#Cold whumper

[whumpitisthen]

Abhorrent

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CWs: blood, gore, death, fear, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, religious themes, nonhuman whumpers, power dynamics, gay ass deities

“But, but you — please, My Lord, if, i-if your, um, Y-Your Divinity allowed us just one more month — a few weeks even! I’m sure we could come to a, a-uh, satisfactory agreement between the — ”

“I do not care.”

Crack. One final, choked wheeze herds out the soul from his body, and the garrulous suit falls silent. With just a single flick of his hand, three cervical vertebrae snap at once, shattering with enough force to allow for the shards of bone to dig their way deep into the man’s pharynx and trachea, letting blood gush forth to ensure his demise. The corpse smashes its nose bloody on the way down, drawing a new pool of red for the table cloth to swallow up, losing consciousness before it could suffocate fully.

‘You bore me.’

That was what their God had said before this, to the diplomat before him, right before the flesh was rent sliver by excruciating sliver off their body; now lying facing the most recently made corpse.

The human sitting right next to them had failed to endure the maddening scene and got up in a mindless panic to run, aiming to make as much space between themself and the gory execution as possible. Grim halted their plan barely three steps in and dragged them away into the shadows. He came back without the body, licking his fingers clean.

‘No imagination at all…’

That time, the Lord had looked away with a heavy sigh, an air of disappointment about him. Then, the german-tongued politician started vomiting blood, then lungs. The demon king did turn back to face him again; to watch him die. The body is still resting, cold, in a pool of its liquified organs.

‘Your time is up.’

That one was Grim's handywork; an eager, vicious attack delivered in a split second. He had aimed a perfect diagonal slice from the right shoulder to the left hip, splitting the human in twain. What is now two halves of a bloody mess on the floor could hardly string together a single sentence with Death looming above it, slowly counting the seconds like a sentient guillotine. His Lord hoped that the imminent threat would help the mortal come up with something more creative to say, but alas…

The demon almost looks vengeful as he watches each mortal become part of the gory decor, lining them up one by one to join the corpses — apt revenge for wasting his time. Coming into this parley, His Majesty had expected a little more desperation, and a little less arrogance. It seems that even after over three centuries of direct unholy sovereignty, conquest and subjugation, humans would still rather hold their belief in the God that had long abandoned them than to give reverence to the God standing right before them; who is merciful enough to let the brazen bunch continue their pathetic existence despite their frustrating lack of succumbence and endless hubris.

A battle of pride; that's what it always comes down to. Their human pride is just as tenacious as his own; a double edged sword, a hindrance and vantage at once.

“Utterly dull,” — he says, shaking his head disapprovingly, only once blood stops gushing forth from the most recently dead man, — “all of you are so utterly, utterly dull. Three hundred years, twelve generations, over eight tenths of your previous land taken or razed, your existence allowed purely of my own careful design — and you still don’t get it. You refuse to understand.”

If there were any humans composed enough not to show perturbance up until now, their stone exterior breaks at the absolute dissatisfaction that has soaked into their Lord. His almost anger is felt clear as day in the very air that surrounds them, raising the hairs on their arms in wicked goosebumps and causing an unnatural sensation of static and taunting whispers to invade every mortal mind.

A displeased overlord is a special kind of danger; the kind that incinerates nations and enslaves the innocent on a whim. But forget all that — at the rate this conference is going, not a single human is making it out of here alive. One could wonder, if these people are so important to the workings of human society, how will the rest of them adapt to their sudden absence?

Grim yawns. What are humans if not the most freakishly adept at acclimatisation? They were made to bend, they will figure it out.

The shivers and terrorising voices only last a few seconds, shushed by the demon lord's composed exhale. There are still so many of them, perhaps only the first few would be so untoward with their approach. Every word that came out of their pathetic mouths angered him, bringing him ever closer to erasing their entire race in one final torrent of infernal destruction — no, that would be an awfully rash decision from a man known to be the most patient. He can shape them, he can mould them, just as well as any of his own creations. They will yield eventually. He just wishes their stubbornness would fade.

He would never admit it out loud, not even to himself, especially not around Grim… But every trait that he sees in these mortals — this endless pride, obstinacy, wit, devotion, will, — they are his own. A curse, a punishment, a reminder. It originated with him, reflected back at him millennia later, and it absolutely infuriates him to no end. He cannot stand seeing himself in these specks of useless dust.

He wills the next mortal to stand and present their stance and queries, dared to implore their overlord to aid them and their nation; but their solemn monologue about how insufficient land and a lack of reliable resources bottlenecks their agriculture and has now lead to civil unrest, millions starving, rioting on the streets, stealing, killing, drawing their ire closer to their beloved benefactors’ estates, and how that has left their governing officials no choice but to plead for a mitigation of the sanctions placed on their people by their benevolent, omniscient ruler,  — and that is as far as he can bare to listen to this dry speech of utter selfish incompetence.

There is a painful lack of proper respect, Grim finds. All demands and no pleas. So official, yet so incredibly unserious. He can't help likening them to a circus of clowns in expensive suits, sitting around in their little clown cars debating their little clown problems.

It feels like humans have truly forgotten how to beg. No; maybe these ones have, but begging is in a mortal’s nature. They had just grown so accustomed to having a God that never answered them that now that someone more worthy came to take its place, they don't even believe he is one. Or they would rather pretend otherwise.

Either way, he doesn't really care about any of this. Instead, Grim finds his fun in circling the long row of seats on either side of the crowded dining table. Slow steps, a cold gust of air on the backs of each nervous mortal waiting their turn. He passes time inspecting their souls, bumping their feet or ghosting a hand along their shoulders to keep them in check, see their reactions. Backs ramrod straight, limbs pulled in, heads down, breaths thin. Like little soldiers.

He slows to a stop behind one; the one he likes most. A small woman, with big circular glasses and a mess of autumn-coloured hair held up by a single hairband. She is quivering, her hands hidden between her thighs as she sits nearly motionless; so unassuming, so afraid to bring any kind of attention to herself, that it only makes her stand out that much more. He is certain, now that he has watched her for a while, that she isn't the leader of anything, only a puppet sent in place of someone much more important. That, or she is wiser than any other mortal partaking at this diplomatic feast and babbling about things that do not matter.

She shudders and flinches at the chilling breath she feels on her cheek, hunching her shoulders up high. Her eyes squeeze shut before she could catch a glimpse of that terrifying canine skull he wears as he leans down, tilting his head to take a closer look at the circles under her eyes, the soft, natural colours of her makeup proving far too vibrant for her steadily paling face. He is curious what language she speaks, what her voice sounds like. One of those silver claws lifts to scrape her cheek, carefully lifting a lock of that soft, wavy hair to gently tuck behind her ear. He does not hurt her, he doesn't even try particularly to scare her, and that only makes her all the more alluring when despite that, she nearly whimpers, struggling to draw breath, like he's squeezing the very air out of her lungs.

She reminds him of his tormented little fawn. So little, so sweet, so easy to frighten. Stays still and quiet, merely hoping that she won't be hurt, no fighting, no running. Her soul vibrates with life, lighting up her otherwise morose expression with vibrancy in her green eyes. It makes him want to take her away, lock her up somewhere, make her scream, make her his. He smiles fondly behind his mask, and reaches past her to grab a fine looking piece of meat off the plate in front of her. It drips with a generous coating of blood, dripping down the bone of his mask as he lifts the flesh sliver above himself, pulls the mask to the side and drops the delicacy onto his tongue, savouring it. It tastes real enough, though reality is a funny concept when it comes to his Lord.

In the Nowhere, time passes a little differently. There is no certain way to tell its passage, no logic to its rhythm. It fluctuates seemingly randomly, going faster one moment, then slowing to a near stop another. He cannot be sure, but Grim does have a running theory hypothesising that the imaginary time of these temporary worlds is forced to bend to His Majesty's whims. In here, a dimension created by him and occupied by guests, the natural order of things is whatever he wants it to be — and what is time but one thread of a given reality interwoven into the intricate lace of the creator's mind.

It amazes Grim, that even with such magnificent power as to be a source of creation itself, His Majesty still finds the time to spend on the smallest, most insignificant of things, and often would rather use it to morph something already existing, as opposed to creating something entirely new. To each their own, he supposes. The Lord's personal projects do always end up to be something entertaining if nothing else, no matter if they are some scrawny thing he picked up off the side of the street, or if it’s the most incredible, incalculable, phenomenal masterpiece a God like him could come up with built up with endless care piece by piece from nothing.

It has been a while since his Lord has had a project. The last one has shattered long ago; a boring husk that became incapable of imperfection, or emoting for that matter, thoroughly emptied out until they became a lukewarm body without a soul, or opinion, or anything at all, left to listlessly wander their master's mansion and clean the halls over and over again, wheezing slow as if perpetually suffocating. Grim tried to put a little fear into them once, hoping to elevate the rhythm of their heart a little, but it was like they were dead already, grey with a lack of life behind their eyes, blinking slow, wholly uninterested in anything he had to offer that wasn't death. He remembers his Lord calling them a great disappointment.

He wonders if his newest gift will fascinate the demon enough to keep his focus for a while. He counts on the angel’s arrival being somewhat of a sentimental topic to his old friend.

Deep in his thoughts, the Reaper suddenly feels something. The scent of blood in water. His ashen skin shivers with its intensity. A sound; a wave of something strange, vibrant, beguiling, sorrowful. A soul crying for him. Screaming for him. Someone he knows?

He slows to a stop from his absentminded stroll and listens, looking around as if to ascertain the direction of the sad wailing. He feels his Lord's attention on him, ever careful of his premonitions. His bloodhound sensed something he cannot, and that is rarely a good sign.

The Lord waves a hand, shutting up the human diplomat's ceaseless rambling. — “What is it?”

Staring straight up at the ceiling, Grim listens for the cries, but they are much too hard to make out. He can’t tell exactly what's going on past the shadowed walls of this domain. His ears are filled with cotton. Letting his chin down, he hums. — “It appears I have somewhere else to be.”

“Is that so?”

“Somewhere important,” — he continues, more so to himself. He turns to his Lord, all but ordering, voice cold, but his tone still lifts towards the end, as if only patiently inquiring; — “open a gate.”

His Lord raises an eyebrow. This sudden change is completely unprecedented; a far cry from his unburdened, carefree Reaper. What has made him so worried so suddenly? — “What could be more important than being by my side?”

That pulls a laugh out of Grim; a little incredulous, a little genuine, but spine chilling all the same. — “The details of my duty are of no business to you, My Lord.”

Then, black smoke envelops him, catching him as he bonelessly falls back into it, swallowed up and gone. He disappears for only a moment; the next he is walking out from behind his Lord’s impressive throne. Bracing himself on the back of it, he leans down to murmur, his fangs peeking out from under the mask just so, smiling wickedly. — “So draw a gate for me. I may just be inclined to return sooner if you do.” — He giggles then, a mischievous sound. — “I know you don't like being all alone with these scary mortals. I'll hurry right back to your side, Your Majesty, you need have nothing to worry about.”

Even if he was considering opening a gate for him, he definitely won't after that mockery. Grim knows as much; but he cannot hold himself from playful jest. And nevertheless, he had just about enough of this senseless race to find out who can come up with the most boring way to beg their God, and by his calculations, he may have annoyed the Lord just enough for him to not mind Grim's absence too much once he leaves.

Sure enough, the demon narrows his eyes in slight contempt, not looking very amused — can he never take a joke? He then puts on an easy smile. — “I think you can find your own way there, wherever it is you must go. Clearly, you do not need my help.”

Grim’s fanged smile disappears as his Lord's own only grows when he lifts a clawed hand to take hold of his bloodhound by the chin, bringing him close enough to whisper in his ear. — “If you wanted to leave so badly, you could have just told me. I am more than used to your flippant nature; I know your thirst never leaves you long enough to think through a single thought in your head. Go home and grab yourself a snack, my ravenous Reaper, I won't stop you.”

His surprise is quickly replaced by a toothy grin, low laughter bubbling out of his throat. That shiver raising the hairs on the back of his neck; a familiar, pleasant electric current spasming under his frozen skin. A shaky breath slips out from behind his teeth. 

Under the mask, Grim's eyes flutter shut. His Lord is a dangerous, foolish man to flirt with Death in such a fashion. Truly dangerous indeed.

He can't resist grasping a hand around his old friend's wrist with unyielding strength, lifting those clawed fingers away from the possessive hold on his chin. If his grip hurts the demon lord at all, he doesn't show it. He then turns the offending hand and returns it to his lips. He presses a gentle, slow kiss to the black veins pumping the same black blood as his own steadily through them.

Blood void of any adrenaline, fear or anxiety. Playing with fire, tempting fate, and not an ounce of healthy cowardice to be found in those onyx eyes.

His Lord's smug faith in his Reaper’s loyalty annoys Grim greatly — almost as much as it captivates him.

“Abhorrent,” — he decides, a finely chosen word of farewell. His old friend smiles as if he called him beautiful.

With that, cursed black smoke envelops his body in a gentle embrace, disintegrating his form to mist until there is nothing left. The Lord's hand remains floating surrounded by Death’s frigid breath, leaving an echo of phantom touch on his skin long after the air inexplicably warms, sighing in relief with every mortal to announce the Reaper's departure.

<3

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[floral-comet-whump]

hello!!! my name is shavit, and I'm a whump blog!

my pronouns: they/she/star

my age: 17!!

if you have minors dni on a post and see I have liked or reposted it, it was probably an accident. I'd be a little sad if I get blocked because I'm sensitive, but I won't take offense to accounts doing so

a fun fact about me: my name, shavit, is pronounced sha like shush and vit like bit (down), but the B is a V

things I hope to be known for: being an interactive fan, having unnecessarily intricate character designs, and having good takes (I rlly hope I have good takes, I am trying)

whump tropes I like:

conditioning (both the process and the result. I think the main reason I'm into whump (other than just sadism towards fictional characters bjkbbidb) is the fascination I find in storytelling where characters are broken and reshaped), whipping, stress positions (very illustrative!), begging, fantasy whump/magic whump, magical exhaustion and magical euphoria, institutionalized whump + living weapon whump, bad caretaking, carewhumping, branding, secretly defiant whumpee/liar whumpee. I made this post about them and I'm really proud because a post of mine hasn't attracted attention since I was like... 12 and made a gacha life series

original whump writing

Daffodil Academy is a boarding school taking in talented youths which belong to... less fortunate backgrounds. Throughout history, this institution has consistently nurtured what most would think are children beyond saving into dutiful, competent servants of the kingdom.

contents: minor whump, magic/fantasy whump, institutionalized whump, living weapon whump, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, parental carewhumpers, conditioning, non-sexual/non-romantic grooming, generational trauma

post where I ramble about this as a concept

“Kill him.” | Featuring: Walenty

Hurt or be Hurt | Featuring: Walenty

I currently don't have plain writings that don't belong to any particular setting soz </3

Original whump art

just some doodles and references for walenty! no whump, just placed here for convenience's sake

singular kid walenty doodle with thoughts and rambles in tags

KID walenty taking an L (shit doodle edition)

[chaotic-orphan]

June of Doom, day Twenty-three:

How many fingers am I holding up: poison // rash // double cross

General warning: this is a little dark so please heed the warnings

CW: betrayal, double cross, poison, heavy emotional Whump, death, forced submission, supervillain whumper, lady Whump, emotional whump, knife mentioned, death (explicit), blood, team whump, plans going wrong, cruel whumper, intimate Whumpers, multiple whumpers, venom, immobilisation, multiple whumpees, unable to move, loss of trust

*~*~*~*~*

Leader stared at Villain with her arms folded across her chest, an eyebrow cocked at Hero as he explained the reason for Villain being there.

“So you see…” said Hero, wringing his hands together in front him, “without Villain, we wouldn’t’ve made so much headway on the case so quickly.”

“You’re telling me you told this arsehole everything about the case?” Medic demanded hotly, stepping towards the pair across from them, but Leader shot a hand out, wrapping it around their arm. Medic looked down at Leader’s hand, then stepped back again.

Hero looked ashamed. No, Hero looked like some lost puppy getting scolded, but Leader didn’t force a smile onto her face trying to put him at ease. He made his bed, now he has to lie in it.

“This was classified information, Hero,” said Leader, eyes drifting to the Villain leaning against the wall beside him. Villain looked so out of place in the Heroes base. Too dark, too brooding, too sad.

“I know,” said Hero, apologetically. “But Villain knows Supervillain so I thought—“

“You thought you’d get all of us in trouble and let us be vulnerable to attack—“ Leader said, and Hero shook his head, protesting no but Leader continued all the same as if there was no interruption. “—from the first source who said they’d help you? That’s naive, Hero. Even for you.”

Hero stepped forward, pleading, “Villain hates Supervillain, okay? They don’t want to work under them but they have to because if they don’t Supervillain will go after everyone they care about!”

“Which now includes you,” said Charming, piping up for the first time since Hero arrived with Villain in tow. Charming was sitting against the table, hands in their trouser pockets, casual and cool.

Hero’s eyes went from Leader’s to Charming’s then back again, and they let out a resigned sigh. “Yes… look, Villain’s risking their neck for even helping me this far. And more importantly—“

“I’m in Supervillain’s inner circle,” said Villain, pushing off the wall and standing tall, taller than Hero, expression neutral. “I know what they’re planning, and I know it’s going down in three days. Do you want to keep arguing about my involvement or do you want to save the city?”

A silence fell following Villain’s monologue. A silence broken by Charming who shrugged, glancing back at Leader.

“I trust Hero,” said Charming, glancing back at Villain. “I trust his judgement.”

Medic scoffed, throwing their hands up, “you can’t be serious!”

Charming’s eyes went to Leader’s in reply, waiting to see who’s side she’d take. Leader just looked at Villain, tilted her head to the side and asked: “why do you want to stop Supervillain? If you’re in his inner circle, surely he trusts you.”

Villain let out a humourless chuckle, saying, “Supervillain doesn’t trust anyone. I’m just double crossing him before he has the chance to do it to me.”

Leader let out a huff of breath through her nose, then turned to the map table of the city. “Tell us everything you know, Villain.”

The rest of the team joined Leader at the map table, Medic letting out a huff before begrudgingly joining beside Charming at the opposite side. Villain pointed to the docks, warehouse thirty six.

“Supervillain said he’s importing Viper Venom on the 11.30 ship from Eastport.”

“There’s Vipers in Eastport?” Charming asked, raising their eyebrows across the table at Villain who shook their head.

“Not actual Viper Venom, it’s—“

“A paralytic drug,” said Leader.

Villain nodded. “Exactly.”

“How do you know about it Leader?” Hero asked.

Leader worried her bottom lip between her teeth and said absently, “Detective told me about it. It’s been popping up in a lot of recent heists. Guards and Officers alike paralysed with this drug while they’re robbed blind. I didn’t know Supervillain was connected to all this though.”

“He is,” said Villain, “I’m sure of it. He was real smug when he was telling us too, gloating about how long he kept us in the dark.”

“But if Supervillain gets his hands on more Viper Venom, then what’s to stop him from taking control of the city?” Medic asked.

The questioned lingered stale in the air, hanging heavy for a moment before Hero said, “nothing.”

“I’ll call detective. Have them make sure the docks aren’t being patrolled that night, we want to catch Supervillain in the act or this isn’t going to work,” said Leader, eyes snapping to Villain’s. “Will you be there to get the shipment?”

“Yes, a couple of us will be… including Supervillain.”

“Good. I need you to put on the show of your life.”

Villain nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good. Charming and I will be the first ones in to make the arrest with Medic and Hero coming around the back. I’ll tell detective to keep their men out of the docks that night so there will be no further casualties. Supervillain won’t get away this time, alright?”

A chorus of Yes ma’am, and Leader smiled. Finally. Finally they had the drop on Supervillain. It felt… intoxicating. Just the thought of putting that maniac behind bars.

*~*~*~*~*

The shipment was in the warehouse. Supervillain, Villain and another of Supervillain’s generals were inside. Leader had ordered Villain to take out the other general when they ran in and Villain agreed much to Hero’s protest.

So when Leader and Charming rounded the corner, Leader screaming for Supervillain to put his hands up, Villain attacked. They went straight for the Other Villain’s wrist which was reaching down to draw their gun from it’s holster.

Villain snapped their wrist back and flipped Other Villain over their shoulder, twisting their wrist harshly until there was a crack then the cry of agony. Villain picked Other Villain’s gun up from the ground, clicking the magazine free and thumbing out every bullet. They kept eye contact with Supervillain the entire time bullets pinged to the concrete floor.

Other Villain tried to attack again, pawing uselessly at Villain’s leg. Villain shook them off, then dropped their knee to Other Villain’s chest and pistol whipped them across the temple. Other Villain went silent, and Villain got to their feet, coming to stand beside Leader.

“Betrayed by my favourite pet,” said Supervillain with a grim smile. “I do love a double-cross. I suppose I should be proud that I at least taught you to be ruthless.”

“I’m not yours anymore,” said Villain, keeping their tone neutral. Supervillain’s eyes went to Leader’s then back to Villain’s.

“No. It seems you’re someone else’s dog now.”

Leader stepped forward, hands raised threateningly towards Supervillain. A glove of blue fire engulfed her arms, ready to let loose in an instant.

“On your knees,” Leader hissed. Supervillain obeyed, much to Leader’s surprise.

It must have showed on her face because he put his hands out in front of him with that same coy smile. “I’m not ready to die, Leader, and I won’t give you a reason to kill me. You heroes have rules, no?”

Leader lowered her hands, fire still burning around her fists. She nodded to Charming, who said: “with pleasure,” and cuffed Supervillain with power dampeners. The simple white cuffs glowed a faint blue around Supervillain’s wrist to show they were activated.

Only then did Leader call, “it’s clear,” to Hero and Medic who followed them in from across the warehouse. Hero’s eyes were on Villain who just smiled at them.

Leader didn’t notice because they were walking towards the new crate in the lot, grabbing a crowbar that was strewn on the ground and prying the wooden crate open. Charming was beside her and they both peered down to see… an empty crate.

“No,” Leader said, their heart dropping as she ran to the other crate. Hero and Villain went to the open crate and looked down.

“Wait, what?” Hero asked. Villain turned back to Supervillain who was grinning on their knees a little away from the group. They hadn’t moved. Another creak and a groan from wood being forced open and a snap and a clang and Leader said: “no. No. No! Where is it?!”

“Where’s what?” Supervillain asked. That smug little shit. Villain had crossed the distance and grabbed them by the collar of their shirt, shaking them.

“Where’s the viper venom?!” Villain demanded. Supervillain’s eyes shined cruelly up at Villain.

He tilted his head as he said, “you really thought I didn’t know about your little mutiny, Villain? I’m impressed you had the balls to go through with it, but I’m sure I can forgive you. Given time. Your hero friend on the other hand… well…”

“Leader?” Hero asked and Villain turned around again to face the group. Leader’s hands were shaking, her fire sputtering and coughing before being snuffed out with a hiss, as if water was poured on her.

“What?” Leader asked, breathless before she fell to her knees and stiffened unnaturally. Paralysed. Villain’s eyes went to the crowbar and yelled to Hero in warning: “the crowbar! Don’t touch it. It could have been poisoned.”

“I didn’t poison the crowbar,” said Supervillain a smile in his voice. Villain felt their hands shaking next and they looked up in horror to see Hero fighting gravity but being forced to their knees, their legs buckling beneath them.

Villain stepped forward, trying to reach them and fell to one knee with a grunt. They pushed up on their hands and knees, reaching out to Hero before their limbs failed them too and they fell to the ground, their hand still reaching for Hero.

“I did,” said Charming and Villain’s blood ran cold. They tried to move their arms. Their legs, anything, but they couldn’t… couldn’t… their body was shaking with the effort to fight. Fight! “Not just the crowbar. The crates too. Had to be thorough.”

“Charming?!” Leader cried, her voice shaking in disbelief.

Villain felt hands on them and suddenly they were righted, no longed kissing the concrete and placed against a crate. They saw Leader was righted as well.

“Don’t want you all to miss the show,” said Charming with his handsome smile. Charming walked over to Supervillain and undid the power dampeners around his wrists freeing him while the team watched in horror as Charming helped Supervillain to his feet.

Villain saw Medic poke their head around a crate beside Leader, eyes widening but keeping their face neutral. Leader seemed to realise as well, while Hero drew Charming’s attention to him.

“You… you’re the viper? But… but… how?! You have the gift of persuasion not poison. Why? You’re part of us. You’re part of the good guys, you—“

Charming just chuckled. “I have the powers of a snake, Hero. Charming, beautiful and deadly. I just kept my other gift a secret from you all.”

“This whole time you were the Viper,” said Leader, breathless. “There is no venom is there? It’s just you. Your power. You’re Supervillain’s mole.”

“So quick on the uptake, Leader,” Supervillain praised, shows clacking through the warehouse as he approached Leader and crouched down in front of her. He grabbed a lock of stray hair and put it behind her ear while she sat there, useless and unable to stop him. “You were a worthy adversary I must say. Turning my general against me.”

“Looks like you did the same,” Leader spat.

Supervillain let out a dark chuckle. “I guess we both had the same idea. The only difference is that I would never underestimate you… but no matter. You’ll all learn soon enough to trouble of crossing me.”

That’s when Medic pounced. They ran out, going for Supervillain. One touch. That’s all they needed. One touch to render Supervillain useless and free everyone.

A spray of blood hit Leader’s face and they gasped, trying to turn their head away but they couldn’t. Their head stayed staring at Medic as they reached up to their throat, clawing at the deep open gash. Gasping on nothing and choking on their own blood.

“MEDIC!” Hero howled, a shrill gut wrenching sound as Medic fell to their knees beside Charming who held Leader’s dagger in his hand. Soaked in blood. Medic’s blood. Leader wanted to reach out, to hug them, to hold them, but they couldn’t and Medic watched with wide eyes begging for Leader to help them.

I can heal from nearly anything, Medic had told her when they joined the team.

Nearly everything? Leader asked. Medic nodded.

Anything immediate or a quick death, I don’t think my powers could kick in in time. But pretty much anything else.

Leader pleaded for them to be wrong at that moment. They could still do it. They could still survive this. Charming grabbed Medic’s chin, tilting their head up and drove their dagger to the hilt through Medic’s eye. There was a hideous popping sound, followed by another splatter of blood as Charming drew the dagger back viciously and let Medic drop to the concrete as if they had never shared a meal together.

“Heal from that,” said Charming darkly and Leader’s entire world froze. Medic’s body hit the concrete with a lifeless thud, blood pooling from their body and reaching Leader’s fingers. Their hands covered with the sticky substance of Medic’s blood.

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Hero wailed. “I’M GOING TO STRIP THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES!”

Charming ignored Hero and turned to look down at Leader who’s eyes were still trained on Medic’s lifeless form, willing them to get up. To move. To save it was a bad prank and to… to…

Tears poured thick over Leader’s cheeks, sniffing back snots and forcing her body to move. To hold Medic. To do something! Something!

Charming crouched down too beside Leader, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at him. Except it wasn’t Charming. This evil, emotionless thing wasn’t charming. It was the Viper. Supervillain’s second in command that stared through familiar eyes at Leader and mercilessly wiped the dagger on Leader’s shirt.

“I’m going to kill you,” Leader whispered, no. Leader promised. Vowed. Her body shaking, trembling and cold and still unmoving. Not a single nerve listening to her brain’s commands. “I’m going to kill you,” she said again, her lip trembling.

Charming grinned and said, “no. You won’t. You won’t get the chance, but I’ll let you try. You’re coming back with us anyways, can’t risk you running to you little detective and spilling the beans.”

Charming stood them, dropping Leader’s chin. Supervillain was the one who touched her next without her permission, his index and middle finger going to Leader’s wrist holding her pulse point gently.

She felt her brain go foggy, her mind muddling. Thoughts rolling and turning over each other into one big messy blur.

Before she lost consciousness she saw Charming standing a little away from her with a smile, his hand raised, asking: “hey leader,” Charming said, voice too far away, the world swirling in Leader’s eyes. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Then the darkness swallowed her and Leader passed out in the hands of her enemies.

[whumpy-bi]

Bingo: Non-Con Drugging

From @a-crumb-of-whump’s interrogation bingo card!

Warnings: restraints, non consensual drugging, cursing, captivity, mentions of electrocution, needles

Words: 498

Whumpee had been alone for a while now, nearly managing to fall asleep in the silence despite being strapped to a metal table. The soldiers had finally left some time ago, after what seemed like hours and hours of the same cycle—they would ask her a question, wait for an answer, and begin using the chair’s systems to electrocute her for minutes on end before they’d ask again.

She’d kept herself quiet the entire time, gritting her teeth and grunting through the pain. She kept an echo in her head, repeating it nonstop. Don’t let them see it hurts, don’t give in. Once you let them in, they’ll never stop.

Whumpee winced as the door opened again, reluctantly opening her eyes as a newcomer approached the table. Based on his uniform, she guessed he was a higher ranking officer.

The officer stared down at her briefly, looking through the recorded logs on the side of the table. He spoke aloud, presumably to the cameras in the room that had been rolling throughout the interrogation.

“This is Whumper, giving an initial report. Whumpee has refused to comply with any questioning thus far, showing clear defiance and resistance to routine questioning…”

Whumpee finally spoke up, rolling her eyes. “‘Questioning’, right, it was torture—“

Whumper continued on, as if he didn’t hear her. “I have been given express permission to advance the techniques for this prisoner…good, that’s good.”

Whumpee found herself tugging at her restraints automatically. “What—what does that mean? What are you doing?”

Whumper finally seemed to hear her, pressing some buttons on the console. He answered matter-of-factly, clearly very unbothered. “Just trying a new method of persuasion, that’s all. Unless…you’d be willing to answer our questions now?”

“Fuck off.”

“Right, as expected…” He pulled a switch, and a robotic arm extended from the console. Whumpee’s eyes went wide as she spotted a syringe attached to it, immediately beginning to squirm as it came closer.

“I’d advise you not to move, miss. It’ll hurt more.”

Despite her fury and terror, Whumpee froze, and held still as the robotic arm injected whatever it was into her system.

“What did you just do…?” Despite her best efforts, Whumpee’s voice cracked as she looked up at her new interrogator.

The smug bastard was smirking. He addressed the recording once more. “Administered interrogation drug number one, expected to take effect in a few seconds…” His smirk grew as he looked down at her. “Feel anything?”

The drug hit Whumpee in a moment, making her entire body feel loose and heavy. Her eyes glazed over a bit, her mouth clumsily opening and closing a few times. Whumper leaned in closer, seeming to inspect her eyes for something. “Good…there it is.”

He clapped his hands together, the sound vaguely startling Whumpee. She noticed that everything began to feel…more distinct, more abrasive. Even the air around her felt like too much.

Whumper’s voice cut through her ears like a knife.

“Let’s talk about Caretaker, then, shall we?”

[otherworldly-whump]

Returning Home

Whumpee finally escapes. Or were they let go? They honestly aren't sure which. All they know is that they finally got everything they wanted, they're free. But something is wrong. It turns out whumper might have been right. The world is just a bit too big for them. It's scary, dangerous... overwhelming. Whumper was right when they warned them outside was actually less safe. Less comfortable. Less kind. Suddenly whumpee isn't sure they want to be free. Maybe whumper is keeping them safe after-all. Before they know it they find themselves back where they'd just escaped, on their knees in front of whumper. Words pour out of their mouth, begging and sharing and emotional dumping, and just pleading, pleading whumper to take them back in, where it's calm and quiet and there's simple rules, with simple results. They'll do anything. They're so so so sorry they left. They're sorry they didn't listen It had just gotten too much, it hurt too much, and they just wanted to stop hurting. They didn't mean to leave, they didn't mean to put themself in danger. They just couldn't handle all the feelings anymore. Please all they're asking for is a little more kindness and they'll stay forever. They'll do anything, anything, whumper wants.

Whumper watches them, cold, expressionless, for almost half an hour. They listen to whumpee plead and sob and cry until their throat is sore and their mouth is dry. And then slowly, they nod. "Welcome home whumpee dear. Of course we can be more gentle, if you finally understand your place. I only ever was correcting you to keep you safe like I told you. If you're finally willing to learn better, it's wonderful to have you home."

That night, for the first time in a long time, whumpee didn't sleep on a floor. They fell asleep on whumper's bed, curled up to their chest, shivering as their touch starved body and affection starved brain curls up tight and close. Not caring that this is the monster that had been torturing them for months. This was their proper owner now afterall. They hadn't been lying. They had been keeping whumpee safe. And the arms around them felt too good. A soft bed. An arm tucked around protectively. A belly full of Chinese takeout. Whumpee doesn't know if they escaped, or were let go. All they know is they're home finally now. They drift to sleep in Whumper's arms. Safe.

[floral-comet-whump]

delicious ty

whumper who doesn't speak to their captives

whumper who comes in and tortures their victim without a word

whumper who lets them ask why, curse, threaten, beg without so much as looking them in the eye

whumpee who tries to get under whumper's skin and gets nothing

whumpee who's allowed to say whatever they want... until they won't anymore. they don't know if the stuff they said before actually made whumper more angry, but they don't care to risk it anymore

whumpee who learns they're not worth talking to. that they exist to be hurt, not heard

...

OR whumper who talks at first and stops without explanation, to the same effect

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Sickfic + kidnapping whump

a whumpee that's sick before getting kidnapped

OR they come down with something during their captivity

either way we get ourselves a Carewhumper or Whumper-turned-Caretaker situation

imagine a whumpee with a cold who can't sneeze or cough through the gag and starts hyperventilating

or a whumpee with the flu or a stomach bug who's vomiting everywhere

just making whumper's job so much harder because on top of having a captive they now have to make sure the whumpee doesn't die or spread the illness to them or their henchmen before the ransom is paid/they're rescued/etc

feel free to add on!

[letitbehurt]

It’s a good day to grab Whumpee by the hair and shove their head underwater.

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The cell the whumpee was trapped in was constantly cold, and the whumpee had nothing to even try to warm themselves up. Injuries were easier to ig or than the constant freezing feeling, the stone under them felt like a slab of ice, and every movement felt sluggish and stiff.

[floral-comet-whump]

this is the good shit

Don’t resist

The knife drew nearer and nearer and Whumpee tried to press their back even further into the floor as they squirmed and panicked under their captor.

“No! No, don’t!” They stretched out their arms, hands against his chest and shoulder as he closed in on them. A futile attempt to keep him away.

Surprisingly, though, he stopped leaning closer. But when Whumpee looked up, they immediately saw it wasn’t out of mercy. His eyes were cold as ice. 

He held eye contact and then slowly, his head tilted a little and his pupils moved down, to where their hands still rested against his shoulder.

They quickly drew back, stammering apologies, but he snatched up their wrist in a painful grip.

“Please! I’m sorry, I – Ah!” Their voice broke off in a pitiful whimper.

“You’d better be.”

“I am! It won´t– Please, I won’t do it again, please!”

The knife drew closer again and they squeezed their eyes shut, muttering and rambling the same word over and over again as the blade teased along their jawline. They gasped as they felt the skin split and their eyes snapped back open as the grip on their wrist tightened and tightened in warning to pay attention.

“Say please one more time and I’ll break your wrist.” His hand tightened around it.

Whumpee abruptly fell silent and with a satisfied hum, Whumper let go and leaned in close again.

“Keep your arms down. Don’t struggle, don’t resist.”

And Whumpee did just what they were told; no pleas, not a word, and kept as still as they could when the knife sank into the flesh under their collarbone.

-

Keep reading

[floral-comet-whump]

hello! this was supposed to be the original post where both I as a whump writer and walenty debut, but I got inspired by this post and wrote a snippet

contents: captivity whump, fantasy whump (hardly mentioned), institutionalized whump, interrogation whump/tortured for information, restraints, mention of suicide attempt, discussion and threats of death, off-screen past and future torture, lady whumpee (she will probably never appear again sorry), attempted conditioning, defiant whumpee, cold/impersonal whumper, remorseful whumper, minor whumper/whumpee (16-17), (non-combatant) living weapon whumper

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Walenty blinks. That’s not the answer they wanted. Ruby looks right back, damp hair sticking to her face. They’d offered to move it out of the way if she answered a question.

“No,” Walenty puts their cheek into their palm, using it as an unneeded crutch for their head. “I don’t.”

“You do!” The prisoner snaps, yanking her head forward as best as she can. They internally note to secure it to the back of the chair before they leave so she can’t kill herself by slamming it back until her skull breaks. “You- You keep saying I’ll get stuff if I talk! I see what you’re doing with that reward system,” she hisses out, “And that incentive, and good behavior. I’m not some dog you can train!”

That’s literally just how interrogation works, they bite back. They wait to see if she’ll continue, tracing the stitching of their chair. Ruby's eyes are just as full of rage as when they’d gotten here. Maybe because they’ve cleaned her wounds? It doesn’t matter so long as they receive correct intel.

“Answer me, dammit!”

Their free hand pauses at the shout.

“This is my job,” gloved fingers interlace on their lap. “I need answers, Ruby. If tying your hair back isn’t enough, what would you like I do?”

“Let me go!” She demands loudly again, and they don’t flinch this time. “I’m not cooperating with the likes of you.”

She’s like a broken record, they think.

It’s gone in a loop for hours. They question and she refuses to answer. They threaten and she answers and they don’t know if it’s true. They question again, and she refuses again. They go through with the threat. She caves. They question. She refuses. She refuses. She refuses. They threaten something else. She caves. They question. She answers. They question, she answers. They question, she hesitates. She refuses to answer, and it restarts.

“That’s not how this works,” Walenty, too, is a broken record. “So give me something. At this rate, your wounds will get infected and you’ll die. Do you seriously want a torture chamber to be your deathbed?”

Silence settles over the dim room.

“...I’m not getting out alive anyways.” Her voice breaks, and so does eye contact with the interrogator. “At least I’ll go out nobly.”

Walenty looks down at their notepad. Everything’s encrypted anyway, so there’s no reason not to write draft reports in front of her. They close it, bookmarking their page with elastic and adding a loop for their pen.

“This isn’t working,” they finally say it out loud, standing to put the logs on a seperate surface. “And you’re obviously not gonna talk.” Walenty takes the scalpel and wipes it with already-wet cloth. “So I’ll leave you to rot down here.”

“...What?”

The enby finishes, putting both on the tray of to-be-cleaned instruments.

“You can’t be serious.”

They walk to the door, “You said you wouldn’t mind dying,” they reminded, removing their badge and imbuing the password in it, unlocking two of three locks. “So have fun succumbing to nature.”

“I haven’t told you everything.” Ruby points out as they walk back and fetch a blindfold. She’s returned to glaring. “You’re bluffing.”

They put the badge back and return to tie the blindfold around her eyes, utilizing the chair’s high back and fabric’s stretchy material to secure— “Stop that!” —the girl’s head too.

Walenty strolls over to the counter they left their notebook on and puts it in their bag. They detach the only key that’s actually just a key for this room.

“You’ll come back.” She insists, and they simply hum, inserting the key into the lock.

They twist it.

“They won’t let me die until they know everything and we both know it.”

She’s right, but she’ll begin to doubt herself soon. The heavy door creaks open. They slide the light glyph off, and only then take the key. They step out and slam it shut, showing the still-enchanted badge to the mechanism’s sensors. They hear it lock. Walenty inserts it once again, spinning counterclockwise this time. Click.

Walenty sighs, deflating. They resist the urge to actually slouch. Instead, the interrogator remains standing there. It’s so damn bright every they step out that it has to be its own kind of torture. They extract the key from its hole and clip it back in its place.

They sigh a second time, turning around to lean back against the closed entrance.

This is enough information for just one session, they think. She’ll get desperate next time, and start to believe that they really had left her to die in there, only to have her reality reshaped again when they're back.

It’s going fine.

It’ll work. Ruby will break, Walenty will have information, and then they’ll kill her. Or maybe she’ll be recruited, she’s young enough. They’ll ask around. Can’t risk wasting resources.

A third sigh leaves their lips, and the human glances around to make sure nobody is watching before resting their forehead on the door.

Breathe in. Hold.

They really have become heartless. It’s reasonable to get desensitized, they know that from observation and experience. It’s still jarring. They wish they could leave it all behind. Run away from the suffering they’ve inflicted and been complicit in without facing consequences.

Breathe out.

But they can’t. There’s no way. They’ll be found. They’ll be found again and they don’t think desertion will be pardoned this time. Even the execution will be extremely painful, but it’s not as if it’s nothing compared to the suffering they’ve inflicted. Screams and healing spells and bloodied clothes and the stench of vomit and disgustingly damp fabric and compliance and—

Don’t think like that.

Walenty sharply inhales at the still locked door, touching the corner of their eye with a glove. Flaky blood stays flaky. Phew. They spin around and begin to walk out of this dreadful place, because they’ve broken both themselves and others to have that privilege. Walenty won’t fall apart. They want to live. Even if they torture again and again, they don’t want to die.

Walenty doesn’t want to die.

[chaotic-orphan]

The stranger, pt.2

EEEK okay this is very late, but this is for @mmm-yes-potato for requesting a part two for my favourite villain so far this is for you!

Part 1 here

I hope it’s worth the wait!

Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When the stranger had brought Vigilante back to their house, Vigilante had hoped they’d just knock them out, but the stranger didn’t.

They didn’t lay a finger on Vigilante. Just told to follow them and stay silent, no stopping anyone on the way there either. No way to alert anyone to help. Just follow along like a puppy.

So when they finally stopped in front of a house Vigilante was painfully awake. All they could do when the Stranger invited them in was glare at them with all the hate they could muster.

The stranger dipped their head, that infuriating smile on their lips as they said, “Please, come in Vigilante. I insist.”

That familiar feeling settled over Vigilante’s mind and they wanted to scream as their foot lifted against their will and they stepped inside the Stranger’s house.

The minute Vigilante crossed the threshold they had obeyed the command and the fog lifted. The moment it did, Vigilante lunged at the Stranger and caught them around the waist and the pair went rolling.

Vigilante got on top of the stranger and started wailing on them. Fist crunching nose, jaw, cheek anything it could reach, trying to knock the bastard out but they still smiled up at Vigilante. The stranger reached both hands to Vigilante’s jacket collar and bucked their hips, rolling until they were on top.

Vigilante let out a frustrated huff through their nose and threw their fist up at the Stranger but they caught their wrist with quiet, firm confidence and it was as if a vice had clamped down on Vigilante’s wrist. Vigilante tried to yank it back but it didn’t budge and the stranger just kept smiling.

“Fuck you!” Vigilante spat, clicking their thumb and index finger on their free hand and a flame grew in the palm of their hand before engulfing it and reaching over to grab the Stranger’s hand keeping theirs captive.

“Ah, ah, vigilante. No powers.”

The flame extinguished just as they grabbed the Stranger’s hand and Vigilante wanted to cry. The stranger grabbed their other wrist and quickly pinned their wrists above their head and waited patiently for Vigilante to accept their fate and stop struggling.

“LET ME GO YOU PRICK!” Vigilante screamed, but the stranger just shushed him.

“I see you’re going to be as difficult as possible,” the stranger said with a soft lilt to their voice.

“That’s kinda what happens when you kidnap people.”

“I could take your memories,” the stranger mused, taking pleasure in watch the realisation dawn on Vigilante’s face. “But then you wouldn’t be as fun. No, I got something else in mind, dear wannabe hero. Something far better.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The stranger didn’t do anything to Vigilante for the last three days. They had however set some ground rules: no leaving the house without the stranger’s permission, no burning down the house, no use of vigilante’s powers on the stranger or any of the strangers guests ever - that one vigilante had nearly laughed at. They couldn’t use a power even if they tried, they were borderline useless without another powered individual near them to leech off, and the last person they had touched before the stranger was some half powered loser trying and failing to rob their local pharmacy.

Vigilante scoffed, they were the half powered loser. At least the fire guy had his own source of power. But the stranger didn’t know that Vigilante was borderline powerless, even more so now against the stranger. Which is why it was so weird that other than those rules the Stranger basically let vigilante free around the house. They let them eat when they wanted, which was anytime the stranger wasn’t in the kitchen, and sleep where they wanted. That one Vigilante hadn’t trusted them on so they slept in the living room on the couch closest to the door if they needed to run.

“Seriously?” the stranger had asked when they saw vigilante asleep sitting up. “There’s a perfectly good guest room on the second floor.”

“Yeah, which is exactly where you want me to sleep, isn’t that it?”

“I just think it’d be more comfortable,” the stranger shrugged, casually leaning against the door frame. “I mean, you’re going to be here for a long, long time, Vigilante. You could at least be comfortable here, I’m not a monster.”

“You ordered a child to kill themselves in front of their parent. Tell me again your not a monster.”

“That’s different,” the stranger said waving the comment away. “That was to make a point. Wouldn’t you say the many lives the mayor has taken from innocents justices a life being taken from him?”

“They were six,” Vigilante said through gritted teeth.

The stranger tilted their head, “So? What does age have to do with how much value is attached to a life?”

Vigilante stood at that. Said so cool and callously as if discussing the weather or a hypothetical child the stranger had tried to murder.

“How many children has the mayor’s corruption killed, Vigilante? Hmm?”

“That’s different than him killing the children himself.”

“If he did maybe I’d respect him more,” the stranger said with a dark look in their eyes and an edge in their voice. The stranger pushed off the doorframe after stunning Vigilante into silence. “He gets to hide behind policy, and the greater good and can get away with murdering hundreds, and you look at me and tell me I’m the monster for attempting to murder one? What makes him different than me? What makes his child’s life worth more than the parents in the Dregs, hmm? Tell me.”

Vigilante looked into the stranger’s eyes, dark and deep and shining with some kind of divine retribution that made them think that what they were saying wasn’t crazy.

“I’m not here to debate philosophy,” the Vigilante said eventually, voice measured. “Murder is murder. It stains your soul. His karma will come around eventually.”

The stranger smiled a small smile, then it grew wider, showing teeth and they started to laugh. Vigilante watched as the crazy person threw their head back with a riotous kind of laughter as of Vigilante had said the funniest thing in the world.

After they stopped they wiped their eyes and said: “That’s a good one, has a nice ring to it.”

The stranger stuck their hand out then, that dazzling model worthy smile on their lips. “Nice to meet you vigilante, I’m Karma.”

After that the stranger tried to get Vigilante to go upstairs but vigilante refused so the stranger brought down pillows and a duvet for them and left them to it. Vigilante couldn’t get the look on the stranger’s face out of their mind as they spoke of the mayor and their child, even when they closed their eyes it was there, haunting them until they fell asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the fourth day, Vigilante woke up before the stranger Karma, and slipped into the kitchen to make some coffee before they woke up.

“It’s still weird having you in my house,” and Vigilante jumped at the voice, knife in hand and turned in a second to see a sleepy Karma in their pyjamas in front of them. Karma smiled a lazy smile. “Your reflexes are good, not great. You didn’t even notice me in the room.”

“Shut up. It’s early,” vigilante grumbled.

“You should have a shower. I’ll wash your suit. You haven’t gotten changed since you’ve been here.”

“I’m not taking off my mask.”

“I didn’t ask you to, just your clothes so I can wash them. You’ll get them back but I don’t want you stinking up my house.”

“Marvellous. How about you let me go then?”

Karma smiled at them. “Nice try.”

Vigilante turned back to look at the kettle then, waiting for it to boil. On the one hand they felt disgusting and wanted a shower so bad, on the other… well, they still wanted to shower. The stranger hadn’t made them do anything they didn’t want to, and in a strange way, Vigilante knew they wouldn’t.

But then why were they keeping them here? Against their will? Why go through the fuss of it?

“Fine. I’ll have a shower.”

“Good. There’s clothes in my wardrobe you can borrow.”

Vigilante nodded, made their coffee and went to the stairs. They paused at the first step, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but then shook their head and climbed the stairs.

The water was warm and Vigilante scrubbed their skin raw and was down a few minutes later, hair wet and sticking to their mask. The stranger was still in the kitchen, sitting at their counter eating breakfast all very domestic.

“Here, take your mask off. Use this instead.”

“No.”

“I won’t look, Vigilante. I promise you. I don’t care who you are. It doesn’t bother me. Just so I can clean your mask too, come on.”

Vigilante looked down at the mask Karma had slipped over to them. It covered their face, yeah, but what else would it do? Vigilante remembers the villain who strapped bombs behind masks that terrorised the city for weeks.

“No,” the vigilante said. “I already cleaned mine. I didn’t want it dirty after I had a shower so I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you could be so mannerly,” Karma mused and took the mask back.

“Well I’m not usually this friendly with kidnappers. But you have been reasonable so far.”

“Mmm,” the stranger hummed, eyes bright. “So far. Speaking of… I have a small meeting today. You’re coming with me.”

“I don’t—“

“Ah. That wasn’t a request, vigilante. You’re coming with me, and you will be on your best behaviour, won’t you?” Karma asked, smiling as if they hadn’t just compelled them to do exactly that.

“I fucking hate you.”

“Mmm, not yet.”

When the stra— Karma, left the house Vigilante tried to stay behind. They really did, and they managed it for a time. Then the pain set in, as if an invisible rope was tethered between Karma and them and tugging sharply, strangling their waist and they cried out and was forced to follow. The closer they got to Karma who was waiting in their car, the lesser the pain became and they hated the smug, patient smile that was on Karma’s stupid face the entire time.

“What? You don’t want to blindfold me or something?”

“What’s the point when I can just tell you to forget and you will?”

Vigilante huffed in their seat and said nothing the rest of the drive that brought them through the city and out towards the docks. In the city, Vigilante rolled down their window and was about to scream for help when Karma told them to be quiet and Vigilante obeyed. Tears of frustration forming behind their eyes making them want to scream at the stranger.

They got to the old cannery and the stranger stepped out and said: “come along,” like Vigilante was a dog and Vigilante again, obeyed, like a dog.

“This is all very supervillain-esque,” vigilante told Karma and Karma laughed.

“The highest praise coming from you,” Karma replied easily. They walked from the cannery through the docks before they met a group of people nearer the pier.

“Ah, there they are. I was wondering if you’d show up at all, old friend,” a man in his late fifties said, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked like the villain from the old professor Layton games, tall and stalky with a big moustache and black hair.

“Not to fret, I was just dealing with the problem we kept encountering on our sacrifices surviving.”

The older man looked to vigilante, eyes shrewd despite his slightly haggard appearance. “This the problem then?”

“Yes. Our little hero. Well,” Karma said turning to face Vigilante. “Our little wannabe hero. I intercepted them right before they told the actual Heroes about a little pattern they had noticed.”

“Did you now? And the hero?”

“Oblivious as all heroes are.”

“Fuck you,” Vigilante spat and Karma smiled. The older man let out a shocked laugh.

“Quite the mouth on ya kid, let me guess, you grew up in the dregs, hmm?”

“Let me guess, you’re a dickhead too?”

“Mouthy and unflinching even in the situation you’re in,” the older man mused. He took a long drag of his cigar and exhaled a lungful of smoke, looking at Karma then. “Just your type.”

“I know,” the stranger said. “But we’re here for business, so shall we?”

“Right, yes. Well first off is DeVines, she caught one of her rookies growing a conscience and running to tell a hero about it.”

A woman stepped out of the crowd, tall and blonde her face obscured by her black and white domino mask and behind her she dragged a shaking boy behind with his hands cuffed behind him.

Vigilante made to step forward, but Karma was faster, glancing over his shoulder, his swirling eyes ensnaring Vigilante’s and Vigilante wanted to scream for meeting their vertigo inducing gaze.

“Stay,” they said. Vigilante’s feet stuck to the floor.

The boys face had been beaten to a pulp, all purple bruises and little scratches. They couldn’t see out of one eye but Vigilante realised with horror that they recognised that stupid haircut, even with all the blood and dirt matting it. At the moment the boy recognised Vigilante too and stepped towards them.

“You- you! You’re a h-h-hero,” they stammered, voice raw and broken. The vigilante’s heart plummeted to their stomach and they went to reach out but Karma grabbed their wrist and held it down. “Please- p- please. I don’t wanna die. They’re going to kill me. I thought they were my family. They said they were going to hurt me if I didn’t please help me.”

“He’s just a kid,” Vigilante said, almost pleadingly to Karma who didn’t look at them.

“Just a kid who crossed the wrong people,” the woman said, her voice low and coloured with a sadistic glee that she had rooted out a traitor to their cause. “What do you wanna do with them boss?”

The question was directed at Karma who regarded the kid for a moment. They looked at Vigilante then and went to stand in front of them. Vigilante looked away from their eyes, they knew exactly what the stranger was going to say and they couldn’t. They couldn’t hurt a civilian. Even one who wasn’t entirely good.

Karma grabbed Vigilante’s chin and forced their head up to look Karma in the eyes. Vigilante saw a brief second of that swirling abyss and shut their eyes. “No. No. No. I won’t listen.”

“Open your pretty eyes, Vigilante,” and Vigilante did. Was one second all it took for Karma to enchant them? To bring them under their spell? Karma was smiling, they had them now. “You won’t move a muscle during the rest of this meeting. You can scream, and cry and beg me to stop, but I won’t. Understand? I won’t take your voice, however, same rules — no yelling for police, or heroes or help, because it’s not coming, understand?”

Vigilante was shaking, their bottom lip quivering as the command took hold, the dense fog settling over their mind scrabbling all thoughts except that one.

Obey.

As Karma stepped away from Vigilante and walked over to the rookie villain with a conscience.

Obey.

As the stranger told someone to release the fire boy’s cuffs.

Obey.

As the stranger blocked a desperate punch from fire boy, caught their wrist, twisted it, bending their arm back until it snapped like a twig. The boy screamed, trying desperately to pull their useless arm back to them pleading mercy.

“KARMA STOP!” Vigilante cried, voice desperate and far too high. Karma looked over their shoulder at vigilante, a vicious smile on their face. Vigilante would have taken a step back at that smile. That crazed sadistic smile, but their limbs wouldn’t move. The more they tried to break free, the more the fog descended and their mind turned on them.

Obey.

“Hero please-“ the boy mewled after their hand caught fire and tried to burn Karma. Vigilante begged again. For a life they weren’t above begging. This wasn’t murder, this was torture. “Karma please let him go. Please. Stop. Don’t kill him, please! PLEASE! PLEASE!”

Karma punched the boy, extinguishing his flame, knuckles cracking against his cheek then kicked the boy to the ground where he tried to scramble back but was surrounded by Karma’s fucking sycophants.

Karma turned to Vigilante, blood on their knuckles and cheek, which they wiped away smearing the blood over their cheekbone just under their eye. Vigilante wanted to run. They wanted to get sick. Their entire body shook with the terror flooding through their veins.

This is the person that kills children, Vigilante reminded themselves. The image of Karma imprinted on their mind’s eye, and they forced themself never to forget who this person was.

Sadistic and cruel.

A monster.

Obey.

Karma walked up to them then, pressing a bloody hand to Vigilante’s exposed jaw, tilting their head up to look at Karma in the eyes.

“When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?” They said, voice thick with dark pleasure and amusement that Vigilante wasn’t privy to.

They pulled their hand, sticky with fire boy’s blood, off Vigilante’s face and turned to their crowd of devoted followers.

Vigilante tried to memorise their faces too.

“I’ve decided to have mercy, my friend here swaying me to be a better person.”

There was a chorus of boos, but the frightened boy’s eyes went to Vigilante then and he was shaking and crying, and said thank you over and over and over again.

“So, rookie. Look at me,” and Vigilante could tell there was compulsion in his words. “You’re going to forget this. You’re going to forget how you broke your arm. It was a work accident is what you’ll tell the doctors and nurses in Central Hospital, isn’t that right?”

“Ye-ye-yes, sir.”

“Good. Then, once they’ve healed you…” Karma looked over their shoulder to vigilante and it froze vigilante to the spot. This wasn’t the sadist karma looking at them anymore. It was the calculated stranger from the roof who was brutal in an unfeeling kind of way and wormed their web of words through Vigilante’s ears until they lost their freedom.

Karma’s eyes swirled and Vigilante screamed:

“COVER YOUR EARS! DON’T LISTEN TO HIM! SING OVER HI-“

“Vigilante, silence.”

Vigilante wanted to scream. Their eyes filled with helpless tears as the boy started backing away with one good hand on the ground, and started singing and screaming until the stranger told them to shut up.

“Once they’ve healed you, I want you to walk to the Mayor’s office. Ask for an audience and make it convincing.”

Vigilante screamed, but not a sound came from their lips. “And when you get into the mayor’s office I want you to take this gun—“

Karma held up a hand and DeVines gave him a hand pistol. “And I want you to blow your brains out in front of him. If you can’t get an audience, then you blow your brains out at the reception desk in city hall, you understand?”

“Yes sir,” the boy said, crying now. Snot running down past his lips.

“You understand why you’re being punished now, right?”

“Ye-yes sir.”

“Good. Tell me Why?”

“I betrayed you sir.”

“The heroes can’t help you.”

“No, no sir,” the boy sniffled. Karma looked back at Vigilante and the boy followed his eye.

“Are you happy I didn’t kill him now?” *~*~*~*~*

continued here

[whumpy-wyrms]

Blood Runs Cold #2: You Poor Thing

previous | masterlist | next

content: captivity, cold whump, starvation, dehydration, begging, strangulation, mind control, blood drinking, non permanent death, defiant immortal whumpee, creepy vampire whumper

IT’S BACK!!! finally gonna start writing this series again, sorry for the long wait!!

— 

Aspen slowly opened his eyes, and once again, the first thing he noticed was how cold he was. But unlike being trapped in a thin metal freezer, Aspen was laying on a small mattress.

He curled into himself, shivering violently. After realizing there were no blankets to keep him warm, he sat up, but immediately felt the dizziness hit him. He groaned in pain, his head pounding and his body aching from his last death. His last death.

Everything that had happened the last day came flooding back to him like a punch to the gut.

He died. Twice— no, three times, apparently, though he didn’t remember the first time—

And he came back.

It hurt to think about— what any of this could possibly mean. Nobody could just die and come back to life! …But here he was. Alive and well. Aspen almost thought it could all have been one bad dream, if not for the dull pain in his neck. He traced his fingers over his throat, and felt two small scars from where the vampire had drank from. The vampire.

That thing was what had killed him- bit into him- tore him apart. And it said it would do it again. Aspen had to get out of here. He couldn’t stand the thought of being around that monster again, he couldn’t.

He took a deep breath and decided to start looking around the room he found himself in, though that didn’t help much since all around him was complete darkness, not a window or flicker of light in sight. The mattress beneath him felt rough and grimey; it definitely hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. Aspen put his hand to the wall to steady himself as he stood, feeling the chill and cracks of the cement on his fingertips.

He took a step, but heard a rattle of metal coming from the floor. He took another step, feeling a heavy weight and cold chill on his left ankle and he realized that he was chained to the wall. Shit.

Aspen tugged on the chain a bit, to no use. So he started walking anyway, wanting to see the furthest he could go. He walked around the room and held his hands out in front of him, trying to see if he could feel anything in the darkness. He eventually found a staircase, but could only get a few steps up until he reached the farthest the chain would allow him. He went around the other side of the room and felt a small drain in the concrete floor. Startled by the new texture under his bare feet, he jumped away, the chain pulling taut on his ankle and causing him to trip and scrape his knees on the concrete. He staggered up and collapsed back on the mattress in defeat.

And that was it. Nothing else in the room offered him much help, and he was stuck waiting in horrible anticipation. It was hopeless; there was no way out of here and he was going to be hurt by that vampire again.

He shook those thoughts away and decided to be smart about this. Sure, Aspen couldn’t actually die— for some reason— but vampires could. All he had to do was find… what was it? Silver? A wooden stake? Aspen never really had been too interested in vampires; he was more of a werewolf type of guy. And he didn’t even know they were real until now, whatever he’d heard about them in the past might not even be true. But nonetheless, he’d find a way to kill that bastard and reunite with Lyle again- wherever she was. He wouldn’t just give up.

. . .

Aspen didn’t know how long it had been since he’d woken up, or how long he had been waiting in the dark, laying curled up on that mattress. He realized soon enough that he was hungry; he hadn’t eaten in who knows how long, and definitely hadn’t drank any water. Oddly enough, he didn’t have to go to the bathroom. After all those deaths, he probably had nothing left in his system.

He also realized, after hours of laying on that mattress with nothing but his anxious thoughts, that the vampire hadn’t given him his glasses. It wasn’t like he needed them in this dark, but he still could hardly see normally without them. He also hadn’t given him his chest binder. He was just wearing his jeans and hoodie, not even a shirt underneath! That asshole. He didn’t know whether it was to humiliate him, give him less warmth, or both, or some other reason, but Aspen had never felt so vulnerable and defenseless.

The vampire had broken his phone, so he obviously couldn’t use that to call for help. Like the corpse that he was, he had nothing. Absolutely nothing that could help him. The only thing he could do was wait.

And after what felt like forever of waiting, stomach aching with unbearable hunger, Aspen heard the thud of footsteps coming from the ceiling above him. They walked slowly until they stopped by the stairs. The click of a lock echoed through the basement, and light finally flooded into the place.

Aspen sat up on the mattress, heart thumping rapidly through his chest as he stared ahead.

Finally, the vampire was back.

The vampire walked down the stairs, taking slow, deliberate steps that echoed in the silence. His wavy black hair fell down in his ghostly pale face. He wore a dark red dress shirt, the first few buttons undone, and a black suit coat hanging messily over his shoulders. Aspen gulped and hugged his knees to his chest, noticing the blood-red eyes peeking through the strands of hair and staring directly at him.

His captor reached the bottom of the stairs and stared down at Aspen, watching him tremble in fear.

“Hello, little corpse,” the vampire said, his voice sending a shiver down his spine.

Despite Aspen having so many things he wanted to say and ask— like let me go, I’m hungry, don’t hurt me— his words went dry in his throat. He felt acutely aware of his position; held captive, frozen in place under the vampire’s intense gaze, afraid that any movement or noise would cause the vampire to pounce and tear him apart again.

“What? Got nothing to say?” The vampire hummed, tilting his head.

Aspen swallowed and tore his eyes away from his captor, deciding to get a look around the now visible room.

The basement was not much larger than he had originally thought. Most of it was empty, but against the left far wall was a large metal table. It was hard to see without his glasses, but squinting his eyes, he could make out various dangerous looking tools and weapons hanging on the wall above it. The sharp blades were all covered in faded, dried blood. Higher on that wall, in the corner by the ceiling, was a small window, boarded up with wood that had looked like it’d been there for ages. Hanging down from the ceiling in the middle of the room were various hooks and chains. Dried blood faintly painted the floor by the drain.

That was it. It looked like everything in this place was just made to cause pain, to hurt him.

He looked back at the tools. They were too far away to get to with the chain around his ankle, but if he could somehow get his hands on them, he could defend himself.

Unless… somebody else got his hands on them first.

His eyes flickered back to the vampire, who had been following his gaze to the wall. He smirked.

Aspen’s heart plummeted.

“I see you’ve noticed my—”

“Don’t hurt me!” Aspen said, body trembling. “Please let me go, I- I—”

“Begging already?” The vampire mused, and started walking closer. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Yet?

“N-no, stay away from me,” Aspen said, backing up against the wall.

“Why would I do that?” His captor walked closer, boots thumping against the concrete. Aspen pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to hide as much of his body as he could, trying to make himself small. The vampire crouched down in front of Aspen and put a hand in his curly hair, gently scritching the top of his head as if he were nothing but a spooked animal. “You’re much cuter up close.”

Aspen trembled under the vampire’s touch, pulling away ever so slightly but being fully backed into the wall, there was nowhere to hide.

“How’re you doin’? You making yourself at home?”

Aspen just stared ahead, mouth agape, words caught in his throat.

“I asked you a question, Aspen,” the vampire hummed in a light tone, though his hand gripped tighter in his hair— a warning.

Aspen swallowed thickly, and said in a quiet, shaky voice, “I-I don’t wanna be here. Let me go.”

“Aw, is it really that bad? I even gave you a mattress and everything.”

Aspen frowned, shivering into his hoodie and wrapping his arms around himself. “It-it’s so- so cold down here. Just let me go.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” the vampire cooed, wiping Aspen’s tears with his thumb. He didn’t even realize he started crying. “I don’t care.”

Aspen sniffled. “I don’t even have my glasses.”

“Oh, of course. You need them to see?” The vampire’s voice was laced in mock sympathy.

Aspen nodded his head, looking up at him through his curls.

“Well, I kinda like it when you look all disoriented and confused. I might just keep you like this forever.”

Aspen’s heart dropped, his despair plastered all over his face. “Why are you doing this?”

“Aw, did you forget already? You exist only for me to drink that delectable blood of yours. You’re nothing but my food. You’re mine. I can do whatever I want to you.”

“B-but- but…” He was speechless. As he struggled to come up with something to say while his captor played with his hair, he saw the vampire’s eyes light up, smiling that horrible grin that showed his deathly sharp fangs.

“Oh, you’re going to be so much fun to break.”

“W-what?” He squeaked.

“We’re going to have so much fun together, Aspen. Just you and I. It’s been so long since I’ve had a human of my own, this place hasn’t had much use in ages, but not anymore. And since you can’t die permanently, I won’t ever have to hold back.”

The vampire’s gaze wandered back to the tools hanging from the wall and the chains hanging from the ceiling. Horrible visions racked Aspen’s mind. Visions of pain. Of agony. Torture. Death. It hadn’t happened to him yet, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it. He couldn’t do it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stifle a sob. The vampire was too close. It and its fangs and claws were too close and it was touching him and he didn’t want to be here and why wouldn’t it just let him go?

“Open your eyes, Aspen,” the vampire said in a sing-song tone.

“Huh?” Aspen opened his eyes.

“I like to see the fear in my prey’s eyes as I feed. Makes the blood all the more intoxicating.”

“F-Feed?”

“Did I bash your skull in a little too hard last time?” Silas flicked Aspen’s head roughly with his finger. “Every night I am going to feed from you. And every morning, you will come back to life fully healed and regenerating more blood. The process will repeat itself. It’s simple. No more questions.”

“But I don’t- I don’t want this. I wanna go h-home.” He looked up at the vampire through his curly hair with tears in his wide, terrified eyes. His lips wobbled as he spoke so quietly that it was barely a whisper. “Please.”

“Oh, Aspen. You still think you have a choice. You’re so cute, it’s unbearable. It makes me just want to squeeze the life out of you.” The vampire thought to himself for a moment, before a mischievous grin crossed his face. “And I guess… I can do that, can’t I.” It was more of an observation to himself than a question.

“N-no.”

“Oh, I will.” The vampire broke out into a wide, maniacal grin, fangs looking sharper than ever. “Whenever the fuck I want to. How about now?”

Before Aspen could say anything, the vampire pounced. Inhumanly strong hands wrapped around his neck and shoved him against the wall. His nails dug into Aspen’s delicate skin, causing blood to drip down his throat.

“Ow!” Aspen gasped. “Stop- stop stop stop- please stop.”

The vampire suddenly squeezed his hands tighter around Aspen’s throat, crushing his windpipe. Aspen gasped for breath, but could no longer get any air.

“L-et g-o,” Aspen choked out, a whimper soon broken by his lack of oxygen.

He clawed at his neck, at the vampire’s hands tightening his grip on him, at the blood spilling from the small cuts, desperately doing all he could to get air. But his captor’s hands didn’t budge, they only pressed down harder on his throat.

Aspen’s mouth opened and closed, trying and failing to suck air back into his lungs. He tried to plead, to beg, but no sound came out. Dark spots filled his vision as his lungs screamed for air.

The vampire leaned in and started drinking the blood trickling down his skin. Aspen felt his hands squeezing tighter to get more to spill out, as if he were nothing but a living ketchup packet.

Tears fell down Aspen’s cheeks as he went limp in the vampire’s hold, finally losing strength. He struggled to keep his eyes open, to keep his head from lolling to the side and into the vampire’s grasp, to keep himself from slipping away into unconsciousness, into death.

The vampire squeezed his neck again, this time harder. A horrible crunching sound filled Aspen’s ears, and everything finally went black.

. . .

Aspen gasped awake, hands instinctively flying to his neck to get air- to stop the bleeding—

…That wasn’t there. There was no puncture wound, no blood, not even a scab. Just smooth scars over his skin from where the vampire had scratched him and drank from.

He took a deep, long breath, closing his eyes as sweet refreshing air filled his lungs. He breathed out, and in, and out again. A steady pace to calm his racing heart.

The room was dark again, and the vampire didn’t seem to be in there anymore. He must’ve left after Aspen… died. Maybe that was a good thing. Though, he was still incredibly hungry. And thirsty. And his captor was the only one who could give him that necessity.

He cringed thinking about the last thing he remembered, that moment with the vampire. He shouldn’t be so scared of him. He had to stand up for himself and fight back, that’s what Lyle would have told him if she were there.

He didn’t know what time it was or how long he waited for, but when the basement door opened again, Aspen swallowed his nerves and ran towards the stairs, wasting no time in going as far as the chain would allow him. He was standing on the second step and holding on to the railing, his left leg held out in the air a little bit due to the chain pulling on it.

“H-hey,” Aspen said, looking up at the vampire. “Let me out, I’m so hungry!” He pulled against the chain, not caring about the cold metal digging into his skin, and pushed his arms against the railing as if trying to heave himself up the stairs. “I can’t- can’t take it anymore! Let me go!”

The vampire was standing at the top of the stairs, his entire body cast in a haunting shadow from the light behind him, making him nothing but a looming silhouette. He took a silent step down the stairs, and another.

“Brave little corpse today, huh?” The vampire growled, his two red eyes glowing bright in the darkness. He seemed to be in a different mood today, one that sent a shiver down Aspen’s spine.

“I’m starving. I don’t care what you do to me, I just need food! Please!” Aspen cried.

He didn’t even see it coming.

The vampire pounced, leaping down the stairs and slamming his body straight into Aspen, sending both of them tumbling into the hard concrete floor. Aspen cried out in pain, his entire body hurting from the inhuman force pinning him to the ground. The vampire quickly stepped back and shoved Aspen into the wall by his mattress. After struggling to catch his breath, Aspen’s eyes went wide when he noticed the vampire walking towards him.

“W-Wait!” Aspen exclaimed. “Please don’t hurt me—” He squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating another blow to the head. When that didn’t come, he blinked and saw the vampire crouched down next to him, inspecting the chain around his ankle.

“This chain is much too long.” Before Aspen could do anything, the vampire wrenched it through what had it fastened to the wall, effectively shortening the length Aspen was allowed to walk, leaving the chain only a few feet long now. Aspen could only move around the mattress, and that was it. “Much better.”

He was about to curl into a ball, but he remembered his goal. He needed to stand up for himself. He needed to show him that he wasn’t weak. He blinked back his tears and stared at his captor. “L-let me go!” he demanded. “I’m hungry! Really really hungry. I need food. You can’t just keep me down here!”

“Aspen,” Silas growled, turning to face him. “Are you really making me repeat myself again? You’re mine. My food, to do with as I please.”

His mind raced, frantically trying to come up with anything at all that could change his mind. “If you’re going to- to keep me here, you need to feed me! You can’t just k-keep me starving forever! It hurts! Please!”

“You haven’t died from starvation yet, so why would I waste time and resources letting you eat if you don’t need to? Seems like a big fucking waste to me.”

Aspen looked up, pleading with his eyes that were filled with anger and confusion. his breath hitched in his throat. It was getting harder and harder to be brave. “You ca-can’t do this. You can’t!”

“I can do whatever I want to you.”

Tears fell down his cheeks. “P-please!” he sobbed. “I’m begging you, is that what you want? Please. I’m starving, I—”

“Stop screaming. Holy shit, you’re insufferable. Did you know that?” The vampire turned away from him and started walking towards the other side of the room. “I usually love hearing the horrified screams of my prey, but today isn’t one of those days.”

“Wh-where are you going? —Wait!”

In a flash, the vampire was back to kneeling in front of him, shoving a piece of cloth into his mouth and tying it around his head, effectively gagging him. Aspen reached up to pull it out, but winced when his captor grabbed his wrist and roughly twisted his arms behind his back. The vampire tied his hands together with rope, and pulled it tight. Aspen whimpered as it dug into his skin.

He screamed through the gag, and his captor slapped him roughly across the face, shutting him up. His head shot to the side, and he whimpered as his cheek stung in pain.

Cold, inhumanly strong hands grasped at his shoulders as the monster bit down into his neck, ripping and tearing the flesh away like a deranged animal. He cried out, but there was nothing he could do to stop this. It wasn’t long after that Aspen’s world went dark yet again.

. . .

Time seemed to stretch on in one big blur. The vampire came to the basement to feed, to kill, and throw any and all kinds of hurt or pain into the mix that he wanted. No matter how much Aspen pleaded for it to stop, that only seemed to fuel the vampire’s cruelty. He mocked him for being weak, for being unable to do anything against him. His captor would either kill him or leave him alone in the basement until he came back hours later, alive but in no way living.

It was always dark, and Aspen didn’t know how many days were spent down there. He thought that if the vampire fed once a day, he’d been in the basement for at least five. Five days without food or water. Five days trapped in a cold, dark room with nothing but his worried, anxious thoughts to distract him from the agonizing pain. Not to mention however long he’d been in the morgue before this, however long ago he’d died the first time.

But he could be wrong; he really didn’t know how long he’d been trapped here for. It could have been a few days or a few months and he’d have no way to tell. He wondered if anyone was looking for him, or where Lyle was, or if he’d ever be able to see the sun again. Surely, he’d be rescued in no time. He was going to get out of here, he just had to wait.

He laid his cheek against the rough mattress, arms still tied behind his back and gag stuck firmly in his mouth. Even though he tried to stay optimistic, sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was his life now. Cursed to be trapped starving in a basement and used as a vampire’s bloodbag for all of eternity— and killed, over and over, that too.

He found the actual death to be somewhat… peaceful, as grim as that sounded. It was the only escape he got from the pain before he was forced back into the cold cruelty of the basement— of his life. It was an unwelcome distraction, but it was at least something. He always hated having nothing to do, being bored out of his mind. At least now he got a break every now and again.

Then, for the first time in days, he heard something new. Aspen’s ears perked up, listening closely to the faint, muffled noises coming from above him. Voices. Multiple voices upstairs. He stood up, despite his weak and starved body begging him to rest, and stumbled towards however far the chain would let him.

He shook his head vigorously, rubbing his chin against his shoulder and finally, finally getting that disgusting gag out of his mouth.

And then, he screamed. His throat was sore and raspy, dry from the lack of water, but that didn’t stop him. He called for help as loud as he could, hoping to get the attention of whoever was up there.

The voices suddenly stopped as Aspen’s frantic pleas rang through the air. There was a loud sigh, and the snap of someone’s fingers. Eerie silence filled the air except for the all-too-familiar footsteps walking towards the basement.

The door swung open violently, and Aspen flinched back at the noise, chain rattling behind him.

“What do you want?” The vampire hissed, flicking the lightswitch on and slamming the door shut behind him. Aspen had never seen someone look so angry. He cowered away as primal terror flooded through his veins.

“I- I, th-the people! There are people up there! Help, help! HELP!”

The vampire did nothing but stand there silently, staring at him with that creepy smile on his face. “Keep screaming, Aspen. See where that gets you.”

“But there’s… What…what did you do to them?”

“Mind control. Their dumb little minds don’t belong to them right now, and they certainly won’t rescue you.”

“You can… control people’s minds?”

“Of course I can,” his captor hissed. “And the next time you try to ask other humans for help, I won’t be so merciful to them.”

“Were they looking for me?”

The vampire couldn’t help but laugh. “No, they weren’t looking for you. They were looking for directions.”

“Directions?”

“Yes. We are in the middle of fucking nowhere, by the way.” The vampire took a step down the stairs. “And nobody will come looking for you. You’re dead to the world, already buried six feet under. And scream all you want, there’s no civilization in miles. That gag was just there to keep you from annoying me all night and day with your incessant whining. I almost never see people out here unrelated to my business.”

“But when I do,“ the vampire continued, “oh, you have no idea how hard it is to resist feeding on them. I’m glad you’re awake now. I deserve a snack for having to deal with those insufferable morons.”

“And you,” the vampire drawled, walking closer and causing Aspen to flinch back in fear, stumbling onto the mattress behind him, “deserve a punishment for spitting that gag out and trying to call for help. You’re mine. You do not try to call for help. You are not getting out of this. Get that through your thick skull before I bash it in.”

Aspen breathed heavily. The vampire was standing a few feet from him, but was more menacing than ever before.

“Say it, little corpse. Tell me you’re mine. I wanna hear it from you.”

Tears pricked in Aspen’s eyes, cheeks going red. “I-I’m, I’m y-yours.”

“And you’ll never try calling for help again?”

“N-No,” he said, shaking his head and sniffling.

“Good. Now enough chit-chat. C’mere.”

Aspen let out a sob and crawled forward, palms and knees aching against the cold stone floor. He crumbled in despair as Silas leaned down to feed again. Sharp fangs sank into the same spot on his neck, blood started flowing out and into the mouth of his captor. He grew even more lightheaded, squeezing his eyes shut and silently begging for unconsciousness.

…Only, death didn’t come this time. The vampire pulled away early, licking his lips and stepping back with a sour expression.

Aspen dared to peek an eye open and look up at him. “W-wh-what are—”

“Your blood. It’s not as good as it was before. What happened?”

“I-I don’t- I don’t know.” When the vampire yanked a hand to his hair, Aspen sputtered frantically to get his words out, wracking his mind for what it could possibly be. “M-maybe it’s- maybe it’s because I haven’t- haven’t eaten anything?”

The vampire stared at him for a moment in consideration. Then, his hand let up, and he stepped away. “Hm. I guess that makes sense.”

“Y-yeah, p-please, I really need food. I need it.”

“…I don’t have any human food here. I’ll have to get some the next time I go to town.”

“...Oh,” Aspen said quietly. “B-but you’ll still feed me? Th-thank you.” He looked up at his captor with hope in his eyes for the first time, and finally let his body relax, as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He’d finally get to be fed.

“Yeah. Holy shit, you’re pathetic.”

“C-can I at least ha-have a blanket in the meantime?”

“No. Can’t let you get too comfortable, can I? Or you’ll forget your place.” The vampire chuckled, patting his head in mock affection.

“But it- It’s so cold here…”

“If you’re suffering so much, why don’t I just kill you now and make the pain stop?”

“N-no, please don’t kill me,” Aspen whispered.

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“W-wait!—”

But he had already put the gag in place, and tied it tightly around his head, more so than before. Aspen let out a muffled whimper as the vampire walked up the stairs and out of the basement. The light was turned out, the door slammed shut, leaving Aspen in suffocating darkness once again. All alone.

His stomach growled. The cold bit at his bare skin. His throat ached with thirst and the lingering pain of the bite.

Maybe he should’ve accepted the offer.

— 

i’m not like super proud of this one but i think it’s as good as i’m gonna get it so here u go :3 future chapters will be better (and probably shorter), i’ve written a whoooole bunch of this recently and i’m realllyy gonna try to get regular updates now!! yayyyy

taglist: @inkwell-and-dagger @vidawhump @taterswhump @toyybox @andithewhumper

@creppersfunpalooza @bottlecapreader @whumpsday @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kisa-writes

@mintflavouredwhump @fleur-a-whump @starfields08000

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumpee bared their teeth at Whumper in reply. Whumper let out a soft chuckle that earned them a scoff from Whumpee. Whumpee folded their arms across their chest and looked away.

Whumpee gasped when Whumper grabbed them by their neck and yanked them close. Whumpee's eyes widened a fraction and then they felt it. The cool metal of Whumper's pistol resting on their tongue.

Whumpee jerked backwards, but Whumper's fingers curled into Whumpee's hair at the back of their head, stilling them while also ensuring they couldn't move back away from the loaded weapon in their mouth. Whumper smiled at Whumpee in their own gleeful kind of way. The kind that made their eyes brighten with malice and their lips tug outwards - not a smile, but as close to it as Whumper could get.

"Look at that, you don't," Whumper said, tilting their head at Whumpee who kept their mouth open, still, too afraid to move an inch or even try and bat the gun away with their tongue. The taste of gunpowder and ash drowned their senses, and they swallowed awkwardly with their mouth open wide around the pistol. "Doesn't mean you're not a pet for me, though, Whumpee. So I think you should really consider the next time you want to disobey me, because I won't hesitate to put you down for your own good."

Dark eyes smiled at Whumpee's glare. "Do you understand me?"

Whumpee made a noise in the back of their throat. One that sounded vaguely like agreement and Whumper removed the gun from Whumpee's mouth. Whumpee pushed back immediately, bending to spit the taste of the gun from their mouth.

"Am I a dog to you?"

"I don't know. Do you bite?"

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Hero had noticed that Villain seemed a little distracted during their fight—not bantering as much as usual, fighting back halfheartedly. Still, they had expected Villain to dodge their attack in time. But when Hero sent out another blast of their ice powers, it hit Villain square in the chest, knocking them into the wall behind them. 

Hero gasped as they watched Villain crumple to the ground, clutching at their chest. “Oh my god.” 

Villain groaned, staring down at the ice spreading across the front of their suit. “Fuck. You got me good, huh?” they forced out. The laugh that followed was on the verge of hysterical. 

“God, Villain, I’m so sorry,” Hero said, rushing to them. They knelt down in front of Villain, pushing their shaking hands out of the way so Hero could inspect the damage. Ice had pierced through their suit, seeping into Villain’s chest. Thanks to their own fire powers, it most likely wouldn’t be fatal—Villain's body heat had already begun counteracting the ice. But it looked like it hurt. 

Villain’s eyes were distant when they looked up at Hero, and their lips were tinged blue. “My fault,” they said, teeth chattering. “Should’ve been paying attention.” 

Hero shook their head. “No, no it’s not your fault. Shit, I'm sorry, I knew you were having an off day and I still…” 

Villain wrapped their arms around themself as shivers wracked their body. “S-so cold. And tired.” 

“You have to stay awake,” Hero instructed, though it came out as more of a plea. “Keep your eyes open, okay?” 

The ice was beginning to melt away already, but the effects would probably last longer. “You’ve g-got your chance to t-turn me in now,” Villain said, forcing themself to keep their eyes on Hero. 

Hero sighed, pushing Villain’s hair back. “Not gonna happen. I’m taking you home where you can have some hot soup and lots of blankets, and then rest. And maybe when you’re feeling better, you can tell me what had you so distracted today.” 

“Why?” Villain asked incredulously. 

“I did this. Now I'm going to fix it.” Hero didn’t tell them about the guilt and the looming fear that always followed them. The constant underlying threat of their powers being too strong. Or that they might lose control, like they had today. One of their worst fears had just come true and it was only by luck, or maybe a miracle, that Hero had hit the one person who couldn’t be killed by their ice powers. 

“If you w-wanted me to c-come home with you, you c-could've just asked,” Villain joked. 

Hero couldn’t help but smile—at least Villain was with it enough to still tease them. “Don’t fool yourself. Once you’re all better, we go back to being enemies.” 

“Yeah. Obviously.” Hero pretended not to notice the way Villain’s smile faltered. “You’d have t-to take me to dinner f-first, anyways. I’m not that easy.” 

“Well,” Hero said, “I can at least make you chicken noodle soup, so hopefully that counts for something. Now, come on, let’s see if you can stand…” 

[whumpitisthen]

Masterlist

Grab your character and shove their head underwater. Keep them pinned until they breathe in the water. Pull them up and let them splutter and cough. Push them under again. Pull them up. Let them use their precious seconds of air to beg. "Ple-Please, please stop — " Push them under again. Feel them squirm. Pull them up sooner; they couldn't hold their breath long enough. Once more for good measure. Don't let them up until they nearly suffocate. Pull them up and throw them to the ground, let them cough up all the water they swallowed. Pull them into your lap. They are shivering, the cold water having seeped deep into their bones. They are crying. They are going to try to pull away. Don't let them. Hush them gently. Card through their hair. Let them relax under your hands. Then drag them back over to the water. Put their nose right above the surface and keep their head right there. Let them imagine how it will feel to be pushed under again, held there, pulled up just so they can drown again. They will fight, they will sob, they will plead and barter and yell. They will be scared. Answer them with an order. "Take a deep breath for me." Watch them struggle to decide if they should. They probably won't be able to take one deep enough if they tried. Push them under. Watch them squirm. Repeat.