Whumptober2022 - No.31 - Comfort

It is finally over. Everything is gonna be okay now.

Whumptober2022 - No.30 - Hair Grabbing

Use it and lose it-

(too tired today to render this one, but i wanted to draw the Castlevania AU cause I definitely did some tongue removal in that one...)

Whumptober 2022 Day 23 : At the end of their rope

Forced to Kneel | Tied to a Table | “Hold them down.”

Kyle Kindall restrained after having been caught by the antagonists he'd tried to outrun.

He'd been kept like that for two hours (before he was rescued). During that time, he probably tried to alleviate the strain on his arms, or his legs.

Relieving stress on his arms and shoulders meant increasing pressure on his knees.

Whumptober2022 - No.16 - Paralytic Drugs

when you accidentally touch something in the workshop that should not be touched

Whumptober2022 - No.11 - Self-done first aid

written for whumptober 2022, No. 8 EVERYTHING HURTS AND I’M DYING

read on ao3

warning for self harm (jaskier hits his head against a wall multiple times)

summary: Jaskier knew how to pick up after himself, he just wished he didn't have to, not always. or The bloody, broken aftermath of Voleth Meir, as experienced by a bloody, broken bard.

Something was definitely broken. 

The destroyed hall had cleared out, people leaving with barely a glance at Jaskier, slumped against a broken table which dug into his back painfully. He’d seen Geralt, Yennefer and Cirilla go out together, towards the cold, cold balcony, overlooking a blood curdling drop that Jaskier very much did not want to see ever again, so it’s not like he’d have wanted to follow anyway–

But it still hurt, the barely there glance at him, the way Geralt just… didn’t care. 

His mouth twisted bitterly, but he forged on. He needed to see the damage, needed to see if he could maybe make it to his room. So, grunting and shifting, making embarrassing noises that made him feel glad no one was here, he shifted until he managed to tug the boot off his left ankle. 

He bit the inside of his cheeks until it hurt, and slowly, tenderly, shifted the boot off his socked foot. 

He didn’t have to remove the sock to see it was definitely, horrifically, absolutely broken. It bent at an awful angle, and throbbed in pain with every heartbeat. Jaskier tasted blood in his mouth and quickly let go of the tender flesh on the inside of his cheeks, tonguing it and wincing. 

Whumptober 2022 - No.6 - Screams from across the hall

Whumptober 2022 | no. 5: Every Whumpee’s Needs

From the Brazilian series Além da Ilusão episode 166

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

Following my own prompts for #whumptober2022

Day 1: Strangulation

Inspired by this lovely Loki fic purr https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309106

Whumptober 2022 - No.4 - Hidden Injury

Following my own prompts for #whumptober2022

Day 2: ICU purr

Thank You For Fish

CW: Aftermath of torture, caretaking, glass in skin, captivity, loneliness, isolation, mer whumpee

For @whumptober 2022, day 2: cornered / caged

Signs of the Sea Masterlist, follows directly after Creeping Ambition

-

The sound of the mer’s cry echoes off the ceiling and walls, his back arching, fin slapping down against flat with a heavy smack. 

“Sssshhhh, hold still. Just a few more.”

The mer whistles and looks up to where the Bahram looms over him. The human man lays a hand on his cold shoulder, palm warm and soft compared to the mer. Brown with red and pink and beige beneath looks odd, in the mer’s eyes, much stranger than the familiar cool grayish-white of the mer’s rubbery, waterproof skin. 

“Just a few more,” The Bahram repeats, and his thumb rubs, soothing, back and forth. Laid out on the platform over the small circle of water he must live in alone, the mer closes his eyes, breathing the water-heavy air through flared nasal slits, gills flat against his neck. 

There’s a pause. “I’m sorry,” the Bahram says, voice low. 

Then sharp bright pain spikes at his left hip and he whistles, his tail twitching and jerking. “Nnnnn… nnnnnnooo, Bbhhh-rrrmmm,” He wails, forcing his lips to form the clumsy, noisy syllables around his sharp fangs, to shift his tongue in their blunt song-speak. 

“It’s okay,” The Bahram repeats, his jaw set and hard. “Just two more. Hold still for me, just two more…”

The pain suddenly rises again, a wave slamming the mer against a dry hot shore.

 "Got it!“

"Nnnnoooooooo!” The mer’s head smacks back into the platform as a glass shard is pulled out from burying itself so deep that Kima feels hot dark blood well up over the skin below his navel. “Nnnnnooooo, sssssstuh-… puh-”

“I can’t,” The Bahram says, but he pauses, lowering his head. His chin dips, and the mer opens his eyes and whimpers as he watches the saltwater dripping from the Bahram’s, running down his face like floodwaters finding the sea. “I have to clean it all up, Kima, it’s my-… my job-”

“Nnnno hurrrrt, nnnnoooo…” Kima’s voice rises to a shriek, and he jerks upwards only to have the Bahram’s strong hand lay flat on his chest to force him back into his back. “Nonono-… Nnnno, nnnno-”

“Last one,” The Bahram says, but the mer barely hears the words over his own whistling keens, and they mean nothing, only sounds. 

The last piece of glass is the worst. 

“Okay,” The Bahram says, and leans down. His forehead presses against the mer’s. His voice is a whisper even though the two of them are alone. “Share with me. Share it.”

The mer whimpers and feels the Bahram’s thoughts open to his own. Split between them, the hot throb of pain through his stomach and down his tail is lessened. Both of them breathe, and the Bahram’s breath is humid, there is water in it. 

Hurt. 

I know, I know, I’m sorry. But if I left them in, they could infect, they’d make it even worse.

Hurt, Bahram. Kima hurt. 

I know, I know… it’s over now. 

Give blood? Fish for hurt? 

The guilt and self-loathing that lances through the mer’s mind is unfamiliar and hard to read. It washes over him, riptide, steals the very air from his overworked lungs. You don’t need to give any more today, Kima. 

Fish? Fish for hurt?

The Bahram pulls back, and looks away from him. The saltwater tears mark his face again. “Yeah,” He breathes out loud, and their connection is gone. The pain overwhelms as it returns to him, and the mer whimpers, rolling onto his side, pressing a hand over one of the hurting places and pulling it back to find dark burgundy blood smears along his palm and marking the tips of his claws. 

“I’ll get the fish,” The Bahram speaks in a heavy voice, signing with hands as his mouth moves, hand flat, fingers up next to his face before he tips his fingers like a cup falling over and moves his hand forward, dropping it down to meet the other in loose shapes like the mer’s claws, closing to fists as they move back against his body. Fluidly shifting as he says ‘fish’ to make the sign Kima knows best, dropping one hand and moving the other, palm facing in, in a wave pattern swimming through air. 

“Fsssshhh,” Kima repeats, hopefully, and echoes the gesture with his bloody hand. 

The Bahram swallows hard at the sight, but nods. “Go,” He says, and signs, pointing to the tank beneath them. The mer rolls until he is off the platform, falling just a few feet before slipping easily into the water below, gills opening up as nasal slits close. 

Keep reading

Sometimes it is a slow process to leave the nightmares behind and find your way back to reality. Restraining him without being too restrictive is the best way to ensure he does not hurt himself or others in his panic and confusion.