Siwhumodhsprr

Siwhumodhsprr

im not very good at this huh

type prevs url with your eyes closed in the tags

guys, i am genuinely sorry for not working on your guys' art i owe, i had so much motivation, but i lost it all after working on a couple 😭😭 i will get to them eventually

Augusnippets day 1

Gaslighting/Brainwashing/Hypnosis

Content– gaslighting, pet whump, police, hospital.

Whumpee awoke in the night to the sound of sirens. He jumped up, scrambling to the window and looking out. Red and blue lights dazed him, and he pulled away, covering his eyes. The sounds of car doors slamming shut sent him into a frantic kind of panic, and he ran for Whumper's bedroom.

"Sir!" he cried, grabbing the hand that hung off the side. "Sir, wake up! There's sirens, a- and there's lights, and people are here—"

Whumper sat up, sucking in a breath. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing Whumpee's cheeks. His voice was serious, with a hint of panic creeping through, "Whumpee. The cops are here for me. They are going to take you away from me," Whumper explained, running his right hand through his trembling pet's hair. "I need you to listen. They will try to lie to you, try and fill your head with their words, and convince you I'm a bad guy so that they can send me to jail. You can NOT, under any circumstance, let them get to you, do you understand?"

Whumpee began to tear up, shaking his head frantically. "No, no, why? Why are they taking me?" he cried, grabbing at Whumper's sleeves. "Did I do something bad?"

"No, dear. They— they don't... approve of relationships like ours, see? They'll tell you that I kidnapped you, that I abused you. This is not true. Do you understand me, Whumpee?" Whumper grew more serious.

"What? No, you- you saved me! You trained me to be good! You aren't a kidnapper!" Whumpee blubbered, flinching as hard knocks sounded on the front door. "No, I can't—" he choked on his own words, interrupted by Whumper's steady voice.

"Do you understand, Whumpee?"

Whumpee nodded tearfully, hiding his head between Whumper's knees. He only looked back up when something bumped against his head. He looked up to see his stuffed bunny, which Whumper handed down to him.

There was a bang as the door was knocked down, and footsteps thundered into the house. Whumpee squealed as cops filled the room, guns aimed at Whumper. He ducked down when they began to bark commands, clutching his bunny as he cried.

The cops grabbed Whumper, cuffing him and dragging him away. Whumpee couldn't help but sit up, crying out, "Whumper!"

Two more cops crouched down to grab Whumpee, scooping him up and bringing him towards the door.

As he was brought outside for the first time in years, Whumpee searched frantically for his owner. He caught a glimpse of his face through the barred windows of the cop car's backseat and called out again, only to be hurried into an ambulance.

Whumpee was dimly aware of his bunny being pulled off his chest, of gloved hands easing him onto the stretcher, of machines beeping around him. He seemed to blink, and all of a sudden, he was in a hospital bed with IVs in his arms and his precious bunny at his side again.

A doctor was talking to him, probably— he could see lips moving, but in the haze of the situation, he heard only noises, not words. Whumpee was only thinking about his owner, his poor, poor Whumper in trouble all because of him. Whumpee could only clutch his bunny and cry, inhaling the remnants of Whumper's scent on its dingy fur.

Destroyer

(Masterlist)

It was the first sunny day of the season and they had spent it out over the water. By the morning light, the sea was blinding. Each steel gray battleship reflected the White Sun’s rays right into the cockpit. The aircraft, small and inconspicuous, hovered above the enemy fleet like a nervous fairy. It was no weapon of war. The shipmen down below took notice and little green lines of inquiry began to flash upon the craft’s receiver. 

The pilot tilted the screen down and positioned the craft a good mile away from the north-most ship. A reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, a finger pointed in the right direction, and then the unbearable cacophony of steel rendering.

The sea rushed in to fill the gap, causing massive waves to rock the once-still ocean. Where the SS Iselin had been only seconds prior, there now sat a deformed metal mass no larger than the length of a truck. The surrounding water filled with a reddish color, blood and oil escaping the same clutch. As the radio went wild between the remaining fleet ships, the broken body of the Iselin sunk quietly beneath the waves. There were no survivors. Delta had been twelve.

The hovercraft took him back to dry land. The Emperor, the only person the show had ever really been for, stood up to shake the hands of the pilot, of the scientists, and of his Admiral who had pushed so hard for the demonstration. The Emperor lowered himself to speak to Delta, the way you might any child, and saw the tremors all through his body, the cold sweat of convulsions. The Emperor wiped Delta’s hair from his face and said no more.

He was returned to his own quarters back at the institute. The nurse had to hold up one side of him just to make it down the hall. He kept it together as he’d been taught to while in company, but back in his own territory he could no longer suppress the nausea. He spent most of the night on the cold tile floor of his bathroom, as the doctors and the scientists buzzed around taking vitals and hooking him up to strange machines.

By the next week, the deal was done. The royal guards had been sent to collect him. All that he owned could fit into one suitcase, which the director had packed for him personally. The director had also picked who would be leaving with him as a charge - one physician, one scientist. Dr.Martino’s grip tightened harshly on his neck whenever he fidgeted too much. Dr.Yanna had a bad drinking habit. Delta was not happy about these choices, even from the most remote corner of his mind. But he had learned to tolerate both of them at the institute and could appreciate the familiarity. He wasn’t scared of the guards. He kept his head down until they arrived at the palace - and long after that too.

It had presented an interesting but not unprecedented engineering problem, finding out where to keep him. In the past week, they had built the basement up with the same dense psychic insulation that the institute had perfected. Delta had five hundred square feet of space, at the time sparsely furnished. His vague hope was that while in the isolated chamber, they would remove the dampening collar from around his neck. But they left him there with no mention of it. He thought back to the wreckage of the Iselin and realized it was unlikely the collar would ever come off again. He rubbed at the raw skin idly, leaning against the new bed frame. The space was larger than his old room had been, but he had not gotten up to explore it. He sensed that the guards would not like to open up the chamber doors and find him anywhere they had not left him. It was the inclination of many third parties to treat the psionics like machinery - and to be disconcerted by anything that contracted this. Besides that, he knew they were scared of him. As isolated as he had been, even in such ascetic surroundings, he could read fear. It radiated off all of them now.

(Part II)

i love you pubes i love you stomach hair i love you unshaven pits i love you happy trails i love you coarse leg hair i love you untrimmed bushes. i love you body hair