#/whumper kinda

[tired-of-being-nice]

starvation

sorry this one's late! the travel horrors :/ anyway. i think coren can go a little feral. as a treat.

cws: starvation (duh), violence, living weapon whumpee, brief mention of near-cannibalism

The noise slowly fades and Coren opens their eyes, sighing in relief. Everything is nice and normal again. The dull ache of starvation is gone from their limbs, the haze of exhaustion is gone from their mind. They feel awake and ready and sharp and—

Hungry.

Coren frowns. That shouldn't be happening. Why are they still hungry?

They glance nervously around the empty room they've been placed in. "Um, hello? I– I think something went wrong, I'm still–"

"We know," Erica's voice says from nowhere. Coren jumps a little and immediately feels silly for it—it's just a speaker, Coren, come on. "This was intentional."

"...Oh," Coren says stupidly. "I-it was?"

"Yes," Erica's voice says calmly. "We noticed that you've been rather...slacking in your duties recently. Pulling punches, so to speak. Seeming...reluctant."

Coren winces, remembering. Please, don't, I don't want to have to hurt you— they knew they weren't supposed to say things like that, that it ruined the whole point of their existence, but no one wanted to be friends with them anymore and they'd thought maybe if they tried to be a little nicer...well, it hadn't worked anyway, so what was the point.

"So," Erica's voice continued, "we thought maybe remembering how hunger feels would help you sharpen up. So to speak."

Coren wants to say I already know, it's hard to forget, I've forgotten how it feels to not be hungry, but they swallow it down along with the saliva in their mouth. They feel nauseous.

"I'll do my best," they say.

————

That conversation was two, maybe three days ago. There has been no food since.

Coren is so fucking hungry.

It hurts like hell, and yet, somehow, they still have the energy to be up on their feet, moving. It's thinking, well, not straight, exactly, but not hazy the way it usually thinks when it's this hungry. More jittery, wild, desperate. It snarls and scratches and screams, barely able to hear the pleas of its quarries over the roar of its blood in its ears. So hungry. Its stomach feels like it's trying to eat itself alive. Hell, it might have the right idea– sometimes in particularly bad moments Coren finds themselves sinking their teeth into their own arm just to have something to bite. 

Erica flinches when she sees them come back, dragging the attempted escapee of the night with them, eyes too-wide and hungry. Coren sees the flash of terror in her eyes and smiles. Sharp enough for you yet?

[den-of-whump]

A guilty whump pleasure of mine is when a character in a fantastical setting is being tortured and something in them just breaks. They suddenly manifest magic super powers, or if they already had those, they suddenly go into overdrive and the character just murders everyone there.

[justbreakonme]

“I bought you to enjoy you. But, that doesn’t mean I enjoy being cruel towards you.”

Whumpee’s chin was guided up by two gentle fingers, and his eyes met Whumper’s for only a moment.

“You’re a toy. Not a punching bag.”

[crimsons-whump-pile]

whumpee who forgets their past and doesn’t understand why caretaker is being so nice to them. whumper made it clear that whumpee was a monster, a mistake, a scourge on this world, so why is caretaker treating them with such kindness? why does caretaker act like they know each other, like they were friends once, when whumpee knows perfectly well that friends were never a luxury they’d earned?

[whumperofworlds]

A Whumper who was hurt so much that they don't know what kindness is like.

Then one day, Whumpee shows them that kindness, even for a few seconds.

Whumper fell in love then, wanting to know who Whumpee is and get close to them, even to the point of stalking Whumpee. They learned so much about Whumpee, someone who showed them kindness for the first time.

This culminated with Whumper eventually kidnapping Whumpee, to keep them all to themself.

[oddsconvert]

I drool over Caretakers that seem like the sweetest and softest guardians. Ever so gentle with Whumpee. They may as well have a halo hovering above their head, they surely have a true heart of gold.

Until whumpee is threatened or hurt... and they see a red mist. They will spill blood for Whumpee, and take no prisoners. It's actually terrifying - like night and day. Jekyll and Hyde. Caretaker is unrecognisable in his fit of fury. They'll have Whumper cowering beneath them on the floor, beaten to a pulp - shielding whumpee behind them.

Whumpee doesn't know whether they're grateful for or terrified of Caretaker-

[a-class-attempter]

Whumper is a fae creature and they decided to curse Whumpee for daring to free their captive human.

The curse makes the victim to feel an intense itching sensation in the skin. This causes the victim to uncontrollably scratch until they break skin. Once the skin splits, a flower blooms in place of the skin. This spreads throughout the whole body until the victim is nothing but flesh beneath a bush of beautiful flora. If the flowers are removed, they grow back, and it is quite painful for the victim. Similar to pulling hair or nails out.

Whumpee tells their friends to tie them up so they can’t scratch while their friends search for a cure. But when Whumpee doesn’t scratch, the flowers force themselves through their skin anyway. One night, it happens in Whumpee’s mouth. They can no longer speak and can barely breathe. They have to communicate with their friends with their eyes, and all their friends can see is pain and terror. Whumpee’s friends desperately search for a cure, Caretaker searching the hardest, barely sleeping or eating.

Another night passes and the friends find Whumpee’s eye on the ground, replaced with bloody flowers in their eye socket. They can hear Whumper trying to sob but barely any sound comes out.

Eventually, Caretaker makes a deal with the fae. They sacrifice the freedom of one of Whumpee’s friends to save Whumpee.

This friend is turned into the fae’s personal pet and Whumpee, though free from the curse, is hammered with guilt for the loss of their friend and the whole group splits because of Caretaker’s actions.

Caretaker knows what they did was right. Friend wasn’t exactly an angel and Caretaker loved Whumpee more than anything and couldn’t bear to part with them. And Whumpee would learn that. Soon enough.

[dainluvr]

Whumpee who gets super drunk and tells Caretaker all the things Whumper did to them, their eyes slowly filling with tears, things that they’d never say if they were sober. And Caretaker is horrified.

[whumpy-bi]

Whumpee watches through blurred, rapidly darkening vision as a new person pushes Whumper out of the way.

Even from their position on the floor, Whumpee can identify the newcomer is wearing the same uniform colors as their torturer. Different clothes, but…the same colors, Whumpee was sure of it. They moaned quietly—were they changing shifts?

The voices were distant. They bounced around Whumpee’s head like an echo along cave walls.

“Whumper. What have you done?”

“I…was questioning the detainee, Commander.”

“Questioning?” The newcomer’s voice rose a little. Whumpee half registered them looking down at them. “They’re half dead!”

“Well, they wouldn’t answer my question—“

“They can’t answer any questions, not like that.” They dropped to one knee, ignoring Whumpee’s mumbles of protest as they shined a flashlight across both of their eyes.

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill them, Whumper.”

“What does it matter? They’ll probably be executed, anyway—“

“This prisoner is under my authority, do you understand? It will cost all of us if they die, but especially me. Which means you will be the one paying for it. You won’t be questioning them again.”

A long, uncomfortable silence enveloped the cell as the commander pulled Whumpee up to sit against the wall. Whumpee was silent and pliant, their entire body still aching from earlier.

“What did you do to them?”

“Standard procedures…blunt force, electric shocks—“

“Back to back, clearly. And why is there blood on the wall?”

“I…may have thrown them against it.”

“Whumper, you’re dismissed.”

Whumper left without another word, feeling a burning sensation from their commander’s harsh tone.

Whumpee closed their eyes, finally losing themselves to exhaustion as Commander sighed and spoke into their radio.

“Prisoner was injured during questioning. May be a concussion—“ They tapped Whumpee’s jaw. “Hey, stay awake. Stay awake.”

“May be a concussion, prep a medical bed. I’m taking them in myself, Whumper is no longer authorized to deal with this one.”

The words were starting to blur and mush together, Whumpee couldn’t make sense of them anymore. They weakly attempted to squirm, shifting away from the high ranking official looming over them.

“Stop moving.” Their voice wasn’t exactly gentle, but it wasn’t quite harsh either. Whumpee found themselves obeying, despite their fear and the increasing haze in their mind.

“I’m not hurting you. Do you understand me?”

Whumpee managed a weak nod.

“Good. You will be questioned again, but not now. Now, you’re receiving medical attention. I’m telling you not to fight us, it will not help you whatsoever. Do you understand?”

Another smaller nod.

“Good. Let’s go, before you actually pass out on me.”

[forwhump]

a/n; this one’s pretty fucked up :-; more rape & more murder but it’s a story about a sex slave & a weapon so that’s just kinda what you get ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ my bad !

tw/cw: rape, noncon, mutilation, dismemberment, decapitation, murder, grievous bodily harm, misgendering, transphobia, psychological torture, urine, gore, bodily fluids

living weapon whumpee, multiple whumpers, revenge, military

There has not been a time, since his creation, that Silas has been above ground.

Everything that’s been done to him, everything that he’s done, it’s happened hundreds of feet below the ground in the concrete labyrinth of the district. Every surgery, every slaughter, every field test.

Even the fuckin’ field tests. The field tests are training exercises, combat training, but they don’t trust Silas above ground to participate in them. They’re probably right not to. They’re smarter, sometimes, than Silas will ever give them credit for.

Within the labyrinth there are these arenas, these massive, open spaces made up to look like a world Silas has never seen. There’s a number of them, made to look like different practical terrain; forests and deserts and small villages and mountains and cities. It would be impossible for Silas to fathom if he ever had the time or the means to sit and try and fathom it. He’d almost think he left the district were it not for the concrete sky, hundreds of feet above his head.

He didn’t always mind the field tests. It was a chance to stretch his legs. The enemy was always played by military recruits, young and green. Silas isn’t sure if they know what they’re getting into when they enter the arena, if they are briefed on exactly what Silas is, but none of them ever walk out again. Their grieving families will bury a flag and a handful of teeth on Silas’ most generous day.

Barbarity is encouraged. Bloodshed is lauded. It’s always a slaughter, but it’s expected of him. It’s always been a good way to blow off some steam, even if he never walks away unscathed. He gets to use his hands.

But the rules had changed since they’d taken Wren from him.

The rules have been the same for every field test so far — kill or be killed. The recruits get weapons and machinery and supplies and dogs; Silas doesn’t even get a shirt. He gets a pair of prison grey joggers and his own two hands. Kill or be killed.

They didn’t tell him they’d added civilians.

He doesn’t realize that anything’s wrong for an entire three days. He soldiers through the rainforest arena and kills recruits with tooth and talon. When the lights get shut down for the third night, nighttime in the wilderness, Silas has become that thing the field tests always stoke to life in him; Silas isn’t human anymore. It slides under his skin, that feral, rabid thing, and it rips limbs from screaming bodies, it peels skin back with his teeth. When the lights get shut down for the third night, Silas’ hair is glued to his back and his throat with the thick layer of blood that crusts his skin. None of it is his own. Not a single recruit had gotten a single shot in yet. It was going exceptionally well. Silas should have been suspicious.

He should’ve fuckin’ known. He should’ve done better. He should’ve been faster. When he finally sees Wren again, his Wren, bathed in the flickering firelight of the enemy camp, all the human parts of him are reignited with a screaming rage and a sort of guilt that makes Silas feel heavy. He should’ve known something was wrong. He should’ve been here three days ago.

The surviving soldiers are set up around the fire, cocky and comfortable. Wren’s in the dirt at their feet.

Fuck, Silas had missed him. Silas had missed him in a big, impossible way, and he can’t even be happy to see him because Silas wishes more than anything that Wren was not here. Wren would be safer almost anywhere but here.

He’s dressed like a child and his hair is down, grimy and matted, pooling in the dirt around him. He’s face down, limp, and Silas has to blink red mist from his vision. Before he’s close enough to stop it, one of the soldiers stands, pulls his belt, and pisses in Wren’s hair.

Wren doesn’t move or moan or otherwise react in any way. He’s still limp — he’s so still, actually, almost unnaturally still, and Silas is — he can’t be too late, Wren can’t be —

Another soldier stands, some blond puke, and he turns Wren onto his side with his foot before he boots him in the stomach.

Weakly, Wren groans. Weakly, softly, but he groans. He isn’t dead.

Silas is gonna cause a fuckin’ bloodbath.

“Stop passing out on us,” the blond groans. “You got a long night ahead of you, girl.”

Wren doesn’t make another sound and the recruit kicks him again, so hard he’s forced onto his back. He groans softly.

A soldier with a shock of red hair spits in the dirt next to him as he stands. “I know how to wake her up.” His grin glints in the firelight and the blond laughs. He spits again as he takes a handful of Wren’s hair, coiling it around his fist, hauling him across the dirt and a safe distance away from the bonfire. He whistles back over his shoulder at the other recruits, watching him with varying degrees of obvious humour. “C’mere. Hold her open for me. Hold her down when she starts fighting and I’ll let you have a turn when I’m done.”

No.

How can this keep happening? How can this be somebody’s life?

There’s something casual, something genuinely amused in the way the recruits laugh between themselves as they splay their hands over Wren’s skin, as they hold his limp body into the dirt and he whimpers. The redhead tugs his belt free before he kneels between Wren’s legs, shoving the frilly hem of his little dress up and around his ribcage. He settles over him, his knuckles white against the purpling bruise of Wren’s skin. His answering groan is loud and low and satisfied.

Silas can hear when Wren regains consciousness because of how horribly and primally he screams.

All of the recruits laugh, but it’s the blond that coos, pleased, “there she is.”

When Silas breaks the tree line it’s his shadow that gives him away. One of the soldiers, holding one of Wren’s thighs, looks up, distracted, and the double take he does would be comical if Silas weren’t out for blood. He jumps to his feet, fumbles for his gun, green and unprepared. He cries, “what the fuck is that?”

Silas grins, but it isn’t nice.

The rest of the recruits look up in militant unison but react quickly with varying degrees of unrestrained horror. Almost every one of them scrambles to their feet and for their weapons. Except, of course, the redheaded puke knelt between Wren’s thighs. He stills, a picture of cruelty.

Silas cracks his knuckles.

Wren’s head lolls against the dirt and he finds Silas through the idiot cavalry. This’ll be easy; the recruits are always just as evil as the soldiers — a requirement of them, apparently — but they aren’t nearly as dangerous. They aren’t trained, polished, quick in the way the soldiers are, they aren’t used to Silas the same. This will be embarrassing for them.

Wren looks up at Silas with huge, wet eyes and the way the relief crests across his face would probably make Silas cry if he were capable of it.

“What the hell is that thing?” The recruits are shouting. “Who are you? Back up! Back the fuck up!”

Silas barely hears them. To Wren, he says, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Wren tips his head back as he sobs.

The redhead looks down at him quickly as he hisses, “what the fuck is that?”

He folds an arm over his face and his chest hitches as he cries into the grime.

The recruit tries to grab him, to pry his arm from his face, hisses something else like “look at me when I’m talking to you. What the fuck is going on?”, but Silas is across the camp in a second and he takes his ginger head in both hands. The recruit flails, pulls away from Wren, and as soon as he does Silas turns, trying to shield his Wren from the splatter with his bulk. He crushes the redhead’s skull between his hands.

The noise it makes is like a crack of lightning.

The sort of silence that’s close behind unrecoverable trauma settles over the camp and Silas grins so widely something clicks in his jaw. He’s merciful — the recruits won’t have to live with this for long.

“What are you?” The blond asks, and his voice is thin.

Silas cracks his neck. “Does it matter?”

A different recruit swallows so thickly that Silas can hear it. But he’s trying to be brave, so he says, “back up, freak.”

Silas does not, in fact, back up. The blond is standing close and he doesn’t react quick enough when Silas grabs him by the collar — he panics, flailing as Silas lifts him clean off the ground. It kind of wakes up the recruits, who lift guns and take aim, but what’s the worst they can do to him? Really?

It’s one of the worst things about these men, about this place. It’s one of the reasons Silas hates them so viscerally it’s become interwoven into his DNA. Silas, in a way, gets off easy — Silas just gets shot, and he can take a fuckin’ bullet. It’s the least he can do. Wren isn’t so lucky. They aren’t afraid of Wren. He’s small and he can’t fight back the way Silas can. What’s the worst thing they can do to a fuckin’ machine? They’ll shut him down, and he’ll begin again. Wren is vulnerable.

He pries a handgun from the blond’s flailing grip hands and forces the barrel down the back of his throat. He grabs at Silas’ wrist, frantic, and Silas grins at him as he pulls the trigger.

He bursts into blood and viscera and the other recruits explode into shouting and panic. “Get back!” The brave one shouts, and he makes the grievous mistake of getting too close. Not within reaching distance, but still too close. “Get the fuck back!”

“What are you gonna do?” Silas asks, raising his eyebrows. “Shoot me?” The recruit lifts his gun, a threat, and Silas grins at him. “Tell you what. Let me do you one better,” and he points the gun down, firing a round into his own foot. It crackles with a pain that the simmering rage quickly dissolves.

The soldier gapes, hesitating, and he only hesitates for half a moment but it’s a full moment too long. Silas raises the gun again. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and unloads three rounds between his eyes.

He drops to the dirt and another recruit steps over him quickly, into Silas’ personal space.

Silas doesn’t take kindly to that.

He takes him by the jaw and wrenches his mouth open. As he tries to scream around Silas’ hands, Silas hooks his fingers behind each row of his teeth and rips his face in half through the middle. His throat is still working as Silas pushes his body out of the way with the side of his foot.

“What the fuck?” A recruit cries, standing too close, splattered with blood that isn’t his own. Silas reaches out to him with his free hand and tears out his windpipe with bloody fingers. As he chokes, Silas breaks his nose back into his brain with the base of his gun. His eyes are rolled back into his head when he dies.

There are four surviving recruits, and they try to scatter. Silas lets them try, because he enjoys the panic, but he doesn’t let them get very far. Eight rounds, one for each knee. There are cries of pain and noises of impact and Silas laughs loudly.

He weaves his way across the camp slowly, tauntingly, and he kills them one at a time. He crushes both hands and the throat of the first recruit; he removes both hands and the throat from the second. The third is decapitated, and not quickly or cleanly; Silas removes his head with force, and the way his skin splits is like wet paper.

The last recruit had pissed in Wren’s hair.

Silas approaches him with the unhurried stalk of a predator. The recruit trembles, trying to scramble away from Silas, but he’d been shot in both knees and he’d fallen hard, the bones of his calf poking out from his flesh in opposite directions.

“That’s gotta hurt,” Silas says.

“Please,” he’s begging, and his voice is trembling, “please, please, don’t — don’t —“

Silas brings his foot down on his fractured leg as hard as he can. Puts all of his brawn and bulk into it.

The recruit tips his head back against the dirt and screams at the concrete sky.

Silas lets him scream. Who gives a fuck? He crouches next to him and takes his left arm by the elbow. The soldier screams again, tries to pull out of his grip, and Silas rips his arm out from the socket of his shoulder.

He shrieks at a pitch that Silas finds kind of irritating and he reaches across the recruit to grab his other arm and pull him over onto his stomach, face down in the dirt. He breaks his right arm off at the elbow.

He screams again and he’s screaming still when Silas stands to toe him back onto his back. As the recruit screams, Silas shoves down the waistband of his joggers, pulls out his dick, and pisses in his mouth. It’s only fair.

He flails with what’s left of his right arm and chokes in panic. It makes Silas grin. When he snaps his waistband back into place the recruit stares up at him with a look that Silas has come to recognize as resigned hatred. It never gets old. Weak and wet, he drawls, “they told us we didn’t have to worry about her dog.”

Silas raises his eyebrows. “They lied.”

The recruit chokes out a sound that would probably be a laugh if all the blood in his body weren’t seeping into the earth beneath him. “C’mon, man,” he tries. “Don’t — don’t. Please. Come on.”

Silas lifts the gun.

The recruit inhales quickly. “Please. Come on. Please.”

“Eat shit,” Silas tells him sincerely, and he empties the gun into his face.

[whumpy-wyrms]

Blood Runs Cold #1: You’re All Mine

masterlist | next

content: death, gore, dead bodies, blood drinking, cannibalism, cold whump, claustrophobia, nonsexual nudity, begging, manhandling, invasion of privacy, drugging, defiant immortal whumpee, creepy possessive vampire whumper

NEW SERIES!! very excited about this :D i explained a bit about it here if you wanna read that, but you don’t have to!

— 

It was just another normal night at the morgue for Silas. There must’ve been an accident earlier, leaving two humans dead and transported straight to his doorstep, lifeless and completely at his mercy.

Two humans. One male, one female, both seemingly in their early 20s with no obvious signs of death. Their clothes and possessions were tossed to the side, discarded and unneeded. Silas began his work, filling the air with the sounds of pens on clipboards and scalpels on skin. His work was meticulous, practiced, quick. The causes of death was something he had never cared to ponder over; just an observation, just another thing to write down in the reports.

No, there was something else about this work that captivated Silas, something that was only reinforced by these two humans. The work was morbid, dark, disturbing. He wasn’t in it for the money, or for some strange fascination he had with the human body, no. He was in it for the blood, and these humans would provide him with more than enough.

Two perfect humans. They had been delivered by the hospital, but there was nobody here to claim them, to name them. These bodies were without a family, without anyone to identify them, or plan a burial for them. These bodies had been abandoned by their own kind. And that’d only meant they were free for the taking.

Two corpses: flesh, guts, bones and all. Nobody would come looking for these poor souls. They were all for him.

Just like every time he had finished the proper paperwork and preparations, Silas dug into his new meal. In ravaging hunger, the vampire teared through the flesh of the corpses, savoring every moment. His glowing red eyes turned to slits, wild and monstrous as he fed, losing every sense of humanity he had left. Nothing about this was clean, tidy, proper. Silas was a vampire– a monster– and he would feast like one.

As he sucked both of the corpses dry of their sweet blood, he couldn’t help but savor the shorter one’s taste. It was delicious. It was divine. He couldn’t imagine what it would've tasted like when they were alive. But it was too late now, he supposed.

Silas picked up the smaller human’s body, brushing his hand over the other’s cold, unmoving face. The thing’s eyes were wide and lifeless, but full of color in this dull place. Silas stared for a moment, noticing something unique about this human; that one eye was green, the other blue. What fascinating, yet helpless creatures, they never ceased to surprise him. He laid the bloody body in one of the mortuary freezers, gently shutting their eyelids closed, and did the same with the other.

Silas licked his lips, relishing the last of his free meal. Sure, the blood of all the corpses that came here was always stale, old, dead. But it was far safer than hunting for humans in town and risking getting killed by the vampire hunters that lurked in the shadows. Of course, Silas couldn’t always hold back his yearn for fresh blood or the thrill of the hunt, but the corpses here held him off and kept him safe.

Silas, well fed for the night, went to sleep as the sun rose over his graveyard.

. . .

Aspen woke to dead silence. And cold. His limbs felt frozen, numb, hard to even move from their position. He was so cold that he felt like it was a miracle he was even alive.

The next thing Aspen noticed was that he was laying flat on a hard surface, which was also ice cold to the touch. He blinked his eyes, but found nothing but complete darkness all around him. Trying to sit up, Aspen bumped his head on a surface only inches above him.

Aspen’s heart started racing. He felt around with his arms, and realized his entire body was completely enclosed, metal walls surrounding every side of him. He was trapped.

“H-hey!” Aspen called out, his voice feeling strained with disuse, but loud and echoey in the quiet air. “Help! L-Let me out! Is anybody there? Hello?” Aspen’s pleads were met with nothing but an eerie silence.

Tears pricked in Aspen’s eyes when he realized nobody was coming to help. His chest heaved rapidly, breath hitching in his throat. He needed to get out of here. Aspen panicky kicked and scratched against his cold prison, but nothing budged. His heartbeat quickened when he realized he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

He was covered in nothing but a thin white sheet that was draped over his head and ran all the way down to his ankles. It did nothing to drown out the chill, so all he had left was to weep in despair. “Let me out! Anybody! Lyle! Please!” Aspen continued to kick and struggle, but it was no use.

Nobody answered his calls. Nobody answered his pleads for help. Aspen was all alone.

. . .

Silas woke to blood-curdling screaming. And living in a morgue that was always filled with lifeless, decaying corpses, this was a bad sign. Silas made sure nothing ever made any noises in this place because he preferred the dead silence. Nobody else was even supposed to be here.

Silas slowly climbed out of his coffin, covering his ears from that annoying, incessant screaming. He pointed his nose upward and sniffed through the air. Human.

Well, whatever poor soul that had happened to wander into this place after hours was fair game to him. It was the vampire’s dinner, now. Silas licked his lips and began making his way down the stairs.

Once he reached the main floor, Silas could hear the human’s rapid heart, beating through his ears. He could practically smell their fear, but they were nowhere to be seen. Surveying his surroundings, Silas realized the banging and scratching was coming from one of the freezer cabinets, the ones that stored corpses.

But whatever was in there was alive.

Well, that wasn’t right. The two humans from last night were long dead, and Silas had made sure to bleed them both dry. There was no possible way for another human to get in here without alerting him, especially since those freezers were locked shut.

Silas walked through the room, his footsteps echoing off the walls. The vampire couldn’t help but smile; the soft whimpering and cries for help sounded like music to his ears, he almost wanted to leave the human locked in there for a little while longer. It wasn’t often he had live prey.

Silas plucked his keys from the wall, and walked lazily to the freezers. The human’s helpless little noises came to a stop, as if whoever was in there noticed there was someone else in the room and was waiting patiently to be let out. Now standing right outside his little accidental captive, Silas recognised their scent as a corpse from the night prior.

Silas was a few hundred years old. He’d seen the undead�� he was the undead– something like this wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibilities. But he’d usually be able to tell if someone was a supernatural creature like him. They looked human, smelled human, tasted human, but may have just cheated death itself. Something strange was happening here, and Silas was thrilled to get to the bottom of it.

He clicked the key in place, unlocking the freezer and hearing the human’s heartbeat speed up in anticipation. Silas quickly pulled out the drawer with a whoosh, the sudden motion causing the human to shriek in surprise, falling out of the shelf and landing roughly on the floor.

Silas tilted his head, intrigued. This was the human from last night, without a doubt. But their body was completely intact, to the looks of it. Their heart was still pumping, blood flowing through their body and eyes filled with more life than Silas had ever seen. His little snack really had come back from the dead.

“Agh! H-hey…” The human stammered, holding the white sheet tightly over their body. They looked around the room with a wary expression, eyes wide and alert. Using the wall for support, they stumbled up on shaking legs and slowly started backing away from Silas. “Wh-what’s going on? Where am I? Who are you?” The human asked in their soft, shaky voice.

Silas ignored their questions and started slowly creeping towards them. The human’s breath hitched and they scurried away in fear, sheet dragging behind them. Despite it being mid-day, the room was completely dark; windows covered in thick curtains to keep out the sunlight, but Silas could see everything just fine. The human ran blindly through the room until seemingly tripping over their own feet.

Silas smiled as his captive gasped in pain, landing roughly on the cold floor. He flicked on the light, and watched their wandering eyes land on a small piece of paper attached to their foot. They ripped it off, looking it over in their hands confusingly. It was a tag. Silas could almost see the gears turning in the poor thing’s little head as their eyes went wide in horrified realization.

Once the human had noticed Silas stalking towards them, it was too late; they were already cornered. They pulled the sheet tighter over their body and curled up in a trembling ball.

Silas loomed over his prey, taking in their shivering form, and they looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. “What’s a little thing like you doing in a place like this?” Silas teased, face filled with mock sympathy, already knowing the answer.

The human cowered under the vampire’s predatory gaze. “I– I don’t… I just woke up in there…” They whispered. “What’s going on? Wh-Where are my clothes? It’s– It’s freezing in here.”

Silas smiled and crouched down in front of them, making his prey squirm under his stare. “Aww, you don’t remember? I ripped you to shreds last night.” Silas hummed, smiling menacingly. “I tore your body inside out. You should not be alive right now.”

“What–”

Faster than the human could comprehend, Silas ripped the sheet away, needing to get a look at their body. To his surprise, they were completely healed. No wounds, dried blood, or scar in sight. It was as if they had never been dead in the first place.

“Hey!” The human exclaimed, horrified, and yanked that flimsy thing back– as if that would keep them safe. “What the fuck?!”

Silas smirked. “Feisty one, aren't you?”

“What– just stop! Tell me what’s going on!” The human looked around the room in a panic, seemingly searching for something– or someone. “And where’s– where’s Lyle?”

“Who?”

“My friend.” They seethed, but their anger couldn’t hide their fear. “S-Something happened. I don’t… Just– tell me why I’m here! I wanna go home. Tell me what’s happening!”

The human let out a gasp as they felt a sudden sharp sting on their cheek. Silas had slapped them. “Shut up.”

The human brought their hand to their cheek, fresh tears forming in their eyes. “B-But–”

Silas wrenched his fist in the other’s hair, yanking their head back. “You want me to tell you what happened? You died, human,” The vampire hissed. “You’re in a morgue. You were brought here yesterday by the hospital. Nobody identified you, nobody claimed your body, nobody came to pay respects. So I drained your blood like I do to every corpse.”

Silas smiled and poked his captive in the stomach playfully. “As well as take a bit more than what I normally do. It was the most delicious blood I've ever tasted, and it smells even better now that you’re alive. I can’t imagine what it tastes like now.”

“Wait, y-you… You’re a–”

“Yes. I’m a vampire. Took you long enough.” Silas grinned, showing his fangs. “And you wanna know what? I can hear your little heart racing, human. I know how terrified you are of me right now, and that fear is intoxicating.”

“You– You’re lying. This isn’t real, I didn’t die. Just leave m-me alone.”

“Oh, human, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Silas said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “This is as real as it can be. You came back from the dead, and I am going to savor every moment of draining the life back out of you.”

Silas crawled closer, gaze turning predatory and deadly. Despite being locked in a cold freezer all day and night, the little thing’s heart was still pumping warm blood through their veins. All for him. Silas couldn’t wait to get another taste.

His prey scrambled backwards, wincing as they backed themself against the wall. “St-Stay away from me.”

“You’re in no position to make demands, little one. I can do whatever I want with you. You’re all mine.” Then, the vampire pounced, eyes wild and animalistic. Silas dug his nails into the human’s back, holding them close and making them scream in agony. With his other hand, he gripped onto their hair and wretched their pale neck to the side.

Being this close to a live human, it was hard to resist the warmth that radiated off of them. Silas’ usual prey was cold, dead corpses, and he’d never had enough time to relish in the warmth of the human body while hunting outside. But this? This was a real treat. And hearing the little thing’s heart flutter in terror was always the best part of the hunt.

His human struggled against Silas’ grip, kicking and scratching in a futile attempt to get away. That only made this feast more thrilling. Silas clamped his fangs into their neck, tearing into their flesh as if they were nothing but a piece of meat made to be eaten.

His prey screamed in excruciating pain, pushing their weak arms against Silas’ body, fighting with everything they had. Which, unfortunately for them, wasn’t even close to enough. Silas yanked his hand from their back, licking the blood from his fingers and using that hand to muffle the human’s screams.

Silas bit down again, sucking more blood from the human’s veins. They were sobbing into his hand, salty tears running down their chin. This only made Silas squeeze harder, his nails breaking their skin and drawing more blood.

He couldn’t take it anymore, it was time to dig in. Silas pushed the human flat on their back and crawled over them. He clawed into their chest cavity with superhuman strength, tearing through flesh and muscle and bones until he got to the heart. Silas paid no mind to the human’s sputtering breath as he reached into the viscera and pulled out their beating heart. He slowly squeezed the life out of it, watching the light fade from the human’s wide eyes, and took a bite.

After a while, Silas stood, panting, and wiped the blood from his face with his equally bloody sleeve. He laughed softly to himself, it had been a long time since he’d experienced a feeding that exhilarating. He needed more.

Silas left the corpse slumped against the wall as he fetched the little thing’s belongings, the sound of blood splashing under his boots echoing through the room. Only a couple things arrived with them the day prior; their phone, wallet, glasses, and of course the clothes on their back. Silas grabbed their phone and walked back to the corpse. He held their head up with their hair, and unlocked their phone using face ID. Silas smiled; he was in. This human was making this so easy for him.

Silas had usually never cared about the bodies that were transported here, and the lives that they had lived. They were nothing but food to him. But this was a special case. Silas wanted to learn as much information about this human as possible, and what better way to start than their name?

Aspen. Aspen Marlow. Cute.

Looking through Aspen’s phone, Silas found no new messages or calls, nobody checking in to see if they were okay despite being gone for well over two days now. In fact, the poor thing only seemed to have one close friend; a girl named Lyle Berkley. Neither of their names supposedly reflected the names on their legal documents, but that didn’t matter. Looking through Aspen’s photos, Silas found that the two of them did everything together.

They were inseparable, even up until their mysterious deaths, the two of them never left each other’s sides. It was obvious now that Lyle had been the other body transported here with Aspen. But unlike Aspen, she had never woken up.

Silas sauntered over to Lyle’s body, but before he even arrived, he could tell just from the smell that she was still dead. Ah, no matter. Silas only needed the one human anyway. He locked the taller corpse away in a freezer and went back to the main attraction.

Silas sat and observed Aspen’s corpse for hours, watching in morbid curiosity as their body began to heal itself. The blood eventually dried over his wounds, and the flesh mended itself back together. It took all day, but when all the scars but one faded, the human looked good as new.

Aspen was still dead, though. Silas picked up the body and moved it away from the puddle of blood. He retrieved their clothes— a green dinosaur hoodie and baggy blue jeans— and put them on Aspen.

Then, Silas continued scrolling through their phone, waiting for his little human to wake up.

. . .

After only a few more hours, the human began to stir. Silas dropped everything he was doing and kneeled beside Aspen, staring at the boy intently. His heart had started beating, slowly and faintly at first, hardly noticeable. But now, the little thing’s heart was racing.

Aspen turned over in his sleep, groaning in pain and mumbling to himself. Silas scoffed and roughly shook the human awake, watching him blink up at him with those weird eyes of his.

Aspen immediately flinched back, eyes going wide in the terror Silas loved. “Y-You! Get away from me!”

Silas only inched closer, the maniacal look on his face filling Aspen with dread. The vampire was giddy with excitement. “You’re awake. You’re alive!”

“Y-yeah, I am! So- so just leave me alone! Please! I don’t know what you want from me!” Aspen had barely been awake for a minute and he already wished he could disappear. His head ached, his memories felt foggy and far away. Thinking back, all he could recall was pain and agony. And…

Death. He had died.

Aspen blinked. His death hurt to think about, so he didn’t. He’d also rather ignore the vampire’s ecstatic expression and blood red eyes piercing into him.

Looking past the vampire, Aspen realized he was still in the same room, just stuffed in a different corner. He was thankful to have his clothes back, though. Aspen pulled his hoodie strings tight, relishing in the small comfort it gave him. Though, nothing could beat the cold.

“Aspen,” Silas hummed. “You’re not going to just ignore me and expect to get away with it.”

“Huh?” Aspen mumbled into his hoodie. “How do you even know my name?”

The vampire chuckled deeply. “I know everything about you, Aspen.”

Aspen looked up. “What? H-How?”

Silas smiled mischievously and pulled out Aspen’s phone from his pocket. “I’ve seen what you post on social media, human. And I have your wallet.” Silas’ smile widened as Aspen’s face warped in horror. “Aspen Marlow. Age twenty, born and raised here in Toronto Canada. You were born July 25–”

“Hey!” Aspen exclaimed with a shaky voice, sitting up. “That’s private! Give it back! It’s mine!” Silas stood, towering over him.

“--And you died yesterday, October first. You’re supposed to be dead, Aspen,” The vampire said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Dead people don’t have possessions.”

“Please just give it–” Aspen tried to grab his phone, and Silas swiped his hand away, lazily walking around behind him. Aspen turned, glaring at the vampire in a fiery anger. Silas looked the human up and down in consideration. “Still have some spark left in you, do you now?”

“I– Just give me back my stuff!”

Silas tapped Aspen’s phone with his nails, and continued talking in his smooth tone. “Your entire life’s in this thing, huh? Seems so. I know all about you now. All your darkest secrets, all your deepest desires. Your hobbies, your dreams, what you love, what you hate.” Silas smirked wickedly. “Your nightmares, your weaknesses, your fears…”

Aspen’s voice wobbled. “Hey–”

“You wanna know what else I know, Aspen? You’re a nobody. A complete fucking nobody. Nobody’s looking for you. Nobody cares that you’re dead. I’m surprised you managed to have such a close friendship with, ah, who was it? Lyle? I feel bad for her for–”

“Stop!” Aspen shouted, attempting to push Silas to the ground. The vampire didn’t even budge.

Silas blinked. “Wow. Okay. Here you go.” Silas held out the human’s phone in his hand lazily. As Aspen reached out for it, the vampire swiftly snapped the thing in half before Aspen could grab it, dropping the pieces to the ground.

“Hey!” Aspen cried. Silas smirked as the human dropped to his knees, picking up the remains of his phone. “No! Why did you do that?!” The human babbled incomprehensible nonsense about his friend, looking up at Silas with tears in his eyes as the vampire circled him. It was pathetic.

Silas sighed and knelt down, cupping the human’s face in his hands. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“What– what happened to Lyle? Where is she? What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” Silas cooed, patting Aspen’s cheek. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Don’t worry about her.”

“Just let me go. What do you even w-want with me?”

Silas grinned. “Don’t you see, Aspen? I finally have a solution to all of my problems. You can’t die! No matter how much blood I take, you’ll just keep coming back and giving me more.”

Aspen’s face fell in despair. “N-No. You can’t.”

“I won’t have to drink the disgusting blood from the corpses anymore, or hunt and risk being killed by those incessant hunters. I have an infinite source of the most fresh, tastiest blood I’ve ever had right in the palm of my hands. Nobody will be coming to look for you because you’re dead, Aspen. I will never let you go.”

“No, p-please,” Aspen cried. “You can’t do this. I wanna go home.”

“Shhh,” Silas cooed. “You’re mine. This is your home now.” Silas chuckled deeply, voice getting darker. “And you’ll learn to like it here.”

Silas grabbed the human’s wrist and yanked him forward. Aspen whimpered, feeling a deep sense of dread in his stomach. Silas considered him a moment, and gently sunk his teeth into his veins. But this feeding felt different to Aspen. His neck started to feel numb where he had been bitten, and that feeling slowly spread to the rest of his body. After a moment, Aspen slumped forward against Silas’ body, mumbling broken pleas under his breath.

“Wh… what’s happening to me?” Aspen whimpered, eyelids drooping. He pushed weakly against the vampire, but he was far too cold and sleepy to fight back.

“Don’t struggle, Aspen. Let me enjoy this.”

“P-please…”

“You like it, don’t you? I told you you would. Just relax, Aspen. Let the venom do its work.”

Aspen struggled to keep his eyes open, blinking rapidly through tears. He shivered against the vampire’s cold body. Then, the poor thing finally succumbed to the venom, all the fight left in him completely drained. His head slowly lolled to the side as he lost consciousness. Silas continued drinking, basking in his sweet blood, until he felt Aspen’s little heart beating no more.

Silas smiled, licked the wound closed, and ruffled the corpse’s hair. He had almost never used venom on his prey, but playing with his food was all part of the fun.

Silas hauled Aspen over his shoulder and walked across the room. He wrenched the door to the basement open, and shoved the corpse inside. The thing toppled down the stairs like a stack of bricks, blood painting its path. The corpse landed on the concrete floor, pale and lifeless.

The vampire shut the door. The sound of a lock clicking shut echoed through the room, and Silas once again trapped Aspen somewhere cold and dark, all alone.

— 

hope everyone likes the first chapter!! i have sooo much planned for this series so stay tuned :) i don’t mind being sent requests about what you wanna see with these characters either!

Taglist: nonexistent so far, let me know if you wanna be added :)

[lights-out-knives-out]

New fab whump ideas

Soo it would take place after like Whumpee’s recovery arc so they’re all good now, only lightly traumatised. But they’ve got a job now (thinking maybe actor or musician for this prompt) but you know how famous people have fan meets where they sign photos and stuff.

So Whumpee is signing away but then a fan passes them a photo, not from on or their shoots. But of them tied up/bound/gagged/beaten bloody/heh maybe even naked. (You know whatever strikes your fancy) and Whumpee is just shocked, how has a fan gotten their hands onto this, the only person to have a copy of this is whumper.

And then everything goes quiet as Whumpee looks up to see whumper (be funny if they’re decked out in whumpee’s merch) but like saying something “can you make it out to Whumper, your biggest fan” and maybe “to whom I owe everything” dunno stuff about how whumper made them who they are yada yada. But yeah

[chokedraven]

Was thinking about it and- what about a demon whumpee? A demon whumpee that somehow gets above, to the earth, suddenly and not of their own free will and just trying to survive there?

Imagine them their whole life living in hell, the hot place, and when they appear on earth, they constantly feel cold here (especially in some countries of the north), which they have to get used to?

What if they were used to know that good is bad in their twisted morality — and now, with kind people surrounding them, they feel just... lost and defensive. Not able to trust anyone.

Maybe whumpee will join bad people, bad relationship because they will feel that these are right, are normal, because they are like most in hell. Maybe they will tolerate pain in their presence, because it's just right, isn't it?

Their life used to be hell, surrounded by bad, by wrong, and they grew up believing it's right. Will there be people here to see through the demonic origin and find a suffering soul in need of salvation?

[justbreakonme]

Whumper that treats pet whumpee like a lapdog meets whumpee who had lived their whole life touchstarved and hated equals the most toxic but enjoyable relationship either had ever had.

Whumper likes how whumpee leans into their touch, the way they panic when they leave the room.

Whumpee relishes the “best” treatment they’ve ever had, and chalks up the overly close and possessive nature of it to love.

[crimsons-whump-pile]

hey. hey! very vivid mental image of a cyborg whumpee strapped into an apparatus and connected to it by pipes and wires that are so interwoven with their mechanical parts that to attempt to escape would cause them indescribable physical pain!

just think. maybe they’re being used as a power source, or maybe they’re being analyzed and studied. they’re being kept here and treated like an object, shown no compassion no matter how much they scream, because whumper doesn’t see them as human. they don’t even see whumpee as alive. whumpee is inanimate to them — just the subject of a cruel experiment, pinned like a bug under glass.

Getting poked and prodded and zapped and jabbed. Being injected with who knows what at all hours of the day. Waking up unable to remember ever falling asleep, only to realize that they’re missing a toe or a hand or an eye, because whumper needed more genetic material. maybe the missing piece is replaced with more circuitry. maybe it isn’t. At this point, whumpee doesn’t know which is worse.

and it gets to the point where whumpee feels like the ship of Theseus — so much of them has been replaced, that they don’t even know if they’re themself anymore. they don’t know if they’re human anymore. were they ever even human in the first place? they’ve spent so long being treated like an experiment by whumper, that if and when they finally manage to get out, they can no longer remember how to function like a person. they can’t move with these limbs that aren’t their own. maybe caretaker finds them — maybe caretaker got them out in the first place — but how do you teach someone how to be a human again, especially someone who used to already know?

[oddsconvert]

"Open it." For my boy Josh (prompt for the five sentence fic!)

"Open it."

It isn't a request.

It's a dare. An ice-cold threat that freezes Josh to the spot. He stands paralyzed, his clammy palm welded to the doorknob. Josh's sorry life flashes before his bloodshot eyes, and his freedom taunts him from the other side of the unlocked door. It calls him, it pulls him like a magnet.

Josh wants to live, and not just survive. He wants his life back. His simple, mundane life. He'd give anything and everything to blend back into the world and fade into the background.

"Go on, Joshy. See what happens the second you open that door." Felix stalks closer but Josh doesn't face him. He can't face him. With his puffy, tear-stained cheeks and deer-in-headlight eyes. Josh's ears prick up at the sound of slow footsteps coming to a stop just over his shoulder.

"You know I'd catch you, don't you, honey?" Felix half purrs, half growls. Josh's thumping heart falls to the pit of his stomach. "God have mercy on you, I'd hunt you down like a wild animal. And when I finally find you...?"

Josh physically cringes and shrivels up as Felix nibbles at Josh's neck and kisses the dip of his collarbone. Felix slowly reaches around to place his hand on top of Josh's shaking one, on the door handle, and pulls it away.

"I'd snap your legs like twigs," Felix whispers in Josh's ear. "I would just love you bed-bound. It would be my dream come true, baby... the things I'd do to you..."

Josh hears Felix actually lick his lips and his gut suddenly twists. Josh thought his life was already a fate worse than death...somehow, it can get worse. He spins around to face Felix, eyes blown wide and sparkling - his lip wobbling like a small child.

It's a risk he's not willing to take. Any foolish bravery suddenly dissolves and his fight or flight suddenly switches off. Josh just feels empty.

He collapses into Felix's arms in a slump. His body rockets with sobs as Felix cradles him and smoothes the jet-black hair over his scalp.

"Sweet boy," Felix mumurs dotingly, "sweet, confused little boy. You know you belong with me, don't you?"

Josh nods miserably into Felix's chest.

"I'm the only one who knows you inside and out, who will take care of your every want and need. You'll never leave me, baby-blue."