actress4him

[actress4him]

Give meeeeeee

Ladies in distress. Bound and gagged. Tortured. Hurt in general.

Ladies being whumped FTW!

Reblog if you have ladies being whumped! 👀

[actress4him]

@painful-pooch

One character clutches another protectively close, the other's face pressed into the crook of their neck, shielding that character's view and muffling their distressed noises, as the first character scowls over the top of their head, directing a death-glare toward anyone who so much as thinks about harming another hair on that head, all but snarling like a dog jealously guarding its food with possessive defense for the character cradled in their arms.

[actress4him]

Rogue - Chapter One - Revenge

The start of a new series that I have been planning for quite a while!! I’m very excited for the whump to come on this one. The inspiration for the story comes from a slightly unusual source - gold star if (you haven’t seen me talk about it on discord and) you figure out what that inspiration is at some point along the way.

This was written for WhumpLovers’ WhumpMonth (an ao3 event), alt prompt “Made to Hurt”.

Taglist: @whumplovers-collaborate

Contains: lady whump, living weapon, war, minor character death, assassination, loss of a parent, implied child abuse (because of fantasy race shenanigans the child is actually quite old, but has the maturity of a young teen)

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She’s still a youngling when her world falls apart.

Forty years is plenty old enough to understand some of the whispers in the halls of the manor - the Aelinai king is a tyrant, they say, and even though Nyx isn’t sure what that word means right away, she gathers from the other whispers that he has too much power and chooses bad ways to use it.

According to her father, forty years isn’t old enough to actually be included in any of the conversations on what to do about it, though. Ekan and Nanki are old enough, but no matter how much Nyx begs and tries to weasel the information out of them, they’re immune to their little sister’s wiles and their lips stay sealed. She might be well past her baby years, but she’s still a couple of decades away from being considered an actual adult.

Forty-one years is more than old enough to understand war and death. No one bothers as much to keep the younglings from hearing their chatter when the kingdom is in an uproar. Lord Nyrik killed the king, they say, and Nyx is filled with pride. Her father got rid of the evil king. That’s a wonderful thing, right?

Except Nashanns are being carried into the manor and laid out on the parlor floor, bloody and broken and crying out in pain. Nyx scurries around and does her part, fetching water and bandages for the medics, trying not to let her gaze linger on the grisly wounds and the still, grey faces of the soldiers they didn’t get to in time.

Her father never comes back, nor her oldest brother, Ekan. The news that Lord Nyrik was captured by the Aelinai travels quickly. Immediately executed, most people say, though no one seems to have actually seen it happen.

At forty-one years, her father is dead, her home is ripped away from her, and her life is never the same again.

At forty-two years, she’s old enough to become the key to her mother’s plan for revenge. She doesn’t understand why she’s been chosen when Nanki and even Kiaan are older, but she doesn’t question her mother. They may not be living in a manor anymore, but even in the forest Lady Inaksha is in command, leading the entire Nashann clan in their survival. Nyx admires her strength every day. She wants to be just like her, but her mother tells her that she’s not meant to be a leader.

She is meant to be a weapon.

So she trains with the soldiers, the youngest they’ve ever had among them. She learns to hunt, to wield a knife, to shoot an arrow. She learns to run for miles without faltering, to lift weights that the grown men use.

When she reaches sixty years - finally, officially an adult - she begins her own, personal training under Lady Inaksha’s watchful eye. Here is where she finds the strength that she’s always searched for. She learns to separate herself, to care deeply about her people’s prosperity while understanding that she isn’t truly a part of them. She learns to take pain without bending.

She learns to kill and not care.

Nyx is eighty years when she stands before her mother and siblings, unflinching as Lady Inaksha circles and studies her.

“What are you?”

She stares straight ahead, ignoring the bored looks on Nanki and Kiaan’s faces. “I am a weapon, wielded by your hand.”

“Who is your enemy?”

“King Baelor and all of the Aelinai.”

“What is your purpose?”

“To avenge my father.”

“And how will you do so?”

“I will infiltrate the Aelinai royal family, and I will kill them.”

Lady Inaksha stops in front of her, a smile spreading across her face. “Yes. You are ready.”

[actress4him]

Whumpees missing their previous life before the whump is great and all but whumpees who don’t even know what life is like outside their cell are so fun to write and read imo. Whumpees who were born into capitivty, or were lab-grown by whumper, not knowing that there’s other things to life than this. Whumpees who suffer with memory loss that will never know just how good their life was before whumper came along. Whumpees who have been conditioned into forgetting about their memories, or worse, have been trained into believing life without whumper was so much worse that, actually, captivity is great and the best option for them. If whumper says so, it must be true.

[actress4him]

Whump Stimboard 1/? Theme: Captivity

[x] [x] [x]

[x] [x] [x]

[x] [x] [x]

[actress4him]

Oh hey, yeah that’s definitely mine! Crazy to see other people searching for my fics like this 😅 Also my apologies to everyone who loves In Irons and has been waiting ages for it to update. I will try my best…at some point…when I take a break for a moment from obsessing over Shadow of Death lol

Anyway, here’s the link to the In Irons masterlist for anyone who wants it: https://www.tumblr.com/actress4him/653552357817352192/in-irons-masterlist

And thanks, everyone, for the compliments!

Hi, I read a story on here before and I can't find it again and I was wondering if you wrote it?

It was a multi chapter story about a woman who ran away from her abusive husband disguised as a man. She boarded a ship to get away but it was captured by pirates. She was forced to join their crew while still disguised as a man. When the captain found out, he had her whipped in front of the crew. One of the pirates helped her tend to her wounds and taught her to fight. She found her stuff among the pirates plunder. The captain agreed to let her keep her grandmothers necklace if she helped in the next raid.

That's all I can remember.

Did I write that? I can’t remember writing that. That does sound like an interesting concept though!!! I have a steampunk pirate whump story called Cassian’s Resistance but it’s nothing like what you’ve described, except for the whipping part I believe. If you ever find it PLSSSS let me know tho 👀👀👀👀👀

[actress4him]

I think we need to torture more girls

[actress4him]

RB if you're a whump blog that doesn't post NSFW (As in, sexual content) I need to find some blogs to follow! Bonus if you have ongoing original series.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

1. Race Against the Clock | Search Party | Panic Attack (caretaker whump)

2. Amusement Park (abusive relationship)

3. Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested (accused of murder)

4. Hallucinations | Sensory Deprivation

5. Sunburn (mer whump)

6. Not Realizing They’re Injured | “It’s Not My Blood” (collapse)

7. Magic with a Cost (empathetic healing)

8. Sleep Deprivation | Forced to Stay Awake (noise torture)

9. Bruises (aftermath of whump)

10. Blow to the Head | Slurred Words | “I can’t think straight” (caretaking)

11. Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don’t even exist” (homeless whumpee)

12. Starvation (aftermath of whump)

13. Multiple Whumpees (used against each other)

14. Left for Dead (collapsed building)

15. Painful Hug (hidden injuries)

16. Wound Cleaning (forced to stay quiet)

17. Nowhere Else to Go (doorstep collapse)

18. Loss of Identity (royal whump)

19. Blood Trail | Abandoned Cabin (escape attempt)

20. Emotional Angst | Shoulder to Cry On | “It’s not your fault” (abandoned)

21. Tattoo Gun (noncon body modification)

22. Bleeding Through Bandages | Reopening Wounds

23. Public Display (whipping)

24. “I never knew daylight could be so violent” (rescue)

25. Surgery | Stitches | Being Monitored | “It’s for your own good” (uncooperative patient)

26. Nightmares (caretaker whump)

27. Laboratory | Muzzled

28. Denial | CCTV | Exposure | “They caught me red-handed” (leader whumper)

29. Fatigue | “Who said you could rest” (forced labor)

30. Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears (post-rescue)

31. Asking for Help (ptsd)

[actress4him]

Shadow of Death - Mission Gone Awry

I finally edited part 1 of the OG Brumaria rp for posting! This is where it all began, before we even realized that they were going to end up as soulmates in every universe imaginable.

Bruno belongs to @painful-pooch , who wrote his dialogue and actions here. My plan is to have more of his perspective in the next part!

Taglist: @sssunshinebreeze , @whumplovers-collaborate

Shadow of Death Masterlist

Contains: lady whump, gunshot wounds, blood, murder, guns and knives, passing out, very vague fear of noncon, references to war

The sun is dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the hard-packed dirt of the compound. Kamaria stays crouched deep inside one of them, just behind the commander’s tent. He’s inside now. She already confirmed it with her own eyes. The first leg of the mission - slipping over the fence and past the many guards to get to her current hiding spot - is done, and now she just has to wait for her opportunity to strike.

The guard change should be any minute now. She’s confident in her ability to work silently, but there’s always the chance that her target will make some kind of noise. So just to be safe, she’ll wait until the soldier planted just on the other side of his tent is too distracted to notice what’s going on inside.

Peering out from underneath her dark hood, she watches as the new guard approaches. Cinse, katre, try, dyu, unas…

She lifts the bottom of the tent, rolls underneath, raises the dagger in her hand, and throws. 

Her knife strikes true. The commander falls with little sound and no fuss as she stands in the shadows and watches, and just like that, the job is done. Now she only has to escape the compound without being spotted, then she can report back to her father and hopefully be left alone for the remainder of the day. 

Just as she steps forward to retrieve the dagger, however, someone else bursts into the tent. Instinctively, she whips a smaller knife out of her gauntlet and sends it flying toward the person’s chest. It isn’t likely to kill them, but should be enough to distract them while she either escapes or attacks. Which it will be depends on whether this person decides to sound an alarm.

The man already has a knife in his hand, too, and deftly swipes away her missile before it can impale him. He barely seems to notice the small cut it leaves across her upper arm. In fact, he doesn’t seem bothered by the situation at all. He merely heaves a sigh and uses his free hand to dig through the parchment on the commander’s desk.

“You know…sometimes you shouldn’t be tossing knives at people. You’d really do a number on them. Who the heck are you even working for?” 

He hasn’t even given the dead commander a second glance, just going on about his business. Kamaria lets her eyes flick over his clothing. A plain blue tunic and dusty trousers…no armor, no uniform. No, he certainly isn't a soldier from this camp. Another assassin, possibly. Certainly someone with his own agenda in this tent. 

Also one of those types who likes to make jokes while working. Her favorite.

“Like I’d tell you,” she hisses, strolling across the tent to yank her dagger out of the commander’s back. If he’s just going to stand there and not try to fight her, then she might as well finish her work. She plunges the blade quickly down into the earth to clean the blood off, but keeps it in her hand, just in case.

“It was just a question,” he mutters, shrugging and carefully putting the parchment he’d picked up into his pouch. His eyes rove over what’s left on the desk, his own knife still out. He sighs again. “Also, you seem like you have something to say to me due to that tone you are taking.”

Straightening, she narrows her eyes at the stranger. “I have nothing to say to you, except stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

Would her superiors want to know that there was someone else at the scene, stealing papers and potentially trying to assassinate the commander himself? Yes, certainly.

Will they think to ask? Likely not.

Does she care if they ever find out? Not at all. She’s done her job here, that’s all that matters to her. He obviously isn’t working for Kedosa, nor for her own superiors, so she really doesn’t care what he does.

“I am pretty sure I’ve been here longer than you, and I don’t work for anyone but myself. You, on the other hand, have someone above you, I’m sure.” He waves his knife as if to make some kind of point. 

What does he mean by that, exactly, that he’s sure he’s been here longer than her? The comments dig underneath her skin. How would he know how long she’s been at this? Far longer than she ever wanted, that’s for sure. Far longer than many people survived in this profession. And exactly what part of her killing his target with a single knife before he could even get there  told him that she hadn’t been in this business as long?

But he’s right about her working for someone above her, and that irks her even more. She hates that it’s somehow so obvious, hates that she can apparently easily be traced back to the people she wishes she weren’t associated with.

Her jaw clenches, but she has no time or desire to stay and argue with him. Thanks to him and his distractions she’s already much later leaving than she’d planned.

“If you’ll excuse me…” Without turning her back to him, Kamaria eases her way back to the corner of her tent where she’d entered, ready to be done with this place and this man before she gets caught. 

“I never excused you, but by all means, set off the alarm. Go ahead and get yourself killed,” he whispers loudly, throwing up his hands in annoyance.

Right, because she hasn’t been in this business long enough to know what she’s doing, according to him. With one last glare in his direction, she ducks underneath the tent and back into the shadow.

And directly into the sights of a rifle, pointing straight down at her.

“Blen!” Stupid man and his stupid mouth! She’d been so distracted by him, so eager to get away from him, that she hadn’t even heard the soldier waiting for her outside. 

No one was supposed to be there. But her timing is off now. Her careful exit plan is blown to pieces.

Rolling out of the way before he can shoot, she springs to her feet and darts off back the direction she’d come in as fast as she can go. She messed up, badly. Yes, the stupid talkative man had distracted her, but she’d allowed herself to be distracted, and now she’s making mistakes that she hasn’t made since she was a teenager. Why didn’t she check for soldiers before exiting the tent? Why didn’t she kill the guard before she ran off? It’s not like she would have flinched at having more Kedosian blood on her hands.

But she’d panicked, like a little girl, too caught up in her anger and frustration to do her job well. Sometimes anger is a weapon. This time it was her downfall. 

She tries to stay well-hidden as she runs, but it doesn’t do her much good when she’s already been spotted. The crack of the rifle is simultaneous with the pain that splits through her upper leg. It’s not her first time being shot, not by a long way. It really never gets any less painful, though, and trying to escape an enemy base with a bullet in her leg isn’t exactly her idea of a mission gone well. 

Still, she stubbornly doesn’t fall, only stumbles to the side and into the fence before pushing on. The soldier that shot her will still be looking to finish the job, and now the entire rest of the camp will know that something is wrong. She has to make it back to her exit point before a dozen humans with guns are on her tail.

Except that, of course, there’s now a soldier standing directly in front of said exit point. Kamaria falls back into the shadow of the nearest tent, panting and clutching at the blood-soaked fabric of her skirt. Blen. She has a backup plan, obviously, but it’s all the way on the other side of the camp. She doesn’t know if she can make it that far and still make it back to her own camp on this leg…especially without someone catching onto the tiny trail of blood she’s leaving behind.

While she’s debating what to do, a figure approaches slowly. She whirls around with her knife ready, but it’s only the man from the tent, staring at the blood on her skirt as he takes off a belt from around his hips and tosses it to the ground in front of her. 

“Wrap that around your leg, above the wound. It’ll slow the bleeding. You can listen to me, or bleed out, but I have to do something.” 

Great. Apparently this guy is just going to keep showing up. Yes, this time he’s…actually being useful, but she’ll never admit that to him, especially when he has to be so insufferable about it. Besides, it’s not as if she actually needs him. She would have figured it all out on her own, just like she has a hundred times before. 

Still, she isn’t against taking free help when it’s offered. Snatching up the belt, she yanks her skirt up high enough that she can wrap the belt above the wound, not caring at the moment about modesty. He doesn’t seem to be looking, anyway.

“I’m well aware how to use a tourniquet,” she snaps. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“Yeah? You know how to use a tourniquet? Good for you. Now use it before you bleed out and get me killed, too. Stop acting like a child, and I might just do that!” There’s a pistol already in his hand, and he leans around the tent, aims, and fires. “Well, that’s just one. Do I need to carry you, or are you going to stab me in the back if I try, huh? Also, maybe manners aren’t your thing, but I kind of saved your life.”

Saved her life? What, by handing her a belt? Throwing her skirt back down over her leg, she makes sure her hood and mask are still in place before digging her own pistol out of its hidden holster. She’d been trying not to attract attention to herself by slinging guns around, but of course this man would be the type to solve everything with bullets.

Spinning around and gritting her teeth against the onslaught of pain, she takes a shot at another soldier coming their way. “I’m not sure where you’re getting your delusions of grandeur, but I’m not in the habit of thanking people who try to ruin my missions. And if you even attempt to carry me, I will kill you.” The nerve of this man, not only barging in and assuming she needs help, but threatening to carry her!

“Delusions?” he scoffs. “You think I am deluded. You’re not wrong. What kind of jerk would just give up their possible life and freedom helping a stranger not bleed out. Oh wait…” Trailing off, he glares at her in annoyance. “That sounds like someone you know now.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” 

“And if you don’t let me carry you, you…will…pass…out!” he roars, dodging a charging soldier and quickly ending them with his bare hands. 

Her vision wavers, and she grabs the tent pole with one hand to steady herself. More soldiers are running toward them. If they - she - doesn’t get out of here now, she’s going to be overpowered. She’d come prepared for an assassination, not a one-woman battle, and she’s certainly not going to put enough faith in this stranger to stay and fight. With only a slight limp, she begins to edge her way toward the exit point, gun still held at the ready. 

“Are you really walking…you are seriously a stubborn one,” he mutters, rushing to her side. “How much ammo you got? Because last I checked, Mrs. Snarky Shadow, you are a master at assassination. Let me carry you out of here before we die very stupidly because of you.”

“And when, exactly, did you check? You know absolutely nothing about me.” Continuing to hobble her way toward the exit, she takes out another soldier with a well-aimed round, but misses the second when the world begins to spin around her again. Gritting her teeth in anger, she grips the gun with both hands and tries again, at least hitting his stomach this time. Close enough. “I am a master of many things, thank you.”

The man’s use of the title ‘Shadow’ makes her wonder briefly if he has worked out who she is, but it would have been asking a lot for a man to realize the infamous Shadow of Death is actually a woman in that short of a time…and to not have a wounded ego over it.

“I know just enough about you to be able to say without a hint of doubt that you have trust issues,” he growls, checking around for more soldiers and firing away.

Ignoring his comment, she continues. “And I told you already -” she swings her gun around and points it directly at his forehead -“if you touch me, you will die.”

They lock eyes, and he doesn’t move a muscle save to slowly raise his hands and one eyebrow. He doesn’t look afraid, just…done. “Alright then. Don’t touch you or I’ll die. Do you have anything else you want to a-”

Before he can finish, she shifts the gun to the right and fires it over his shoulder at an oncoming enemy. His ears probably won’t appreciate it, but he can just be happy he’s still alive. Her life certainly would be a lot more peaceful if she’d let the soldier stab him. 

His hand goes against his ear, and he winces. “Thank you for the hearing loss. Well, let’s go ahead and finish off those guards, and we should be alive and free and you won’t have to deal with me another minute. Deal? Great.” He doesn’t bother actually waiting for a response, walking toward the exit.

Thankfully, he doesn’t talk to her any more after that. She refuses to speak to him, too, preferring silence always and falling into the rhythm of killing. It’s easier that way to forget about what she’s doing, to zone out and perform her job without whatever tiny fragments of her conscience remain getting in the way. 

By the time they make it out into the open field beyond the gate, she’s fairly certain that she doesn’t need to worry about anyone coming after them. All she has to worry about now is the man. And, of course, making it back to camp, miles away. Now that she’s not fighting, the pain from her wound is making itself more obvious, as is the blood that completely soaks her entire leg, despite the tourniquet.

Pain, she can handle. But blood loss could easily take her down out in the woods somewhere between here and camp. She isn’t sure if the most dangerous part of that is the potential wild animals and enemy soldiers, or the trouble she’ll be in from her superiors for being gone longer than allotted. She’s already going to be in enough trouble as it is, since being shot isn’t exactly part of a smooth assassination mission. 

The man sticks fairly close by, but gives her a little bit of space, checking his minor wounds and cursing over his nicked armor. “How is your leg faring? Am I allowed to check, or are you going to kill me now?”

Perhaps all he means by ‘checking’ her leg is inquiring about it, but her mind immediately goes to him wanting to see the wound and play medic. In a flash of anger - and possibly a bit of fear that she’ll never admit to - she has her dagger back in her hand and lunges to place it at his throat. Somehow his blade finds her own throat at the same time. She’s too dizzy to focus on his face, but this close he reeks of human sweat and gunpowder.

“My leg is just fine. I don’t know who you think you are, inserting yourself into my mission and insisting on acting like we’re on the same team, but I suggest you leave me alone before I decide to treat you like an enemy.”

“I don’t think I’m anyone special,” he replies, terse. “I’m a man who gives a crap when someone is bleeding out and they saved my life. The least I could do is offer the favor in return, but no, you are so proud. Too proud, in fact to realize that maybe for once in your dang life, someone isn’t trying to screw you over.”

Narrowing his eyes, he huffs in her face. “So…are you going to let me help, or are you going to be so stubborn you pass out? Because I don’t have places to be. You do.”

She barks a caustic laugh. “Oh, you think you know so much about me, don’t you?” He’s right about some of it, like how she has places to be, and that angers her more than anything else about the man. “Think you can just show up and figure me out and make me forget all my doubts because you understand me?”

Blinking away the spots that are invading her vision, she forces herself not to dig the knife further into his skin. He raises his chin slightly, as if trying to avoid it. She should probably kill him and be done with it. If he’s dead, she won’t have to worry about what he might do to her if she does pass out. And yes, they’re presumably working for the same side, but she’s fairly certain he’s a mercenary for hire. She has no use for his type. They can switch loyalties at will, depending on who’s paying the best at the time. The world, and this war, won’t suffer from his loss.

“It’s not hard to guess you belong to a guild, but if you think I am some sort of psychic, then that is a personal problem on your part. I will never make you forget the things that made you who you are, but I am more likely to make you question your stupid decisions,” he snarls.

She barely comprehends his words. “Well, you’re wrong. I’m not proud, I’m careful. I don’t happen…to trust random strangers to…take care of my injuries for me.” 

The spots are getting worse, and the noise of the world around them has suddenly gone quiet. Blen. She has to be okay. She can’t pass out here, in front of this man, that would be worse than it happening out in the woods somewhere. 

His eyes flicker to her leg, then back up again. “Pride or not, you are ignorant when it comes to reading the freaking room. I am not some danger to your life, and I wasn’t planning on hurting you. On the contrary, I would like to see you not die. Random I may be, but I have enough honor to know that you, a skilled warrior, need some help.”

She blinks again, hard, and tries to back off a little but can’t seem to get her body to move. “I’m f-fine. I just…need you to leave…me alone.”

She isn’t going to make it. She’s going to be unconscious and completely vulnerable in mere seconds, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

“You aren’t looking fine, Mrs. Snarky Shadow. You look like you are about to - hey!”

She has enough clarity left to be glad that her mask is hiding whatever panic has taken over her expression before everything goes dark. 

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 31

Asking for Help

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, flashback, panic attack

They couldn’t breathe. The images of the past had them by the throat, pounding into their mind with a force that left their head spinning and chest aching. It wouldn’t stop, one memory after another, every horrific moment, all of the sounds and the fear and the pain right there as if it was happening all over again.

It took what seemed like ages for the present to come back into focus. Took even longer before Caretaker could coax normal breaths out of them, before the tears stopped pouring unchecked and the shaking in their limbs calmed to small tremors.

Even then, they didn’t speak for several minutes. Caretaker sat patiently with them through the whole thing, touching only when Whumpee was ready, at which point they moved so that Whumpee could lean their head on Caretaker’s shoulder. Together they drew in deep breaths, staring silently off into the distance.

“I think…” Whumpee began at last, their voice weak and exhausted. “I think I need…help.” 

They’d tried for so long to deny it, to be strong and handle everything on their own. But they were tired of fighting. Tired of being alone through all of this. They were just…so, so tired.

Caretaker’s hand found theirs and gave it a tight squeeze. “Okay.” They sounded a bit choked up. “Whatever you need, Whumpee, I’ll make sure it happens. I am right here for you. Always, okay?”

Whumpee turned their face in to Caretaker’s shoulder. “Okay,” they whispered. Somewhere deep inside them, underneath the layers of fear and fatigue, a little flame of hope flickered to life.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 30

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears

Contains: generic characters, aftermath of captivity, aftermath of rescue, panic, crying

Whumpee woke with a start and immediately couldn’t breathe. Everything around them was blinding white and unfamiliar, they didn’t know where they were, what was Whumper doing to them now? They struggled to sit up, but they were so weak that their arms just collapsed underneath them.

Then someone was there, looming above them and putting their hands on their shoulders. Through the haze of fear, they were just a silhouette, but it couldn’t be anyone but Whumper. It was always Whumper, always with some new method to hurt them. They stopped trying to move, instead lying there trembling with their eyes shut, waiting for the pain to start.

“Whumpee! Calm down, breathe. You’re safe.”

That wasn’t Whumper’s voice, or anything they would say. Slowly, afraid that they were hallucinating, Whumpee opened their eyes and looked again, blinking to clear their vision.

“C-...Caretaker?” It couldn’t be. This had to be a dream, right? “Is that…”

“It’s me.” A gentle hand came to rest on Whumpee’s hair. They couldn’t help the automatic flinch, but quickly relaxed into the familiar touch. Tears sprang to their eyes, but they couldn’t let them fall. Not until they knew for sure they were safe.

“But…how…?”

“You don’t remember? We came and got you out of that place. You’re at the hospital now.”

Hospital? Whumpee glanced around them, finally able to take in the sterile walls, the machines , the narrow bed they were lying on…and the fact that they were, for once, not in pain. “But…what about…?”

“Whumper’s gone.” The grip on their arm tightened just slightly, but didn’t come anywhere near hurting. A second later it loosened, and the hand on their head began to stroke a smooth rhythm. “You don’t have to worry about them ever again.”

The tears burned fiercer, but Whumpee kept blinking them back. “Are you sure?” they whispered.

“Yes, Whumpee.” Caretaker’s expression was earnest, and they’d never lied to Whumpee before. “You’re safe. I promise.”

A sob broke free. Whumpee clapped a hand to their mouth, still trying to hold it in, but the tears began to spill down their cheeks, anyway.

“Oh, Whumpee. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“You came for me,” they choked. 

“Of course I did.” Leaning down, Caretaker enveloped Whumpee in their arms, and they cried together until their tears were spent. 

[actress4him]

Meet…NATURE MAN!!! “Dirt Saves!”

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[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 29

Fatigue | “Who said you could rest?”

Contains: generic whumpee and whumper, leader whumper, forced labor

Whumpee stumbled, catching themself with their shoulder against the wall, and quickly set down the heavy load in their arms before they ended up dropping it. Exhaustion weighed heavily on their body. Leaning their head against the wall, they shut their eyes, feeling their insides practically tremble.

“Excuse me?” Leader’s voice echoed down the hall, and Whumpee flinched, immediately struggling to straighten. “Who said that you could rest? Do you realize how much work still has to be done?”

How much work you still have to do, is what they meant. Because it was all Whumpee’s job, according to them. And after this job, there’d be another. And another. It was never ending.

“I just needed a second,” they mumbled, knowing already that it would do no good. Bending, they heaved up their load again, nearly falling over but managing to right themself.

“We don’t have a second,” Leader snapped, predictably. “Quit being lazy and speed it up.”

Whumpee didn’t have it in them to respond. All of their focus had to go into putting one foot in front of the other without collapsing.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 28

Denial | CCTV | Exposure | “They caught me red-handed”

Contains: generic characters, abuse by a leader, team whump, corporal punishment, self-deprecating thoughts

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Whumpee insisted. Their calm exterior gave away nothing, or at least so they hoped. Inside, their panic was growing by the second, clawing up their throat and threatening to choke them. 

“Do you hear yourselves? You’re talking about Leader. They…they’re a good person. They wouldn’t hurt anybody.” Not unless they had a really good reason. 

Teammate frowned, crossing their arms. “So you’re saying Leader has never hurt you. Not even a little bit.”

Whumpee sputtered. “Not on purpose!”

A moment passed in which the creases in Teammate’s expression grew even deeper. Finally, they waved a hand at Techie. “Show them.”

Sighing, Techie spun around in their chair and clicked a button on the computer. The screen came to life with a low-resolution, black and white video of a hallway Whumpee recognized. Their heart dropped into their stomach. This couldn’t be what they were afraid it was…right?

It was. Whumpee watched in growing dread as their own figure walked onto the screen, joined shortly by Leader from the other direction. There was no sound to the video, but it wasn’t needed. Everyone could see the fury on Leader’s face as they got up into Whumpee’s personal space, and the way that Whumpee folded in on themself more as the yelling went on. 

Then Leader grabbed them by the cheeks with one hand, angling their head up at an awkward angle. Whumpee winced watching it. They could still almost feel the way their fingers had dug into them, cutting the inside of their mouth against their teeth.

They knew what came next. They should have called out to stop the video, but clearly the team had already seen it, anyway, and their brain seemed to be frozen up. All they could do was stare in horror as Leader slammed their fist into their stomach, doubling them over, then pulled them up by their hair for one last insult before marching away. 

Techie paused the video with Whumpee still on the screen, arms wrapped around their stomach. They felt like doing so now, or better yet, falling into a black hole and disappearing from existence so that they wouldn’t have to see everyone’s pitying eyes on them. 

“How long has this been going on?” Teammate asked quietly.

“And more importantly,” Techie added on, “why didn’t you tell us?”

Whumpee’s shoulders came up toward their ears. “It wasn’t…important?” Before anyone could get out the exclamations they saw rise to their lips, they hurried on. “Look, I messed up, and Leader…corrected me. It’s fine. I told you, Leader’s a good person.”

“You also told us that they never hurt you,” Teammate pointed out. “Whumpee, this is not okay. They shouldn’t be treating you like that, no matter what you did or didn’t do.” They stepped forward, placing a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder. “We’re gonna fix this, okay? We won’t let this keep happening.”

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 27

Laboratory | Muzzled

Contains: generic whumpee and whumpers, lab whump, restraints, defiant to broken whumpee, dehumanization, captivity

“Get your hands off me!” Whumpee snarled, fighting against the hold on their arms as hard as they could. “I’m not your subject, I’m a person! You can’t do this!”

It took half a dozen scientists, but they managed to drag Whumpee onto the cold metal table, clamping restraints around their ankles and legs despite their furious kicking and eventually shoving their torso down to secure with even more restraints. Their head was held in place by metal across their throat, but that didn’t stop them from continuing to shout and snapping their teeth at the next scientist who brought their fingers too near. 

“We’ve got a biter,” they called over their shoulder, not sounding all that concerned. “Bring the muzzle.”

Whumpee hardly paid them attention to start with, unable to fathom that they were being serious. But when they saw someone bring over an actual, person-sized, leather muzzle, their heart lodged in their throat. “No…don’t do this! Don’t touch me, don’t bring that near me!”

More rubber gloved hands descended on their face, pinching their nose and tugging at their chin mercilessly until they’d managed to pry open Whumpee’s mouth. Even as they fought to close their teeth again, something just as cold and hard as the table they lay on slid between their lips, settling on top of their tongue. The hands released them as the scientists made quick work of strapping the horrid thing to their face. 

It was the worst thing they’d felt in their life. Their breathing was restricted, the metal in their mouth cut into their cheeks and made them want to gag repeatedly. Claustrophobia quickly threatened to set in with the realization that they couldn’t move any part of their body to claw the suffocating contraption off. 

But they could scream still. And they did, first as a continued protest and a distraction from not being able to do anything else. Then, as the experiments began, the screams turned to something else entirely.

—

It had been so many months…maybe even years. Whumpee knew the routine by heart. They shuffled toward the table, painstakingly climbing onto it on their own as the scientists prepared for their work. Someone came by and activated all of the restraints, Whumpee lying perfectly still so that they wouldn’t get pinched.

Another scientist came over and started unstrapping the muzzle. Whumpee winced a little as the leather peeled away from their face, then sucked in a deep breath, stretching out their jaw. They didn’t bother to try to talk. Their throat hurt too much all the time, anyway. Instead, they took the rare chance to enjoy freely breathing the sterile air.

When the scientists were done with whatever they were experimenting with on Whumpee’s face that day, the muzzle came back. Early on, the sight would have made dread coil in their stomach. But now, they simply opened their mouth, not making eye contact as they accepted the bit and waited for the straps to be put back in place.

They hated how it felt more normal to have the muzzle on than not.

[actress4him]

Mute Whumpee who uses some form of sign language has their hands bound I a way where they can’t properly sign.

Bonus Whumper doesn’t know whumpee is mute or pretends not to and/or doesn’t care.