#emotional whump

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shun the Light - Ch 10 - Full Moon part 2

Slow Burn | Refuge | Decision | Mend | Hunger | Thin Mints | The Garden | Philip | Moments | Full Moon pt 1 |

Author's Notes: :')

Content Warnings: werewolf whumpee, vampire caretaker, injury, sprained ankle, bruises, cuts, exhaustion, cold, rain, implied nudity, emotional whump, guilt, angst with hopeful ending

----

Dante searches and searches but finds nothing but some claw marks on trees and more blood. He feels stupid and reckless for looking at all; the creature that left was no longer Matteo, and cornering a wounded animal would be asking for trouble.

Why didn't he tell me?

The thought eats at him. Matteo knows what he is. Didn't he think Dante would understand, even just a little?

Suddenly a lot more things make sense - the shape Matteo was in when he arrived, why he had no clothes or belongings of his own, why he left home, why he was on the run. How in the week leading up to tonight he had been restless and anxious.

After several fruitless hours Dante returns home, but he can't relax. By now he's pretty much certain Matteo is a werewolf, which means by the morning he will be back to normal but hurt, alone, and god knows where.

As he paces and frets he can't help picturing Matteo's frightened face. He looks out the window again when he hears wind whistle through the trees. The scent of the other man's blood still lingers with him.

Dante soon heads back out, with shoes and an overcoat on this time. He has with him a ball of yellow yarn from Mrs. Townsend's craft cupboard.

Years of nightly walks means he knows the forest well. He follows the direction Matteo ran off in and finds a spot to begin, tying one end of the yarn around the trunk of a tree. Then he slowly walks back to the house, holding the yarn taut and unraveling it as he goes, stopping occasionally to loop it another tree. Creating a path home.

There is no guarantee Matteo will even find it. He could be miles away, too injured to move, or on another side of the woods entirely. He may not even want to come back. But if he does, the door will be unlocked.

Dante goes to the living room and gets settled at the piano to keep himself busy while he waits.

-

Morning arrives, but Matteo does not.

Dante retreats to his bedroom and leaves the door cracked so he can hear if someone enters. But after barely an hour he can't wait any longer. He bundles up in a sweater and the thick overcoat, jeans and boots, and heads outside.

A light drizzle softly patters all around. The sky is overcast and shows no sign of clearing. At the worst he'll feel a tingling discomfort, but compared to the burns he sustained a month ago that will seem like nothing.

A month ago. When he found me. When he saved me.

Dante slowly follows the path of bright string from tree to tree. He keeps his eyes on the ground in search of any sign of man or wolf. Clothes, fur, handprints, pawprints. Blood. Anything. But the rain has washed every trace away.

He continues until a familiar scent reaches him on a breeze. Dante lifts his head and there he is.

Matteo walks with a limp, taking each slow step gingerly. He faintly whimpers every time he puts pressure on a badly swollen right ankle, pausing often to lean against a tree for a moment's respite. His breathing is labored.

Most of Matteo's body has sustained scrapes and cuts from that tumble off the roof, but his left side is considerably worse. Bruising coats his entire left side from chest to upper thigh. His left arm hangs at an awkward angle and that shoulder, too, is swollen and bruised. Some slivers of glass remain embedded in his skin, the largest of them wedged deep into his bruised left hip.

The fingers of his right hand are weakly curled around the yellow yarn.

It's a miracle he's standing, let alone walking.

Dante walks toward him but the ongoing rain muffles his footsteps. Matteo doesn't look up and notice him until they're just a few yards apart.

Dante stops too.

The two men stare at each other.

Matteo's eyes are bloodshot. He's soaked to the bone, shivering in the rain without so much as a scrap left to shield him.

Then he drops his gaze and his face crumples. He begins to sob raggedly.

"I'm sorry, Dante. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I s-should have t-told you." He hiccups. "I didn't think I would still be here when it happened but then I was and I thought if I hid I wouldn't attack you - and you - you let me stay and I - oh, god, and I broke your window, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

A sudden shiver cuts off his rambling words.

Dante steps forward and removes his coat, slowly so as not to startle the fragile man before him. He holds it open.

"There is still a bed for you," Dante says softly, "If you want it."

Matteo stares at the offered coat with disbelief and longing.

"Really?"

Dante nods and moves closer still. When Matteo doesn't flinch away, he drapes the coat over his trembling shoulders.

Matteo sways on his feet but Dante is there to steady him with a hand on his chest and the other on his waist. Matteo puts an arm around Dante's shoulders and sags into him. He sighs with relief when he is able to take some weight off of his throbbing ankle.

"Thank you," he breathes. He leans his head against Dante's, his panting breaths warm against his cheek. Dante can feel the flutter of his unsteady pulse. "Thank you."

"Come on," Dante whispers. "You're almost there."

[patchworkorphan]

Heroic betrayal: part seven

“You must let me show you where you’ll be staying, Hero,” said Supervillain, releasing the chains on Hero’s cuffs and stepping back away from them. Hero narrowed their eyes into a glare, keeping their hands close to their chest as they blinked at Supervillain.

“What do you mean, where I’ll be staying?” They snapped. Supervillain tilted his head as he regarded Hero, a small smile on his lips.

He shrugged. A gesture that should have conveyed a casual thing, but Hero saw right through it. “You can stay in the cellar if you like, though I’d say a bed would be far more comfortable.”

“I’d rather you let me go, or keep our contact to a minimum,” Hero told him. What the hell was he talking about, keeping Hero here? Forcing them to stay? They couldn’t… their brain wouldn’t let them comprehend exactly what this meant. The words just kept repeating in their mind drowning out all sense and reason:

Where you’ll be staying…

Supervillain had planned this, every detail, and Hero didn’t notice. They didn’t know, they didn’t see. Supervillain didn’t let a hint slip about this! Taking Hero captive and not letting them go, and it – though Hero would never admit it – it terrified them.

What if they weren’t as good as a detective as they thought they were? What if… Hero’s eyes studied Supervillain’s face. What if they had only seen what Supervillain wanted them to see?

Supervillain hummed thoughtfully, hands going behind his back. “I’ll show you the room anyways. Give you the tour while we’re at it. We’ll see if you have a change of heart.”

Hero’s nostrils flared as Supervillain turned his back and opened the door Hero initially came through. Supervillain’s knowing smirk remained on his face as he glanced back at Hero. “Come along now, I’m not a patient man.”

“I’d rather stay right here,” Hero told him, voice low. A pathetic attempt at stubbornness. Supervillain inclined his head.

“You can walk out the door, Hero, or be dragged out. Either way, you won’t be staying here. Would you like to keep your dignity intact?” He asked, his tone light and charismatic, his words anything but. Hero hated the way he spoke as if everything was certain. As if he could control everything and it would all work out his way.

Though what Hero hated more was the fact that they knew it was better to comply than to rile him up, so they stood and walked through the door Supervillain held open. They turned their head, looking down the long hallway to their right, where Flynn and Villain were. The door at the end of the hall must be where the kitchen is, but beyond that Hero didn’t know.

Maybe it would be better to know the layout of the house, Hero mused, they could plan their escape more effectively if Supervillain was stupid enough to offer a tour.  Supervillain, instead of turning towards the kitchen, went left, back the way Hero and Flynn came, back towards the cellar.

Hero followed Supervillain cautiously, one eye tracking his figure, the other careful to take note of the layout and the route back to the kitchen if they needed to flee on short notice.

Flee to who? To Flynn? A nasty voice mocked in their head.

At least I know what to expect with Flynn, Hero argued back.

Oh yeah… like how you knew he was a lying, backstabbing villain all this time right?

Hero bit the inside of their cheek instead of fighting with their smug, know-it-all side of their brain. At least when they tasted blood in their mouth, they could justify the pain. They could take their mind off of Flynn and the ache in their chest that they fought so hard to ignore.

Hero’s eyes zeroed in on the door to the basement as they stepped into another hallway. They were half expecting Supervillain to open it and shove them down the stairs before laughing like a cartoon villain and slamming the cellar door closed.

Instead, Supervillain walked past it, and Hero followed mutely, swallowing as they passed the cellar door. Now that it was so close, Hero really didn’t feel like going back there. Back to the cold and defenceless cot in a cell where any of them could come down and gloat.

Where Villain could come back and hurt them again and nobody would stop them.

Maybe a room would be better. At least Hero could barricade the door and break the window or something. They could have a better defensive position. Not be subject to their hosts moods when it takes them. Their nose throbbed at the thought of Villain coming down to their cell again and they shuddered.

Supervillain continued down the hall to another heavy door that looked solid and stiff. There was something strange about it, something Hero only noticed after Supervillain stopped in front of it and raised his hand to a keypad on the wall.

Hero stopped in their tracks. They didn’t want to swap one cell for another, and this one didn’t look as escapable as the cell in the basement. At least there Hero could see out all around them, except for the back wall, but a heavy metal door with an electronic lock would prove far more difficult.

There was a small beep ahead and Supervillain glanced back at Hero over his shoulder. A sly smirk graced his face when he noticed that Hero had stopped following altogether, probably standing six feet back.

“Oh Hero, that’s adorable. Are you frightened?”

“No,” Hero said a little too quickly. A denial. They both knew it. While Supervillain chuckled lightly, Hero wanted to punch themselves. “Where are we going?”

Supervillain’s smile was friendly and carnivorous all at once. “I told you; I’m giving you the tour of the house. Here,” Supervillain said, holding the door open for Hero and gesturing for Hero to walk in first. Hero’s throat went impossibly dry, as if Hero inhaled a pound of sawdust. They swallowed to try and restore some moisture in their mouth because what else could they do?

If they refused to comply, Supervillain would just drag them along anyway and there was no way they could fight back with their powers dampened and their hands cuffed in front of them. The weight of their blades on their back felt heavy in a way they never were before. They were right there… if only they could reach them.

Hero jutted their chin up, steeling their expression as they stormed forward and passed Supervillain, vowing that the moment they got free they would commission thigh braces for their daggers instead. That way they could never be in a humiliating situation like this again.

The room coming into focus drowned out Hero’s plans for new sheaths. Once inside the keypad locked room they stopped short and just stared. It was like the meeting room in the Hero headquarters, except, well… bigger. It was shaped like a hexagon with a domed ceiling that came to a point to let in some light through three skylight windows. The wall in front of Hero had two screens imbedded into it. One played the news on mute that was reporting some local event.

The two walls beside the back one had doors that led off to God knows where, but Hero’s gaze skimmed over them, and went instead to the corkboard on the wall to the left. Pictures of all the top ranked Heroes faces were pinned to the board; Superhero’s, Other Hero’s, and Hero’s were pinned to it. Tears pricked the back of Hero’s eyes when they saw Sidekick’s photo pinned to the wall too, a big red X painted over their face. Hero’s hands shook slightly at the sight… they should have never left Sidekick’s side. They should be at the hospital right now.

Instead, they were knee deep in enemy territory, on a tour of Supervillain’s house. Hero had to pull their gaze away from Sidekick’s face, to study the rest of the room, screwing their lips up tight to try and stop them from trembling.

Hero’s gaze dropped to a desk below the corkboard, where a hero scanner and comms sat, both of them were switched off for now. One Flynn must have stolen… been given. Hero’s hands tightened into fists at the sight. All this time… all this time Flynn was betraying them, betraying the Heroes and he had the nerve to be upset that Hero hated him?

Hero’s gaze flicked back up to Sidekick’s face again and they quickly turned away, looking instead to the giant circular table that dominated the middle of the room. A map of the city was printed on top of it. Hero recognised some of the marks that divided some of the city up. Territories that were occupied or controlled by different groups. Some good, some bad.

Hero stepped closer to the map table, noticing the chess pieces that were spread across it. There was a cluster of white on Hero HQ; the King, two knights, a bishop, a rook, but some other white pieces were dotted throughout the map. There were no black pieces, something Supervillain removed no doubt before Hero walked in. They couldn’t give away all their secrets.

Hero searched the table, making note of the pieces, trying to figure out who they were. A pawn was placed on top of central hospital which made Hero feel sick. They felt Supervillain step up beside them, but Hero didn’t bother to look at him.

“Should I take your silence as a good thing?”

“You can take my silence however you want,” Hero replied. Supervillain hummed beside them. He reached forward and plucked the pawn from the hospital and ran it between his fingers.

“Mmmm, does it have something to do with this?” Hero looked away from the map, lifting their head to stare at the news instead. Supervillain continued undeterred. “It is unfortunate what happened to Sidekick.”

“Don’t talk about them,” Hero snapped.

“What had to happen to them. They were interfering. Hot on Flynn’s scent, we had to dispose of—”

“Shut up,” Hero snarled, whipping their head to Supervillain, and stepping back away from him. “Stop fucking explaining everything you’re doing, or have done, to me like I want to hear your excuses!”

Supervillain cocked a brow at Hero’s outburst. He put the pawn back on top of the hospital, not taking his eyes off of Hero as he did. Hero searched Supervillain’s face, reading it for what he was thinking, and they didn’t like what they found. Realising their mistake too late they took a step back, trying to put some more space between them. Once they could put their weight on their back foot they could kick at Supervillain if he came at them.

Instead, Supervillain clasped his hands behind his back, chewing on words, looking for the best ones before he spoke. Everything was so measured. So controlled. It put Hero off, as if Supervillain was more machine than human.

His gaze wandered to the map, eyes running over everything with a critical eye. “Did you notice anything about the map?”

Hero frowned at the question, their attention turning back to the map as Supervillain walked around the table, stopping directly opposite Hero. They did a quick scan of it, their eyebrows knitting together. Did they miss something? No, they didn’t. The heroes know about the different territories. Maybe Supervillain giving away what heroes they thought were important with the chess pieces but other than that…

Hero’s eyes were drawn to the chess pieces, to the Hero HQ. King, two knights, a bishop, a rook. They saw the other rook and bishop somewhere else, but when they scanned the map again Hero realised what Supervillain was alluding to.

Hero hardened their gaze. “There’s no queen.”

“Very good,” Supervillain praised, and it felt like cockroaches crawled down the back of Hero’s neck. “The queen was far too meddlesome for my liking. Your perfect Sidekick you’ll note is still on the board, that was intentional.”

Hero raised their eyebrows at Supervillain in silent question and froze at his expression. There was no hint of anything human left in him, it was as Hero had imagined Supervillain to look like. Devoid of emotion and yet alive with a vibrant authority that made Hero want to hide away, to cower from — as if Hero was looking directly into the sun, eyes burning but they couldn’t look away.

“An incentive for you, Hero,” he said, his lips twitching up into a cold mockery of a smile. “A gift while you’re here, to make sure you follow the rules.”

Hero recoiled back a step, horror painting their features, as if Supervillain had killed a puppy in front of them and punched them at the same time instead of spoke.

“As long as you behave, well,” Supervillain continued, sea-green eyes drifting down to the pawn over central hospital. Hero’s heart thrummed in their chest and seemed to stop at Supervillain’s next words. “Let’s just say, Sidekick can remain on the board.”

Hero let out a shaky breath that was trapped in their chest, shaking their head. The chain between their cuffs rattled as their hands shook, tears pricking the back of their eyes as their gaze turned accusing and filled with a helpless-fuelled hatred.

“You— you’re threatening Sidekick’s life if I don’t do as you say?!” Hero demanded, voice teetering on the edge of hysterical.

Supervillain tilted his head, as if trying to understand Hero’s emotional response.

“I told you, Hero,” Supervillain began, walking around the table back towards Hero who was too focused on the pawn over the hospital. “We can be civil, this can be a beneficial relationship for us both. I can have you far away from the city, where I know you can’t interfere in the next stage of my plans, and you can rest easy knowing you’re saving Sidekick’s life.”

It was as if the world crumbled underneath Hero’s feet. They wanted nothing more than to collapse there and then, their body flooding with adrenaline as the weight of Supervillain’s words hit them.

It was all too much.

It all felt like too much.

Hero wanted to scream and cry, and punch something— no they wanted to punch Supervillain and Flynn because…

Hero flinched as a comforting hand came down on their shoulder, eyes widening slightly because when did Supervillain get that close.

“It’s a win-win, Hero.” Hero shrugged his hand off their shoulder and stepped back. Wet eyes filled with unshed tears met Supervillain’s sea-green eyes with a helpless kind of hatred. He smiled politely. “You’ll see,” he promised, “in time.”

Hero half expected Supervillain to gloat further, or press Hero on why they were nearly crying, maybe even be cruel and make fun of them. Supervillain walked passed Hero to the door that opened with a beep. Hero followed him with their eyes, biting the inside of their cheek and re-opening the wound.

“Let’s continue the tour, now that we have the unpleasantries out of the way.”

Hero stared at Supervillain, blinked and took a breath and started walking out the door without being prompted this time. They could feel Supervillain’s hungry gaze following them as they submitted compliantly, but what else was there to do? Now that he had threatened Sidekick, who was already in critical condition.

They wanted to be sick. After everything, Sidekick was only in hospital because Supervillain wanted to get to them. They wanted Flynn and Villain to capture Hero and bring them back here, where they— Hero swallowed the sob that threatened to climb their throat — where they would be… staying. Until Supervillain says otherwise.

It all felt so final, so formal, so decided when Hero didn’t make a decision. Supervillain was in control, that’s why he wanted to give Hero the “tour.” Not to show Hero around and let them see all the exits and escape routes, no. He wanted Hero to know that even if Hero knew the way out, even if they knew what doors would be locked and where the keys were, even if escape was within their reach — it didn’t matter.

They couldn’t leave.

If they left, Sidekick would be killed and it would be all their fault.

Again.

“Ah, Flynn,” Supervillain said behind Hero. Hero pulled themselves from their thoughts, raising their eyes to see Flynn standing at the corner between the cellar hall and hall that led to the dining room. He looked worried, his eyes not leaving Hero, who couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Perhaps you’d like to show Hero to their room?”

Hero felt Flynn’s eyes on them, searching their face, imploring them to look at Flynn but they couldn’t. Their stomach was flopping like a fish out of water, threatening to throw their dinner up any moment.

“Uh, yes. I will, thanks.”

“No problem,” Supervillain replied, mirthful as he strode past Hero and down the hall towards Flynn. He clapped a hand on Flynn’s shoulder as he passed and shot one last look over his shoulder at Hero. Hero met his gaze once, fleetingly, then turned their head away again.

Flynn was the first to move, walking closer to Hero who stood like a kicked puppy in the middle of the hall. When Supervillain turned the corner he smiled a satisfied smile to himself.

It was so easy to get Hero’s defence to crumble, and now that Hero wasn’t a threat to his plans, well… the city was about to change.

Whether it wanted to or not.

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call: @princess-bubble-blossom @morning-star-whump @revrevrew-personal @altvaggie

[whumpypepsigal]

Avatar: The Last Airbender (2024) s01e04 “Everything I need is on this boat.”

[whumper-whimsy]

drugged ex-prince whumpee being used as an example/trophy at the parties that Whumper— who had recently overthrown the king— throws...

[hurt-and-comfort-me-please]

We need more vain/egotistical whumpees, please

Whumpees who won't allow anyone to see them cry, no matter how much they need the support, they can't take any more blows to their ego

Whumpees who refuse pain medication because they think it makes them look weak

Whumpees who act mean or cold to those who try to help them because it's the only thing that keeps others away from them

Whumpees that are encouraged to ask for help, but think that others would be impressed if they didn't ever need it

Whumpees that cannot, under any circumstance, allow others to know what has happened to them, even if it allows Whumper to get away with it, because what would the others think of me if they knew how weak and helpless I was? Or that it actually left a lasting impact on me?

Whumpees who obsessively cover up their scars with makeup

Whumpees who isolate themselves whenever the people around them get too 'invasive' by asking basic questions about Whumpee's mental state

Whumpees who are offended at the mere mention that they may have actually been traumatized, because they're too strong/tough/resilient for anything to actually affect them, and claiming anything else amounts to a personal insult

Whumpees who will not tell anyone if they're sick or injured because they don't want anyone to see them hurting, until they collapse and have to be dragged to a doctor

Whumpees who think that they're better than others because they were strong enough to survive nevermind the debilitating trauma

[distracted-obsessions]

Living Weapon Whumpee having a bad day after one of the missions and finding the team they're assigned to sitting around and playing cards. Whumpee getting down on their knees next to one of the team members and hesitantly resting their head against the team member's thigh. Whumpee silently begging to be pet like a dog or at least just allowed to say here because they just haven't positive, non-painful human contact in years and they're just... cold.

Bonus points if they choose the member of the team that hates them the worst because that's the one they feel the biggest need to please.

[chaotic-orphan]

That’s Enough

“Stop it,” Caretaker said once the sound of knuckles thudding mutely turned to squelching. Caretaker stared at Whumpee, the sweat flying from them as they continued to punch the punching bag. “Hey. Whumpee, that’s enough.”

Whumpee didn’t listen. They just kept jabbing in the one two movement they had been doing for the half hour. Caretaker let go of the bag but Whumpee moved with it.

“Hey! Whumpee,” Caretaker hissed, stepping in front of Whumpee, hands up palms facing Whumpee. “That’s enough, you’re hurting yourself.”

Whumpee didn’t listen. Instead, they started punching Caretaker’s hands. Caretaker snapped their hand closed but Whumpee retracted their arm swiftly to their chest to punch again, their eyes distant and hard.

“Whumpee! Whumpee,” Caretaker snapped as Whumpee’s fists started coming harder on Caretaker’s palms. Caretaker stepped forward into Whumpee’s punches and reached a hand up, locking it around Whumpee’s wrist. Whumpee yanked it back but Caretaker held firm.

Only then did Whumpee seem to snap back into themselves. “Let go of me.”

“I said that’s enough, Whumpee. You’re bleeding.”

Whumpee yanked their wrist back towards them but Caretaker didn’t let go. Instead they grabbed Whumpee’s other wrist and clamped their fingers around it too, stopping Whumpee from hurting themself anymore.

Whumpee’s eyes narrowed. “Let go of me, Caretaker! I can look after myself.”

“Clearly you can’t!”

“It’s just a bit of blood!” Whumpee yelled, spit flying from their mouth in anger. “What does it matter?!”

“Blood is meant to be inside your body, Whumpee, not outside.”

“It’s my body,” Whumpee told Caretaker, yanking one of their wrists free. “I’m allowed do what I want to it so let me go.”

“I’m not gonna just stand here and watch you hurt yourself.”

Whumpee let out a crazed, humourless bark of laughter. “Oh, what?” Whumpee asked, eyes glimmering with cruelty. “You want to make me stop, huh? You gonna tie me down like Whumper did because I’m not following your orders? You want to participate like Whumper did?” Whumpee demanded, squaring up to Caretaker, taking a step forward forcing Caretaker back. Whumpee’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Or maybe you want to be the one to make me bleed.”

The question made Caretaker sick. Comparing them to Whumper when all they’ve done is try and help Whumpee? The fact that Whumpee could even make that comparison at all… It was too much. Looking after Whumpee was too much. They let go of Whumpee’s wrist and turned away, walking towards the doors of the gym.

“What? Where are you going now?”

“I told you to stop, Whumpee,” said Caretaker without turning around, pulling off their own gloves. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Not my problem.”

Caretaker turned and looked over their shoulder at Whumpee as they opened the door. “But I won’t stand here and watch you finish the job Whumper started. Destroy yourself, why don’t you? You’ll do it on your own.”

[echoingalaxies]

Whumpee is dying, nothing can stop it anymore. Instead of a goodbye - when Whumpee closes their eyes for the last time, when they take their final breaths, when their hand in Caretaker's goes limp - Caretaker whispers "good night."

[sleepyiswhumping]

Freak

Elaboration on "Whumper who only takes defiant, vicious whumpees...", also by yours truly.

Content: Blood, Brief Threat of Noncon, Creepy Whumper, Defiant Whumpee, Violence

~~~~~~~~~~

Whumpee growled, thrashing against their bonds. Once they were free, the freak that kidnapped them was dead. And until then, Whumpee was going to make them regret every second of their captivity. 

“Calm down, friend. Don’t want you degloving yourself with those cuffs.” Whumper remarked, striding into their cell. 

Whumpee stared at Whumper, looking deep into their eyes, hoping the raw hatred that smoldered in their eyes unsettled Whumper. 

“Aren’t you just the cutest?”

“Fuck you.”

Whumper chuckled, then grabbed Whumpee’s hair, pulling their head back and leaning in. Whumper’s face was inches away from Whumpee’s, and Whumpee could feel their hot breath wash across their face. Whumper’s cold, dead gaze pierced Whumpee’s soul, pinning them to the ground.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, baby.” Whumper whispered, grinning.

“You’re fucked in the head, you know–” 

Mid-sentence, Whumpee flung their head forward, slamming their forehead directly into Whumper’s nose. They relish that delightful crunch, and laugh as Whumper staggers back, blood flowing down their lips, dripping off their chin, onto the floor. 

"Yea, you like that, bitch? I loved it."

Staring at the ceiling, entranced by the delightful Whumper mumbles to themself.

“Oh. Oh. That’s good.”

Whumper’s mouth opens slightly, blood dribbling between their open lips. Licking the blood off their lips, their mouth opens into a wide, toothy, shark-like smile. Training their gaze on Whumpee, their teeth stained crimson, they laugh softly.

“Oh, you’re fun.”

[aceofwhump]

The Fourteenth Doctor going through it in Doctor Who 60th Anniversary Special "The Star Beast"

[meltyphos]

just a caretaker cradling a crying, hyperventilating whumpee in their arms. whispering reassuring things and hushes in whumpees ear as they rock them in their embrace, letting whumpee know that they're safe

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

cw captive whumpee, injury, betrayal, tortured for information, intimate whumper 

After hours of torture, of beatings, of sleep deprivation, Whumpee finally gives in. Coughing up a mouthful of blood onto the ground at Whumper’s feet, they beg, “S-stop, please. No more, I can’t—I'll tell you, I-I'll tell you everything.” 

“You lasted longer than I thought.” Whumper crouches down in front of them, taking Whumpee’s chin in their hand and tilting their head up. Their expression is almost sympathetic as they take in Whumpee’s teary eyes and bruised face. “But it’s okay. It’ll all be over if you give me the information I need. And then, just think how nice it will be to finally rest. You can sleep in a real bed while your injuries heal.” 

Whumpee doesn’t need any more convincing. They choke out the information through sobs, clinging to Whumper, and each heave of their chest sends pain shooting through their broken ribs. But it will be over soon—Whumpee doesn’t know why they even held out this long if they were just going to break anyway. 

Whumper strokes their hair gently as they give up the secrets they were trained to die for. Endangering their team’s entire operation and perhaps their lives. But then again, it’s not like Whumpee’s team came to rescue them—as Whumper had reminded them countless times. And they were right. 

“Good…that’s perfect, Whumpee,” Whumper praises after they’ve finished spilling every bit of information that had been requested, and then some. “Thanks to you, your team won’t stand a chance against me, now.” 

A sense of relief washes over Whumpee. It's done—the suffering is finally over with. They want to sleep until the pain no longer clings to their bones and laces every movement. However, their relief is quickly replaced by a fresh bout of fear at the realization of what they’ve just done. “They’ll know it was me,” Whumpee whispers brokenly.  

“Of course they will,” Whumper says, matter-of-fact. “And they will go looking for you. And if they find you, they will kill you.” 

Whumpee shakes their head. “Worse,” they correct. “They’ll do so much worse than just kill me.” 

A sharp pain shoots through their side and they groan, clutching at one of their wounds. Whumper gathers them into their arms before they collapse completely, and assures Whumpee, “That’s why you will be staying with me. In exchange for giving up the information I needed, you will be under my protection.” 

Whumpee can’t possibly have heard them right. They must be delirious from the pain. “W-what?” they stammer. Everything is growing fuzzy, and now that they’re being held in Whumper’s arms, they just want to let their eyes fall shut and surrender to sleep. 

The gentle fingers brushing back Whumpee’s hair lull them further into unconsciousness as Whumper murmurs, “I can’t just give you up now, sweetheart. I think you’d make a valuable addition to my team.” 

Whumpee hums in agreement, not quite sure what they’re agreeing to, but if it means an end to the pain, they’ll do just about anything. 

“You were never cut out for this line of work, were you?” Whumper says teasingly. They lift Whumpee in their arms and begin carrying them somewhere, but the gentle rocking motion of their steps eases Whumpee into sleep long before they find out where they’re being taken. 

[whumpypepsigal]

The Witcher s03e03: “[Your mother] loved you the best she could. To save you, she had to let you go.”—“This can’t have been the only choice.”

[whumppppp]

Silent scream

[hurt-and-comfort-me-please]

Ex-Villain angst

Exactly what it says on the tin.

Ex-Villain from a crime family that has to watch and participate as their family is taken away by the heroes

Ex-Villain who spent their villain years chasing the approval of their mentor/villainous idol/villainous loved one, only to find themselves 'redeemed', now chasing the approval of the heroes

Ex-Villain changing their behavior, but never getting better. In fact, they're not sure they've ever felt worse

Ex-Villain only ever being seen as that, an Ex-Villain

Guilt tripping, so much guilt tripping. They don't even argue anymore, they just give in.

Nobody wants a villain, Ex-Villain is rejected almost everywhere, which can make it easier for hero organizations to keep them under control because they have nowhere else to go.

Ex-Villain losing sleep over their past, unable to think of anything other than what they've done wrong

Ex-Villains dyeing or cutting their hair and changing their appearance until they're unrecognizable, because maybe then they can at least pretend they're a different person now

Ex-Villain who still suffers with violent impulses, unable to ever get help for them because admitting they have them would make everyone distrust them

Ex-Villain who learns the hard way that that 'power of friendship' thing only applies to people the heroes like

Ex-Villain who's trying, they really are, but find it increasingly difficult to believe it'll ever actually make a difference

[shy-raccoon]

The damsel in distress slowly starts getting more and more unstable from the unaddressed trauma of being frequently kidnapped. One day they completely snap and the villains start being found mysteriously murdered with increasing brutality.