actress4him

[actress4him]

Introducing…

Two teams! Lots of WHUMP!

Which team can ensure every member of the other team gets a gift? 🎁

Which team can create the most gifts?

Gifts can be (OC or Fandom): Writing, Art, and more! 👀

Join us for further details and signups soon!

[actress4him]

Rogue - Chapter Two - Banished

This was written for the Whumplovers' Collaborate WhumpMonth event...I just didn't quite get it finished in time ha.

Taglist: @whumplovers-collaborate

Rogue Masterlist | Previous

Day 21: What Doesn’t Leave You - Exhaustion / Old wound still hurts / Hallucinations

Contains: lady whump, non-descriptive whump of a minor (teenager-ish), referenced amputation, mild gore, blood, aftermath of war, loss of personal belongings, original fantasy races

The day that the Aelinai soldiers arrive is etched into her memory. Their giant wings momentarily block out the sun as they swoop down from above, landing gracefully and quickly surrounding the entire town. Nyx cowers in the doorway of the manor, staring in awe. She’s never actually met an Aelinai before. They don’t venture this direction very often, preferring their own city on the seashore. She wants desperately to touch one of their feathery wings, but doesn’t dare even cross the threshold.

Her mother, on the other hand, marches straight past her and out into the open, chin up and chestnut hair glinting in the sunlight. The Nashann don’t usually spend time outdoors at this time of day, it’s far too bright. Nyx is usually asleep right now. But when the members of your clan are dying by the dozens, your father has been captured by the enemy, and that enemy’s army is coming to your home, schedules are the last thing on anyone’s mind.

The other leading clan members and the few Nashann soldiers that remained to guard the town fan out around Lady Inaksha as she comes to a halt in the center of the square. An equal number of Aelinai soldiers meet them there. Nyx has to squint to be able to look anywhere near their shining armor.

“I am Commander Eiran, and I speak on behalf of Queen Farren.” The man in front removes his helmet as he loudly addresses the gathered crowd. He’s shorter than her mother, but his grey wings that he keeps spread wide make him seem so much bigger. “Lord Nyrik has fallen. What is left of your army has surrendered. This war is over.”

It isn’t news to any of them. This is only the official declaration, but it’s been obvious for days now that the Nashann were losing, even if Nyx can still scarcely believe it.

She’d always thought her father was invincible. And it doesn’t seem right, that he should take down the tyrant king but still somehow be defeated. Killing the king should have been the victory.

“The Nashann have lost the trust of Her Majesty forevermore,” the commander continues. “Therefore, she has decreed that all of you be banished from this place.”

Gasps and cries rise from those gathered behind Nyx in the manor, and from other doorways around the square. A numbness falls over Nyx. Banished? They have to leave their home? But…she and her mother and brother and sister…they didn’t do anything wrong. None of them but Nanki were even a part of the war. And where will they go?

“Where is it that you expect us to go?” her mother echoes her thoughts aloud, voice much calmer than Nyx’s would have been. Only the slight twitch of her long claws gives away her agitation. “Our clan has lived in this kingdom as long as the Aelinai have. Just because your people claim the right to rule the land, will you run us from our only home? Send us begging to other kingdoms for shelter?”

“You brought this on yourselves when you decided to assassinate the king,” the commander shoots back, anger in his voice. “Where you go is none of our concern, as long as it is not here. Arcycea is no longer your home.”

A chilling silence falls over the square. Even Lady Inaksha seems to have nothing to say in reply. There are tears building up in Nyx’s eyes, but she blinks them quickly away so she doesn’t miss anything.

Commander Eiran turns, addressing the Nashann lingering on all sides. “Gather your things, whatever you can carry. Everyone must gather here, in this spot, and my men and I will escort you north as far as the Forest of Bythareos. From there, you may decide which border to cross.” 

For a moment, no one moves. The commander throws his hand in the air, his wings flaring as he shouts, “Go!”

Nyx jolts a little and shrinks back from the doorway. She feels like she should be obeying the man, but her mother is still out there. She’s the one who will tell her what to do. 

As the other Nashann scurry away, Lady Inaksha stares down the commander for a long moment. Then, slowly, she turns, speaking to the clan leaders in a voice that 

Nyx can’t make out. One by one, they give small bows before walking off in the direction of their homes. Lady Inaksha, head still held high, does the same.

Nyx looks up at her as she enters the manor. “Mother…?” she murmurs, eyes wide and fearful. Her mother will know what to do. Surely they’re not going to do what this man wants. He can’t just make them leave…can he?

“Go and collect your things,” Lady Inaksha snaps without even glancing at her. “Do as you’re told.”

Shrinking back, Nyx hurries off, eyes on the ground and a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her mother is just…going to do what he says. They’re going to leave. She’s never gone farther than the fields outside of town before, never even heard of the forest the commander mentioned. 

And how does she even go about collecting her things? Her room is full of knick knacks and mementos, not to mention her clothes and books and toys. She doesn’t have a bag big enough to fit it all in. Maybe they’ll be able to come back and get whatever is left behind. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything about what’s happening right now, and it’s making her want to cry. 

She starts with what’s most important, in her mind. Rolls up her favorite clothes as small as they can get so that she can stuff more inside, flitting back and forth from her wardrobe to her shelves as she tries to decide what she’ll miss more. The bag fills up far too quickly. As she struggles to fit one more item inside, looking around at everything that’s left, Nyx loses the fight with her tears.

Her sister Nanki pokes her head through the door as she passes, scowling. “Stop being pathetic. You don’t see any of the rest of us crying, do you?” She eyes the bulging bag that Nyx is trying her best to fasten shut, pointed claws scrabbling at the clasp. “You do know you have to carry that, right?”

Nyx’s fingers halt for a moment. She hadn’t thought about that part. She glances up, but Nanki is already gone, so she just swipes her tears away with a frown and gets back to work. 

A few minutes later, she reenters the front room, lugging the heavy bag behind her. Nanki sneers at her, her own bag slung onto her back. “There’s no way you’re making it all the way to Bythareos with all that stuff. You’ll be throwing it out on the side of the road along the way.”

“I’m strong!” Nyx protests, despite her stomach sinking at the thought. “I can handle it!”

“Hush.” Lady Inaksha enters the room, not looking at either of them. She’s carrying two bags, one over each shoulder, which she sets down next to the still-open front door before standing still, staring outside. Her face is unreadable. She’s like a statue, cold and unmoving, not a hint of softness about her.

Nyx leaves her bag and sneaks up next to her mother, wondering what she sees. Out in the square, more Aelinai have gathered, and they’ve set up some kind of tent. Her brows draw together as she watches. What are they doing? Didn’t he say they were leaving right away? Why does it look like they’re getting ready to stay?

“No reason to continue waiting,” Lady Inaksha announces suddenly, though she’s the one everyone else is waiting for. “Let’s get this over with.”

They make a solemn parade, the lady of the manor and her three remaining children, with a few household staff trailing behind. Commander Eiran meets them out in front of the tent. As the rest of the townspeople straggle in, forming a wary mob, he stands with his arms crossed, not meeting anyone’s gaze. 

Once he’s made sure everyone is accounted for, he drops his arms and straightens, though there’s still something off about his expression. “Her Majesty, Queen Farren…has one more requirement for the Nashann.” He glances briefly at Nyx, and she barely resists the urge to cower. “No exceptions.”

Stepping aside, he pulls open a flap of the tent. “The lady and her household will go first, to set an example for the others to follow.”

For a long moment, Lady Inaksha just stares at him, though he still won’t return the look. Her gaze moves to the inside of the tent, which Nyx can’t yet see, and her jaw tightens. 

“Come,” she orders. She steps forward, her children at her heels. 

The moments that follow are mostly a blur in Nyx’s memories. Much of it her mind has blacked out. The details, however, are seared in. 

Her mother’s face, twisted in a way she’s never seen before. 

The grating sound of a saw against bone. 

The blood everywhere.

What she really remembers is the aftermath - dozens of Nashann being marched north, moans and sniffles trickling through otherwise silent ranks. Tears stream continuously down Nyx’s cheeks. This time no one chides her for it. She’s hardly the only one crying now, even if her family’s faces do remain dry. 

Her claws…they’re gone. The Aelinai medics took all of their claws, chopped them off at the bone, just because they can produce venom. It’s not right. They’ve taken away their natural defense, all because they don’t trust the Nashann. Who put them in charge of everyone? Why do they get to decide where a whole clan lives, and take something away that’s a part of them?

It’s not right, and it hurts. Her mangled fingertips are bandaged up, but they throb with every heartbeat. It doesn’t help that she’s heaving her bag in both hands, the weight of it pressing into her fingers and making them feel as if the rest of them might fall off, too. 

She’s exhausted and scared and confused and in more pain than she’s ever felt in her life. The toe of her boot hits a rock in the road. She stumbles with a yelp, nearly falling on her face but managing to only drop the bag and barely stay on her feet. There are spots of blood on the white bandages. Nyx stares down at them and starts to cry even harder, sobs shaking her body.

She expects her mother or Nanki to snap at her any second. Instead, a larger shadow falls over her, grey feathers filling her periphery. Automatically she flinches away, wide, pupiless green eyes staring up at Commander Eiran in fear.

He doesn’t reprimand her for stopping, though. He doesn’t even look at her. All he does is bend over, scooping up her bag like it weighs nothing, and continues to walk. 

Nyx’s breath catches and she starts to hurry after him, fully convinced he’s going to pitch it out into a ditch somewhere. But he shifts it onto his shoulder, getting comfortable, and keeps his gaze straight down the road. Eventually she slows again. Her breath still stutters in her chest as she falls back into pace, watching the Aelinai man - the man who is making sure all these horrible things happen to them - carries her precious belongings like they’re his own.

Forty years later, the heavy confusion she felt in her chest that day has faded. She knows very well that the Aelinai are evil. Commander Eiran only helped her because his guilt got the better of him. 

She hopes that it never, ever left him.

The pain in her fingers eventually faded, too, but it’s still there. Every time she uses her hands, what’s left of her fingertips ache. They’ve all just had to learn to live with it, to adapt to using fingers that are deformed and will never completely heal. 

Every time she feels that pain, she’s reminded of why the royal family needs to die.

[actress4him]

Rogue Masterlist

Series contains: lady whump, war, assassination plots, betrayal, living weapon, abusive parent, romance

Please also check tags/contents on individual chapters.

Story:

Revenge

Banished

[actress4him]

The Shadow of Death - We Will Rise, Part 1

Taglist: @painful-pooch , @whumplovers-collaborate

Shadow of Death Masterlist

Written for WhumpMonth on Whumplovers' Collaborate

Contains: lady whump, noncon drugging, paralysis

She was winning. That’s the most infuriating part. There’s one of her and three of them, but Kamaria was winning until they decided to cheat. 

It’s not that she’s against fighting dirty. Roderick didn’t exactly teach her a code of conduct for fights, he taught her to survive, in whatever way necessary, and to make sure she got the job done in the meantime. But fighting dirty is one thing. Bringing drugs into a fight is another game entirely. 

The pain barely registers at first. It’s nothing like a broken bone or a stab wound, just a tiny prick in her shoulder blade that she ignores until her arm stops cooperating. It works still, technically, but it’s sluggish. She can’t afford for her body not to respond correctly in the middle of a fight like this. Immediately it costs her a punch to the face, sending her stumbling backwards a couple of steps. 

“Not the face!” one assailant shouts.

The puncher waves a hand at him. “Eh, it’ll heal.” 

Their concern over her face would be disturbing if she had the focus to spare for it. But the slightly numb, sluggish feeling is spreading down her side and across her back, so she has to work twice as hard to keep the fight going. 

That’s when a fourth man emerges from the trees. She should have known he was there. Why didn’t she know he was there? She’s supposed to notice every detail - not the ones like tiny bits of pain in her body, pain is made to ignore. But a fourth attacker? Roderick would beat her for a mistake like that. Will beat her, most likely, for getting into this whole fight at all…if she actually makes it back.

Which is starting to look less likely by the second. The fourth man is holding a dart gun in his hands. The pieces begin to connect in her mind - the prick in her shoulder, the numbness - she’s been drugged. 

A mild panic sets in, quickly growing stronger. She has to get out of here, now. Whatever this is, it’s working fast, and pretty soon she’s not going to be able to defend herself at all. And somehow she gets the feeling that killing her is not what they have in mind. 

Her other arm starts to feel heavy. With a shout of exertion, Kamaria forces it into motion anyway, swinging in a wide arc and managing a deep slice across the chest of one man who’d stepped in too close. He slumps forward, eyes widening as his hands press into the blood flow.

The momentary victory spurs her on. Maybe there is a chance of getting out of this, after all. She removes a throwing knife from her gauntlet and slings it at the man with the dart gun, but it slips from her fingers clumsily and entirely misses the mark.

No one is attempting to move in for the kill. The more her body fails her, the more they hang back, wasting time. Just waiting for her to succumb so they can pounce.

Cowards. 

In a burst of anger, she lunges forward, determined to take another of them down. It’s at that exact moment that the drug makes it into one of her legs. Suddenly off balance and stumbling, she crashes sideways into a tree trunk, instinctively swinging her knife out again. The remaining three are playing it smart now, though, hanging back out of her reach. They form a half circle in front of her as she tries desperately to force her body back into motion, watching with eager gazes. 

She’s not going to be able to fight anymore. She’s going to be helpless to stop them from whatever they want to do to her. If she passes out, she won’t even know what was done. If not, she’ll be aware of every bit of it. She’s not sure which is more terrifying. 

Once more, she tries to stand and fight, but her legs give out and she lands on her hands and knees. “Don’t touch me!” she growls immediately, shoving herself back up against the tree. For now, she’s able to hold the knife out, but her whole arm shakes. “I can…still kill you.”

The smirks on her assailant’s faces just grow bigger, and they step in a little closer, predators closing in for the kill. Kamaria’s heart pounds faster with each second. Every bit of her screams, run run run run! but her body won’t cooperate. 

Seconds later, her arm drops to the ground. She stares at it in horror, willing it to lift, pleading for anything in her body to move, but it’s no use. She’s paralyzed.

Her eyes flick back up to her attackers just in time to see them moving in with outstretched hands.

[actress4him]

Ahh yep this is definitely, exactly her!

(Querencia, if anyone’s interested)

A trope I love is when a magic healer/caretaker takes on the injury of the whumpee.

But what if they didn’t tell anybody that was how their power worked. What if everyone thought the damage was healed basically scot-free, aside from the caretaker being a bit exhausted.

The caretaker basically dragging themselves back to their room to bandage themselves up in privacy. All the scars marking their body, they see as a sign of their care. They know it’s destroying them. They know and they can’t stop themselves.

[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)

.

.

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.