in my hand to underline things and write comments in the margins. Can’t do that in an e-reader.

enemies to lovers or fwb to lovers?

Enemies to Lovers my beloved!!

only one bed or fake dating?

Fake Dating pines so good!!! Also agreeing to be handsy and snuggly for show, while desperately trying to act unaffected? BARK BARK

hurt/comfort or whump?

Good Whump is the bee’s knees, but sadly just as hard to find. @sam-loves-seb whumped the hell out of last October, but Whump of that quality is hard to come by, so for pure availability I have to choose H/C

mutual pining or amnesia?

Amnesia, baby!

cannon compliant or alternate universe?

AU, because the sky is the limit!!

soulmate au or sports au?

Sports AU love of my life!!! ⚽️🏀🏈⚾️🥎🎾

celebrity au or coffeeshop au?

Coffee shop every single time. You know how sometimes you enter a new fandom and you go looking and there… just… aren’t any coffee shop AUs? Wtf is up with that?!? They are a staple and what fandom is built on, surely!

one-shot or longfic?

I love long fic but I also have commitment phobia and a lot of anxiety over “wasting” time reading fic when I could be being productive, so… one-shots are nice! And a good one-shot packs a punch like no other!!

AND FINALLY....😈

milkovich or gallagher?

Let’s just be honest here… the Milkoviches would scare the everliving daylights out of me in real life, and if anyone I knew dated one I would do everything in my power to break up that relationship, without getting shivved. So… Gallagher lol.

That was fun!!

I would like to tag @vintagelacerosette @too-schoolforcool @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @mickeysgaymom @ian-galagher @lupeloto @crossmydna @rereadanon @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @crestfallercanyon @ohkate @palepinkgoat @thepupperino @captainjowl @francesrose3 @iandarling @mikhailoisbaby

[blue-disco-lights]

Weekly Tag Wednesday

Always delightful to be tagged by @deedala @energievie @mybrainismelted @shippergirl121fic @creepkinginc @darlingian @jrooc & @heymacy!

The rules are simple: here's two things, you must choose one from between them!! aaand go! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

iced coffee or hot coffee?- (extra) hot coffee

iced tea or hot tea?- hot tea

lemonade or sweet tea?- lemonade

minty gum or fruity gum?- minty gum

pasta or potatoes?- pasta

olives or pickles?- olives

rice or bread?- how how to make this decision?! rice (but also bread)

cookies or brownies?- brownies

hand written reminders or phone reminders?- phone (but funny you should ask because i just started writing reminders down on paper)

pull-over hoodie or zippy hoodie?- zippy

jeans or sweatpants?- sweatpants

flip-flops/thongs or slides?- slides

paperback book or ebook?- ebook

enemies to lovers or fwb to lovers?- enemies to lovers

only one bed or fake dating?- only one bed

hurt/comfort or whump?- hurt/comfort

mutual pining or amnesia?- mutual pining

cannon compliant or alternate universe?- au

soulmate au or sports au?- sports au

celebrity au or coffeeshop au?- coffeeshop au

one-shot or longfic?- longfic

AND FINALLY....😈milkovich or gallagher?- milkovich🖤

Care to play? @skylerwinchester @transmickey @gallabitch73 @doshiart @suzy-queued @gallawitchxx @mickeysgaymom @metalheadmickey @bawlbrayker @sisitrip @lingy910y @gillyp @gembu-tortuesouscafeine @abetterdaaye @heymrspatel @rereadanon @jessieoneday @ian-galagher @sickness-health-all-that-shit @sweetbee78 @ms-moonlight-inn and anyone else!

[whumpookies]

Kadar bölüm 22

[petitmimosa]

This or That Ask Game

Tagged by @alittlefrenchtree for an obscure reason. Should've made you guess what I was going to answer and you'd get one sugar per cup of tea for each one you got right.

Iced or hot coffee ☕

Why would you make me drink coffee in the first place? Why was coffee even discovered and who decided it was an acceptable beverage? If I have to make a choice, then iced and with a shit ton of sugar/chocolate/white chocolat syrup. You know Starbucks' white chocolate frappuccino? Very little coffee, lots of everything else.

Iced or hot tea 🍵

Why would you ice TEA? This is why the human race is doomed I'm telling you. Tea is to be served hot but never burnt so get that kettle off before it boils.

Lemonade or sweet tea 🍋

Sweet tea is an abomination. Why would you give me BAKING SODA TO DRINK? Ugh. Lemonade is alright if homemade by someone who's not addicted to sugar though.

Fruity or minty gum

Not allowed to chew gum anymore but I was more of a mint person. Fruity flavors were too chemical for my taste.

Pasta or potatoes

Niak. This is a hard one. Potatoes are fun and you can fry them and they're creatures of God but pastaaaaaa... Parmesan goes on pasta and for that reason only it gets my vote.

Olives or pickles

There are two things you need to know about me if we're gonna share food together: I will never, ever willingly consume olives and will have pickles with absolutely everything. The small ones though, cornichons. Not the gigantic ones people in America like to grow.

Rice or bread

Bread. Bread. BREAD.

Cookies or brownies

Brownies take too long to bake and you have more fun with cookies. Also, that's my cat's name and if I don't say cookies he will know tonight when I get home and he will bite me to punish me.

Handwritten or phone reminders-

That notes app is somewhere on my phone because I can't uninstall it. But I hate my handwriting with a passion so I just remember everything since I have an excellent memory.

Zip-up or pullover hoodie

I hate zip-ups, I look like a whale in them. And hoodies are COZYYYY.

Jeans or sweatpants

I look even more like a whale in sweatpants so I'll have to say jeans. But when I'm home I'm just wearing pjs.

Flip flops/thongs or slides

Both are evil so they can crawl back to where they belong. I'll sleep with socks (even thin) all year long. I'll take them off when we reach 40°.

Paperback or ebook

I use my kindle before bed but paperback all the way when you want to spend hours reading.

Enemies to lovers or FWB to lovers

Enemies to lovers all the way. The hatred, the tension, the angst, the oh, oh maybe I was wrong? the messy feelings, GIVE IT TO ME I'M READY.

One bed or fake dating

That one bed trope has been alive way too long and needs to be put to rest, pun very much intended.

Hurt/comfort or whump

Hurt/comfort. I'm all for angst but the heavy hurt usually deals with atrocities and, nope.

Mutual pining or amnesia

Amnesia! That's the kind of angst I like.

Canon compliant or AU

It depends on the ship. I usually prefer canon but there are some excellent AUs out there.

Soulmate or Sports AU

My issue with sports AU is that it's almost always about the characters in the sports world rather than the chosen sport itself. I end up frustrated with how poorly depicted the sport is or how irrelevant it is to have them in this world in the first place all.the.time. Like okay they're figure skaters but why would you have them do 3 triple lutzes in one program when it's not a thing and yolo spins without telling me if it's a flying sit spin or a back camel?

Celebrity AU or Coffeeshop AU

I may have outgrown the coffeeshop AU, so, celebrity.

One shot or long fic

Quality over quantity. Which isn't an answer but :D

Anyone who wants to answer this, have at it!

[stocious]

tag games time! i was tagged by @energievie, @creepkinginc, @darlingian, @jrooc, @spacerockwriting and @mybrainismelted, thank you friends! 🫂🖤

Iced coffee or hot coffee? no coffee.

Iced tea or hot tea? no tea.

Lemonade or sweet tea? NO. i'm so picky sorry.

Minty gum or fruity gum? minty to the point it burns.

Pasta or potatoes? taters precious.

Olives or pickles? pickles.

Rice or bread? oh. uh. hm. bread then.

Cookies or brownies? cookies!

Handwritten reminders or phone reminders? handwritten. my just ignore my phone so gotta get that shit down on paper.

Pull-over hoodie or zippy hoodie? zippy all day every day!

Jeans or sweatpants? sweatpants.

Flip-flops/thongs or slides? slides, if i could find any that fit my feet 😂

Paperback book or ebook? i mean i haven't read an actuall book in years, so i guess ebook? but i love the feel of a good paperback.

Enemies to lovers or fwb to lovers? enemies to lovers baby! chomp slurp!

Only one bed or fake dating? i'm not really into either but i'm more likely to click one bed.

Hurt/comfort or whump? hurt/comfort.

Mutual pining or amnesia? mutual pining! *slams fists on table*

Canon-compliant or alternate universe? au! any au! all the au! gimmie your best au recs, i'll eat it up.

Soulmate AU or sports AU? RUDE. i really didn't think i'd be into sports, but here i am. sports, simply because i think the most commonn soulmate systems are a little boring (i'll read them all though)

Celebrity AU or coffeeshop AU? coffee shop.

One-shot or longfic? i'll read a million words and still want more. the longer, the better.

AND FINALLY….😈

Milkovich or Gallagher? milkovich 🖤

idk whose been tagged so i'll leave this open to anyone who feels like it! 🖤

[gottawhump]

Notice

704

CW/TW: pet whump, BBU/WRU, isolation, escape.

He steals a pillow case one laundry day, an old, outworn one nearly ready to be discarded. Another time, he takes a sweatshirt and pants. Nothing that will be noticed.

The people leave money out. He snags a few bills at a time, not sure why but certain he needs it. Nothing that will be noticed.

He saves the cookies the cook gives him, because they won’t be noticed. When she sees he isn’t eating them, she gives him more.

He isn’t thinking about escape. He isn’t thinking. He does his job the same way everyday, as he always has. Unremarkable. Unnoticed.

The outer doors won’t open to him. No doors open for him if he’s not allowed to enter. All the doors open to all the people, with their naked necks. He starts fidgeting with his collar during his rare spare moments. Little by little, it loosens. Not enough for anyone but him to notice.

When it comes off in his hands one night in his closet, he takes his supply stash and leaves, unnoticed.

Forgive and Forget taglist: @simplygrimly @justplainwhump @painful-pooch @whumpinggrounds @whumpsday

[whump-me]

Unseen: Chapter 10

Chapter 10 of Unseen, a novel-length whump story about a ruthless mob heiress and the superpowered assassin she kidnaps and forces to work for her—and the unexpected friendship that develops between them.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the complete novel on Patreon

---

The chocolate chip cookies were gone. Delta-Nine-308 didn’t know what to call this new kind. They were as pale as her skin that almost never saw the daylight, and they crumbled when she bit into them. Buried in the center was a gush of red sweetness. It looked like blood, and tasted like candy.

It was just jam, she knew. She’d had it on toast plenty of times back home. Not everything was new to her. Whatever Yvette thought, her life hadn’t been entirely devoid of sweetness.

But hidden inside a cookie, jam no longer felt ordinary. It tasted like a secret.

It tasted like—

She stopped herself before she could think freedom. This wasn’t freedom.

But whatever it was, she thought… maybe…

She thought maybe she might like it.

Not enough for it to be worth those men throwing a net over her, sticking a needle in her, and hauling her away. Not enough to be worth losing her home and her cohort and Joss and her familiar room. But…

But cookies. And TV. And a couch that wrapped itself around her body like it wanted her to stay.

And last night, she’d had a mission. She hadn’t been prepared. It had been a new challenge, harder than any she had faced before. And she had succeeded anyway.

She heard the guards downstairs sometimes. Moving. Talking. A reminder that she was still a prisoner. The weight of the bracelet on her left arm was another reminder.

She needed those reminders. She looked at the bracelet as often as she could, and moved that arm so she would feel the weight dragging her wrist down. She turned off the TV sometimes just to hear the guards. Just for the reminder that she shouldn’t get too comfortable.

It wasn’t working.

The bracelet was new. The guards weren’t. There had always been guards. If anything, the strange part was not seeing them. Back home, they were stationed at every corner. They escorted her and the rest of her cohort from room to room. They stood at the door to the bathroom, and knocked if she was in there too long.

Maybe that was why she kept turning off the TV to hear them. Not to remind herself that she shouldn’t get comfortable. But because hearing the guards, knowing they were there, was comfortable.

It was being alone that made her uneasy. Sitting here on the couch without anyone ordering her up to do her daily exercises. Eating cookies she hadn’t earned. Watching TV, which was a luxury so forbidden she’d never even had the chance to earn it.

Something dark and ominous looked under the surface of her thoughts, like the cartoon shark that was on the TV right now, a fin jutting up above deceptively calm waters.

Yvette said this was freedom. It was a lie.

She knew it wasn’t freedom because there were guards.

There had always been guards.

Had she…

Had she always…

She turned up the volume as high as it would go. A cartoon squid’s laugh echoed off the walls, making her ears ache. But the thought would not be silenced.

Have I always been a prisoner?

What she’d had back home… it hadn’t been freedom, not like Yvette would think of freedom. She knew that. She wasn’t stupid.

But it wasn’t not-freedom, either. It was just… it was…

It was home. Why did it have to be more than that?

Because she couldn’t understand this without understanding that. She had never known there was anything there to be understood. But now she was a prisoner, no matter how often Yvette called it freedom. Only being a prisoner felt freer than home ever had. So then what had she been back home?

She didn’t want to think about this.

The cartoon kept playing, but she couldn’t concentrate anymore. She turned the TV off.

She knew what she needed to do next. She knew, but she didn’t want to do it. And she didn’t want to think about why she didn’t want to do it.

A full day had passed since her mission. She hadn’t tried to escape again yet.

She had told herself she would try again tonight. But now the windows were dark—windows, she had windows, what kind of prisoner had windows?—and she hadn’t moved off the couch all day.

No one had come to get her for dinner. She should probably eat something besides cookies. She just didn’t know how to do all this… all this choosing.

Dinner first. It wouldn’t be a good idea to attempt escape with nothing in her belly but cookies. Especially when she didn’t know when she would get her next meal. Without dollars, she would go hungry until she found her way home. Whenever that would be.

Dinner. Then escape.

She didn’t move.

Maybe this was why there had always been someone to tell her what to do next back home. Because they had known that otherwise she would do exactly nothing. She hadn’t done her exercises since she had come here. No weapons drills, no hand-to-hand combat. Without anyone to lead her to bed and shut off the lights, she might not even go to bed on time. She might stay here on the couch all night, watching cartoons.

The thought sent a full-body tingle through her. It took her a moment to realize she was smiling.

The smile faded.

She couldn’t stay.

One more night. She could wait one more night. Maybe by tomorrow, she would have a plan. A way to find headquarters once she left.

The couch seemed to yawn wide under her, pulling her deeper into its embrace.

She forced herself to her feet. It felt like dragging herself out of bed the morning after a mission, pulling herself from the sticky sleep of whatever drug they injected her with after mission nights to ensure the excitement of the mission didn’t keep her awake.

If she gave it one more night, tomorrow she would only tell herself the same thing. One more night, and one more, and one more. She would never leave.

Would it be so bad to never leave?

She shook her head at herself. This was exactly why she had to go. Of course she didn’t want to stay and be a prisoner. And she needed home. She needed the white walls that didn’t hurt her eyes, and the guards to tell her where to be at every moment, and Joss always there to take care of everything. If she stayed much longer, she would forget why she needed home.

She was already starting to forget.

This was a good time to try. If the guards heard her walking to the bedroom, they would think she was going to bed.

She didn’t know how closely they were listening. The guards back home always listened closely. If she didn’t run the tap long enough to brush her teeth, they knew, and sent her back to do it right.

So tonight, she put on an act. She ran the faucet for two minutes, then opened the closet and rummaged around like she was looking for pajamas. She didn’t look up at the hole.

She turned off the lights. She lay on the bed and turned from side to side a few times, like she was trying to get comfortable. How much could the guards hear from downstairs? Better to be safe. Better to be thorough.

She gave herself a full half-hour. It wasn’t hard to stay awake. Not here. Even the softness of the bed—softer than the couch, maybe softer than a cloud—didn’t lull her to sleep. It wasn’t like her room back home: lights off, into bed, starchy sheet pulled up to her chin. Eyes closed. Out until morning like she was flipping a switch.

Back home, sleep was a matter of training, as much as any move in her combat drills. She went through the proper physical steps, and she got the intended results. Here, everything was new. Even when she was relaxed, she vibrated with all the newness around her. The bed. The colors. The sounds—insects chirping outside, owls hooting mournfully.

The sheets even smelled different. Back home, the sheets smelled sharp and clean. Like the air. Like the labs. Like everything in headquarters. Here, the sheets smelled like flowers.

She tried to count down the seconds. She could do it accurately enough to be off only by a second or two at the end, no matter how long she counted. At least, she could at home.

Here, she kept getting distracted.

Those owls—were they calling for each other, because they couldn’t find each other in the dark? Her stomach felt at once too hungry and too full. And the bed—how did they even make it so soft, and where did that flower smell come from? Did people in the outside world mix flowers with their laundry? Was that what the flowers in the garden were for?

Again and again, her mind found another tangent to go down. Then she would emerge from her thoughts long enough to remember she had been trying to count down the time. She would steal a glance at the clock to remind herself where she had left off—even though that was forbidden during training, worth a missed lunch and a missed dinner.

She would start again. Only get distracted by another tangent not two minutes later.

Finally, she gave up and just watched the clock.

Precisely half an hour after she had turned out the lights, she got out of bed. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, which wasn’t real darkness anyway, not like in her room at home. Moonlight shone in from the windows—real windows—and from under the bedroom door. The clock gave off a light of its own. How did anyone in the outside world sleep with this many distractions surrounding them all the time?

She kept her footsteps silent. In slow motion, she eased open the closet door. Before she could find another way to stall, she leapt up and grasped the jagged edges of the hole.

She was prepared for the pain of the bracelet. It was exactly as bad as she remembered, no more, no less. She heaved herself through the opening, the jagged wood catching on the fabric around her hips, and collapsed on the floor as shock burned through her.

She gave herself five seconds to lie there. Then she forced herself to her feet.

Her muscles didn’t want to obey. They tensed in small, irregular convulsions, the shock driving them out of her control. But she knew how to compensate. She’d had practice. And it wasn’t that bad a shock. She’d had worse.

The furniture ghosts seemed to watch her as she yanked the window open. Pain radiated from the bracelet. It came in a rhythm of pulses—three small ones, then a larger one. Understanding the rhythm made it easier to endure.

This window wasn’t locked. It opened easily. And out the window was a drainpipe. That site made her pause, wasting several seconds of precious time. This was too easy. Was it a trap?

No, she decided, struggling to think through the pain. It wasn’t a trap, because there was no reason to set a trap for her. If Yvette had wanted to know whether she would make it up here, she could have just set a guard in the room with the ghostly furniture. Why go to the extra trouble of making sure she had an easy way down? Why wait until she was outside to catch her trying to escape?

It wasn’t a trap. Just a stroke of luck. From here, as long as she could continue to cope with the pain, this would be easy.

She hadn’t expected it to be easy.

She looked down at the drainpipe snaking its way to the ground, and felt sick.

She hadn’t realized until now that she had expected to fail. The window wouldn’t open, or the wall would be a sheer surface, impossible to climb down. Or, or, or… there were so many ways this could have gone wrong. Instead, it was going right.

Why did she feel cheated?

The guards down in the gardens were mere splotches of shadow from this far up. The closest one stood about ten feet to the right. If she timed her window of invisibility correctly—and she would—they would never see her. She could make it into the closest stand of ornamental trees before her body forced her back to the visible spectrum.

After that, back to the forest of shops. She would find a place that was open—somewhere with a lot of people, so she wouldn’t be noticed. She would go in invisible, find someone who was distracted, and steal their phone.

She had never used a phone, but she knew what they were. Joss had one. Everyone had one. It couldn’t be hard to find one to steal.

Phones had maps. She didn’t know where headquarters was, but she knew a few crucial things about the location. She knew it was underground, buried in the side of a mountain. She knew there was nothing around for twenty miles—she’d heard two guards complaining about that once, talking about how far they had to go to find nightlife, whatever that was.

Not only that, she still remembered the addresses of most of her past missions. She didn’t need that information anymore, but she had been taught how to remember, not how to forget.

And sometimes, on the way back from a mission, she would count the time. It helped calm the excited drumbeat of her heart, once there was no more need for excitement. It helped her think instead of feel. It helped her get back into the mindset of home, where everything was done by the clock.

She could keep time more accurately than anyone else in her cohort. Even when half an hour had passed. Or forty-five minutes. Or two hours.

She knew which address was half an hour from headquarters. And which one was forty-five minutes. And which one was two hours.

If she had a map, if she could find all those addresses, she could find her way home.

The only problem—aside from dollars, aside from aching feet, aside from people looking at her… she stopped herself. All right, so there were a lot of problems. But the only problem worth thinking about was the pain. Could she do all this with the shocks pulsing through her? Could she even go invisible?

As if in answer to the question, the pain stopped.

She shook the bracelet. It stayed quiescent.

It must have been set to stop after a certain amount of time. How long? She didn’t know. She hadn’t been keeping track. About five minutes, maybe. It made sense. Whoever had designed it wouldn’t have expected someone to be able to endure it that long.

They had underestimated her.

She stared at the bracelet, feeling strangely bereft.

There was nothing stopping her now.

The cool night air brought the smell of flowers to her nose. The rich sweetness beckoned her.

Or was the sharp cold of the breeze a warning?

She disappeared. Then she thrust one leg out the window and grasped the drainpipe. She tugged at it, testing its weight, until she was sure it would hold her.

And then… she did nothing.

The clock in her cells was ticking. She could feel it counting down. And yet she hesitated.

The couch. The TV. The cookies. The impossibly soft bed. And there were so many things she hadn’t even tried yet. The musical instruments… microwave popcorn… that huge bathtub…

She had only ever seen bathtubs in the homes of her targets. At home, they only had showers—one minute of hot water, two minutes of cold. She had always wondered what a bathtub would feel like.

It wasn’t freedom. It wasn’t. Yvette had abducted her from her home, from her mission. Whatever Yvette wanted her to believe, it had not been a rescue. She wasn’t that naive. Yvette had locked her in this cage because Yvette wanted her to work for her.

However soft the bed was, it would never feel like home. Even if the red and gold of the bedroom was growing on her, just a little, it would never be as soothing as the white walls of home. And the man with his oversized sunglasses would never be Joss.

Once she was home, how long would it be before she could see the sky again?

Here, she could see the sky every day. All she had to do was turn her head to look out the window.

How long before she ate another cookie? Probably never. Cookies weren’t nutritionally balanced, and now that she was a full operative, she didn’t have many chances to earn rewards anymore.

In place of the TV, there would be three hours of training in the morning and two in the evening. When she turned her head, she wouldn’t see the sky. She would see a guard watching her. Always watching.

Watching to make sure she didn’t slack off. Watching to make sure she didn’t talk to another member of her cohort about something that wasn’t related to training. Watching to make sure she didn’t go off on her own.

The time she had spent in Yvette’s house might have been the only time she had ever been truly alone. Unless she counted the time she spent in her targets’ houses after they were dead. There was no time for relaxation then. Always, discovery was a heartbeat away. Always, Joss was waiting.

At home, she was only ever alone when the lights turned off and she closed her eyes. And then her body fell asleep like it had been trained, and didn’t wake up until the alarm blared and the guard came to take her to breakfast.

Yvette had talked about rescue like it was such a simple concept. Like there was nothing back home for her to miss.

She missed Joss’s looks of quiet concern, his hushed warnings about looking too happy on mission nights. She loved the cookies here, she wished she could eat them every day, but she missed knowing exactly what she would be eating and when. Dinner at six o’clock sharp; beef on Mondays, chicken on Tuesdays, vegetarian on Wednesdays. She missed knowing where she was supposed to be every minute of every day.

If she really had been a prisoner, she wouldn’t miss it. Would she?

Yvette would have told her there was nothing to miss. She would have said freedom was worth everything she had given up. If Delta-Nine-308 had tried to explain, she didn’t think she would have been able to.

Joss would have said she knew better than to hesitate like this. He would have warned her that to do anything but try to escape, when she knew Yvette was holding her prisoner, would risk an instability mark. After all, why would someone choose to remain a captive?

She let the clock in her cells count down.

When she reappeared again, she pulled her leg back in and closed the window.

There would always be another time, she told herself. But that inner voice was getting fainter and fainter.

She dropped back down into the closet as quietly as she could. Then she climbed into bed, closed her eyes, and tried to remember how to fall asleep on command.

---

Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @whump-kitty @violets-whumperflies

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[painsandconfusion]

Apathetic Caretakers

The bitches who don’t care enough to do their jobs well.

I swear I had a request for this?? where did it go?? Ah well, here's the content anyway.

[Promptlist Masterpost]

Caretaker constantly forgetting Whumpee’s injuries. Bumping them, moving them the wrong way, hugging too tight, etc.

Caretaker forgetting Whumpee’s intolerances and allergies while cooking.

“I’m paying for your therapist. Call them or something - I’m busy right now.”

Staying out past when they said they would. Or coming home earlier. Starling Whumpee or making them sit up with worry.

Not bothering to check the temperature of the soup before putting it to Whumpee’s lips.

“...seriously? Again?….ughh.”

Whumpee refuses to sleep, afraid of the nightmares, so Caretaker just rolls their eyes and forces the sleeping medication down their throat like a dog at the vet.

“ ‘Abuse’? Dude, did they even bruise you?? Did you even bleed?”

Giving Whumpee a play to stay for a night, but grumbling when they ask to stay another. Or the week. Or, gods forbid, longer.

Forgetting triggers.

Forcing Whumpee outside and into social settings too soon because ‘It’s good for you. It’s normal. Trust me.’

“Maybe you should talk to Whumper? Y’know, try to get some closure - see, the fact that you’re panicking just from me mentioning that proves you could do with a little exposure.”

Locking Whumpee in their room so they don’t sleepwalk to the point Caretaker needs to go get them.

“It’s there anyone else you can stay with?? Anyone?”

If Whumpee feels more comfortable in a collar, who are they to correct that? And eh, the kneeling is creepy, but they’re too fuckin tired to tell Whumpee not to. 

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbowsandwhumperflies @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35)

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