@augusnippets Day 6

@augusnippets day 6

car accident/ plane crash/ ship wreck

Potentially triggering and graphic description of a car crash, ambiguous whether Whumpee survives

°

Caretaker drove down the highway on his way back from picking Whumpee up. The other man sat beside him, singing along to the catchy pop songs on the radio.

The highway wasn't busy by any means, and Caretaker let himself climb over the speed limit.

55 miles an hour. 60, 65, 70.

His headlights were bright— he could easily see anything that popped onto the road.

He continued on, humming along and tapping the wheel on beat.

A car in the other lane was made visible by the headlights. Right as it was about to pass by Caretaker's vehicle, a deer popped out into the open road.

It all happened so fast. The other car took a sharp left, cutting into Caretaker's lane. Caretaker turned to his left, trying to avoid a head-on collision.

One moment, Whumpee was singing along cheerfully to terrible pop music. The next, the right side of the car was crumpled, taking the brunt of the crash. Caretaker was alright— shocked and a little bruised up, but— oh God, was Whumpee breathing?

Caretaker shouted for help, avoiding looking at the mess in the passenger seat. He sobbed and tried to get out, finding his dashboard had been shoved in and trapped his leg. He hadn't felt it before, but fuck, it was starting to hurt. He grabbed his phone, calling the police. As soon as a dispatcher picked up, Caretaker began blabbering into his microphone.

"Send somebody, please! T- there's been a car crash on the highway between City X and City Y, and I don't know if Whumpee is alive and i don't wanna look, and‐ and i don't know how bad the other driver is, and I'm trapped and— please, get here and save Whumpee!"

The dispatcher attempted to calm him down, assuring that police and paramedics were on their way. Caretaker hung up, putting his phone down.

Still without looking, Caretaker reached his hand out to touch Whumpee's skin. It was warm and wet, and Caretaker held in a sob. "Whumpee..? Whumpee, come on, say something. Tell me you're alright." Caretaker bit his lip, fighting more tears. "Come on, don't make me look... I don't— please!"

Caretaker felt up the limb— an arm, he assumed— and tried to touch Whumpee's neck to check a pulse. He felt something solid embedded in the flesh, pulling back with a high-pitched wail. "No! Please!"

Sirens were audible in the distance, and Caretaker soon saw the emergency vehicles arrive. The paramedics hurried over in pairs of two to each side of each vehicle, pulling the doors open. Caretaker was checked over and pulled free from the vehicle.

The medics on Whumpee's side went back to their ambulance and came back with a stretcher, preparing it and starting to try and get the door open.

"Is he okay?" Caretaker asked the medics, stepping back towards the car. Gloved hands grabbed his shoulders, attempting to hold him back. "Is Whumpee okay?"

He was met with silence, so he pushed past the paramedics and to the car, looking in the window.

Whumpee was barely recognizable. He was covered in blood, his body slumped. Glass stuck out from his flesh in various places, and his right arm was nearly detatched.

Caretaker let out a howl of distress, screaming Whumpee's name as the medics pulled him back. "No! Whumpee!"

Caretaker crumpled, stricken with horror and grief. He clutched his head in his hands, flooded with anguish.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..."

oh noo haha what a coincidence akia hahaha

if you see this ur tagged >:)

Want to be whump characters with me?

Do this quiz. (Since some of the possibilities are not-so-nice, if you don’t jibe with your initial result, you’re welcome to retake it, I don’t care.)

Do this picrew, based on both your actual self and your role from the quiz

Tag people, or make it an open tag (or both)!

Open tag, anyone can join!

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)

Siwhumodhsprr

im not very good at this huh

type prevs url with your eyes closed in the tags

Prompts are out!

plain text and "rules" under the cut

path of hurt:

day 1: gaslighting/hypnosis/brainwashing

day 4: amputation/degloving/vivisection

day 7: waterboarding/drowning/choking

day 10: execution/fake execution/begging for mercy

day 13: drugging/poisoning/cannibalism

day 16: humiliation/dehumanisation/conditioning

day 19: collared/branded/chipped

day 22: captivity/recapture/tearful goodbye

day 25: intimate whumper/sadistic whumper/reluctant whumper

day 28: mind control/body control/betrayal

bonus prompts: forced to watch/whipping/stalked

path of comfort:

day 2: platonic bathing/hair care/make-up

day 5: drunk caretaking/concussed caretaking/feverish caretaking

day 8: reunion/found family/friends

day 11: escape/breaking the conditioning/safe and sound

day 14: toys/gifts/celebration

day 17: forgiveness/grace/resolving a misunderstanding

day 20: homemade meal/quenched thirst/favourite treat

day 23: massage/wiping away tears/gentle touch

day 26: nightmare/warm blanket/snuggling

day 29: singing/first words/inside jokes

bonus prompts: tending to nonhuman whumpee's nonhuman parts/protective caretaker/whumpee wearing caretaker's clothes

secret third path — whumperless whump:

day 3: thunderstorm/blizzard/heat wave

day 6: car accident/plane crash/ship wreck

day 9: hypothermia/overheating/dehydration

day 12: lost/trapped/avalanche

day 15: food poisoning/starvation/throwing up

day 18: apocalypse/infection/self administered medicine

day 21: delirium/vertigo/hallucinations

day 24: animal attack/bear trap/land mine

day 27: migraines/chronic pain/phantom pains

day 30: self-harm/addiction/overdose

bonus prompts: flashbacks/relapse/medical complications

day 31 — bonus day :) write whatever you feel like writing today or have a nice day of rest

AuguSnippets is an event that encourages the short and sweet of the whump genre. Ideally, your drabbles would be under 500 or even under 100 words, maybe even just a dialogue prompt. This, however, does not mean I won't reblog longer prompt fills! Don't stress too much on that limit. I just think it's sometimes nice to challenge yourself to write shorter drabbles, and it can also work as a very good exercise to write daily or semi-daily, and it doesn't need a lot of prep.

As for tagging your work, please use the appropriate trigger warnings. This is so everyone can stay safe and avoid potentially triggering topics while participating. Also, if your work is nsfw, please don't forget to tag it as mature content! If your work is not tagged properly, I won't be able to reblog it! Thank you!

Our special tag will be "#augusnippets day [x]". On the first day that would be "#augusnippets day 1". This is so I and others can find your work easier! You can also tag the blog, that's an even more surefire way to get me to notice your prompt fill :)

Is this a writing only event?

Yeah, this one is exclusively writing focused.

Do I have to use the special tag or tag this blog?

Not if you don't want to get featured on this blog :) It's just so I can find your work easier and reblog it here! If that's not something you're interested in, just scribble away without it.

Is the "under 500" a hard limit for the word count?

No, but I encourage everyone to try and keep to it in the spirit of this event.

Can I submit nsfw works?

Yes! Just please tag it properly :)

Can I mix and match the prompts from different paths?

Yes! Have fun!

What do I need to do to get the completionist badge?

Either you need to complete one whole path, or complete 10 prompt fills altogether while mixing and matching. Those who complete all 30 days (and maybe even the bonus day) will get something extra special!

Can I write fandom related things?

Yes! This event is both for original characters and fandom related writing.

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.