actress4him

[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!”

bad soda on Instagram

[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.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 26

Nightmares

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, strangulation, panic, caretaker whump

Whumpee was having a nightmare. Caretaker knew they got them sometimes, but they’d never actually witnessed one before. But tonight the two of them were sharing a room, and Caretaker woke to the sound of whimpering and thrashing.

Concerned, they swung their feet to the floor and leaned forward, eyes squinting to see through the darkness. “Whumpee?” they whispered. “Whumpee, wake up.”

There was no response. Whumpee groaned and tossed their head, and Caretaker’s stomach sank with sympathy. Standing, they crept over to the other bed and reached out, gently touching Whumpee’s arm and shaking it a little.

“Whumpee! It’s okay, just wake up!”

The next instant, Whumpee bolted upright and locked their hand around Caretaker’s throat. Their eyes were wild with fear and hazy with sleep, but their grip didn’t falter when Caretaker’s hands grabbed their wrist, attempting to free themself.

“Whumpee,” they choked, struggling to draw breath. “Please…it’s me…you’re…safe…”

Their grip only tightened. Caretaker’s instincts were dying to take over and make them hit or kick or anything to get free, but they couldn’t let themself hurt Whumpee. Not after everything they’d been through already, not when they knew that all of this was because they’d been hurt.

They could only hang onto Whumpee’s wrists as black spots started to cover their vision. With the last air in their lungs, they croaked out the nickname they’d always called Whumpee by.

They weren’t aware enough to see the change that came over Whumpee’s face. All they knew was that suddenly they were dropped to the floor, coughing violently as air flooded back into their lungs. Whumpee flung themself backwards, across the room, cowering in the corner with wide eyes.

“It’s…it’s okay,” Caretaker panted, reaching a hand toward them.

“No, it’s not!” Whumpee’s voice shook. “I almost…I could have killed you! I told you not to try to wake me from a nightmare, what if…?” They sobbed. “If I had killed you…”

“You didn’t!” Caretaker painstakingly got to their feet. Their throat was throbbing. “You didn’t kill me. I’m alright. I know you told me, I just…didn’t want you to suffer, okay? All that matters is that we’re both okay now.” Slowly, they walked toward Whumpee. “May I hug you?”

Whumpee fell into their arms, and they held each other tight, each trembling and trying to catch their breath. “We’re okay,” Caretaker whispered. “We’re okay.”

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 25

Surgery | Stitches | Being Monitored | “It’s for your own good”

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, needle mentions, mild blood, surgery aftermath, nonconsensual drugging, bedside vigil

Whumpee woke slowly to the sound of rhythmic beeping. It took a moment for them to pry their eyes open, and another to orient themself with where they were. Turning their head, they found Caretaker slumped in a chair next to the bed, dozing with their mouth hanging open.

The pain wasn’t as bad as they thought it might be. Probably had something to do with the IV drip attached to their arm. Pain or no pain, though, they couldn’t keep lying there. This fight wasn’t finished. Just because they got injured didn’t mean that they could stop, there was far too much to do that was way more important than their health. 

Trying to stay as quiet as possible, they pushed themself up off the pillows and swung their legs over the side of the bed. The injury on their stomach felt tight and strange, but not really painful. Caretaker’s head moved slightly, and they froze, but they remained asleep. 

The problem was that they were going to have to disconnect themself from the monitors, and they didn’t know what would happen then. There was no other choice, though. They carefully pulled off the wire, and the room filled with a deafening, high-pitched shriek, sending Whumpee scrambling for the machine. 

A hand gripped their arm, pulling them back onto the bed. “Whumpee! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry!” They winced in apology as they sat back down. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Caretaker leaned over to push a button on the monitor and silence it before turning a glare back on Whumpee. “Why are you up? Have you lost your mind? You just had surgery, Whumpee, you’re going to tear out your stitches and start bleeding again!”

“I’ll be careful!” Whumpee protested. 

“No, you’ll lie back down and stay there until the doctor says you can move.”

They scowled. “I can’t just lie in bed while everyone else is still out there risking their lives. I have to help.”

“You already risked your life, and almost lost it, remember? You’ll be of no help if you collapse or bleed to death. You have to heal first.”

Whumpee shook their head. “There’s no time for that.” 

They stood again, but Caretaker did, too, grabbing them by the shoulders to stop them. “Whumpee, please. Don’t fight me on this.”

Raising their arms, Whumpee attempted to push them away. “Let me go! I need to help!” They could feel the surgery site pulling, but paid it no attention. 

Unfortunately, they were still weak from blood loss and sedatives. It took Caretaker very little effort to push them back down onto the bed, only letting go briefly to punch a button before pinning them down again. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’re giving me no choice.”

“Let me go, Caretaker!” They were so busy fighting to get up that they barely noticed someone rushing into the room. It definitely caught their attention, though, when the nurse picked up a syringe and held it to their IV port. 

Somehow they had a feeling they knew what was in that syringe. “No…no no, don’t!”

“I’m sorry, Whumpee,” Caretaker sighed. “It’s for your own good.”

Seconds after the drug was dispensed, Whumpee’s eyelids began to grow heavy. “Please,” they whispered, the fight leaving their body. “I need…I need to…” 

They were asleep before they could finish the sentence.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 24

“I never knew daylight could be so violent”

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, captivity, rescue, blindfold

They’d longed for light, those long days locked in the cell. There were no windows, and the few times the door did open there was only more darkness beyond. Whumpee’s eyes had adjusted to it as best they could - not that there was much to see in the cell, anyway. But they’d dreamed of the sun, of basking in its rays and taking in the beautiful, colorful sights of the world once more.

Rescue came, at last. The cell door opened for the final time, and Whumpee finally got to stumble through it, following the gentle hands that guided them down the dark hallway toward freedom. It was so close. Their battered, weak body moved a little quicker, ready for fresh air and sunlight.

But when the door to freedom was thrown open and the daylight flooded in, Whumpee cried out and threw themself backward, trying to escape it. They closed their eyes, but even through their eyelids it hurt. With their back to the door and their arm slung across their face, they tried to catch their breath, involuntary tears from the sudden strain wetting their eyelashes.

They were finally free, and they couldn’t even enjoy it. Couldn’t even take the last few steps to leave this place behind. They tried again to look, squinting, but everything was blinding white and they couldn’t hold their eyes open against it.

“Here.” Caretaker placed a hand on their shoulder, then something soft touched their face. “Is it okay if I tie this around your eyes? It’ll help until we can get you somewhere that’s not as bright.”

Reluctantly, Whumpee lowered their arm, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and allowed themself to be blindfolded. “It’s just…temporary, right?”

“Of course,” Caretaker reassured them. “We’ve just got to take it slow, alright? We’ll introduce a little bit of light at a time.”

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 23

Public Display

Contains: generic whumpee and whumper, whipping, humiliation, mild blood, mild gore, corporal punishment, restraints

“Let all who witness this be warned - thus shall it be done to those who disrespect His Imperial Highness!”

The late autumn air was cold against Whumpee’s bare back, but the hundreds of eyes on them that they could feel without looking had them heated with shame. No one out there cared a thing about them. They didn’t care that the charges were trumped up, didn’t care about the pain that Whumpee was about to experience. They just wanted entertainment, in the form of blood and punishment.

Pressing their forehead into the rough wooden post, Whumpee waited, tense with dread. Any second now, the whip would come down on them. They had no way to anticipate what it would feel like, they’d never been whipped before. 

There was a slight rustle behind them, then a whistling sound, and suddenly a line of fire was painted across their back. Whumpee jerked in their restraints, crying out, and the crowd raised a cheer. 

Whumpee was determined after that not to make any more noise, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction. It didn’t matter, though. Their audience roared out the number of each stroke as it fell, clearly enjoying the spectacle. On lash five, their din rose even higher. It wasn’t until Whumpee felt warm blood trickling down their back that they understood why. 

By the end, Whumpee was practically dangling from their wrists, which had started to bleed, as well. The noise of the crowd faded in and out with their vision. Their entire back felt shredded beyond hope of ever being put together again. 

“The criminal shall remain here throughout the rest of the day, as a reminder to all.”

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 22

Bleeding Through Bandages | Reopening Wounds

Contains: generic whumpee, knife wound, mild blood, stitches mention

Whumpee’s side was killing them. All this activity really wasn’t recommended for recovering from a knife wound, but what choice did they have? They were being attacked. Fighting wasn’t optional. And running for their life through the woods wasn’t, either, despite the fact that the pain got worse with each step. 

They hoped, with what thought they had to spare from surviving the present moment, that the stitches they’d put in would be strong enough to hold up. Somehow the amount of pain didn’t give them a lot of confidence, though.

Finally they’d gained enough distance from their enemies that they felt safe collapsing to the leaf-covered ground, at least for a few minutes. For a moment they just lay there on their back, the branches overhead spinning slightly as they panted for breath. Then, with a wince, they propped themself up on their elbows and carefully peeled their shirt back.

What was once a white bandage was now soaked in red. Not just spots, either - clearly they’d busted quite a few stitches at some point. That could explain both the pain and dizziness. 

Groaning, Whumpee fell back into the dirt. Their medical supplies were gone, and the people who wanted them dead were still out there somewhere, searching for them. They couldn’t stop right now even if they did have the means to stitch themself back up. 

There was only one thing they could think of to do. Using their knife, they sliced the sleeve off their shirt and tied it around their middle as tight as they could, biting their lip to keep from crying out as the pressure on the wound increased. 

Then they stumbled to their feet, blinked away the wooziness, and kept going.