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#whump involving a minor – @whumpthisway on Tumblr
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Here there be whump

@whumpthisway

Whump side blog, call me Loup (replies from looptheloup). 20s, they/them, let me know what to tag :) Fickle fan of many things, writes whumpy AO3 m/m fanfic under "lopingloup", interested in dark corners with occasional NSFW and gore. My profile pic is of my OC, Huck, and was made by Whumpersworld, and my background picture is also Huck, by Haro-whumps :)
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sofspook

Shipping

First drabble of the All at Sea series!! :D!

CW: Whump involving a minor (although it’s not really meant to be whump per se– being uncomfortable and dehydrated in a small box before being delivered to the door, just realistically what would happen to a box boy being shipped. Really meant as more of a storyline thing, like to start off the series at the very very beginning before he meets Keith..? idk how to cw for that lmao bear with me). Box boy universe setting (dehumanization), dehydration, small spaces, and a mention of the system of noncon that WRU runs. Implication that minor in question was apart of this system. 

The boy’s eyes were bloodshot. From inside the box, he couldn’t see them, but he knew they were because he could feel it. His eyes felt static and watery and so dry all at the same time, like staring at a really old TV from really up close for too long. He had tried to blink away the feeling, long, long ago, only a few hours before he left the facility. After that, it just hurt. Burned, like all the points that gathered the ache of being folded up so tightly and haphazardly into the box. With a sharp, dry swallow, 567267 wondered again how long he’d been stuck here, stuffed in the hot darkness of this box. And, grimly, he wondered how much longer he could really go without food. How long had it been already? He didn’t know. The thoughts only lasted briefly, and then they slipped away, and the boy was left to wonder what it was he just thought about. Thoughts did that now, slipped away. He couldn’t hold onto them long enough to make them stay. Weakly, he shifted his head to rest on another side of the box. And, really, he wasn’t all that sure which side of the box it really was. The top, or the bottom? One of the sides? All sense of direction had somewhere along the lines been taken, pried away from his shaking hands, after all the shifting and jostling and moving and everything else that came with shipping to a new place. And it’s a feeling 567267 was quite used to.

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