Latest Posts by starz8nk - Page 3

30 days of unhinged otherkin

What type of dirt would your kintype eat?

I'd say the one after rain with moss on it. My ass is a deity of many things (as my otherkin) and one of them is rain and specifically the way it smells after and during it

(og post) https://www.tumblr.com/obligatorycoffee/684820402377261056?source=share

Ok so I finally drew how I perceive myself as an alterhuman and otherkin

ill try to draw myself in that Ms paint pixely art style, wish me luck chat

The Sound of Empty Stomachs Is Louder Than Bombs😭💔

Amidst the war, airstrikes and destruction, my family in Gaza is living a silent tragedy. Between the drone of warplanes and explosions, another sound echoes... the sound of empty stomachs. We all sit in the corner of our tent, waiting for a meal that may never come.

My family has not eaten vegetables or meat for more than three months. Day after day, something else is missing: yesterday it was fruit, today it is flour - a distant dream because of its scarcity and high price

Will you let us suffer? Will you allow the sound of hunger to be louder than the voice of your conscience?

gofundme.com

Donate to Donate to Save Muhammad's Family and Future, organized by Lisa Nguyen

Hello, My name is Lisa from Tampa, Florida. I am organizing th… Lisa Nguyen needs your support for Donate to Save Muhammad's

Donate to my family and help keep them alive. What might be your next meal is an unattainable dream for them.

Fuck Meta

sounds pretty based to me

Stop help me 🙏😭

This is the last of the flour left and we have no flour. Please help me and my sisters 😭😭

*folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face*

Being closeted is hard but coming out is harder does anyone get me

I had a half awake dream today, that Judas, now rotting and fresh out of hell came to collect my soul and the only thing I was worried about was that I didn't get to have Kaveh in GI and I think that sums up my personality completely

If I'd be an informator or smt for an mafia I'd like my name to be something like Misinformation

Stuck on the idea of vampires as a kind of reverse fae, or like someone's twisted, perverse attempt at moulding humans into fae.

They're repelled by liminal spaces.

A vampire could never enter fairyland, not just because they'd never be welcomed, but because most of the usual entry-ways are naturally barred to them.

They can't cross running water. They can't be seen in mirrors. They will wait forever at a crossroads, unable to pick a direction to go in. They can't even step over a thresh-hold unless there is absolutely no ambiguity about whether they are welcome inside.

They crave human blood, iron and salt, but are repelled by herbs and plants. They are supernaturally prevented from harming you unless the rules of hospitality have been invoked.

A fairy may replace your newborn child with something unnatural and ever-hungry. A vampire will do the same, but with your grandmother's corpse.

The fae are typically associated, even in stories where they're the bad guys, with flourishing and purity. Vampires, even in stories where they're the good guys, are typically associated with decay and corruption.

The fae turn ancient human burial mounds into fancy halls for their courts. Vampires take ancient human castles and let them grow mildewed and cobwebbed, exchanging the beds for coffins, turning them into burial places.

Fae don't tend to live among humans, but can generally pass for them with relative ease if they so choose. Vampires nearly always live among humans, but tend to find not revealing themselves a huge struggle.

I can't think of many stories I've read where fae and vampires even exist in the same universe, let alone ones where they actively interact. I feel like their enmity is almost more inevitable than that between vampires and werewolves, however.

The rivalry between vampires and werewolves is, essentially, the rivalry between two apex predator species who share a territory. (Even in stories where the werewolves aren't actually hunting humans.)

The vampires hate the werewolves because the werewolves interfere with their access to prey. The werewolves hate the vampires either because they consider themselves aligned with humans (the prey species), or because they are also predators and the vampires are competing with them.

By comparison, I think there's some story potential in the fae finding something genuinely creepy and uncanny valley about vampires.

They're immortal, like them, but also dead. They can be beautiful, like them, but that beauty is something they actively require humans to sustain. They like to inhabit beautiful and ancient ex-human dwellings, like them, but they actively work to make those places dark, damp and empty.

Fairies who are unflappable in the face of all sorts of Otherworldly monsters, can look an eldritch horror in the eye(s) without blinking, and have never been phased yet by any human, but will recoil from even the weakest vampire.

Vampires who hate fairies just as much, but in a more envious way. The way that the creature for whom immortality is a curse is bound to hate the creatures for whom immortality is an eternity of sunlight and laughter.

Maybe their touches burn each other. Maybe vampires can't stand physical contact with anything so alive and vital. Maybe immortal fairies become ill from too much exposure to the undead.

Maybe they fight over the human population when their territories overlap. The fairy need for servants and people to make deals with, competing with the vampire need for thralls and blood to drink.

Just… fairies and vampires. We need more stories about them interacting.

Drowning Diver Saved by Merman

Soren knows he should go on diving adventures with a partner for safety reasons, but when his partner cancels the trip last minute... he won't let that stop him from exploring underwater caves on his own.

Warnings: drowning, unconsciousness/passing out, cave collapse, legs pinned by rocks

Soren was a skilled scuba diver with many years of experience -- but even the best men can make mistakes.

Today he was going on a dive to explore an underwater cave system at the edge of a large coral reef. He had originally planned to go on the dive with a friend, but his buddy canceled at the last minute -- and Soren was not going to miss the opportunity to explore the underwater caves -- even if he had to do it alone.

The weather for the whole rest of the week would be stormy, and no longer safe for diving. This was his only chance to go exploring for seven long days. He was impatient, and impulsive. A bad combination.

He knew full well divers should adventure in pairs or groups for safety reasons, but he figured he was experienced enough not to need someone with him. So he drove his small boat out into the ocean and anchored near his desired destination, gearing up with his oxygen tanks, fins, and mask

He could barely control his excitement when he was finally ready and diving into the seawater.

It wasn't a long swim down to the ocean floor where he quickly located the entrance cave and slipped inside -- clicking on his headlight to see.

It was even more spectacular than he imagined. He encountered several different species of exotic fish hiding in the cave systems, and found some cool glowing rocks to take as souvenirs.

By the time he got the warning that his oxygen tanks were running low he had already ventured down every small tunnel and explored every inch of the place. It was time to head out. So he turned around and made his way back to the cave opening. It was a tight fit, and when he squeezed through, his oxygen tanks hit the ceiling, dislodging some small rocks -- that sparked a chain reaction.

Suddenly, the cave roof collapsed, right on Soren's legs -- pinning them and trapping him halfway out of the cave. A diver's worst nightmare. But he wasn't worried -- he'd gotten himself out of trouble several times during past adventures. Why should this be any different? His best chance was to stay calm to conserve the little bit of oxygen left in his tanks while he figured out how to wriggle free.

Soren shifted around, using his hands to brace against the fallen rocks atop his legs and push in an effort to dislodge them, or gain leverage to pull himself out -- but it was fruitless. He spent a good five minutes trying to free himself before the real panic started to set in, after he realized his legs were pinned so tightly he couldn't even move them an inch in any direction. This was not good.

The oxygen was starting to dwindle and fade now, and each breath was harder to suck in through his mouthpiece, his tanks empty.

Soren realized just how dangerous a situation he was in now -- he really wished he'd brought a dive buddy today. The regret was a huge blow to his ego, but that was the absolute least of his worries right now. Because... not only was he pinned underwater and quickly running out of air, but the tropical fish that had been previously swimming around him suddenly dove for cover in the reef -- and the reason terrified him.

Shark. A human-sized shark was swimming straight for him, though its appearance looked a bit funny, its fins and figure not quite right. It was making a beeline straight for him, a lethal predator locked onto trapped prey.

And it was fast, rapidly closing the distance between them.

Soren truly began to panic then -- thrashing desperately from where he was trapped in a last desperate effort to get out at the same moment the oxygen finally ran out, leaving him with no more available breaths to take.

He didn't want to die, not like this. The surface of the ocean seemed so close, yet so far away. Within his sight, but out of reach. Mocking him.

Soren was terrified, but his fierce struggles were rapidly losing power as the oxygen deprivation set in, sapping his strength away as he slowly drowned.

He gave a frightened glance back over where the shark was closing in, and let out a scream of bubbles at how close it was, only a few yards away now.

Darkness ate at the corners of his vision, and he blacked out right as the shark-like creature reached him, his body no longer able to function with the diminished oxygen.

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

When Soren came to his senses, he was floating on the surface, head above water and diving mask removed entirely, letting him suck in precious air as his mobility returned to him. His oxygen tanks and harness had been taken off as well, leaving him only in his wetsuit.

The diver was suddenly aware that his back was pressed up against something, something that was warm against the chill of seawater, and an arm-like thing was wrapped securely around his midsection, something feeling like a hand holding the back of his neck to support his head and keep it above water.

"Are you okay?" A voice asked, and Soren full-body flinched in surprise, trying to twist around and wriggle free of the strong grip on them.

"Easy," that same voice said, but the arm -- Soren now realized that's what it was -- retreated from around him, giving him the ability to spin around and tread water to see who had been behind him.

What he saw was... not something he would have ever expected to see. He beheld a handsome man with flawless skin on his face and distinguished features, sharp jawline -- but there was something different about him. There were... scales on his neck and chest and arms, like a fish. Brilliantly emerald green with golden undertones as they caught the light and sparkled.

And when Soren glanced down at the half of the stranger that was underwater... he saw a tail. A dolphin-like tail with scales in shades of green and blue. A tail that was beating softly to keep the man upright, the same way that Soren himself was using his arms and legs to tread water, but with far less effort. The man's eyes were a striking seaweed green color, complementing his scales.

So it wasn't really a shark that had been coming for Soren -- it had been a merman.

"Did you... Did you save me?" Soren sputtered.

The apparent merman nodded, eyes as wide as the diver's were, but with worry instead of shock and awe.

"I didn't think I was fast enough -- I was hunting in the area when I spotted you and rushed to help. I thought I was too late. Have you literally never heard of the buddy system?! Divers aren't supposed to explore caves alone for this exact reason. Because if you get stuck, no one is there to help. You possess an absolutely unbelievable amount of incompetence." He then proceeded to spring into a full-on lecture about how stupid and foolish the human was for being out here with no backup, all while the diver stared, gawking dumbly at the fact that he was seeing a real merman right before his eyes.

There'd been many reports that mers existed in these waters, but there had never been any solid proof of their existence.

Until now.

"Hey! Are you even listening to what I'm saying?!"

Soren was shocked back to the present when the merman's strong tail flung out of the water to slap him hard across the face, making his head snap to the side with the force of it. His head momentarily dipped underwater, and he sucked in water, coughing it back up when he surfaced again.

The merman scoffed, rolling his green eyes in annoyance. "Come with me, young diver -- you've overstayed your welcome in these waters.” He grabbed the human's arm and escorted him to where Soren's boat was anchored, bobbing gently in the waves.

"Go home, human -- I don't want to catch you out here again," the creature growled as Soren climbed atop his boat.

But part of the diver wanted to be caught again by the handsome mer.

The mer seemed to read his mind, and shook his head. "Don't do anything stupid. All humans are naturally attracted to ethereal beauty like I possess -- far too many mers take advantage of that. It's false love, not real affection. You'd do yourself good to remember that. Don't come back here -- you're deep in mer territory right now, and that is a dangerous, dangerous place to be."

Soren turned red with embarrassment like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar as the mer continued, his tone growing firmer and more serious.

"This will be your only warning. Not many mers are as merciful as I am -- chances are the next one you encounter won't be so kind. I will see you to the border of mer territory to ensure your safety, but I won't follow you any further. Promise me you won't return."

"I don't know if I can promise that," Soren croaked with a shaky smile. "Because I'm not a liar. You can't break a promise if you never make one, right?"

The smallest smirk tugged at the corner of the merman's mouth, in a way that told the diver he was secretly hoping he would come back too, despite the effort to push him away for his own safety.

"Clever human," the merman rumbled. And that was the end of the exchange between man and mer -- until Soren came back the next day.

And the merman was already waiting.

Masterlist

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

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson

The Siren Tamer

Ambrose is an interesting sailor with a mysterious gift: he can travel the oceans freely, and will never have a single Siren try to lure him to his death with their beautiful songs. The deadly creatures of the sea always leave him alone. Ambrose has found a way to turn this into a living -- by becoming a paid escort for those who wish to travel through Siren territory unharmed. But the reason for the female creatures leaving him alone is one no sailor ever expected.

Warnings: close encounter with Sirens, description of past torture and cut vocal cords, scars

There was a man in the small oceanside village named Ambrose, who was legendary among the townsfolk for his ability to sail the ocean freely without danger of being lured into the waters by Sirens. No one quite believed him at first when he claimed the Sirens always left him alone -- until he'd finally taken up the challenge to prove it to everyone, and sailed a tiny boat straight into the heart of known Siren territory, and miraculously came back alive -- something no one else had done before. And with gifts he said the Sirens gave him themselves -- some deep-sea fish.

After that there was no denying that he spoke truth when it came to his relationship with the wild and dangerous Sirens of the sea -- though no one knew how he'd managed to get into the good graces of the very creatures who took pleasure in entrancing humans with their songs and drowning men.

Bur Ambrose was special, protected somehow. And he found a way to make a living off it -- as an escort for boats who wished to travel through Siren territory without losing sailors along the way. Normally the ships would have to waste extra time sailing clear around the Siren zone, but with the Siren Man, they could cut straight through the territory and save over a day's worth of travel, making trade journeys more efficient.

Ambrose was always paid very handsomely for his services as the life-saving escort who guaranteed the safety of all who were aboard any ship he was on. The only one who could do it. His presence was sacred, more valuable than gold. Everyone knew his name, and townsfolk would wait weeks to book a trip with him as their guide, not daring to venture into the sea anymore without him, especially since the Sirens’ territories has noticeably expanded over the years -- the creatures were showing up more frequently in unexpected locations, which often proved fatal to the unlucky souls who discovered that fact.

But Ambrose was never harmed, no matter how many times he encountered the Sirens -- sailors who traveled with him described it as a miracle, telling tales of how the Sirens would approach the boat and speak to him like an old friend, never singing their death songs in his presence.

Ambrose was a strange man indeed -- quiet and mysterious, who didn't talk much aside from what was strictly necessary for business.

Today was a day like many others -- a group of five skilled sailors hired Ambrose to see them safely through Siren territory, and they boarded a small ship together, setting off into the deadly waters. Ambrose had cost a fortune to hire, but he was well worth every coin.

The captain of the ship -- Barley -- tried to break the ice between him and Ambrose by striking up a friendly conversation to pass time during the long trip. But Ambrose was the silent type, giving simple answers and not speaking unless spoken to directly. He stayed at the railing of the ship while the captain spoke to him, gazing out over the endless blue waters with a tense expression.

Barley eventually gave up trying to create small talk with him -- Ambrose appeared to be too distracted to hold an interesting conversation. So the captain let him be.

The journey was several hours long, and as they neared the end of the Siren territory boundary the captain wondered if they'd even see a real Siren at all -- he'd never laid eyes on one before. But he must have brought bad luck to his crew, because shortly after the thought had crossed his mind was when his spotter called out that sharks were approaching.

But all of them knew that sharks never swam where Sirens lived. Even they knew better than to cross paths with the terrifying women. Which only meant that the 'sharks' his spotter was seeing... were the Sirens themselves, closing in on the ship. Fast.

The crew seemed to come to the same realization, and all gathered together with the captain on the main deck, weapons at the ready and shifting around anxiously.

None of them knew what to expect, what to brace for, and that was terrifying. And the profound sense of sheer helplessness that they were all feeling was awful. Knowing that they didn't stand a chance against a Siren's hypnotizing song.

They held no power in these waters, none at all. At the complete mercy of creatures so ancient they dated back centuries, their full faith in the single man they'd brought aboard precisely to protect them.

Ambrose had wandered over near the low wooden platform on the side of the shop where fishermen could stand near the water to cast nets. He was the only one who didn't seem worried or frightened.

And that's when the first Siren breached the water.

She was... exactly as every description pictured her race when her head popped out of the water -- irresistibly, devastatingly beautiful, with a natural disarming charm that drew men in even without singing her deadly songs. She had long silver hair that flowed over her shoulders like seaweed, and soft, elegant features that brought life to her pale face. Both very attractive, and very dangerous. It was hard to take your eyes off her. No wonder so many men had fallen victim to her kind over the years.

The captain and his crew huddled on the far end of the ship, furthest away from where the Siren was swimming closer with gentle sweeps of her fish-like tail.

The stunning creature came close and docked herself on the wooden fishing platform, resting halfway out of the water.

"Cordelia," Ambrose greeted with a respectful dip of his head.

Oh, so the creature had a name, Barley thought. Ambrose knew a Siren by name. It baffled him, and he stared on in awestruck wonder at the unusual exchange taking place, between man and monster.

He waited for the moment when the Siren would snatch him and drag him down to drown him, but... it never happened. The woman didn't even sing a single note toward Ambrose as they talked.

"I see you are escorting yet another group of poor sailors around," Cordelia said mockingly, and smiled with razor-sharp teeth at the crew cowering far behind Ambrose just to make them squirm with fear. "I assume they are off-limits too?"

"Yes," Ambrose confirmed. "I've made a living off ensuring sailors' safety through these waters."

Cordelia wagged a finger at him jokingly. "Ooooh, looks like someone's taking advantage of our hospitality. Very naughty, human. You're stealing all our fun away." The Siren pouted, though she didn't sound angry or harsh.

"What, not enough men available for you to drown?" Ambrose chuckled good-naturedly, as if he weren't holding a conversation with the most dangerous breed of creature lurking in the ocean. He showed no fear that the Siren could grab him and drag him overboard in an instant.

Cordelia let out a cackling laugh.

A second Siren suddenly came swimming to the surface to join her, launching up enough to balance her upper body on the wooden platform like a sea lion would, her tail still in the water.

Unlike the first Siren, this one had a wide, ragged scar across her throat she wore like a cruel collar, along with dozens of other smaller scars littering her skin. Her tail was pale blue with some darker scales scattered throughout like stars, complementing her sea-green hair and eyes.

"Sylvia," Ambrose greeted warmly, offering a friendly smile that the creature didn't hesitate to return, showing sharp teeth. "It's always good to see you thriving in these waters." He angled halfway around to address the group of terrified sailors behind him, who were clustered on the far side of the boat and watching things unfold with huge eyes.

"Sylvia is the reason I am a protected human among the Sirens," he explained. "She was once captured by a deaf sailor who couldn't hear her song, making him immune to her charm. The man had a fierce grudge against Sirens, though, for killing a close friend of his -- so he tortured Sylvia as a way of getting revenge, cutting her vocal cords so she could never sing or speak a word again, to take away her greatest weapon -- her voice. He left her stranded on a beach to dry up and die in the sun, which is where I found her." His face was solemn and sad.

"Despite knowing what she was and what she could do, when I found her I brought her to shallow waters and treated her injuries, saved her life by making sure she was well before letting her go home to the deepest parts of the ocean. Her story spread among the other Sirens, and I have been a friend to them ever since."

"He also offers us pleasant gifts from time to time," Cordelia added. "If he has extra fish from a catch, or interesting human trinkets, he generously donates it to us. We are quite fond of him."

As if to confirm her words, Ambrose reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny silver compass, crouching down in front of the beautiful Siren to offer it to her.

"Speaking of which, I know you like to collect sparkly items, Cor, so I couldn't help but get this from a trade ship when I saw it."

Cordelia squealed excitedly, a surprisingly human sound, and took it in her webbed hands, examining it closely and tracing the intricate pattern engraved into the compasses metal case.

"I owe you one, love," she said softly, staring at the silver compass with awe. Her icy blue eyes flicked from the compass up to Ambrose, and she leaned up to affectionately kiss his cheek in thanks.

A Siren's kiss, rumored to doom a man forever if they survived it. Said to be so intoxicating no person could resist, rendered into a mindless plaything for the monsters to toy with.

But Ambrose didn't look dazed or under some spell, he looked completely unaffected, lightly kissing the Siren's wet cheek in return in some sort of silent communication between them.

Cordelia chuckled, then turned to depart, sliding back into the ocean to swim off and add the new trinket to her collection.

Sylvia didn't leave with her companion, though, blushing slightly as she reached underwater to where her tail was -- and brought up a strikingly colorful seashell, offering it as a gift.

"I-I wouldn't accept that, if I were you," one of the terrified sailors behind Ambrose stammered. "Rumors say you should never accept offerings from mers nor Sirens, because then you'll be indebted to them forever."

Ambrose barked an amused laugh, taking the seashell delicately in his calloused hands.

"That rule doesn't apply to me," he chuckled, "any gifts offered to me come with no strings attached whatsoever. Thank you, Sylvia -- this shell is very beautiful." He turned it over in his hands, marveling at the polished surface.

Sylvia smiled shyly, and with a nod, she turned and dove into the ocean as well, disappearing in the dark blue waters with a few beats of her scarred-up tail.

Only when the last traces of the Sirens’ visit had left did the captain let out a shaky breath of relief.

Yes, Ambrose had been expensive to bring along – but Barley was so, so grateful he'd decided to pay him the amount he did. He was, like he hoped, worth every last coin he'd spent.

And Barley would have one heck of a story to tell when he and his crew finally reached their destination. They were now part of a growing number of humans who had laid eyes on a Siren and lived to tell about it, thanks to Ambrose.

The man was a legend indeed.

Masterlist

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

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife

ok chat I got so much ideas for whump rn

idk what type of whump do I put it as tho, help appreciated

Like two enemies (superhero/villain, an angel/a demon, you get the idea), but they go from coworkers (or other typically same side related shit), through enemies, to friends/lovers

Like for example:

Whumpee was a ruler, and soon-to-be whumper was their advisor/knight. After an event, the whumper turns away from the "good" side, and became an enemy of whumpee. Whumpee, pursuing the good path, fights them, but the whumper decides (in spite of them) to ruin everything for whumpee in exchange. They destroy the kingdom, kill people, ruin whumpee's reputation, all to get one thing — something super duper important like the position of the ruler. Whumpee, seeing that, has to come up with a better plan to get rid of whumper for good. They form a rlly good one, and "give in" to the whumper, agreeing on everything.

And that's when the whump rlly comes. Before the plan can be finished, they have to play for a bit.

JUST IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES

whumper picking the clothes, and actually everything for whumpee. Getting all their sense of personality stripped away

Whumper could call the whumpee stuff like "doll" or similar

Imagine whumpee being treated as a trophy

What toll is it all taking on whumpee's mind

Maybe whumpee was REALLY powerful and whumper has to take steps to contain them in a very specific way

Where is whumpee kept? A cell? Maybe a luxurious room with golden bars?

The humiliation, just imagine

What's the difference between whumpee's usual appearance and whumper's preferred one?

What clothes is whumpee forced to wear?

Restraints?? Branding??? Maybe some really luxurious looking restraints

Like you get the idea

What's y'all's opinion on shadow vanilla ship

Pov: my thoughts when I'm trying to fall asleep in my fav t-shirt

A shirt.

Such an easy thing to take for granted until it's the only thing you are allowed to have.

No undies. No pants. No socks. Definitely no shoes. Just a single, old, oversized shirt.

Something he gave me so I wasn't always naked.

He didn't buy it for me, he doesn't buy anything for us other than collars, kennel cages, and things that cause pain...no, it's just an old shirt he didn't want anymore. He doesn't need to buy us anything.

It's all I have.

He burnt all the clothes that I wore when he had me picked up. It's all ashes now. Even my favorite hoodie, gone.

Just a shirt.

He gave it to me after the third week, after he had spent that time properly and painfully introducing me to my role here. I am his pet. I am his muse. I am his plaything.

I am his property.

Captured and flown halfway across the world.

It's a simple shirt, size XXXL Tall, dark gray, very faint remnants of old blood stains (not all of it my own), hem starting to tatter, very small moth holes here and there, band logo all but worn off, hides just enough of me to count as "covering".

It's the kind of shirt one throws out before buying a new one. But he gave it to me instead.

And I cherish it, a gift from my Master.

Such a simple thing.

And yet, it brings me joy.

Warmth

[masterlist]

it doesn't look like it but this is a comfy drabble, i promise!! the inspo (and wish for some comfort) is from @whumpcloud. you've read this already but here <3

CW: dehumanisation, abandonment issues, pet whump, self-loathing

It is still dark outside when Mutt wakes up, drenched in sweat, panting from memories that haunt his brain. A moment later, he realises what woke him up, as the night sky is lit up by a flash of lightning, a growling thunder following only moments later. Mutt can feel the rumbling deep down in his bones, making him shiver. 

He had been locked outside once during a thunderstorm, the punishment still fresh in his mind. Bound and gagged, of course, so he couldn’t draw attention to himself with his pathetic whimpering and keening.

There had been rain and hail, soaking him to the bone, making the Mutt even more susceptible to the unforgiving cold seeping into his joints. He had wanted nothing more than a shred of his old Master’s mercy, as the thunder rolled over him. 

Mutt shakes his head to rid himself of the memories, his fingers twitching. He won’t be able to fall back asleep, he knows, but he needs to be fit enough to serve his Master in the morning!

Almost on auto-pilot, Mutt gets out of bed. He has to be careful when standing up, his mangled legs still struggling to hold him up. When he walks to his door, he no longer avoids stepping on the rug. 

Aimlessly, he wanders onto the dim corridor, the old wood creaking under his irregular and heavy steps. Mutt tries not to be too loud, lest he wakes Master up. Fatigue tugs at his eyelids, making them droop, and his stroll does little to clear his muddy mind. He stumbles around, losing time.

Suddenly, he feels something cold and hard and when his eyes focus again, he is holding the handle to his Master’s bedroom in his ruined hand, the door already opened a crack. Just barely, he can see the sleeping form of his Master, curled up under the covers, her hands loosely clasped together in front of her face and oh–

He is Atlas now, isn’t he?

As if in a trance, Atlas enters her room, still not quite here, not quite there. Something pulls him forwards, a pressure getting stronger with each step, like a moth fluttering towards the light. He forces himself to stop a couple of steps away from her, ignoring how empty it makes him feel.

Hasn’t she given enough for him? Must he now also take her sleep? Her rest?

Atlas forces his mind to blank and himself to stop, to turn around as silently as possible. She needs her rest for all the troubles he’ll inevitably bring her in the morning, when he can’t get a hold of himself, can’t do the things a human is supposed to do. He can’t keep taking and taking and taking from her, but some part of him craves her presence so much and he despises himself for it. Maybe he will never be anything but a Pet but for some reason he can’t place, that seems so intrinsically connected to his very being, he only feels whole when he’s with her. 

For a moment, he is outside again, chained and gagged in the freezing rain, thoroughly unwanted. This time, it is Atlas who holds the key, dangling it just out of reach from his desperate self. He understands his old Master now, he thinks, understands why he locked a creature like him out. It is only right. 

Before he can take another step, he hears a sleepy groan right behind him, freezing up. Atlas fears looking around, fears seeing Master’s hateful gaze, even though he can’t conjure up a fitting image, no matter how hard he tries. He still does –of course he does– his breath catching in his throat. 

With her eyes still closed, Aveline has lifted one arm to hold her blanket up, as if inviting him in. Like a man dying of thirst discovering a miracle oasis, Atlas stumbles closer. It seems too good to be true and if there is one thing he has learned, it’s that no good ever befalls a Pet like him. Still, he wants to hope.

“For me?” Atlas croaks into the dark, as hushed as his damaged vocal cords allow him. 

Her response is nothing more than a drowsy mhm and a light, lazy gesture with her hand. Hesitantly, Atlas steps closer. He shouldn’t know how this goes, should be overwhelmed with the very real possibility of doing this wrong and subsequently being thrown out. But he isn’t.

The movements feel like second nature, even as he navigates his bulky frame first onto her bed and then into the embrace of the much smaller woman. Atlas doesn’t have to think, his body moves on its own, which is undoubtedly a good thing because if he allowed himself to process what he was doing, he’d surely panic. 

As he lays down on his side, Aveline lowers her arm to cover him with the blanket too, then settles it over the side of his chest. It should be the worst crime a Pet like him could commit, to lay his head on her soft pillow, to curl up against her warm body, to feel her snuggle up against his marred back. But for some reason, it doesn’t feel like a crime. It just feels like home. 

Atlas deflates in her arms, sighing. Her touch is tender, not restricting, tethering Atlas to this world, as sobs start to build up in his chest against his will. If he cries now, he will surely ruin the best thing his life has ever allowed him. 

Maybe this is a dream and tomorrow he will wake up alone in his own bed but none of that matters in this moment. Unconsciously, his crooked hand searches for hers, clinging to it. Aveline squeezes it back, as a couple of stray silent tears start to escape his eyes.

Her body is warm and she holds him tight. Atlas can feel her resting her head softly against the nape of his neck, whispering that Everything is going to be alright.

Atlas sniffles, his tears soaking into the pillow. They lay like that for a while, Aveline’s thumb stroking soothingly over the back of his hand, careful with the raised scar tissue.

Pets like him aren’t made for this kind of comfort, this all-encompassing warmth; her kindness feels like an unbelievable gift. He’d do anything for her, Atlas decides, as his eyes grow heavy and start to slip close. He can’t hear the harsh thunder anymore, can’t feel the cold rain.

Atlas knows he doesn’t deserve it, even as he falls asleep, but–

He wishes someone had been this kind to him before.

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

Caretaker's Friend

Whumpee being rescued and brought home with Caretaker to try to recover. Only for Caretaker to leave Whumpee in the hands of a friend for a while who only makes their recovery harder.

~2800 words

cw: past forced starvation mentioned/ past forced isolation mentioned/ past violence mentioned

-

Whumpee’s recovery, by all of Caretaker’s standards, was going great.

They’re making progress. They’re doing so well in fact!

Both Whumpee and Caretaker had fallen into a healthy day-to-day routine where Whumpee is moving forward. Not, of course, without a few missteps, but all in all they’re doing great! They still can’t be alone for long periods of time. Too much solitude still terrifies them, makes it so their mind plays tricks on them—makes it so it feels like Whumper is leaving them in that dark pit, alone and cold and wet and starving as a punishment again.

So when Caretaker is called away for something they cannot possibly get out of, despite their best efforts, they are forced to leave Whumpee with a trusted friend. A friend of theirs that Whumpee had met a time or two before the whumping even! A friend they’ve met again plenty of times with Caretaker after. Caretaker trusts them and even Whumpee seemed to be only a bit wary of them after getting to know them more. Much better than the absolute terror of having someone new come into their home, at the very least!

Surely Whumpee and Caretaker’s Friend (CF) were going to be alright for just a week together! They both agreed. They could do it! They would be fine!

Plus, Whumpee was doing so great and being so independent, even if they just needed another’s presence to fend off Whumper’s solitude. CF could provide that presence and perhaps help in case Whumpee had any difficulties or setbacks. Just until Caretaker returned!

Just a few days!

And day one went off without any major hitches. CF wasn’t used to Caretaker and Whumpee’s routine, so of course the going wasn’t as smooth as when Caretaker was there, but it was still fine. CF didn’t always seem as willing to help Whumpee with the small things like Caretaker either, so Whumpee found themself trying their best to be more independent. That’s a good thing though! Right? Independence again!

Maybe they didn't need to have Caretaker there all the time anymore. They were handling this! Perhaps they were a little more anxious, but they're getting through it! If only it didn't remind them of Whumper, but those are just memories. Nothing real... anymore.

But then on day two, CF seemed a bit more standoffish and annoyed, especially when Whumpee was having a bit of an unresponsive panic attack after CF had come up on them a bit too silently.

Whumpee had been concentrating hard on a small craft—crafts, Caretaker had said, were a great way to keep their mind off things and something to bring them joy and accomplishment!— when CF had come behind them and grabbed the pair of their safety scissors to cut a small string off their own clothes that had come unraveled.

Whumpee, of course, hadn’t heard them approach, though they knew Caretaker had warned CF not to come up on their back without a verbal warning (surely CF just forgot!), so when a sudden figure behind them grabbed the scissors of all things, Whumpee couldn’t help but imagine the terrible things Whumper could have and would have done with those scissors. (After countless nights of pain from other such sharp things, scissors weren’t a far stretch to imagine in the hands of Whumper.)

This, of course, sends Whumpee into a state. Panicking and hyperventilating and sobbing that they were sorry and not to hurt them, despite anything CF said to counter the idea that they would.

“Oh, come now! I wasn’t going to hurt you.” “You know you’re not with Whumper anymore. This is Caretaker’s house!” “What could I even do with safety scissors anyway?!" "I'd really have to put effort into it if I was going to hurt you. I could barely cut you if I even tried!" CF tried to calm them, but hearing Whumper’s name like that (another thing Caretaker had warned them not to speak of that CF surely just forgot in their haste to try to settle them) and the reminder of how easily mundane things could be used to hurt them if someone wanted to only made it worse.

CF sounded so exasperated by Whumpee’s panic the longer it went on that Whumpee could only think about how bad they were being. A burden. How annoyed CF was that they wouldn’t—couldn’t— calm themself down.

They were unsettled the rest of the day after they managed to pull themself out of it. They found themself needing CF’s presence more than usual. CF accommodated them, but seemed to do so begrudgingly. (Whumpee understood. After all, they had just been so independent the day before! How frustrating it was to CF that they seemed to be going backwards.)

Whumpee awoke with a start in the dead of night that night to their own screaming. They jolted up and nearly threw themself off the bed. They must have kicked their blankets off themself during the night in their dream. A chill ran down their spine and they started to shiver.

It was no dream. It was a nightmare. A nightmare of being back in Whumper’s grasp. With a pair of safety scissors cutting into their skin so easily. A nightmare that left their nerves frayed and them sobbing and terrified.

CF comes in to see them and Whumpee is thankful for the presence that could scare away the loneliness that was creeping in and for someone who wasn’t Whumper—who now seemed to linger at the edges of their mind after the nightmare. Their door swinging open the rest of the way to see the other familiar person brought Whumpee a sigh of relief.

“CF, I—”

“You woke me up!" Whumpee started at CF's tone, sitting up straighter and clasping their hand behind them. How Whumper had always wanted them when they were angry. Because CF was clearly angry. "I’d just fallen asleep on that shitty slab of concrete Caretaker calls a mattress when you start screaming and woke me up! I thought Caretaker said you were getting better. If I’d known you were so needy still, I’d never have accepted babysitting their charity case. God! Stop your sniveling and go to sleep! It was just a damn dream!”

CF’s narrowed eyes pierced through them and Whumpee found themself swallowing down their sobs even as their tears flowed freely. It was unfortunately very easy for them to do. Whumper hated when they cried loudly after any of their punishments. (It was obnoxious for something they had deserved for being bad! It was their own fault they had been punished 'so stop your sniveling!') So Whumpee had trained themself to keep quiet. It was so easy to fall back into that habit. To stop the sniveling like Whumper wanted them too. (Whumpee may have forgotten that Caretaker has never wanted them to keep their feelings bottled up and that they hated when Whumpee didn’t let out their cries, as loud as they needed to be, no matter the time of night.)

Whumpee tried not to let the whimper out that they felt build in their chest when CF left, shutting their door with a slam. Whumpee never shut their door all the way, feeling too trapped and isolated if they did. Then CF turned off the hall light that filtered under Whumpee's door frame as they made their way back to their own room, bathing Whumpee in complete darkness. The same light that Caretaker always left on so that Whumpee would never be without some light, knowing they were terrified of the dark.

Whumpee didn't sleep again that night.

Days three and four were much more difficult. Whumpee tried to stay away from CF as to not annoy them by being so needy again. That, of course, did no favors to their mental state. Solitude in any capacity was difficult. Now so more than before after the rough day (and night) they'd just had. But it was easier if Whumpee self-isolated so that CF could be happy with them. After all, they hadn’t asked to take in Whumpee! They were doing Caretaker a favor. They didn’t deserve to be annoyed like this! They were doing them both a favor. The least Whumpee could do was try their hardest!

Unfortunately it seemed CF was always in the kitchen. So, in attempt to keep away from CF, Whumpee kept putting off eating until they weren't. They could wait just a little longer! Surely CF wouldn't be there for too much longer, right? But -oh.. CF was sitting in the small, cozy breakfast nook in the kitchen now. It looks like they were reading. Perhaps they will be done soon and Whumpee could get food after.

They were making popcorn now? Another snack? Okay. Maybe a little longer.

But now its nighttime. Surely CF wouldn't appreciate being woken up again by Whumpee messing around in the kitchen so late at night. Maybe tomorrow morning..? Unless of course CF was making coffee again...

Every time Whumpee would make their way to the kitchen, CF was there. Either making food or eating a snack or reading at the breakfast nook or walking in right after them to do any of those things, forcing Whumpee to turn around and walk right back out in order to stay out of their way. They've been starved for days before with Whumper. They can wait just a little bit longer. A day and a half was nothing they couldn't handle.

And right as Whumpee was coming down the stairs a little later to check to see if CF was still in the kitchen, they tripped and fell the last few steps to the floor. It was an accident- they promise! CF had come running in wondering what the racket was.

"No-nothing! I promise! I just... I just fell down the steps a little. I'm fine! It's nothing! An accident..."

"Are you hurt?"

"N..No. Just.. maybe it'll just bruise a little. But... but its fine."

"Thank goodness!" Whumpee sighed in relief at CF's clear relief. At least they weren't angry they had fallen and- "If Caretaker knew you got hurt while I was watching you, I'd be in so much trouble." -oh.

They supposed that was true. If Whumpee had gotten badly hurt, it would likely strain CF and Caretaker's friendship. Caretaker trusted CF. They wouldn't be happy if Whumpee managed to hurt themself during CF's watch. It would be their fault if Caretaker had gotten upset at CF...

CF shook their head with a roll of their eyes and made their way back from where they'd come. The kitchen.

Whumpee sighed and limped back up the stairs on the ankle that would surely stop hurting once they slept if off.

That night, the fourth night, was another difficult one. With Whumpee's stomach growling at them and their body stiff and sore and bruised, they couldn't help but feel a bit like they did when they were with Whumper. They weren't with Whumper, of course! They knew that...

But...

But it was getting harder to remember as their ankle throbbed and their stomach grew hungrier and the night grew darker. Everything felt much too... painful to be with Caretaker still. Too similar to when Whumper had them.

Oh god... what if their head was playing tricks on them. Caretaker never let them go to bed hungry. And Caretaker never left them go to bed alone if they had a panic attack or left them without patching them up if they accidentally hurt themself.

Maybe...

Maybe Whumper found them again? It wouldn't have been the first time their mind played tricks on them, thinking they were back with Caretaker in happier times only to wake where they had passed out (or been knocked out) on the floor and find themself beaten and bruised and starving and alone.

Oh god, they were alone again, weren’t they? They... Caretaker wasn't here. Whumper... Whumper had found them! They must have. That's why they were alone and scared and in pain and in the dark and starving.

Whumpee hugged themself tighter, pulling their legs closer to their chest (and ignoring the throbbing still in lingering in their ankle), unwilling to touch or feel the grimy, cold, damp edges of that damned pit they were surely trapped in again.

Whumper’s pit.

Dark and cold and alone.

God, it really was Whumper again, wasn’t it?

They were taken from Caretaker again! They... they-.. No. Wait-

A memory filtered into Whumpee’s head. A recent memory… of Caretaker leaving them. Of the door shutting behind them without ever looking back at Whumpee. Of Caretaker leaving them with... someone else.

Caretaker left them. They left them! They left them and gave them to Whumper, didn't they? They were finally annoyed by how needy they were. How annoying and clingy they were. With how loud they were with their sniveling all the time. By how often they had to cook them food or to feed them out of Caretaker's own pocket.

Whumpee let out a tearful sob, but they quickly hushed themself. What if Whumper heard?! If they were caught crying again they’d be forced to stay even longer in this pit. In the dark. All alone.

“Whumpee! CF! I’m home!” Caretaker called gently into the home after they managed to finally get the key in the lock. It was dark. Usually Caretaker wouldn’t have been traveling at night, but it had already been five days since they’ve been home and they were antsy to see how CF and Whumpee handled themselves together.

Whumpee had been doing so well! They were curious to see if any more progress has been made in their absence.

“Welcome back, Caretaker,” CF came out of the kitchen with a smile, book in hand.

“Hi, CF! How’d it go?”

“Fine! No trouble at all!”

“Really? That's great to hear! Where’s Whumpee? In the kitchen?”

“No. I actually haven’t heard from them for a few days.” CF grinned happily, “They’ve been very independent. At first they were a bit nervous. Asked me for help and to stay near them all the time. They must have been missing you." CF nudged Caretaker's shocked form with their elbow. "But then they seemed to get better very quick! They barely came looking for me after. In fact, I only checked up on them one night when they had a nightmare. They’ve been calm and quiet ever since! You’ve really done very well with them, Caretaker. I was worried in the beginning when they were so clingy, but it turned out fine!” CF recounted their successful days here. Only after they finished their explanation did they notice that Caretaker wasn’t as happy about it as they were.

“Wait… so where is Whumpee?”

“Like I said, they’ve been very independent. They were doing that craft or whatever it was in their room a few days ago. I assume they’ve been working on it since.” CF shrugged.

“You- you haven’t seen them for a few days?” Caretaker was horrified now.

CF noticed their face was a little paler than usual. Traveling must have taken a toll on them.

“Nope. I know you said they were a lot more independent lately. I guess you were right!”

“In their room? By… by themself?!”

“Yes? Of course. Why? Is everything- whoa!” Caretaker pushed past CF. They ran up the stairs and down the hall, realizing with horror that the hall light was off.

“Whumpee!” Caretaker called as they reached Whumpee’s door. Whumpee’s closed door.

Caretaker scolded themself as they realized calling their name like that would only scare them worse.

“Whumpee, I’m coming in! Its just me! Its Caretaker, okay?”

They didn’t hear anything from other side of the door. That didn’t calm their fears.

“Caretaker, whats going on? I’m sure they’re fine. They’re probably just sleeping or something.” Caretaker didn’t even pay attention to what CF had said.

“Whumpee? I’m coming in!”

When they opened the door, they couldn’t see anything for a moment, the darkness too impenetrable. A darkness that Whumpee was still not okay with.

They flicked on the light only to lay eyes on Whumpee.

It took both Whumpee and Caretaker a moment to process what they were seeing.

Whumpee. Oh god, Whumpee!

Whumpee, who was curled into the center of the room into a tight ball. Their wide, wet eyes poked out from their arms that were poised over their head.

Then Whumpee flung into action.

"I-I'm s-sorry! I... I'm sorry! I'm sorry for m-making you so angry, Caretaker. Please forgive me! P-please don’t leave… Don’t leave me! Don't give me away to Whumper again. Please! P-Please! I’ll- I’ll do anything!”

Caretaker watched in horror as Whumpee threw themself onto the floor at their feet. Their knees hit hard enough that Caretaker heard the audible thump and could imagine the bruises that would form. Ones that took just as long to heal when Whumpee had first been rescued.

They could see the way Whumpee cried by the shaking of their shoulders, but they didn't hear a sound from them as they held it in with their head bowed to the floor.

Bowing to them.

"Pl-please d-do-don't m-make me go i-into the p-pit, Master. Please!"

"Whumpee, no-" Caretaker wasn't sure what to say as they were thrust back to memories of when Whumpee was first rescued.

Back to when Whumpee's mind was still thoroughly in Whumper's clutches.

Whumpee was back to square one.

---

This one got away from me again. It wasn't meant to be this long but I kind of like it so here it is. Hope you enjoy!

loosely inspired by this post

A Vampire hunter Whumper who keeps the fangs of past vampire Whumpees and makes them into accessories. Whumper dipping the rest of the fangs in a fine layer of silver to create a whip.

By angrylittleghostinacup

He even tucks the thumb

oh boy

Welcome to the Fourth Reich dickheads. This is what you wanted. This is what you get.

thank god for men in suits

Other people feeling uncomfortable should not be a requirement for you to feel comfortable.

Kinda find it stupid that people deem you as a fake shifter if you weren't human in your OR

I haven't heard this in years

this crack AU is keeping me awake at night

I just want someone to hold me while I cry. Not tell me its alright or try to make it better, just hold me and kiss my hair. Let me talk about what's making me upset and wipe my tears with your thumbs and kiss my cheeks afterwards. And if I fall asleep in your arms...?

It's 2025, manifesting a boyfriend