I actually used to hate it! Like, actually despise it! Yellow was too bright, too loud, discordant, unruly, and clashed with everything. Nothing like what I wanted in my life, nothing I wanted to be.
When I first moved away from home, everything I owned was black. Jet back. As black as I could get. Smooth, cool, sleek, discrete, calm, unassuming. Flexible, cohesive, agreeable black. Fashionable black.
I had a really, really bad time. Unrelated to the decor. It was my first year out of a toxic place I'd grown used to my whole life, my first year acknowledging a mental illness I'd believed to be normal, my first year fending for myself with very little money or sleep or companionship.
I'd grown up on instant white rice and unseasoned ground beef. One day I realized that everything I'd been raised on tasted like cardboard. While out on an assignment, I passed a tent with a woman selling spices, and bought myself some turmeric. I went home and tried making curry with it. It was so yellow.
Another time, my professor took us out to a modern art gallery. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but when we got there, the whole building had been painted bright sunshine yellow.
The artist's theme was "happiness".
What it is. How we make it. How to share it.
All bright, lovely yellow.
The house I grew up in was beige. The walls were white. The appliances were post 9/11 stainless steel. My job was to be quiet, compliant, presentable and agreeable.
Black goes with everything. Black is neutral. Black is quiet, reserved, elegant and mysterious.
Yellow is warm. Yellow does what it wants. Yellow tastes sweet and spicy and hot and cool, like a summer breeze, like sunflower petals, powdery like dust on a long dirt road and soothing like well-worn linen.
I still like the look of black. I like the look of most colors. But I like the way that Yellow makes me feel.
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Warning: Vampire whumpee, defiant whumpee, hunter whumper, stoic whumper, backhanded slap, going over rules, chained up whumpee, captivity, talk of breaking whumpee,
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Taglist: @whumpsday
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Marius had his back pressed against the stone wall, eyes closed as he felt his body repair the very last bits of flesh from his stab wound. But despite the flesh having been stitched back together, there was still an echo of an ache. That was the downside of things, Marius would’ve been in tip top shape hours ago but he hasn’t been able to consume blood in a while. The healing process was a tad slower and the aches lingered around. But Marius will survive, like he always has.
The vampire glanced down at his attire and scoffed in disgust, it was caked with dirt and dried blood; not to mention how his waistcoat had the hole from where Oskar’s knife made a home in his side. He looked like a dirty lowlife in these rags! Marius straightened his posture and adjusted his tie in an effort to look more presentable, though the chains on his wrist clanged as a reminder of his predicament.
Marius tugged at the chains but they remained strong, which isn’t a surprise. He didn’t realize it then but these chains had silver in them. Not enough to sear Marius’s wrists and make them useless, but enough to cause a slight burn and to hinder the vampire’s abilities. Marius gave one last pull with all his strength but closer to where the chain buried itself into the wall, perhaps pulling at the source would make a difference. As he pulled on the chain on the wall he muttered with venom dripping from his lips, "I’m going to kill that bastard, maybe I’ll put his corpse on display. That’d send a nice and clear message to the hunters…"
The effort was hopeless. Marius stopped while he was ahead, carefully rubbing his wrists with a defeated sigh. As Marius was about to consider counting the cracks in the wall to escape boredom, that’s when the sound of a metal door opening captured his attention. This day just keeps getting better doesn’t it? The vampire looked forward and watched as Oskar, his kidnapper, descended the creaky old stairs with a cigarette between his lips. His hair was as messy as ever and he wore a green field jacket and brown boots, not too different from what he wore yesterday.
Marius rolled his eyes and snapped, "Come here to antagonize me? Burn me again perhaps? Or did you perhaps finally get it through that thick skull of yours that keeping me here isn’t in your best interest?" He hoped it was the latter, he’s had enough of the awful basement. But Oskar remained silent, electing to ignore Marius as he took a drag from his cigarette. Oskar shoved a hand in his pocket before he walked over and stared at the vampire with an undecipherable look in his eyes. Without a word, Oskar leaned down and blew smoke directly into Marius’s face, who coughed and looked away in revulsion. Vampires don’t need to breathe, if at all but that doesn’t mean things like smoke and such don’t affect them.
It was disgusting being treated like this, the audacity of the hunter was almost shocking, but most of all, loathsome. Marius’s eye twitched with irritation, this hunter deserves what’s about to happen, he’s close enough after all. With a snarl, Marius launched forward and tried to swipe at Oskar but somehow, maybe it was the silver in the chains, maybe it was the lack of blood, but somehow he was too slow. He’s usually far more swift, enough to be considered a blur to some but this was so…sluggish. Oskar only had to take a quick step back to avoid getting his blood spilled, which he did as he shook his head in disapproval.
Oskar took another drag from his cigarette and said, "Good thing today is the day we’re going to lay down some rules, isn’t it?" Marius gave a halfhearted chuckle, rules? This is too good, he thinks Marius will follow some stupid rules? Good luck.
The hunter pulled his hand out of his pocket and gestured to Marius, "I think it’d be most appropriate to start with the most important rule, which you just tried to violate, mind you. Rule 1, don’t attack me." Oskar crouched down to eye level with Marius, who stared daggers at him, "I’m the only one who knows you’re here. What do you believe would happen if you murdered me? You wouldn’t be able to get out of those chains, I made sure of that." Oskar leaned closer but still out of reach. He spoke softer, "You’d starve. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with my rotting, bloated corpse with maggots eating away at my insides in the same room as you, reminding you of all your mistakes." Oskar leaned back and shrugged, "Sounds fun, but maybe that’s just me."
Marius went to open his mouth but closed it, remaining silent. He didn’t want to give Oskar the satisfaction of him responding. But the lack of an answer only made Oskar grin with satisfaction, "Ah. That’s what I like, silence. That’s actually rule 2, don't speak unless spoken to. Look at you, already making progress. Perhaps I should give you a pat on the head,"
This man is vile. The idea of him getting satisfaction from Marius’s silence caused Marius’s prideful nature to take over as the vampire spat out in protest, "Oh please, you idiot. You think you’re all scary but you’re absolutely pathetic, you know that?" He was pulled from his rant as Oskar backhanded him, sending Marius's glasses to the floor with a clatter.
Marius paused in pure disbelief before slowly raising a hand to touch the stinging cheek, "Wha…" He trailed off, trying to recover from what just happened. The ragged hunter in front of him used the tip of his boot to lift Marius’s gaze towards him, "You speak when spoken to, you’d best remember that. You already violated one rule, try not to reach 3 strikes, understood? It’d be better for your health long term."
Marius stared down Oskar but kept his mouth shut. Oskar, seemingly pleased, continued, "Now rule 3. I told you this yesterday but you shall call me Sir or Master. I can see why you make your servants and thralls use them, I really do." Marius rolled his eyes, he might be being overdramatic but he wished Oskar would just kill him now.
"Rule 4 is to behave and follow the orders I give. I know this will be the most difficult of the rules for you to follow but don’t worry. I’m a very patient person." Oskar gave a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Today marks the start of your training into something beautiful. Or well, pitiful. Because you know what I’m going to do?"
Oskar removed his foot from underneath Marius’s chin only to lean forward and grab the vampire’s chin, borderline whispering, "I’m going to break you down and open you up, dissecting your soul and mind apart till you’re nothing but a husk of what you once were." Oskar’s feigned smile turns into a genuine, but cruel one as his hand grips Marius’s chin tighter. His nails begin to dig into the vampire’s flesh as he spoke, "You may despise me and all that I stand for, but one day you’ll learn to fear me. Really fear me. Because I won’t be just some hunter, I’ll be your worst nightmare. And even if I scare you half to death, you'll always crawl back to me and grovel at my feet for forgiveness. "
Marius swallowed hard and kept his gaze on the ground, refusing to lock eyes with his captor. "Savor this moment, leech, because when I'm done with you, you'll be someone unrecognizable," Oskar let go of Marius's chin and took a step backwards with a sadistic glint in his eye. "Give you a taste of your own medicine, that’s how the saying goes, right?"
🐑 One sheep has been loosed from the flock, running giddily for the forest treeline, an arrow sunk in its shoulder.
Let them run. Laugh with your comrades. Who’s going to get it? You’re the fastest.
Let them know you’re only a short distance behind, can hear them panting, vaulting over fallen trees, feet pounding the ground.
As soon as they slow for just a moment, unable to draw enough breath to continue, surprise them. Step out from behind a tree as though the chase was nothing, behold their crestfallen, slate-grey face and tunic wet with blood.
They swing a punch at your head using their good arm but don’t have the reach. Come now, there’s no need for that. God, you sound like your mother.
Slam your body into theirs. Coil an arm about their waist and throw both of you to the forest floor. Pin the only arm they can use, flatten your other hand on their ribcage and lean down on their torso to exhaust them while their bare heels hammer the ground, tearing up leaf litter.
Shush them.
Fuck you! What gives you the fucking right?
They try every tool in their arsenal, yelling, kicking, biting, clawing. This is more freedom than they’ve ever grasped in their fingertips and they can’t bear to lose it.
Tear off a strip of your surcoat to wrap the wound on their shoulder, tying the fabric around the arrow shaft. Any movement to the arrow is an agony. Deep breath.
Put your shoulder to their gut, carry them back to the others. Their profanity-ridden speech soon becomes embittered crying. They know to expect the sting of medicine, a second chance at escape highly less likely than the first. Trudge the rest of the way out of the forest to return them to the wagon full of other prisoners.
Your comrades ruffle their hair while they wait for the surgeon. Poor thing. Sweet lamb. They look at the wound when the sash staunching the blood is untied and their shirt ripped open, which is a mistake. They almost fall off the bench in the wagon.
No. Damn you, don’t touch me.
Look at me. Turn their head the other way. Feel how clammy the skin over their jaw is. All they can do is lean into you, their breathing laboured.
The surgeon brings a cup of dwale mixed with wine, but they don’t want it, of course. They want infection, fever, death. Work your thumb into the hollow of their cheek to coax their mouth open. After they twist their head away, point to the youngest-looking prisoner inside the wagon. Tell them you’ll slit that one’s throat if they don’t drink.
They swallow the cup’s contents. Good choice.
Lay them on their back, darting a finger between their eyes until you are satisfied the dilated pupils don’t follow, skittering off in the other direction on their own course. The surgeon makes an assessment of them.
Most of the other prisoners avert their gaze during the surgery. The arrow shaft is removed, the shoulder bandaged.
You can’t rightly rope their hands behind their back with a wound like this. Tie them in front instead, lash their leg to a post in the wagon so they can’t crawl away. They will try to pull themselves blearily towards the end of the wagon and split their skull on the fast-moving ground otherwise, you’ve been at this line of work long enough to know.
Won’t be worth much to the Company damaged, the sergeant who comes to evaluate the prisoners’ health and list which of them would be suited for army, navy, or domestic work remarks. They’re able-bodied enough. I’ll pay for this one.
This story takes place is a near-future BBU setting where large corporations that enforce the trade of human companions have been forced to buckle under the building pressures of liberation movements. But only on the surface.
Underneath, things are just as bad as they have always been. And things can only get darker when they exist in the shadows.
Jaime: “In the bed, he is silent the way a sharpened blade through skin doesn’t make a sound as it slices. He pushes the screams down inside himself until they burn, far enough where Mr. Torley can never hear them. But Jaime can. He can always hear them, because they never burn out.”
Sebastian: “It hadn’t been easy, but he considers it the price he had to pay for his independence. For freedom, to live the life as the person he is meant to be, despite his unfortunate odds. He spent years telling himself it would be worth it. That one day, his hard work would pay off. He can’t stop now.”
TW: This story centers around a system of legalized human slavery and contains depictions of non-con and violence. Will tag accordingly.
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also just realized i forgot to post the doodles i drew several months ago of various merm stede (except for the guppy stede..)
First one is goldfish stede too… my idea for the AU is stede getting captured by poachers and kept for a while before getting “saved” by blackbeard’s crew…
but they also keep him a prisoner due to mermaids being supposedly very dangerous + worth a lot of money BUT ed is genuinely really fascinated by him and the only one who keeps talking to stede while everyone else is wary of stede’s sharp teeth and claws and massive tail…. and ed keeps ordering the crew to make things more comfortable for him lmao
though ed also can’t bring himself to free stede because he doesnt want to never see him again and he’s BLACKBEARD, he’s not supposed to free prisoners….
mermaids also cry pearls in this AU, and stede cries a lot so. izzy is enjoying the free pearls asdlkfjasd;lfaj
CW: captivity, guns, militants, forced march, insurgents, whipping, thirst, sleep deprivation, language barriers, zip ties, restraints, bells as alarms, fictional politics, warfare, shoulder dislocation, mention of hobbling, first person POV, hurt/comfort, hair petting, fear of death/execution, dry heaving mention
****
The day after we made our proof of life video, we left the famer’s cottage and pressed on.
After a full day of walking, we stopped to sleep. To say we made camp would be an embellishment. There was no fire, no dinner except dried meat or MREs. Samir and I were as grateful as dogs for any scrap thrown to us.
We were to sleep on the ground like the rest of them. They tied leather straps with little bells to our ankles and kept our hands bound. I thought some of them wanted us to attempt an escape, so they could catch us and shoot us where we fell.
They put us near one another this time, at least. They gave us each a scratchy blanket, and another one balled up for a pillow. It was more than I expected, and I nodded at Iago in thanks as he passed me mine. I was still clinging to the delusion that my politeness would be answered with politeness, my civility with civility.
My feet throbbed now that I was off them. I was pretty sure my right foot had a blister, but I had no way to check and see how it looked. My knees ached fiercely, reminding me I was no longer as young as I used to be.
Samir said my name, letting me know where he was in relation to where I lay on the cold, uneven ground. I could not believe how black the countryside was at night, without even the moon rising among the trees. I couldn’t have seen my own hand in front of my face.
“Hey,” I answered, to let him know I was close. I didn’t dare move closer for fear of rattling the bells, alerting our captors.
He whimpered, scooting a inch closer. His ankle-bell did not chime, but it made me nervous. He cried softly, a quiet sob that sounded so forlorn it nearly broke my heart.
“Shhhh,” I whispered, venturing out in the dark with both my ziptied hands until I found his head. I caressed his hair with the backs of my fingers. The normally soft, wild curls now felt dull and greasy.
I was feeling agitated and artblocked yesterday so I decided to give my brain a rest by watching TV and then the next thing I knew these were in front of me
One time my mom took me to a hibachi grill with a bunch of her friends and if you've never been to a hibachi grill basically the draw is that theres a bunch of interactive performance stuff done by the cook who cooks for you at your table, and one of the tricks they did at this one was take a squeeze bottle full of liquor and shoot it into your mouth across the table (with permission)
And now at our table my mom explained this because it was my first time going, and she wanted to make sure to warn me it was liquor because she knows I don't drink- she just said "if he offers to shoot at your mouth, say no because it's alcohol".
And so the chef does his thing and it's all very impressive, but the time does come where he pulls out this squeeze bottle of booze and asks me if I wanna try
I of course say no, because I really don't do alcohol, so he moves on to someone else
And I watch, and slowly come to understand that this is some sort of game, because once someone is drinking from the continuous flow the chef starts counting "ONE! TWO! THREE!"
I realize that we're trying to see who can keep drinking the liquor from three feet away without choking or spilling, and its a bummer cause i kinda wanna try and I CAN'T
But he goes around the table with everyone there, and I think my mom makes it to three, one friend makes it to five, I think my brother got to three as well, and he comes back to me
And I'm REALLY bummed out now but I will not drink alcohol, so I sort of sadly repeat that I can't when he pulls out a SECOND BOTTLE and grins and goes "juice?"
And Im like FUCK YEAH LET'S GO and I'm a bit worried he's gonna spray it into my eye or something but he doesn't, it hits me right at the back of the throat, and I start drinking while the whole fucking table counts "ONE! TWO! THREE!"
And like
It just sorta
Kept going?
And Im looking at the chef and he starts freaking out by the time we get to six, and at around seven I kinda start looking around and my auntie is staring back in shock, my brother is laughing his ass off and my mom has her face in her hands
And then at like nine or ten it gets like. Super tense and quiet, and only the chef is still counting
And I guess it got too much for even him cause we're at eleven and I don't believe in quitting early and it is almost painful how awkward it's getting
So he cuts me off at twelve and raises his hands in the air and everyone else cheers and claps like a dumb movie
and I just sit back in my seat to look back at my mother staring at me surrounded by everyone she knows, bright fucking red in the face and choking with honest to god tears in her eyes and she puts her face back in her palms and starts chanting "I don't want to know. I don't want to know. I don't want to know"
So I give her the biggest, proudest grin and tell her, "I won."
So now every time something suggestive happens in a movie, or in conversation, or something shocking happens around us and she goes to jokingly cover my ears, I just ask her, "Remember when I won?" And she goes face-down and groans, because I know EXACTLY how she thinks I trained to develop that particular skill and she HATES knowing that about me
The truth is though, I'm a whole ass 28 year old virgin. I've never so much as kissed anyone in my life. I had no idea I could do that trick until that exact moment
But she doesn't know that, and I'm never gonna tell her
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I've been reading fics by @ashintheairlikesnow, @maracujatangerine, @secretwhumplair, @whumpzone, and probably more than I'm forgetting. But I need more!
So first, let me add some amazing authors of multichapter BBU fics: @just-horrible-things , @pigeonwhumps, @flowersarefreetherapy, @gottawhump, @wildfaewhump; @hackles-up; @angst-after-dark. Some of them aren't actively writing in the BBU these days, but their stories are still there and certainly worth a look, all accessible from their pinned posts / masterlists.
Additionally, I try to irregularly reblog the BBU stories that pop up on my dash on @bbu-whump-reblogs.
And then there's also my own BBU stories, which have all different focus but are definitely multichapter :)
Pet Safety, which is about a pet lib activist who works as a Pet Safety Inspector for WRU, confiscates an abused Romantic and ends up as her new owner. Focuses on recovery, healing, guilt and the tough decisions for a greater good.
Making Angel is a series of different moments in a Romantic's path, capture, training, life with her owner, messy recovery with an abusive partner after her escape, and eventual true freedom.
Way over his head is a story with more plot (Spin-Off from Angel), about a dumbass Romantic handler who over time realizes that his job is actually shit. Focuses on the institutional and facility whump and the people working in the system
Mark and Gemma get a Pet, an actually complete story about a 'normal' couple who end up owners of a pet, and it just amplifies everything they ever suppressed, on the back of Ira. A story about the mundane sides of the system and about what makes people the bad guys (or are they? I think yes).
Scottish government currently has a bunch of ads up to get screened for lung cancer, but for some reason they’ve decided to personify cancer as some sort of gothic butch milf and I’m obsessed with her
Scottish government currently has a bunch of ads up to get screened for lung cancer, but for some reason they’ve decided to personify cancer as some sort of gothic butch milf and I’m obsessed with her
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Some of our favorite quotes from Artemis ii so far:
"Copy. Moon joy."
"I have two Microsoft Outlooks, and neither one of those are working."
"Houston, if you could give me about 20 new superlatives in the mission summary for tomorrow that will help out my vocabulary a little bit, that would be great. Thank you."
“If you’ve ever seen the top of the spotlight of the top of the Luxor at night in Vegas, this looks like what it wants to be when it grows up.”
"To all of you down there on Earth... we love you, from the moon. See you on the other side."
"We just went sci fi.
"It is so great to see Earth again. To Asia, Africa, and Oceania: we are looking back at you. We hear you can look up and see the moon right now. We see you too."
"We will always choose Earth. We will always choose each other."
“It’s a bright spot on the moon, and we would like to call it Carroll.” (The name of Commander Reid Wiseman's late wife)
"Amaze amaze amaze."
"I said that we do not leave Earth, but we choose it. And that is true."
"Christina has been sleeping head down in the middle of the vehicle, kind of like a bat"
"It's really fun to be floatin' around, it just makes me feel like a little kid."
"Trust us, you look amazing, you look beautiful."
"'Homo Sapiens' is all of us, no matter where you're from or what you look like. We're all one people."
"We're going to power cycle the toilet from the ground."
"I'm proud to call myself the Space Plumber."
"We were all eagerly awaiting the chorus." (After Mission Control cut off Pink Pony Club early when waking up the crew)
"Copy heart. Copy bracelet." (In response to Wiseman giving his daughters heart hands and showing them the bracelets they made him that he was wearing)
“Welcome back. We are still here. They are in space.”
"Copy. Bubble wrap nominal."
"We have rediscovered the chocolate snacks."
“The truth is, the moon really is its own body in the universe. It's not just a poster in the sky that goes by, it is a real place."
“We will build ships. We will visit again. We will construct science outposts. We will drive rovers, we will do radio astronomy.”
"I've seen a lot of new perspectives, but my perspective has not changed because I launched with the perspective that there is enough for all." (After being asked if they had a new view on humankind.)
"On behalf of all Canadians, we wanted some reassurances of your preferences for maple syrup over Nutella on your pancakes."
