isntthisblank - Tumblr blog

isntthisblank · 2 days

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A look at what a BBU Tumblr dashboard might look like!

@bbu-on-the-side

CWs: BBU, pet whump, dehumanisation, everything that comes with that

🐢 turtleonhigh

As you start contemplating gifts for your loved ones, remember guys, a pet is for life, not just for Christmas! If you've never had a pet before, Domestics or Platonics are the best starter pets, but make sure to do your research thoroughly to keep your pet happy and healthy. Additionally, adopt, don't shop! There are so many pets desperately in need of loving homes. If you're insistent on purchasing from a supplier such as WRU rather than a shelter, choose refurbished. Give a pet the second chance they deserve!

🌟 thetruthinourstars

In Liberation this month: The shocking truth of WRU training away from prying eyes

🥸 bookworm420

https://www.liberation.com/20240423457899

(again. A year and a half after the first article and they're still having to expose it because no-one will listen...)

Oh come on, OP, everyone knows that's bullshit, spread by pet lib manipulators. Everyone: this is what bad actors look like!

🦀 just-a-crab

Sources?

#and before anyone leaps on me #i mean both of you #a reminder to always check where informations coming from

🍵 tea-and-pets

If prev was a pet, what would you give them as a little treat?

🐳 awhaleofatime

You guys are sick and perverted fuckers, I hope you know that

🌵 prickle

You're in the minority there mate

https://www.yougov.co.uk/topics/lifestyle/explore/HumanPets

🐳 awhaleofatime

🌞 sunshinestarlight

Stfu and let people have their fun, dude

#if you have nothing nice to say don't say anything at all #pet love #srsly dude leave us alone #polls

🐭 mouseandsammy

Sammy just adores his new outfit! Look at him go!

🌞 sunshinestarlight

❤️

🪶 fansofafeather

Ew, why am I getting WRU adverts on my dash constantly? Do I look like someone who would buy a pet to you?

🦴

Yes

🪶 fansofafeather

This was originally just a vent, but since you asked so nicely...

Does it help? Does it really?

Sources:

Stats show that 42% of vulnerable young people surveyed are scared of being picked up by WRU. Furthermore, spending on welfare in the UK has decreased by 26% over the past ten years, with ministers even saying that those who need help should become pets and go where they're wanted, where their "place" is. Vulnerable people need help, not encouragement to sign their lives away, and the pet industry isn't helping with that (even if you say that it isn't WRU's fault for merely existing, their adverts aren't glowing examples of a non-manipulative company).

I could go into way more detail, about the manipulation and propaganda, and what's been associated with them over the years, the politicians in their pockets holding up legislation that would hinder sign-ups, not to mention that this is actual, literal slavery, but I'll leave it here for now. If you're actually bothered you can ask, but I get the feeling you're not anyway.

How do you see your future? | YouGov

How do you feel about the alleged forced sign-ups by WRU and similar companies? | Liberation

Fact-check: Has welfare spending increased? | BBC Verify

Secretary for Work and Pensions overheard suggesting that welfare recipients "go where they're wanted" and become pets | The Guardian

WRU adverts 2000-2024 | National Archives

👯 pet-love

Callout post

Be aware. User @/sam-the-multifandom is an active member of the pet lib community, who has engaged in targeted harassment of pet owners and supporters. Evidence is in their top posts. Block and report, and spread the word to other members of the community so we can stamp out this disgusting behaviour.

👁️ eyesonthewall

Oh ffs OP. This is your evidence? Seriously? Stop lying and go back to the hole you crawled out of.

💗 nolongeracult

Proving OP's point right there. I'm former pet lib, and I can honestly say it's the most toxic community I've ever been a part of.

🍰 twopets-twocakes

Even more than the Star Wars fandom? 😝

💗 nolongeracult

YES

#pet love #their choice #petlib is toxic #love your pet #pet for life

#delicious #thank you op

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isntthisblank · 2 days

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isntthisblank · 3 days

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The Subject Part 4

Here it is… Hope you enjoy :)

CW: Pet Whump, Medical Whump, Hospital Setting, fear of punishment, character with stutter, this one is pretty chill.

Rory Friedman Memorial Recovery Center Findings and Observations from Initial Examination of B127 Dr. Chase Brenner, MD, Ph.D.

My initial examination of B127 revealed evidence of long-term abuse while he was kept at Hemlock Labs. While his condition remains stable, and I’m optimistic about the chances of recovery, the abuse he received was substantial. B127 had several dissection scars that were built up in layers, suggesting that dissection and operation-like procedures were carried out repeatedly. His ribs appeared to be bruised and/or broken from repeated surgical trauma. He will need to receive scans to search for any internal injuries or malformations caused by their experiments.

About an inch down from the edge of his rib cage was an obviously infected cut about four inches long. Five stitches were placed in the wound, though they were pulled too tight, and several of them had ripped. Questions answered by the patient revealed that the apparent purpose of the incision was to access his stomach to “see if it had been healed properly.” I administered pain medication via an IV, and cleaned, restitched, and dressed the wound. We will need to monitor his GI tract closely for signs of disruption.

The patient appears to have undergone a more rigorous mental conditioning course than most. While the vocal cords were not severed, he did not talk until I prompted him to, and his voice was hoarse and scratchy. I’m worried he might start to develop a stutter. I believe that he hasn’t talked in at least a year, though longer is probably more likely. He didn’t wiggle, squirm, whimper, or cry while on the exam table, a common reaction from most patients. He was confused as to why he was being given pain medication when I was restitching his wound and stated that “It is trained not to feel pain. You don’t need to waste them on it.” Notably not referring to himself in the rst person. This leads me to believe that the surgical trauma B127 experienced was without anesthesia or any form of pain control at all. He is also malnourished and dehydrated and will need nutritional support in the coming months.

I think I will be able to introduce him to the rest of the ward in a day or so, though the presence of internal injuries might complicate the socialization process. We will need to enlist a physical therapist, to readjust him to walking, and we might need to consult a speech therapist if speaking diculties develop. However, I am optimistic about B127’s chances of success.

***************************

B127 had never been so comfortable before. After the strange doctor had examined him-with pain meds-which was weird enough on its own, but even weirder because Dr. Brenner had barely done anything. The doctor had just cleaned and bandaged-actually bandaged-his wound, then put him in a wheelchair and pushed him into another room. He had offered to crawl, like Dr. Glassener would have had him, but Dr. Brenner had insisted that he be in the chair. Dr. Brenner had wheeled him into a room called a bedroom. It was dark but warm, with a bed pushed up against the wall, surrounded by monitors. The floor was a warm wood, and several paintings of landscapes hung on the wall. The doctor then slowly scooped him up and set him gently on the bed. B127 had never felt something like it before, at least not that he remembered. The mattress was so soft it felt like he was laying on a cloud, and the sheets weren’t itchy or scratchy. Before he could stop himself, he was curled up in the warm blanket, face pressed against the smooth sheets. It was a heavenly sensation, so far away from the cold cage with a hard floor. Dr. Brenner didn’t seem surprised by B127’s reaction, letting him burrow in the covers for a moment before gently tapping on his shoulder. “Hey, B127?” He froze up in fear at the touch, straightening himself out to lie at, his muscles relaxing unnaturally. The doctor tried to hide the anger that ared inside him. The boy thought he was going to be hurt. Because he was comfortable. “It…It is s…sorry, Doctor.” He stuttered, fear shaking his body.

“Hey, look at me.” B127 eyes jarred upwarps. “I’m not going to hurt you, hon.” He held up a little button on the side of his bed. “This is called a call button, okay?” The subject nodded. “While you sleep, if something starts to hurt, if you are thirsty, or if you need anything, it will summon a nurse. Her name is Alica. She’s very nice, she won’t hurt you. Do you understand?”

“Y…yes, doctor,” B127 said, voice still a monotone.

“Hey, let’s get you back under the covers.” Dr. Brenner said as he slowly placed them down on top of the subject. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable. Try and get some sleep tonight, okay? And if anything starts to hurt, please use the call button. No one is going to hurt you, B127. You’re safe.”

B127 wished he could believe it.

Tag list (can you believe I have one of these?): @stabby-nunchucks

@rainbows-and-whumperflies @pigeonwhumps @suffering-and-misery

@wolfeyedwitch

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isntthisblank · 3 days

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{Nondescript Murder Mention}

Serial Killer broke into Whumper's house and killed them. After snooping around a bit they stumble upon Whumpee. Bloody, broken, and locked up.

They wouldn't kill a defenseless, hurt person like Whumpee, that'd be "unfair". That's not fun. There's no thrill.

Still, they also can't let them go, Whumpee could tell the police.

Time to figure out what to do with this unplanned person.

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isntthisblank · 3 days

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Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master. Good trope, right? But check this out;

Caretaker doesn't notice.

Because the morning after the day they were rescued, all Whumpee did was get Caretaker a cup of coffee. It was only after then that Whumpee realized new master new rules, and Caretaker might not like coffee at all. So after an hour or so of a panic attack, Whumpee decides to stay put and not do anything.

But Caretaker didn't say anything about that coffee, so Whumpee should probably keep doing that?

And so, every morning, Caretaker gets a cup of coffee, says thank you, that's a nice gesture, and gets done with the day, while Whumpee tries to stay as quiet and unnoticed as possible. Not angering Caretaker is their top priority. Caretaker notices Whumpee is really, really quiet, but hey, they might just like it quiet. They do seem a little scared, but they've been putting off well, so Caretaker is positive that they'll get better with time.

Then Caretaker hears Whumper liked a cup of coffee every morning.

That's.. a strange coincidence.

I hope that's a coincidence.

And they finally try to talk to Whumpee about it, and Whumpee breaks into tears and Caretaker realizes what a mess this is,

#did i reblog this already?#oh well

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isntthisblank · 3 days

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Wow Birthday Whump Day 13: Natural disaster / Shock collar / "Shut up!"

*sighs in Immortal ALS* This was fun, though it did get kinda long. Hope y’all enjoy!

Related to Day 4

Content: floods, pretty detailed medical whump, gore (descriptions of serious injuries and dead* bodies), immortal whumpee, implied past abuse, briefly mentioned finger gore, fear of punishment, caretaker new whumper, medicinal drug use, feelings of suffocation

The stairs creaked under Joseph’s feet as he descended, and he hoped they wouldn’t give out. He could smell the awfulness from the top of them. Whatever the floodwater had washed in absolutely reeked.

It hadn’t all drained out yet. Several inches of murky water shimmered in the light from his headlamp. It sloshed as he stepped down into it, wrinkling his nose at the smell. This was going to be hell to clean out of his uniform. Once he was off the stairs, Eric came down behind him. He looked a little green faced at the pungent aroma, but they continued into the pitch-black basement nonetheless.

Joseph led the way, headlamp only illuminating one small portion of wall at a time. The stench grew stronger as they walked, and it was only a matter of time before they finally found the cause.

There was a body.

They were slumped against the wall, one hand shackled on a short chain. Their head was squarely below the line of grime on the wall that marked the crest of the water. Blood swirled around them, oozing from the open wound across their belly. Several loops of bowel were hanging out, and they were starting to turn a blackish-green color. Their unrestrained arm was puffy and swollen, and their clavicle protruded from their shoulder, stained a muddy color from the water. It was a horrible scene.

Joseph’s stomach dropped as he approached them. Despite the gray skin and blue tinge to their lips, they looked so young. Who the fuck had Darkstar been keeping in his basement?

He reached his hand out, sliding it under their jaw. As he expected, there was nothing there, just the sensation of cold skin. For another brief second, he stared down at their face, mouth unable to form the words to call in the report.

And, suddenly, there were two big, amber eyes staring up at him.

He did a double take, blinking a little in surprise. The eyes flickered wildly around the room before settling on him. This was real. They were alive.

“Unshakable,” he called, squatting down into the water while he removed his pack, and Eric quickly wheeled around, confused. “They’re immortal.”

His eyes flashed with understanding. “I'll call it in.”

“Can you cut them loose?” He pulled a pair of gloves on.

“On it.” He reached behind to grab his bolt cutters while he requested an ambulance.

His hands worked quickly as he wetted a pad and placed it up against their abdomen. “I’m Exhale, and this is Unshakable. We work for INSUPA. We’re going to help you.”

Their eyes widened at that, but they gave no other response. With a loud chink, the chain snapped, and their arm dropped like a ragdoll. A little splash went up as it hit the water. Once their wound was dressed, his hand flittered higher, feeling for a pulse again, and watching their breathing.

Both were entirely absent. Great.

He looked up to Eric. “We need to get them upstairs.”

*** Someone was touching them.

Nova could feel someone’s finger pressing under their jaw, pulling them back to consciousness. They tried to fight it, begging their body to descend back into nothingness, but they were unable to. Slowly, their eyelids slid open, and the awful sensation of their existence returned.

There was a crushing weight on their chest, and it felt still and empty and wrong. Panic surged through them as they were reminded that they couldn’t breathe. Something was lodged in their throat, suffocating them, and they couldn’t do anything to get it out and- A cool, wet bandage pressed against their belly. Right. There was a person here. People? Maybe.

Their eyes flickered downwards. He was saying something to them. They should be listening, shouldn’t they?

“…Exhale….We….INSUPA…..going to….”

No. No no no. Darkstar was too late. They’d been captured. Fuck. And Exhale. The name was familiar but they couldn’t place quite where…

Oh. Oh no.

That was why he was here, looking for them in this half-flooded basement. Revenge.

It didn’t matter, though. Their body was still dead and it wouldn’t move or respond or do anything. He was going to do as he pleased. Did it really matter? Was Darkstar any different?

They still couldn’t breathe. They wanted to breathe. Why wasn’t it working?

Suddenly, the chain pinning their arm to the wall was cut and their arm flopped down into the water. They glanced over and found another person standing by them. He was holding some sort of long handled tool.

Please, please no. They couldn’t speak to beg for mercy, but maybe the pleading look would work. Darkstar liked to lop off their fingers when they’d been bad. Hopefully Exhale wasn’t the same. Or, maybe he would wait until they healed? Did it matter?

It wasn’t like he wasn’t justified.

They’d tortured him, because Darkstar had asked them too, and they really didn’t have any integrity, did they? And they’d failed Nebula, and Darkstar had kicked them out, and they’d failed everyone and hurt so many people and it was all for nothing.

It would be hard for them to argue that they didn't deserve this.

Suddenly, hands seized them, hosting them up out of the water. They tried to gasp in surprise but they couldn’t.

They just wanted to breathe.

The movement was agonizing, pulling at their injuries and sending waves of pain rolling through them. Neither of the heroes touched their shoulder at all, steering clear of the limb entirely. It was odd.

Exhale started to ascend the stairs, light slowly growing brighter as they neared the top. The fabric of his uniform was grating against their skin as he walked through the safehouse’s hallways, each step jostling their body.

Stupidly, they tried to breathe again. It didn’t work, their lungs still empty of air and the choking, suffocating sensation still stuck in their throat.

The cold air stung as Exhale carried them out the door, laying them down on the pavement. Not dropping. Laying.

He dropped his bag down next to them, and the hero they didn’t recognize took up a spot by their head. His lips moved, and he was obviously trying to tell them something, but they couldn’t hear it. Everything was a blur.

Two fingers slid under their jaw again, and he bent down low, his cheek right by their unbreathing mouth. It stayed there for what felt like a small eternity, and he straightened up, locked his fingers together, leaned over them, and pushed.

Their eyes went wide as his hands came down in their chest. He was crushing them, pushing their sternum down again and again and again. They wanted to fight him away, but their limbs still weren’t cooperating and their chest felt empty and they couldn’t breathe.

While Exhale beat into them, they could feel the hero working behind them. There was the ghost of something against their cheek, and then something invaded their nostril. They could feel the slime coated tube slithering down the back of their throat, eventually coming to a stop.

Exhale’s hands finally let up, and he leaned back on his heels. They didn’t get a break, though. Immediately, their head was yanked back and a piece of thick plastic clamped over their mouth and nose. Air was forced into their lungs, but it didn’t feel like enough.

The mask fell to the side and Exhale was back on them, pumping their chest. It hurt. They almost wished for Darkstar’s loppers.

There was an incessant drone in their ears, loud and screeching, and they were finally able to place it as sirens. An ambulance was charging down the road, lights visible out of the corner of their eye.

Exhale pulled away from their chest again, and air was pushed into their lungs. He leaned over them, ready to start, and they strained to stop him. All they could manage was a dull twitch of their hand.

He went back to pushing down on their chest, slamming his weight into them relentlessly. In the far field of their vision, they were able to see several more people approaching, laden with many bags. That couldn’t be a good sign.

They swarmed around them, voices swirling while they exchanged information. Exhale tilted back and the mask descended over their face again. They tried to resist, straining to breathe on their own, but they couldn’t do it.

Once more, he brought his hands down repeatedly, slamming his body weight into them repeatedly. More hands worked around him, a pair sticking things to their chest while another tugged at their wrist. The touch was overwhelming, and they tried to get their limbs to cooperate.

This time, though, was more successful than the first.

They raised an arm at Exhale’s body, weakly trying to fend him off. They noticed that their wrist was a little less swollen as they slapped it against his side. It probably wouldn’t end well, but they needed him to stop, even if it was just for a moment.

“Rhythm check!” someone called out.

Surprisingly, his hands pulled away, and everyone’s eyes turned towards something they couldn’t see. Two fingers came to rest under their jaw.

“Back in sinus.” Was that good? “Still not breathing.”

They tried to pull a breath in, but they still couldn’t, their lungs refusing to pull in air. The hero quickly brought the mask back down over their face, his fingers pressing up against their chin.

Exhale looked down at them. His face was calm, almost thoughtful, not angry. Why? He’d just beat their chest into pieces. He was supposed to hate them.

“We’re going to move you up onto the stretcher now,” he said, voice far too gentle. “I know it's scary, but we’re going to take care of you.”

They couldn’t detect any malice in the statement, but they also couldn’t bring themselves to believe it. He had to be lying, right? He had to be.

The people around them shifted positions, and then, on the count of three, they were lifted into the air and quickly deposited on the stretcher. It was agonizing, their legs jerking and kicking on instinct.

“Stay still for us,” Exhale said. “I know it hurts, let us help.”

They were quickly loaded onto the ambulance. It was the warmest they could remember being. Exhale disappeared from their vision, but the other hero stayed by their head, keeping the mask on their face, steadily pushing air in and out. They were hungry for it. Every pause felt like an eternity.

One of the medics was messing with their arm again. They could feel a tight band around it, the ends ticking their bicep. The other was clipping something to their finger and covering their legs with a blanket.

“Sharp scratch,” a voice said, and then something burrowed into the crook of their elbow. Several seconds later, a rush of cool washed up their arm.

Exhale reappeared. “You got access?” He sounded surprised. There was a pause, presumably for a response they couldn’t make out, and then he turned away.

“We’re going to get you something for the pain now,” the medic said. They nodded weakly, still unable to speak. Another chilling wave rolled up their arm. Exhale kept breathing for them, and try as they might to resist, they couldn’t do it. It just wouldn’t work. He looked away from their face, eyes flickering over to the monitor and back down to them. What was he going to do?

There was a brief discussion that they couldn’t follow, and then he bent down to speak with them. “Hey, you with me?” he asked. They blinked in response, tears welling in their eyes for some reason. “Good. We’re concerned about your breathing, so we’re going to put you to sleep so that we can breathe for you. It’ll be more comfortable for you, yeah.”

His voice was calm, but it struck horror in them nonetheless. Darkstar had threatened them with this before, reminding them that the drugs wouldn’t work. But they couldn’t talk, beholden to the hero moving air in and out of their lungs.

People were shifting around them, preparing for something. The painkillers were starting to dull the agony. Even though everything still hurt, it was further away. Exhale swapped out for the other hero, still squeezing the bag in time. They half expected him to stop, forcing them to feel the crushing sensation of suffocation.

He didn’t though, his face still free of any malice. It had to be fake, considering the awfulnes they knew was coming.

There were two more consecutive rushes of cold. “Ket’s in,” somebody said.

Exhale looked down at them. “You might start feelin’ pretty tired soon, and that’s okay.”

They waited, but nothing happened. He didn’t seem too shocked by this, and he told the medic to push more.

It took a moment, but eventually they felt their eyelids start to grow heavy. Were the drugs working? They hoped they were. Please. Please.

Exhale’s face hanging above them was the last thing they saw before everything went black.

*** It took nearly a double dose of ketamine to get them out, but their eyes finally slid closed. The look on their face was strangely peaceful as he instructed the paramedic to push the roc. That one took a less dramatic amount to work, but it still irked him a little. After a minute had passed, the BVM was removed, and he began.

Using his right hand, he scissored their mouth open, then went in with the laryngoscope. He moved past their teeth and pushed their tongue away, descending further into their throat. It was coated with secretions, thick and slimy and a little bloody. “Suction,” he called out.

The tool was placed in his hand, and he quickly swept it back and forth across their mouth, vacuuming the goop away. It revealed their vocal cords, still and unmoving. “Bougie, please.” He kept his eyes on their glottis as it was passed to him.

He threaded it into their mouth and down their throat, feeling it click as it moved past the rings of their trachea. Once he felt the bougie stop, he asked for his tube. He’d just gotten it past their teeth when their face jerked.

Oh fuck.

They slowly pulled their eyes open, and it was obvious they were immediately aware of what was happening. “They’ve regained consciousness, I need another dose of ket in.”

He kept sliding the tube down as their eyes flitted around frantically, eyes watering. “We’re going to get you to sleep again.” Tears started to flow down their cheeks as he pulled the bougie out. “I know, I know, but I have to.”

They were obviously terrified, eyes wide and begging for relief. “Ket’s in.”

“Good.” He inated the balloon, then attached them to the ventilator while the paramedic used tape to secure the tube. “We’ve got the medicine in now. I know it's scary, but you’ll be asleep soon.”

Slowly, it started to work, and their eyes slid closed once more. They pushed another dose of roc, since they’d eaten through that too. Immortals were always hell to keep out, and this one wasn’t going to be any different.

Once they knew it was placed correctly, they got off to the hospital. Everything else that needed to happen could be done en route. They were eating through meds at a ridiculous rate, but the procedure had done its job, and their vitals were less awful.

They looked less dead now, somehow, and as he studied their face, looking for any signs of consciousness, it hit him. He knew them.

That was Darkstar’s sidekick.

That was Nova.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump@painful-pooch@snaillamp @rainbowsandwhumperflies @whumperofworlds

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isntthisblank · 3 days

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Tell me why i’ve been ob-fucking-sessed with this one series on Ao3 and just fucking now now found out that there are more than ~25 works

I am livid that i didn’t find out about this sooner but also this is amazing and i’m overjoyed

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isntthisblank · 4 days

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One of my favorite tropes has got to be a sick villain waking up on the hero's couch, initially calm with the knowledge they're comfortable and being looked after, until they try and move and find their hands cuffed above them

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isntthisblank · 4 days

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parasite whump !

this one may get a little intense so bear with me

but ough parasites are so good and also i think underutilized. very big fan of worms but other types of bugs are good too.

just the.. whumper threatening whumpee with it, to varying degrees of effect, from "holy shit they're not fucking around i better obey" to "ummm cool whatever but it could never happen to me" <- clueless

and then they bring it out and possibly scares the shit out of whumpee even more, bonus points if whumpee already hates bugs, and whumper is just revelling in their distress

and then.. the horror of it entering.. can be thru the mouth or skin or ears whatever.. personally a big fan of into the torso.. or even dropped into an open wound.. whumpee straining against their bonds, panicking and screaming

and then having to live with the wound (hurts real bad) and the knowledge that somewhere inside them is another creature who is inside and beneath the skin and burrowing around in there and won't even do whumpee the mercy of killing them, just vibing and eating away at them.. bonus points for weird stuff like the parasite lays eggs in there or it's magic and saps away at their strength they can feel it moving around. that's the good shit!!

have fun :3

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isntthisblank · 6 days

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misunderstandings in other genres: 0/10, boring

misunderstandings in whump: 10000/10, perfect, wonderful, best trope

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isntthisblank · 8 days

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70 minutes drawing theme eyeball-Ⅱ

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isntthisblank · 8 days

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Laid out an article by @cowboy-anon written for @octopus-reactivated 's Pet Paper (which I love. Both the article and the magazine, I adore the whole idea of it). Original article available here.

@bbu-on-the-side

#that’s so cuteee #i love it #where can i get the rest of the journal

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isntthisblank · 8 days

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drabble request: whumpee who doesn't know that their life isn't normal, because it's the only thing they've ever had. Maybe they were born into it or taken at such a young age that they don't remember but either way to them it's perfectly normal. Like they'd tell you in the most regular measured voice Well sure i don't deserve food unless I do good, I'm an object that's how it works. Of course they hurt me, how else am I doing to do better next time. (Bonus points for explaining this to a horrified Caretaker)

content: conditioned whumpee, rocky recovery

Whumpee stared at the full plate Caretaker had placed in front of them in confusion. They hadn’t been given tasks today — why was Caretaker rewarding one of their lazy days?

No, the food was probably not meant for them. Maybe they were supposed to guard it? Maybe Caretaker had placed it there for safekeeping. Maybe they were going to eat it in a bit.

“Is something the matter?” Caretaker asked, and Whumpee snapped back to the present, fully at attention.

“No, sir.”

Caretaker furrowed their eyebrows. “You like the food I prepared, right? Or did I make something you don’t like?”

“It’s perfectly fine sustenance, sir. I would love to earn it sometime, if that’s pleasing to you, sir.”

Caretaker only seemed more confused with every word. “Earn…? Whumpee, that’s yours. I prepared it for you.”

Now it was Whumpee’s turn to be confused. “For me? But I haven’t completed the necessary steps to earn it, sir. I assumed… I know I mustn’t assume, but I— I assumed you placed the food here for me to guard it…?”

“Whumpee, you’re not some dog.”

“Of course not, sir. I would never dream of putting myself on the same level as a beloved pet, sir. I know my place, sir.”

Caretaker swallowed audibly. “I’d like for you to have dinner with me. Even if you don’t think you’ve earned it.”

Whumpee even stopped breathing for a moment. The appetising dinner morphed into a death trap in front of them, and they suddenly felt nauseous. “Sir?”

“Go on. Have a few bites.”

The orders they had received were in clear opposition to their conditioning, and Whumpee would’ve rather killed themself than detangle that mess. Their latest order was always to be obeyed. But their latest order was wrong. It was just so, so wrong.

Whumpee was shaking now. They couldn’t look away from the food. They hadn’t earned it. They hadn’t. They hadn’t, they hadn’t, they hadn’t—

“Whumpee?” Caretaker reached across the table and took them by the hand, and Whumpee flinched violently. “Hey. It’s just me.”

“Yes, sir. I apologise, sir.”

“Maybe we don’t… force the dinner thing tonight. If it’s too distressing for you.”

Whumpee let out a sigh of relief, although their muscles were still tense from having disobeyed an order. It was easier to go against Caretaker than their conditioning. Much, much easier. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do better tomorrow, sir. I swear it.”

#delicious #tasty #mwah #chefs kiss #unrelated but i just typed chefs miss and i think that’d be an amazing phrase for bad dishes

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isntthisblank · 12 days

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hostage by Stefan Mihai Toma

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isntthisblank · 13 days

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Routine

It's late afternoon. Whumper wandered around the mall, grabbed this and that; filling their cart with groceries. Thinking about Whumpee at home too, and what they should cook for dinner. Truly a busy person. Whumper got in line to pay for their things. Scanning all the people inside the mall. Hm, not interesting enough for their liking. Maybe they should stop doing whatever they were doing before—

Oh. A Chinese girl, with her mom. Short hair, innocent face, and a loose…shirt. Her collarbone…she looks vulnerable. Her shoulders must look pretty too…

Okay, stop staring you creep! But maybe, just a little more. It wouldn't hurt.

Aww, she's helping her mother. How kind. The desire to pinch her cheeks…maybe to take care of her too. To make her as vulnerable as she can be.

Put her in a dress where her shoulders and collarbone and thighs could be exposed. But just that, I'm not interested in other things. Maybe place her on my lap, patting her thighs and playing with her hair. Would she mind?

Would I prefer her to be silent or giggle during that? It's between that. I want her to stay still like a doll, but at the same time I want her to be alive. Okay, since when have I had these weird thoughts??

Ah, okay, she's leaving. Bye-bye sweetheart.

Whumper placed their groceries on the counter. Waiting for the cashier to scan and tell them the price. They flashed a warm smile too, just to be friendly with people. And not just some cold blooded monster who torture someone everyday and night.

Whumper walked out of the mall. They made their way to the bus station. It's not like they didn't have a car or something, they just wanted to observe people around them. They sat on the bench, waiting for the bus. There's a young man beside them. Whumper glanced at them before they froze.

Probably in his 20s, brown hair, pointed nose. Short navy pants and a white shirt. And ah, his Adam's…apple. It looks enchanting. Unguarded…exposed…perfect to be licked. Or bite, so so hard until it crush. How would he scream then? What sounds would come out from that pretty mouth?

And the blood. It would slide down across his torso. Soaking his white shirt. What a sight to behold. And oh God, his veins. Spreading from his wrists to his elbows, like tree roots. If only I could—

Oh man, he's leaving! Not fair…

The bus arrived and Whumper waited for the others to get in first. They sat on the last row of the seats. Before the bus could start moving again, someone entered in a rush. Another young man, black hair, white skin. He was shirtless, sweat trickling down his skin. Probably back from the gym. There's no seats left in the bus so he just stood in the middle, fingers gripping hard on the bus holder.

Pretty. Why is he so pretty? The way he's panting. The freckles on his face…it's aching to be poked with a needle. His necklace, how it would be more beautiful with a large collar. And those pretty lips, begging to be kissed and bit.

Whumper gripped the palm of their hands tightly. They needed to calm down. They have Whumpee at home. Gotta be loyal to them.

Calm down, calm down, calm—

Did he just wink at me?! Okay, you've got this. Just smirk back at him. Act cool.

Good.

Maybe he noticed someone's staring at him. Ah, pretty face, let me stare at you longer. Let me imagine how nice it would feel to grab your hair and yank it harshly. Or how you would scream, the sounds of your pleadings, I want to relish it all.

I want to brand your soft skin, playing with your muscles, seeing them tense up at the mere touch of my hands.

The bus stopped and Whumper watched the young man get off the bus. They squealed silently inside when he waved them goodbye as the bus started moving again.

Whumper arrived at their house. Unlocking the door before they passed through the living room to the kitchen. They placed the groceries bag on the table before they got ready to cook for dinner.

"Shh…" Whumper said without looking up at the person who was tied up and gagged on the chair. His quiet whimpers filled up the room. Tears trickled down his face as he watched Whumper with a knife on their hand, cutting down the onions and vegetables.

If only he didn't wink at them.

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