#Whumper turned Whumpee

[befuddled-calico-whump]

The Revenge Stream: Part Two

contains: torture, knife whump, burning, gore, red room setting, adult language, noncon nudity

previous // next

•

The poll comes to a close, ‘cut off his tattoo’ in the lead. 

“You all have good taste," the host says with a laugh. "I was hoping you'd pick that one.” The knife is back in their hand when they step towards Shepard. He's watching them, eyes narrowed and wary, and you realize he doesn't know what's coming. How could he? You briefly wonder how it must feel, watching someone with a knife and unknown intentions creep closer, but as the anticipation rises, the thought fades.

The host jerks their chin up, as if gesturing. “Ay Uriel, ven aquí.”

One of the gunmen responds to his call, slinging their rifle over their shoulder and moving to stand behind Shepard. They grip his shoulder, one hand winding in his hair to keep him steady as the host traces the bottom of his tattoo with the knife’s tip.

“Mark of a killer,” they murmur. “Taking away a lion's mane doesn't make him any less a lion.” They press into Shepard's flesh, and blood wells up beneath the blade. “But it might tame his pride.”

They outline the tattoo in red. You can tell they're trying to be neat, but Shepard is squirming under their hands, turning the lines jagged as blood trickles down his chest. The host repositions the knife at the bottom of the wound, pinching torn skin between their fingers and working the blade under the targeted area.

Shepard screams as they begin to pull away the inky flesh, but it sounds choked. Bitten off. He's still trying to hold back. It's probably close to five minutes before the host stands, looking triumphant as they hold the flap of skin between a red-stained thumb and pointer. The flesh is almost too bloody to make out the shape of the bird that had once been stamped onto Shepard's chest.

The man in the chair is panting, a tremor in his shoulders. Uriel's hand is still keeping his head up, but if it were gone, you know he'd be hunched over.

The host tosses the cut skin aside, and it hits the ground with a wet slap that makes you cringe.

“Almost looks good,” they say, turning on their heel and making a show of inspecting Shepard’s newest wound. “But my uncle always told me to see a task through, and the edges aren't looking too clean. I think they need smoothing.”

They dip behind the camera, coming back with their fingers curled around a new tool. The electric sander. The one they teased earlier. 

Shit. Are they really gonna..?

They power it on, and Shepard flinches at the high pitched whirring that suddenly fills the room.

Oh fuck. You're not sure you can watch this. Your own chest is tingling with sympathy pains just at the thought of it. Still, you can't bring yourself to look away as the host lowers the sander onto Shepard's chest, pressing it into the open wound.

This time, he isn't able to choke down his scream. He throws his head back, thrashing against his restraints as the host holds the device against him. The vibrations send tiny splatters of blood in every direction, almost like sparks under a welder. It feels like an eternity passes before they finally let up.

The sander is dripping crimson, the color almost cartoonish. Unreal. The host seems to sway a bit as they move to set it down. As they pass behind the camera, you hear a clattering, followed by the sound of a door swinging open, then shut. Did they just leave?

It seems to be the case, as Uriel drops Shepard, moving back to their spot behind the camera.

“We will resume soon,” they say, voice deep and even. “For now, choose what is next.”

A moment later, a new poll appears.

Close the wound with fire.

Electrocution.

You briefly hover over the lower button, but hesitate to click it. Nope. You don't need to make yourself a part of this. Just watching is enough.

The new options stay up longer than the previous polls, the room silent aside from Shepard's hissing breaths and the occasional shuffle of the gunmen. You know the wait is due to the host's absence, but where did they go? Was the last torment too much for them? You guessed they were young based on their voice, but you'd assumed they were experienced with the whole torture thing based on their casual attitude. Maybe it was just a front.

At last, you hear the door open.

“Estás bien?”

“Fine.” 

“Quieres que me lleve el siguiente?”

“Lo tengo.” The host steps back into frame. “And we are back, ladies and gentlemen. I see you want to burn this asshole. Well, we can make that happen.”

There's something in their hand, and your heart picks up as you realize it's a handheld blowtorch. You watch as they lift it, hitting the switch and letting the fire roar to life. When they turn to face Shepard though, they falter, the torch going dead in their hand.

“I…” They turn back to the camera. “I think I'll let Uriel have a little fun with this one. Guy's earned his share.”

Wordlessly, Uriel steps forward to take the torch, his free hand brushing the host’s shoulder in a gesture that looks like it's meant to be comforting.

You don't get much chance to read into it before he's bearing down on Shepard, torch glowing in his hand. The man in the chair has his eyes locked on the approaching figure, face twisted into a scowl. Uriel doesn't say a word as he lowers the torch onto Shepard's open wound.

You only catch a split second of it—the skin bubbling and burning—before you have to turn away, Shepard's scream ringing in your ears. Only when his ragged cry tapers off do you dare to look up. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, his face contorted in pain. 

The host's voice calls from offscreen. “I think that's enough excitement for one night, folks. We'll leave you with one final decision. How should we keep our guest comfortable until the morning?”

As they speak, what you assume is the final poll of the night appears.

Blindfold him.

Use a more durable gag.

Gag and blindfold him.

Three options this time. Would it really be so bad if you voted for one? Who knows if you'll ever see anything like this again; will you regret not participating?

Probably not, you think as the poll closes, the third option coming out the winner. This is already a night to remember.

“Excellent choice, everyone!” The host says as they check the results. “I can't say I envy this fucker.”

The gag comes out first. You watch Shepard as the host approaches him, certain he'll fight this, but he allows his jaw to be manhandled open, not protesting as the gag is shoved between his teeth. 

You're almost disappointed. The first session is wrapping up and this so-called murderer has meekly taken everything the host has thrown his way. The blindfold goes on next, and while he sits still for it, you see his fists clench as it's tightened over his eyes. The host pats his cheek, and Shepard flinches back, the movement almost imperceptible.

“There’s a good boy. Keep this up and maybe I'll give you a treat.” They turn back to the camera. “Well, that's all for now folks. Keep your eyes peeled for the next—”

“Gabriel.” A woman's voice, sharp and urgent, cuts them off. “No seas estúpido.”

Even though you can't see their face, the host… Gabriel seems to balk. “Um. Everyone, meet Lu. Another member of our cast and crew.”

A fourth figure strolls onscreen, dressed in the same greys as the rest. Same mask, too. Gabriel is taller than her, but they have a similar build, similar voices. You wonder if they're related.

The woman, Lu, gives the camera a brusque, acknowledging wave before turning her attention to the host.

“Are you leaving him like this?” she asks, gesturing towards Shepard. His head lifts, pointing towards her voice, though you know he can't see.

Gabriel shrugs. “Yeah? We're done for the day. Don't tell me you of all people think it's too harsh—”

“I thought you had a better head on your shoulders,” she snaps. “Qué pasa cuando apagas la cámara y cierras la puerta?”

“I…”

“He,” she points an accusing finger at Shepard, “would gnaw off his own arm to get free of a cuff. Esto no es suficiente.”

Gabriel slouches forward dramatically, in the moment looking more like a sulking teenager than a confident host. Perhaps they've forgotten the cameras are rolling. “Qué se supone que haga? Está atado.”

“You're a smart boy,” Lu says. “I'm sure you'll figure out something.” She strides back out of frame, casting one final remark at Gabriel. “Find a way to keep him down, or you'll wake up to him cutting your throat.”

The door closes, and Gabriel sighs, hands going to his hips. Behind him, Vic is very still, his body tensed like a coiled spring.

“Well folks, guess we have time for one more event,” Gabriel says, moving behind the camera. “Keep him down.” You hear the sound of tools on the table, shifting around.

“I guess…” He steps back into frame, gloved hand wrapped around the handle of a claw hammer. His voice takes on a more confident edge as he extends it towards the camera.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner,” he says, giving it a flourishing swing. “Let's see how his knees hold up against this.”

•

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Caretaker, who snuck into whumper’s compound under the guise of a disciplinarian for whumpee: “Oh I will. But the ‘animal’ in question is you.”

“Help me break in this animal.”

[valcaira]

Attention Whump Community!

Clogging disability tags is a massive problem that we need to address. Many tags, especially those surrounding permanent injuries, paralysis, vision loss and certain illnesses have become unusable due to being flooded with unrelated things. Yes, that includes your writing. Those tags are not for you. It's isolating, frustrating and depressing to try finding a community and other people who share your issues but all that comes up is whump, fandom shit, gifs, headcanons, etc.

I'm newly paralyzed. I have looked at many tags surrounding paralysis, trying to find support, a community, anything of people struggling with the same thing. Nothing. There's barely anything for us in the general disabilty tags. I am BEGGING you to understand and recognize how AWFUL it is.

So, I have a proposition. A tag you can and should use exclusively for disability content in whump writing. Not any other tag surrounding disability, lest you'll clog it up.

#disabled whumpee

It's tempting to use more specific tags, I get it. Due to being in the whump community myself I know #medical whump is already a tag. You have those tags. Use them. Don't use the disability tags. Don't clog up the few spaces us disabled people have.

[hurtfortea]

"You'll never hurt anyone again."

Caretaker captures Whumper and conditions them to associate the sight of blood, wounds or sounds indicating any kind of hurt (screaming, yelping, whimpering, begging, etc) with pain. This also means they’re not just scared of hurting others, but they hate looking at their own wounds and avoid making noise when they are hurt because the sounds upset them.

[jordanstrophe]

Yay! Can I please request a feral Caretaker who is extremely protective of their whumpee?? Any scenario is fine, I just really wanna see your take on a feral Caretaker!!

LOVE IT! Done and done

CW: Vengful caretaker, re-introduced to whumper, violent caretaker, aftermath and angst

Whumpee sat with Caretaker's jacket wrapped around their shoulders. Their eyes followed Caretaker, who paced around the room, snapping from left to right.

They were about to bring whumper in. The interrogation room was set and whumpee was placed somewhere they weren't going to have to see it.

"Caretaker..." Whumpee softly called to them. Caretaker abruptly stopped pacing and glanced at them. Whumpee could see their face lightly sweating and their hand itching to tremble.

"You're going to stay here with me, right? You're not going to leave?" Whumpee asked.

Caretaker gave them a reassuring smile and knelt by their side.

"Of course. Yes, of course I am. I'm just... So angry." Caretaker's tone morphed. "Whumper's going to be in this very building and it makes my blood boil." They hissed. They quieted their tone down and gently took whumpee's hands.

"They won't ever hurt you again. No one will. I promise."

Before whumpee could even respond, commotion erupted the halls. Caretaker jumped and put themselves between Whumpee and the door.

"They're here... Aren't they?" Whumpee nervously stuttered.

"Don't worry about them. They're being taken straight to interrogation." Caretaker stared through the small window at the door.

Suddenly, one voice was more vocal than the rest of the commotion.

Whumper's voice.

Threats. Insults. Curses.

Whumpee's name.

Their name wasn't screamed like the rest of their words. Whumper called for them lovingly. "I know you're here, sweetheart. Come see me. We all know you want to."

Whumpee shivered and hunched, covering their ears. "Keep it together" they thought to themselves, as tears bursted down their blank expression. They sniffed and wiped their face, looking up at caretaker for assurance-

-But they weren't there.

The door swayed as someone had just gone through as a flash of movement flickered by the window.

Suddenly, the commotion re-exploded. Whumper's voice was drowned as shouting and fighting seemed to commence. Whumpee tensed and clutched the jacket tighter.

"Caretaker?" Whumpee called, scared to be heard.

Should they go after them? What if someone got hurt? What if caretaker got hurt? Whumpee slowly rose to their feet and walked towards the door; the commotion getting louder. They reached for the door, but before they could open it, it slowly opened for them as caretaker walked right back in.

They had no more trembling, no more worry. Their face was peaceful and calm, yet splattered with a nauseating amount of blood.

Whumpee retracted their hand- "Wh-what just happened?! Are you hurt?! Caretaker is that blood-"

"It's okay." Caretaker said in the calmest voice whumpee has ever heard. "Everything is fine. It's more then fine." Caretaker smiled and cupped whumpee's face.

"I told you; they will never, ever hurt you again."

"I made sure of it."

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #56: Else

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery and lots of it, angst, sickfic, accidental emotional whump, fear of starvation, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee (turned caretaker), reunions

Whumpmas in July Day 18: "Or else"

i'm sorry for being so slow with k&j chapters! i'm going to try to be quicker with them in the future. here's one people have been waiting for for a very long time!

-

“You’re sick.”

Jim blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re sick,” Kane repeated, taking another sip from the bowl. One of his last bowls before he was to start finding his own elsewhere. “I can taste it.”

“What? What kind of sick? Is it serious?” Jim asked with increasing urgency. Kane could see it in his eyes: he knew fear, and he hated to see it in Jim.

He wanted more than anything to reassure him, but he couldn’t lie. “I-I don’t know?” he admitted. “I don’t know much of human illnesses. You seem… fine?”

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” Jim grabbed his coat. “I’ll be back soon. I gotta… go to the doctor, or something. Door,” he warned.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll be okay! You can’t even feel it! You’re a healthy young man!” Kane assured him, ducking into the kitchen.

“Thanks for warning me!” Jim’s voice was laden with nerves. A flash of sunlight made Kane shiver, and he only returned to the living room when it was gone.

Kane knew what this meant: Jim would likely not finish out the week. This was his last meal given. He would have to go to vampire territory tonight, or else he would have nothing to eat come tomorrow. He had to find blood tonight, or else he’d starve. He’d go back to that horrible, empty state, always wanting, always in pain.

He knew Jim wouldn’t really let that happen, but it wasn’t fair to rely on him for blood forever, either. Kane had taken enough, with and without permission. It was Jim’s turn to rest.

Still, the fear of hunger never left him. It was a part of him now, permanently, no matter how much he fed.

And this meant one thing. The thing he’d been putting off and dreading since Jim set him free.

He would have to go to vampire territory and talk to his parents. He knew already that it would not go over well. Father would be either furious or crushingly disappointed that he’d allowed himself to be humiliated by humans, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. Mother would undoubtedly be the latter. He wondered, not for the first time, if they preferred him ‘dead’.

It shouldn’t matter. He knew now that they weren’t… good people. He could see that. He had a new family of sorts, now that Jim had taken him in.

But Jim wasn’t his legal next of kin, and Jim wasn’t the one he had to ask if he wanted his money returned so he could buy blood.

He could always get a job. But it seemed ridiculous to do when he had money sitting right there, and he would likely be found by his parents at some point anyway. There was no avoiding it forever.

Kane drank the bowl down quickly.

-

It was a flu, apparently. Nothing life-threatening, but it set Jim’s anxieties alight. His parents had died of illness, he explained.

While Kane had managed to catch it early, Jim started to devolve within a few hours of arriving home.

Kane knocked on his bedroom door. “Jim? Can I come in?”

“Ugh. Yeah,” he agreed.

Carefully balancing the tray, he entered. He found Jim curled up in bed, looking miserable.

“I’ve brought you lunch.” He’d been practicing his human food skills. He was still quite afraid of the stove, so though he used it when feeling especially brave, he mainly stuck to things that didn’t require cooking. He’d written down several combinations of foods that humans found appetizing, which could often be served in between slices of bread as a ‘sandwich’.

But he needed a tray instead of a plate, because despite his strength, he simply didn’t have enough hands to carry the six cups of water circled around it.

“Lotta water,” Jim noted weakly, grabbing a glass and taking a sip when Kane brought it close. His hand shook, the liquid threatening to spill. Kane watched it close, ready to steady it in a heartbeat if Jim needed him to.

He spoke gently, like he was worried speaking too loud would break Jim in his fragile state. “...Like I’d mentioned, I don’t know much about human illness. Most of what I know comes from you. I just remember… you wanted a lot of water, last time.”

He thought about that time a lot. How he was so close to losing Jim, because he was too proud to listen.

“Ah. Yeah.” Jim wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I remember.”

Kane set the tray down. “I should have taken better care of you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I mean–I shouldn’t have had you in the first place, but I did, and you were my responsibility, and I didn’t care for you like I should have.” A hint of tears in his eyes, he took Jim’s unusually-sweaty hand. “I’ll do better this time. Anything you need, I’ll be there.”

That earned a small smile from Jim. “Guess it isn’t so bad being waited on. ‘Specially because you can’t get sick, right?” The smile faded. “…Right?”

“I can’t,” Kane assured him. “You don’t need to worry. Just rest, and I’ll take care of anything you need.”

Jim huffed an almost-laugh. “You really changed, man.”

-

Liz did come over to visit come nightfall, which was good, since despite his promises, Kane had to leave. He didn’t like the thought of leaving Jim alone at night. He knew it made him scared, and Jim deserved to never feel afraid ever again. She brought a container of soup, a yellow liquid with colorful plants and large white orbs floating in it.

He waited, patient, until Liz emerged from Jim’s room. “Liz?”

“Hey. Thanks for looking after him,” Liz said.

“Of course!” The praise spread warmly through him. “There’s, um, something I wanted to talk to you about, if you have the time? Advice, I suppose.”

“Shoot,” she encouraged, flopping over on the couch.

Kane took a deep breath. “So, um, I assume now is a good time to start getting my own blood.”

“Yyyyeah.” Liz shot a glance to the stairs leading to Jim’s room. “I’d say that’s about right.”

“Blood… isn’t free. I have the money–had the money, but I’ve likely been assumed dead for many years. I’ll need to go to my parents to get it back,” he explained. “My parents are not kind people, I’ve come to realize.”

Liz raised an eyebrow, but politely refrained from making any comments about his former obliviousness. “You think they won’t give it back? Isn’t there, like, laws? This can’t be the first time this has happened with vampires, you guys are too good at not dying.”

“No! No, that’s not it, they’d give it back. It’s just, um, they’ll be… quite upset with me, I think. Especially my father.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to talk about it with Jim. I was worried he would feel pressured into giving me more blood than he’s comfortable with. I don’t know. It shouldn’t be as big a deal as it is. I’ve been through so much worse, I don’t understand why this is so terrifying. I suppose I’ve just never failed this badly before.”

“Hey, you made it out of five years with those monsters, alive. Bet there’s not a lot of vampires who could say that,” Liz pointed out.

“Ah, that’s just… not how Father would see it,” Kane said vaguely. Humans were supposed to be the weak ones. The fact that it took him five years to be freed, and he couldn’t even do it himself, would make him an utter embarrassment in their eyes.

And it was all because he couldn’t use persuasion. Everything they’d always believed about him, proven true.

Liz pursed her lips, lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t remember my parents that well,” she admitted. “I know yours suck pretty bad. I don’t think you have to admit more than you need to, right? Like, do they even need to know where you’ve really been? You could just make something up, for the sake of keeping the peace.”

“Make something up…” Kane murmured. He shook his head. “I’m not a very good liar. They’d see right through me. It’s fine, actually, the more I talk about it, the more I realize I’m being a bit ridiculous.” He forced a laugh. “It’s one uncomfortable conversation and then I can come back home.”

“You’ve got this.” Liz patted him lightly on the back, a modification from her usual clap she’d learned tended to scare him. “You’re tough.”

Kane certainly didn’t feel ‘tough’.

“Thank you. It was nice to at least… get it out of my system. Oh, and congratulations. Jim told me about you and Laken.”

Liz smiled. “After what happened, I just knew I had to say something, you know? If they could just be taken from me at any moment. Stuff happens. People die. I didn’t want something to happen to one of us before I could tell them how I feel.”

She stood. “I can give you one more night’s worth, maybe two. If you need some time to think about it and all.”

Kane startled. He and Liz had grown far more amicable over the past months, but he hadn’t expected this from her.

Maybe he should have. It wasn’t the first time. He thought of Jim, on that first night, vehemently denying Liz’s offer to provide blood, vowing to do it himself.

“...Thank you. That means so, so much to me. It’s alright, though. I’ll go tonight,” he decided.

“Good luck. We’ll be here when you get back,” she promised.

And that was all he really needed, in the end.

Kane got up, heading to the door with a quick glance back to make sure it was alright. For the freedom he’d earned, he hadn’t gone more than ten feet from the house since he’d returned with Laken. But of course, Liz made no move to stop him. “I’ll see you soon.”

-

The night was as beautiful as ever, even in the cool autumn air. He liked it better this way, in fact. It made it more comfortable to wear more clothing, the long pants and long sleeves and jacket he liked, especially when he ran. When he went this fast, he hardly felt the cold, and his mind was occupied elsewhere.

What if his parents made demands of him in exchange for their help? What if they expected him to return to vampire territory, to isolate himself out of the way in a socially-acceptable manner? Now that he’d tasted true companionship, he almost couldn’t bear to give it up. And what about Jim? Ever since Laken’s abduction, he’d been more scared at night. The very least Kane owed him was his protection.

His petty worries disappeared the instant he realized he could hear a vehicle coming closer.

Kane ran faster, opposite the sound. He’d likely been pushing fifty miles an hour before, and could make sixty if he tried–but he was out of practice, and the vehicle was faster.

A glance behind him showed moonlight glinting off a silver crossbow.

“I have permission!” he wailed as the off-roader gained, heart threatening to burst from his chest. This couldn’t happen, not again, no. Jim and Liz wouldn’t even think to look for him until a day had passed, a day that could easily be spent baking in the hot sun. “Liz Lieberman granted me permission to cross! Please, I didn’t do anything! Mercy!”

“Kane?” an unfamiliar voice called. The vehicle caught up to him, but there was no attack. “Oh shit, it’s you!” the driver said. “It’s so dark, I almost didn’t recognize you from the picture Laken showed us. Thanks for bringing ‘em back.”

Kane slowed, just a bit. “What?” he squeaked, tears streaming down his face.

The hunter in the passenger seat elbowed his partner, making quick movements with his hands that Kane could not understand. A signed language of some sort, he assumed. Though he didn’t know much about such things, other than that spoken orders under persuasion often didn’t work on humans who utilized it.

“Uh, my partner wants to know if you’re good? Like, you’re alright?” The driver asked. “Did we scare you? Sorry. Just, uh, you know, gotta be quick with the other guys. One second wasted and you miss ‘em, and that’s someone’s whole life, y’know.”

“Oh. Um, yes, you’d–you’d frightened me. I’m sorry.” Kane wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. “Am I… free to go, sirs?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you can go… sir? Shoot, don’t let us keep you,” the hunter assured.

The one in the passenger seat made more hand-signs, waving him goodbye after. “Nice to meet you!” the other translated, finally driving away.

Kane picked up speed again and didn’t stop until he was sure he’d left the border far behind. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

He was so close to going back to the pain. If they hadn’t recognized him, he would have been skewered with silver–likely soon killed, not tortured, given they were from Liz’s guild, but still, he would have died in pain. No matter how hard he breathed, he felt like he couldn’t get enough air, and he wasn’t sure if it was that he’d been sprinting for too long or the sheer horror.

He wanted Jim. He wanted Jim to hold him and tell him everything was alright, that he was safe, that no one was going to hurt him. But Jim was miles and miles away, and could not help him here.

And he couldn’t cry on the ground forever. He was burning moonlight, and he needed blood.

Kane forced himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around him. If he squeezed his eyes tight, he could pretend he wasn’t alone, for just a moment.

After a minute like that, he started running once more.

-

By the time Kane reached his parents’ estate, he’d mostly calmed down. It was hard to feel as though hunters would ambush him out of nowhere when he went deep enough into vampire territory to see buildings and people. Any hunter here would be apprehended in seconds.

He touched the gate, brass-coated, though he knew there was silver underneath. There seemed to be some sort of electronic device attached to it, a new addition since his last visit, but he wasn’t sure how to use it. He could climb it, or simply shout, and one of the staff would likely hear him. If he wanted to be extra polite, which he did, he could simply stand here until someone came or went and ask to be let in.

And then that would be it. Kane would be standing face-to-face with his parents. He would accept Father’s ire without complaint. He’d had worse, he reminded himself, even when it came to the comparable. The hunters had spit on him while calling him worthless, ground his face into the floor while forcing him to decry himself as beneath them. It had been so much worse.

His hand shook against the gate.

You’ve really changed, man.

Had he? If he was still back here, ready to take whatever judgments his parents threw at him, debase himself and eagerly beg for their forgiveness, had he really changed? There were humans in there. Captive, hurt humans who he could never in a thousand years be able to free if he tried, locked away in their quarters. What happened to all his regrets? His vows that he would never associate with anything of the sort again?

What would he have done differently here before, if he’d realized back then everything he knew now?

Kane left.

-

It took him a bit to find it, he hadn’t been to this town before, but it wasn’t far, and he knew the address.

There was a different kind of dread this time. If he was rejected here, it might be even worse than his parents. But as he rang the doorbell, he knew this was what he had to do.

The man who answered looked almost exactly the same as the last time he’d seen him, thirteen years ago. The same dark skin, perfect hair, typically garishly-colorful shirt.

Bellamy’s eyes went impossibly wide, as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Kane?”

taglist in reblogs, chapter 57 coming july 30th :)

edit: sorry i was wrong about july 30th. it's coming thoooo i promise

@whumpmasinjuly

[whump-place]

Whumper tried anything to get on Caretaker's good side.

They promised to be better, to never hurt Whumpee or anyone again, and still Caretaker doesn't believe them.

Whumper knows that what they did was wrong, and wants to be better, to maybe have another chance to prove they can be good. But Caretaker doesn't even let them.

Whumper has to do anything Caretaker says, obey every order and behave, and that's not hard. Whumper can do that.

But soon, those simple orders like "don't raise your voice", "no fighting"; turn into "don't speak unless spoken to", "have you really earned today's meal?", "there's someone I don't like, take care of them". And Whumper wants to believe that's just so they can be good, but it isn't.

No matter how much they try, Caretaker's orders start to get to a whole new level. They can't even stop hurting people, because that's what Caretaker wants, and everything seems to be getting worse.

"Don't tell me you are feeling sad?"

"Stop crying. You didn't cry when Whumpee was hurt."

"Get up and do what I say. Don't you wanna be better?"

They do. They want to be better so bad.

[redd956]

Okay, but- Whumpee discovering that Whumper is wearing a shock collar

[chaotic-orphan]

Oh How the Turn Tables

“Whumpee,” Whumper said with a breath. The rain made Whumpee’s dark strands of hair stick to his forehead, even under his hoodie. Whumper straightened. “What are you doing here?”

Whumpee tilted his head to the side, his eyes dead as a slow smirk spread across his pale face. “You not gonna invite me in, Whumper? Not even for old time’s sake?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Whumper growled under his breath, stepping out of the house and half closing the door behind him. “This is crossing a line.”

Whumpee’s smirk melted into a false sympathy. “Aww, is this crossing the line for you Whumper? Really? Am I invading your privacy? Your little bubble of safety.”

“Our relationship is a working one, Whumpee.” Whumper snapped. “This is my personal life.”

“I know,” Whumpee said with a grin. “I’ve been watching the house for days. Your girls look just darling, and your boy, he’s got real potential as a soccer player.”

The information chilled Whumper to the core. He had never experienced this side of Whumpee before, the threatening side. The weapon side. Whumpee was always pathetic when Whumper interacted with him, or pleading.

“These are my family,” Whumper whispered.

“Oh I know. It just so happened that your work life,” Whumpee said, stepping up and forcing Whumper back a step. “Intruded on my personal life too, Whumper. Let’s just call this payback, hmm?”

Whumper swallowed hard when he felt the tip of a knife in his stomach, just above his hip. “Let’s meet the family, hmm? See what kind of kids the monster of my every waking moment is rearing.”

“Whumpee, please—”

Whumpee blinked. He paused. He stepped back. “Oh,” he said and Whumper stilled. Hope blossomed in his chest.

“Please don’t do this.” Whumper said.

“Huh. You’re right,” Whumpee said. Whumper fought the sigh of relief that wanted to escape his lips. It meant Whumpee was still human, that he could still be reasoned with. All that positive hope melted away when Whumpee’s expression darkened into one of vicious glee. “Saying please really doesn’t do anything to save you. I see it now, Whumper.”

Whumper shook his head as Whumpee pushed him back in the open door of his house, the knife pressed into his gut. “Let’s see what else you’ll prove yourself right on.”

*~*~*~*~*

A.N.

Today is a black day, and I’m really sorry to any of my American readers/moots, I’m just really sorry and I hope you do something nice for yourselves today — just keep moving forward, that’s the biggest rebellion you can do in the face of the oncoming storm— just keep moving forward.

[screams-n-shackles]

"Are you afraid of me?"

A simple question. And Whumpee found themself going through everything that happened so far.

The pain, the screaming. The pure terror Whumper managed to program into their very being.

The fear of dying and the loss of their will to live. Stuck in an everlasting loop of panic attacks, only reduced to the frame of their personality.

And finally they had enough.

Whumper didn't even know, didn't even recognize, what he put Whumpee through.

And it ignited pure and unfiltered rage.

Whumpee knew this sinking feeling in their stomach, sitting right next to the the person that broke down every happy moment they ever had. And Whumper dared to ask if they were afraid of them. As if nothing ever happened.

They were shaking, but for once not out of fear. Not anymore. They were over it.

"No", was their simple answer.

//Not anymore.//

As they clenched their fists they decided to put an end to Whumpers reign over their life.

And with some luck they could spare others the same fate.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Imagine a spoiled royal, heir to the throne, part of a powerful bloodline that gives them "divine right to rule". They're raised to be cruel, and told their heritage puts them above everyone else.

And then one day, it's revealed before the entire court that it's all a lie. The royal was switched at birth with the child of a servant. The real heir has been serving in the palace all this time, unaware of their birthright. Maybe they're even someone the faux-royal had been particularly cruel to all their lives.

The ruling family is quick to push out the false heir---blood is more important to them than any illusion of family---and welcome the servant with open arms.

Maybe the false heir is banished from the kingdom they were raised to rule. Maybe they're imprisoned so the truth can never come out. Maybe they're made a servant, now at the beck and call of someone they'd thought beneath them.

Does the true heir take pity on them, or do they seek vengeance from years of abuse? Does the royal family have any regrets, or have they always been cold, only concerned with holding power? What do the servants and commoners do, now that the arrogant "heir" has lost all power and protection?

[whumperofworlds]

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

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

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

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

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

Women In Whump Pt. 1

[hurtfortea]

Forced Caretaker

A former whumper who doesn't want to help the whumpee, but under fear of death or punishment, they do. 

They begrudgingly attempt to relieve the whumpee of every minor ache and pain. 

They take a demanding approach originally but are forced to be softer when their attitude jars the whumpee and makes caring for them harder.

They notice when the whumpee is uncomfortable when no one else does and goes about calming them down/getting them out of the situation. 

They allow the whumpee to cling to them after an episode. 

Bonus points if the whumpee gets an attitude about it and rubs it in their face OR doesn't want their help and tries to avoid them. 

[jordanstrophe]

CW: Vengful caretaker, whumper turned whumpee

Whumper was chained in a room kept in pure darkness. Caretaker abruptly flicked the light on, causing whumper to wince.

"Good morning." Caretaker said flatly, shuffling through a handful of papers. "Not that you know it's morning. You don't know anything."

"Wh-.... What do you w-want now..." Whumper hissed, spitting on the floor that had a tint of blood. 

"Just to update you on our little favorite. I'm about to bring whumpee home from the hospital. Were all so very excited." Caretaker smiled, they held up a picture of them and whumpee together. Whumpee was smiling a small simple smile; there was a healing bruise on their face almost faded, amongst other cuts and wounds.

"Look at them, precious aren't they? They've come a long way since-" they side-eyed whumper up and down with a fallen expression.

-Well, since you." They stared.

"If you want revenge, then take it already! I'm sitting right here..." Whumper scouled.

"Well I intend to." Caretaker leaned in closely as whumper reeled. "I'm undoing everything you did, break everything you built, rebuild everything you broke; and you're going to watch it all." Caretaker held the photo close to their chest tight enough it crinkled. 

"Then I'm going to take revenge. You can die knowing you achieved nothing." 

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #55: Feeding

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker

happy 2 year anniversary to kane & jim~! hard to believe it's been 2 whole years since i started writing...

wrote while listening to melodies of refresh by tenno gabni

-

Kane woke and looked to the door. Just like every morning the past week, it was a normal door. No silver. No lock.

He changed and washed his face, creeping upstairs with the hesitancy of someone who knew he wasn’t allowed, despite knowing full-well that he was: Jim had made that clear. He felt too quiet, his ankles free of chains.

It was early morning, early enough that the sun hadn’t risen yet–that terrifying tell-tale glow didn’t shine from behind the curtains. Jim wouldn’t be awake for hours, resting upstairs while Kane slunk around in the dark, in his own house.

Kane couldn’t fathom how much trust that must have required. He still couldn’t believe he’d earned that much.

The fact that Jim was still feeding him his own blood was a miracle in itself. He’d given a time limit of one month. One month for Kane to get used to freedom, to going out on his own, traversing society like a normal person after years as a prisoner. An adjustment period, Jim had called it, his mercies never-ending in the face of Kane’s fear of running to and from the border on his own.

There was no way Kane could ever repay it, not in a thousand years. But he at least had to try.

He turned the knob on the stove. It was something familiar, having owned a stove himself for heating up the contents of blood-packs in his time before he came to own Jim. Human stoves, like their food itself, were more complicated: four burners instead of one, all with dials offering various degrees besides just ‘on’ or ‘off’.

And it was something he hadn’t done since before.

The circle of flames flickered to life, blue and hot and threatening.

He quickly turned it back off, luckily managing to control his strength and not break the delicate knob.

Deep breaths, Jim had said, more times than Kane could count now. Look at me. You’re okay. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe here, remember?

Kane took a deep breath in, playing Jim’s soothing affirmations through his head, exhaling slowly. That’s it, there you go, the memory of Jim’s voice encouraged. You’re alright. No hurting.

After a few more of those, he turned the burner on again. The flames flicked back to life, and Kane watched them silently.

-

Jim woke, shook off the nerves, and marked another day off his calendar. Seven days down, twenty-one more to go, and then no one will take his blood ever again.

He could stop it now, if he wanted to. He knew he could. Kane hung on his every word like he was some kind of divine prophet. But once he stops, Kane has to start getting blood from vampire territory, and he’d have to talk to his parents to get the money to buy it… and it was too obvious he wasn’t ready.

Jim knew that feeling, going from years of captivity and isolation to suddenly being a person again. He knew how hard it was, even with support. There was no reason for Kane to have to rush into it immediately. The guy could barely go outside at night on his own he was so afraid, and he was a vampire. No, a month’s time would do him well.

Still. He couldn’t help but count the days until it was over.

As he stepped into his slippers and headed downstairs, he stopped in his tracks, hearing someone futzing around in the kitchen.

It was going to take Jim a while to get used to that, Kane roaming freely in his house. At night, even. He knew he could ask Kane to leave once he finds his bearings, but… despite the deep-seated terror, he knew he was safer with Kane here than without. Kane brought Laken home, after all. If any vampire came for him, Kane would save him, too. At least, he hoped so.

He continued down. “Kane?”

“Good morning!” came the cheery reply. That set Jim’s nerves at ease, at least. Right. Kane was friendly, now.

“Morning. You sleep okay?” Jim asked. As he made his way through the living room toward the kitchen, he noticed a distinctly… delicious smell. That couldn’t be right.

“Better! And you?” Kane appeared in the doorway, a big, fanged grin lighting up his face. It was a sight Jim had already long gotten used to by now, one that brought him pride instead of fear.

He shrugged. “You win some, you lose some. Hey, are you, uh… cooking?”

Kane held out a hand. “I am! Please come sit?”

Now he was smiling, too. “Haha, okay.”

Jim took his hand and let Kane lead him to the kitchen table, where a plate full of blueberry pancakes sat. They looked a bit off–undercooked, a little torn up–but the fact that they were there at all was astounding.

He sat down. “How did you even do this? You don’t cook.”

“I watched you,” Kane admitted sheepishly. “In the mornings. I really wanted to make you something, and I didn’t want to waste food by just guessing and doing it wrong, so I started paying close attention, and this seemed like the easiest thing to copy… are they okay?”

“Well, let’s see!” Jim cut into one– definitely undercooked. It oozed out around his knife, but Liz’s failed attempts at cooking had given him ample practice in this field. He popped it in his mouth without a care. “It’s great, Kane. Especially for your first time ever cooking anything. Thank you.”

Kane brightened up even further at the praise, sitting in the chair adjacent. “I know it’s not the same at all, but I wanted to feed you too, somehow. Like you feed me. I was wondering… if you could teach me to cook?”

“You don’t have to–”

“I want to,” Kane insisted. “I really, really do. But I don’t want to impose! I can always ask Laken.”

Jim cut away the less-done bits of the pancake he was working on, scooping up another bite. “Alright, if you’re really sure. Yeah, I can teach you. Doesn’t human food smell, like, really bad to vampires, though? Like it’s rotten or whatever?”

“I’ll manage.” Kane bore no obvious worry of the issue. Clearly, a bad smell was not something that registered to him as a concern any longer. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t until Jim had finished his breakfast and was about to get up that Kane spoke again, the smile fading from his face. “There was something else, actually.”

“Oh?” Jim put his plate and utensils back down.

Kane got down from his seat to kneel on the floor.

“Kane, buddy,” Jim said softly, sliding into that placating tone he always used when trying to calm the vampire down from one of his panics, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. It’s– it’s to show respect. Please.” As Kane looked up at him with those intense red eyes, Jim could see no fear at all.

“Well, okay then, I guess. What’s up?” he asked.

“I want to thank you. For everything,” Kane spoke carefully, as though each word was precious. Rehearsed. “For taking me away from the hunters. For not hurting me, even though you could have, even though you had every reason to. For helping me calm down when I panic. For feeding me, your own blood, even though it’s so hard for you, just so I wouldn’t starve. For giving me clothes and bedding and music and happiness again. You gave me my life back, but I owe you so much more than just my life. Because without you, I wasn’t dead, I was– I was there. And you saved me.”

Tears welled up in Kane’s eyes as he stared up reverent, overcome with emotion. “And I was thinking about all the times I’ve apologized to you, I was too afraid to do it right. I was just– I really was sorry, I’ve been sorry for a long, long time, but in those moments, I’ve always just been focused on not being hurt… but you would never hurt me. I see that now. Jim, I am so, truly sorry for hurting you. For every single time I hurt you, big and small, for those five years and since, I am so, so sorry. I was unimaginably cruel to you, and no one deserves that, but especially not you. I know that back then I told you the opposite, but I was wrong. You deserve to be happy! And I took that from you.”

Kane placed a hand over his heart. “And I swear to you, I will make it my life’s mission to give you back that happiness. I am loyal to you, Jim. Forever.”

He put his hand down. “That–that’s all. Thank you for listening.”

Jim sat in silence for a moment, absorbing it all. Wasn’t this why he’d originally taken Kane in? Wasn’t that the excuse he’d used– he wanted Kane fear-free enough to have an actual discussion about back then, without him devolving into a terrified, sobbing mess? He could do that, now. How long had he been waiting to hear Kane admit that he hadn’t deserved it after all? Fifteen years?

Oh, he was so unprepared for this conversation. He needed all kinds of psyching-up before they could have that talk.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Kane added quietly. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Right. Yeah,” Jim said, snapping out of it. Just because Kane was ready didn’t mean it had to be now. It could be any time, when he was ready, too. “That’s… wow. Hey, it’s okay,” he tried, far more comfortable comforting Kane than the other way around. He grabbed a tissue, handing it to him. “I mean, not the–not what you did. I mean it’s okay now. Um, thanks, is what I mean, I guess. For really apologizing.”

Kane wiped his eyes. “It’s the absolute least I could do. Everything I have is something you’ve given to me. Nothing hurts anymore.”

“Good.” His sincerity brought a smile to Jim’s face. “You know, maybe cooking isn’t the best idea if you’re afraid of burns? It’s not gonna happen every time, but even I get myself once in a while. Just thought I should warn you.”

“You give me blood,” Kane pointed out. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. “Plus, you’ll be there. Right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there.” Jim patted him on the shoulder.

Kane smiled back up at him. “Then I’ll be okay.”

-

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