#clueless whumper

[whumperofworlds]

A Whumper who has NO idea what they're even doing. They try to use a torture tool on Whumpee, but they don't know how to use it.

It could come in two flavors:

1. Whumper hurts Whumpee WAY worse than if they used the torture tool correctly.

2. Whumpee just sitting there and asking, "You need help with that???" BONUS: they tell the Whumper step-by-step on how to use the tool.

[littlelambramblings]

Damned Reunion

CW: mentioned kidnapping, broken no contact, referenced abusive family, not normal family dynamic, dealing with grief, spousal loss

A/N: I loveeee doomed siblings. I have four bio siblings and 3 step siblings and I would break if this happened to me. Again, ignore my grammar, I wrote this for funsies.

---

Theodore clutched at his phone, fingers hovering shakingly over the familiar buttons to press. It’s been years, yet his heart still remembered the number of his father. 

He closed his eyes and pressed dial. 

Ring…! Ring…! Ring-!

“Hello?” A familiar voice rang out, bringing with it a flood of memories, some good, but mostly bad. Why was he doing this again? 

He looked at the basement. Right. “Hey, dad. It’s me Theodore,” he rasped out anxiously, waiting for the shouting to begin. 

“Theo, my boy! How’ve you been?” The voice rang out boisterously. “How’s that wife of yours doing? What was her name again?”

“Mary, dad, her name was Mary,” Theo stuttered out, so overwhelmed by the questions and underreaction that he could only grasp onto pieces of what he knew. “She- um- She actually passed away a month ago.”

Without missing a beat, his father replied, “Aw, I’m sorry, kid. That must have been very hard for you to endure all by yourself, but, hey, we’re all still here for you.” 

“That’s actually why I called, dad. Um, I did something terrible and I don’t know what to do now,” Theodore rambled, feeling like he was ten years old again and back at the farmhouse.

His father’s voice lulled as if trying to soothe a wild animal, “It’s okay, buddy. You’re okay. What happened? Where are you?”

“I-I took him- a boy. I don’t know why! I just felt like I had to and then I brought him home and now he’s locked in the basement,” Theo blurted out as if a dam had broken loose. It felt like he was in a church confessional where he could bare all his sins free and find salvation in the soft voice of his father. 

“Where are you?” his father repeated, unfazed.

He broke,“Calgary - I’m in Calgary.”

“Okay, your sister’s nearby. I’ll send her to your address,” his father reassured before ending the call. 

Theodore slumped over, holding his head in his hands. 

He couldn’t believe he broke ten years of no contact just like that. Hell, he couldn’t believe he broke his promise to Mary just like that and shared his location. 

Just who was he becoming?

…

The doorbell rang, startling Theodore out of his zombie-like manner and he rushed to the door. Opening it, he froze in place at the matured lady he saw in front of his face. He stared as if seeing the face of a ghost, “Eleanor?”

“Theo!” she jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders into a painstaking squeeze. “I missed you!”

He held her closer, “Me too…”

They stood there in silence for a few moments, before Theodore pulled back, “So, should we come in now?” “That’d be a good idea,” Eleanor laughed. 

Eleanor looked around, carefully inspecting the turned around pictures scattered around the house. It was dusty too. Grief definitely struck Theo hard. Looks like she had a lot of work to do.

“Where do you wanna keep the boy? Do you want to keep him in the basement?” she questioned. 

Theodore replied, “No, definitely not. I have a guest bedroom he can use.”

“Okay,” Eleanor nodded, “Let’s go secure it then. I’ve brought locks for the doors and windows. We should also clean the house and make sure there’s nothing for him to use.” 

Theodore nodded and they got to work.

After hours of cleaning, installing locks to every door and window, and securing the entire house, they were done and the sky had been painted into a dark Azul. 

They flopped down onto the sofa of the living room. A tired silence blanketed the room.

“What’s his name?” Eleanor finally asked, breaking the stillness. 

“Jason,” Theodore replied tiredly. 

Eleanor continued, “And how old is he?”

“Twenty,” he responded, shifting deeper into the cushions of his couch. 

Eleanor laughed, “I hope he likes his new room. It was a lot of effort arranging it.” She sighed, “We should arrange a playdate soon. I’ve got a kid now too. We can catch up then as well.”

Theodore jerked up, looking at Eleanor’s calm face, “You’ve got a kid too?”

She nodded, “It’s been a long time.”

Resentment sprouted inside of Theodore’s chest. He missed so much of Eleanor’s life. He could hardly see traces of that little girl anymore he used to stay up past bedtime with. 

Tears glistened in his eyes. He rested a hand on his face and nodded, “Yeah, a playdate would be nice.”

[loonybun]

hi guys… guess who wrote for mermay… it’s me…. hopefully i’ll also do some more soon

Contains: Mermaid/siren whumpee, siren hunter whumper, multiple (care)whumpers, captivity, very subtly implied murder and torture (for funzies), carewhumper, a really fucked up found family dynamic except one of the “parents” has no idea about it, teenage whumpee, mute whumpee, nonbinary whumpee

hope u enjoy my silly guys…. i plan to write smthn for cady next if my brain is hyped up enough

—

The tank was the only home they’d ever known. Though they were young when they’d been taken from the ocean, it had always been cruel to them. The tank, on the other hand, was made with them in mind. It was comfortably large and filled with things like plants and hides for enrichment.

They loved seeing their caretaker, even if he never had much time to spare. He moved briskly whenever he walked by, never even offering a slight glance towards them. Eye contact was a rarity. They didn’t know why he scowled whenever he was forced to face them. His disgust, whenever he tossed the long-dead fish into the tank, made their guts twist with guilt. They’d done something wrong, they were sure of it, but they didn’t know what it could've possibly been.

Maybe something was wrong with them. The water made it difficult to hear anything from the other side of the tank, but they knew one word he used frequently. “Beast”. That’s what he called them. It hurt more knowing he’d handled other people like them before. Sometimes, he’d even smile at someone. They’d never seen the same person twice after someone was wheeled away in a cooler. There was no need to take any of them out of their tanks after all. They found it strange how they'd never seen any of the other enclosures, but it was the only place they could be. They were sure of that fact.

Besides their caretaker, there was another human that came around every once and a while. She had bright eyes and a playful smile constantly fixed on her face. Her fascination with them was a stark contrast to her caretaker’s aversion. The woman would always come and tap on the glass and grin when they came up. With her hands, she’d make little motions and signals. It took them a while to pick up on the language, but with a bit of time, it became easier to hold a conversation. They’d managed to learn her name. Mel. They were called Marley by her, but they’d never heard their caretaker use that name for them. Or any name, for that matter.

Once, they’d asked why their guardian looked at them the way he did. They noticed the way Mel bit her lip before she responded. “He’s like that to everyone. Don’t take it personally, okay? He likes you plenty.”, she signed. Then, they asked about why he never seemed upset with the others. Her expression shifted into one of horror, then deep discomfort. All she said was that she needed to leave, and then she did. They heard yelling a bit later, but they weren’t able to discern why.

They had a feeling that whatever it was, it was their fault.

—

i know it’s a bit short but take what u can get from me and nibble on it because for all you know it could be months till ur next little meal /j

[whumpitisthen]

Foreboding Intermezzo

Previous I Masterlist I Next

CWs: blood, broken bones, nudity (nonsexual, dubcon), multiple whumpees, carewhumpee, referenced torture, referenced captivity, slave whumpee, angel whumpee, religious themes, vampire whumper, creepy whumper, bleeding out, loss of consciousness, conditioned whumpee

The silence is unbearable.

When Mori had explained to him that he would need to clean off before he could be brought to ‘the lord’ — Auden, while vaguely uncomfortable with the notion of being ordered to bathe before meeting someone, was completely fine with the idea. He was nearly impressed when he saw the pristine, polished pale aloe tiles and wall-length bathtub he had access to. He was looking forward to finally washing off the weight of layers of grime that had accumulated on his aching skin, and to truly relax for just a moment before The Reaper could return and take him away to who knows where — to meet this demon lord, apparently.

He was a lot less enthusiastic once Mori had sheepishly explained that they would not leave him to his business, as they were ordered to accompany and help him.

They would run a bath for him, sit him in the tub and wash him down personally. They would touch his holy angel body, drag their demonic hands over his pure skin, look upon him fully, as someone who he barely knows, and catalogue his bareness away in their brain forever. This would be supremely uncomfortable for anyone, no matter how they rationalise it in their own head; but for an angel it would not be exaggeration to call this sort of bathing downright traumatising.

“I'm really sorry, but I must. Master will know if I hadn't. Please, you have to understand.”

That's what Mori had said, and at first, Auden outright refused. Angels are not meant to be touched, certainly not bathed, definitely not by a demon. Undressing and letting a hellbeast feel and grope around his body as they want, intimately reaching every crevice their hands fit into, tainting every single bit of flesh they reach  — he could not let that happen. It's too much, even for a Fallen, to just allow it to happen. It's scary and humiliating and unpleasant and he would not let it happen.

But then, upon watching Mori so desperately assure him how they would be quick and gentle, how they would keep their eyes closed and their head turned away the whole time if he preferred, how they would surely be punished again and how they may not survive disappointing The Reaper twice in such a short period of time, — Auden had relented. He had closed his eyes and swallowed his remaining pride, quickly beginning to feel childish and privileged to be worrying about being touched by the most trusted person here, instead of keeping his promise in the forefront of his mind: the promise he had made to himself and to them; to keep Mori safe, to not be a nuisance and a danger to them. What more could they taint anyway? He has been abused and manhandled and even bitten by all manner of demonkind since the day he Fell; how could this dirty his soul any more?

Shame still burns his cheeks now as Mori’s gentle hands help warm water onto his abused flesh. They are touching him as if his skin was the thinnest layer of ice in the centre of a frozen lake, worried he may crack and swallow them under frigid water. They barely curl their palms, only the tips of their fingers sliding along him in careful strokes. It's ironic how careful they are with him, — Mori is the one whose antler still bleeds and whose ruined hand remains close to their chest, trembling in agony. Auden should be the one taking care of them, not the other way around. He is being slowly freed from filth, yet he only feels more and more disgust at himself for being under the careful care of a tormented bondslave as if he were of any kind of importance. He does not deserve such care.

He looks to his friend, who seems to be lost in the repetitive motions of their own soapy fingers. — “Hey, Mori?”

They stiffen and jerk, startled by his sudden call. They tend to react to the quietest noises as if he had screamed at them. Their neck twitches and they flutter their eyelids closed, blowing free a frightened exhale. — “Yes, M-M-Master?”

“Just Auden,” — he reminds, trying his best not to sound accusatory or threatening. Mori watches wearily anyway. — “But it is fine. I was just wondering. Could we… talk?”

“Talk?”

“Yes. I um. Really do not enjoy silence. Is it okay?”

Their expression softens, a sense of understanding replacing their nervousness. — “Oh, okay. Wh-What would you like to talk about?”

What could they not talk about? He has so many questions about everything. He wants to ask about The Reaper. About where exactly he will be taken. Will he be killed if he is inadequate? Who is this lord he must be so tidy for? He doubts this lord is the same as his  Lord, but the possibility of being taken to his creator once again by the Grim Reaper, like a simple mortal’s soul reserved for judgement, terrifies him more than any demon lord could.

His prolonged silence quickly becomes unpleasant as he tries and fails to ask any one question. His hand moves to scratch at his cheek, partly there just to hide behind. Mori’s expectant gaze brings fresh blood to his face.

They resume their work, massaging a little more soap into Auden's shoulders, and offer their own words after a little while, — “w-would you uh, like me to start instead? I have some things I am curious about as well. It isn't every day that I get to… see a Fallen Angel. Or well, not like you, at least.”

Auden is so glad Mori is somewhat more sociable than himself. He never did find it simple to just strike up a conversation out of nowhere, even less so to hold it.

One bit of what they said interests him the most, so naturally he latches onto it first. — “Not like me? Are there other Fallen here?” — An image of Miss Thu lin's twisted museum appears in his mind then, deepening a crease between his brows raised in excitement. — “Are they… alive?”

“Uh…” — Mori seems a little uncomfortable answering. They turn away to cough when their voice cracks. Their throat must be atrocious after all the wailing they were made to do. — “Well, yes. They are. Just the one, though. And they probably won't be too uh, happy to see you.”

“Oh.” — That sounds about right. He is in such a pitiful state, it would make sense for them not to like him. — “I see. C-Can I meet them still? It would be nice, even if they dislike me. Perhaps I could prove myself worthy of their tolerance.”

“You will meet them sooner than you probably think. They're… hard to avoid.” 

Mori struggles to their hooves, walking over to the vanity to produce a glass bottle filled with a bright purple gel out of one of its cabinets. They press its cool surface to their chest as they hold it, careful not to let their shaky muscles splatter it across the floor. They seem so uncertain on their legs — their now missing antler must not make it very easy to balance. Auden hopes the wound will close up soon; they are losing a lot of blood.

“What is that?” — he asks, a slightly concerned crease in his brow. Unknown liquids in clear sealed bottles remind him of The Doctor a little too much.

“Avina’s Grace shampoo,” — Mori answers promptly, no hesitancy,  — “to clean your hair? I hope it's sufficient?”

“Oh, yes, okay. Go ahead.”

His blackened hair has burned together, sticking into clumps of sticky charcoal at the ends. The angel has barely had time to mourn his transformation — the ashes will come out from in-between each feather and hair, but his locks and wings will remain just as tarred as the day he fell. His pristine white plumes and soft walnut curls are gone for good, replaced forever by a reminder to him and a sign to others of his irreversible shortcomings. It's easy to forget about this in the midst of chaos; out of sight, out of mind — but during quiet moments, it will become hard to find a reason to keep breathing.

Mori lets the sweet-smelling water flow through his tarred hair, shielding his eyes from any stray drops with their broken hand. The angel's heart clenches every time Mori uses their wounded body just to accommodate him like this. Not a question asked, no thanks expected. Like they do not even matter at all.

“Mori, can I ask you something?”

They wince when a shattered finger knocks against his forehead, stealing the air from their lungs, — “mhm.”

They run their unharmed hand over his scalp, helping free every speck of dirt. They massage the shampoo in deep, letting it foam and cover all black with purifying white. Any matting they find is eliminated by soft twisting motions between two fingers, separating the wretched filth from his body. It is relaxing; so relaxing, that he nearly forgets to feel embarrassed about his precarious nakedness, and the intimacy of this act.

He never had the opportunity to be pampered like this before. Angels do not touch each other often, if at all. They are meant to be pristine, untouchable beings, pure and holy so that no light can be trapped behind a single speck of foulness. Letting anything, especially an unholy being like Mori hold them is tantamount to being plagued and invaded by Hell’s temptations and tainted forever. Auden never realised how horribly he craved this unlawful closeness to another. Or perhaps he always knew, and only now does he let himself realise this.

He closes his eyes, leans back. He trusts Mori to be gentle, to not hurt him in any way. It's sinful, the things he allows himself to think. Letting another touch his body like this, enjoying this connection, wanting more…

A content sigh falls through his lips. Such pleasantness cannot come from Hell; it's not possible. A demon slave cannot soothe him. It's sinful, terribly sinful.

“How did you end up here?” — Auden nearly moans his question, overwhelmed by scary, alluring, alien sensations that cloud his judgement.

Mori's hand pauses its rubbing. They do not say a word. Maybe he should not have asked this so suddenly, so directly. He probably should not have asked at all. He made it too awkward, it's a personal question; oh he just cannot bring himself to shut up, can he?

When Mori doesn't reply immediately, he hurries to apologise and change topic, but their hand finds its rhythm again under his foaming hair before he could utter a word, whispering, — “you want to know more about me?”

“I would like to,” — Auden mumbles, no longer sounding quite so delirious. — “I-I’m curious. You seem very nice, and I don't think you deserve, um… any of this. The torture, and the, the… forced servitude. You know, all of that.”

Mori says nothing. Something seems wrong about them, but Auden does not know what exactly. The water is steadily turning darker, enveloping Auden's body in its murky colour.

“Do angels have families?” — they ask belatedly. Their tone has taken a melancholic, almost morose shade. Auden shakes his head.

“Not in the way mortals tend to,” — he elaborates, — “angels do not have parents, and we do not bear children. We are created by our benevolent Lord for a purpose, and we are taught by the purest of us our whole lives, so we may one day reach our full potential, and be used by Him in any way he requires.”

His thoughts travel back to his Heaven. The majestic painted Cathedral where he spent so much time praying, the purifying, breathtaking Tree of Life crying holy water from its roots to create a crystal river leading through endless fields. The western regions where the Sun glows gold and warms the air, blessed souls dancing in the gentle wind, the gorgeous night sky haloed by blue light and countless stars.

He sees angel wings flapping in the sky, humans greeting their relatives at the gates with tears in their eyes, he hears the sound of laughter and joy. It is so beautiful. His brows furrow then. He took it all for granted; and now all he will ever witness is vermilion skies, death and depravity.

“For us, family is a vague concept. It is different for everyone — some of us call their closest companions family, some consider Heaven as a whole a family they are a part of, some do not consider family something they want or need.” — He thinks for a moment. Trust, love, companionship, bond. He doesn't truly use the word ‘family’ often when referring to anyone, but he does consider some close enough for it to be fitting. — “I suppose I consider my family to be the Archangel who taught me — Seraph Raviath, — a few others that were of a similar age to me that I shared a lot of my time with, my Lord — a father to all, of course — and my human.”

His human… he hopes they are doing well. He misses them so much. Every time he thinks of them, in his mind’s eye he sees their deep brown eyes look back at him fondly, as if greeting him. They can still hear their pleasant voice. The violin they loved to play. He can even smell the breakfast they had every day — a fresh Pain au Chocolat with warm milk.

“Do you love them the way mortals love their family?” — Mori’s voice rasps enquiringly, breaking through his thoughts. Another drop of blood hits polished green tiles.

“Yes,” — Auden replies instantly, — “I miss all of them every day. And since I have Fallen… I suppose there is no other way I could love but the way mortals love”

A pause stretches out uninterrupted. Mori must be deep in thought, Auden thinks.

Auden listens to the soap bubbles popping on the surface of the hazy bathwater as it steadily cools around him. It's remarkable how quiet this manse is. With its long, echoing hallways and sky-high ceilings, for it to be so well kept must require plenty of manpower, yet it’s hauntingly empty and calm. The air out in the haunting corridors reminds Auden of a large, empty church. Cold, but certain, almost heavy. It leaves a hand shaped imprint tingling on one's soul. It wants to be felt and remembered. Here in this wash room, steamed up and hot, smelling of artificial flowers, in a way, the air is just as heavy.

“We’re the same then,” — Mori whispers finally, glancing to the side to observe a drop of liquid on the pale jade tiles, their eyes shimmering,  — “I never knew my parents. If I had any siblings, I never got to know them either. They all might as well be dead; makes no difference to me. They probably are by now. Served their use, killed off like duffer cattle. ‘S what tends to happen.”

There is a lack of empathy, an overwhelming sense of numbness surrounding their words. There are thick layers of it over a deep, painful scar that will never heal. They curl forward weakly, none too eager to sit with their back straight as their blood flows freely down their face.

“I wasn't made to be their child — I was made to be a servant. All my life I had masters, owners… sometimes nobody. Some of them were crueller than others. I tried running, a couple times — I really wish I hadn't. They made certain to make me regret it each time. I'm, I’m s-still back there sometimes, during bad nights. I can see them prepare th-, the branding iron, th-that fucking dog noose, I can still feel it around my nghn, m-my neck, pinning me — ”

Mori can tell Auden is staring at them, watching them unravel with his big, empathetic eyes. They can feel his gaze linger on their fingers, watching them twist their tough nails into their own flesh and leaving dark marks next to countless slices of white and pink and red in a sea of purple across their arms. They know he hears every crack in their voice, the sob cutting off their sentence. If only they could see him past the blurry figures closing in around them; shadows wielding tools of torment, yelling, whispering, taunting.

They take a few seconds to settle their breathing. They aren't there anymore; they aren't living in a dog kennel, they are not chained to their owner’s bed, nor are they cramped into a small cage with a dozen other diseased, wailing slaves. They are here in Master Grim’s domain with his new precious Fallen, telling their story. Auden is listening.

He had asked them a question; so they answer. Not because they will be punished if they don't. Not because they are scared. Not because they don't know how to not do as they are told anymore. — “I died so many times back then. Nh-, not actually, though I came v-vh, very close. But I remember very little of who I was before. I remember I was taught subservience, then given to a slaver, bought a few times, changed owners. I have the scars, a-and I have the night terrors, but that's about it. ‘Was just too much to retain, clearly. T-Too bloody much.”

Their whispers fall quiet once again, stuck in the dark clutches of a dreary memory. The voice of their once owner flings orders at them, they feel the phantom sting of a slap, the sticky surface of their tear-soaked face, the taste of iron. They can smell the wretched crimson tobacco in the air.

Their expression is blank, but Auden knows that haunted glaze of emptiness stretching over their eyes.

“That's how I met Master Grim. I came so close to death so many times, he began to take interest in me. Every time I was beaten unconscious, or bleeding out o-oh, or — I would see him standing over me, watching me die. Only for brief moments, but I would see him watching me. His, the, the mask, his eyes… I still see them, all the time.”

That feeling of being watched never truly left. Even now as they speak, they feel The Reaper's piercing sanguine eyes burning holes into the back of their neck, they can feel the menacing air he carries weighing on their head from over them, as if he were standing right behind them, towering over his little fawn. They never feel truly alone anymore. — “It was terrifying. I thought that, that that was it, every time. I really thought I would be killed, and that he would take my soul away. I sometimes wished he would. I began to… look forward to seeing him.”

“He grew to like me. I kept visiting him, whether I wanted to or not, so it only made sense he would eventually visit me.”

As they trail off, the wet bathroom tiles return into focus. They recognise their own trembling fists held close to their chest, — a defensive position they learned when they wore handcuffs for months on end, — and force them to loosen. There is sweat running down their back. They find Auden's wide eyes, his mouth ajar with dismay, and give a small, empty smile through the curtain of blood and perspiration framing their steadily paling face. — “Th-That's uh, how I ended up here.”

The angel is horrified. How do they find it in themself to smile at him? How can they bring themself to smile at all? Is that something they learned in captivity too; to smile through their sorrow?

“I'm sorry,” — is all Auden can really say. His lips move around ghost syllables as he tries to think of comforting words, finding none that are sufficient.

“It's alright. You didn't do anything,” — they reply, blinking slow, — “and it's better now.”

Their missing antler, their broken hand, rivers of blood, all for the smallest of transgressions — Auden refuses to believe they have had worse. — “Is it really?”

Mori nods. — “Yes. He saved me. I am thankful. Always.”

Auden decides not to push for any more answers. It is troubling to listen to them. Far too troubling.

“I never thought I could be so similar to a demon,” — Auden muses instead. He has learned a lot about demonkind in the short time he has shared with Mori already. From the sounds of it, hellborn are not exempt from Hell’s punishments, nor are they necessarily more deserving than mortals who happen to find themselves here. Mori was born into slavery, sold and abused, never given a choice, never given a reprieve from hellish torments. They do not seem evil like how Auden always imagined every demon in his head to be — only unfortunate, and it leaves a bitter taste in the angel's mouth to know that the poor thing’s only sin was being born here.

“What do you mean?” — his tormented companion asks.

Auden scratches at his neck, hesitant to dwell on this topic much longer, — “Well, neither of us has a true family, it seems. And we both got um… saved, by The Reaper. And we both ended up here. I-I am glad I am not on my own, at least.”

Mori looks… very confused.

“Wh-, wait a minute.“ — Their expression turns from confusion to disbelief to disappointment in quick succession thinking over his words. — “So, do, do you — Y-You called me a demon?”

Now it's Auden's turn to be confused. — “Y-, yes? Should I not have?”

Their expression falls so suddenly Auden needs a second to recognise it for what it is: sadness. — “I-I’m not a demon.” — A half-hearted whisper. Their intonation lifts towards the end innocently, as if afraid to stand up for themself. — “Do angels… You see me as a demon? I'm… I'm a demon?”

They seem genuinely hurt by this, yet begrudgingly accepting in a way that makes Auden's heart bleed. The way they can barely bring themself to disagree with him on what must have been an accidental insult on Auden's part is heartbreaking.

But Auden doesn't understand. They are in Hell. They were born here. They are a demon.

So why does that sound so wrong to say suddenly?

“I-I think I misspoke again,” — Auden scrambles, lifting his hands in surrender, but only manages to bring a flinch out of the other. — “I'm sorry, I-I, I’m just… I am just an idiot in a world I clearly don't understand as well as I thought I did! I would never intentionally say things to harm you. I am really sorry.”

Mori doesn't really believe him until they make eye contact with the angel once again and see only a genuine look of compassion and a bit of innocent naïveté. — “You really… you really don't understand.”

Auden shakes his head. It sends foam flying off onto the floor from some of his lankier locks, mixing with the red sheen. Mori never did rinse the shampoo out, did they? They forgot. They are very dizzy.

“I need to continue,” — they say vaguely, grabbing hold of the edge of the tub, their grip shaky. They find it hard to keep eye contact. — “would you turn back around, please?”

The water is slowly running cold, no longer burning on the angel's neck as Mori lets it flow in rivers down his back. Auden wonders if Mori will be ordered to clean up after the bath is done. There are feathers floating on the murky surface among the foam; they will surely plug up the drain.

“Why did you think I was a demon?” — Mori asks quietly.

“I did not realise there were alternatives,” — Auden shrugs, glad that Mori is still willing to talk to him. — “I-I assume that's, that is what I got wrong. That, that there are others, here, that are not demons? Is that it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yes. May I ask, um… what, what —”

“What I am?” — Mori interjects, now slightly amused. They have trouble trusting anything that comes out of other people's mouths, but Auden's clumsy fumbling of his words helps them believe he truly just does not know better. His instant apologies also make it clear that he still tries. Mori appreciates that, even if it's hard not to expect anything but condescension from others’ words.

Auden nods. His hair still sticks and tangles, falling in waves over his shoulders like black tar over the edge of a cliff. It will need another round of shampoo. And a lot of conditioner, by the looks of it.

“I'm not sure, to be completely honest with you,” — they mutter, working another layer of gel into the angel's matted hair, — “no one ever really thought to, to explain it to me. I have heard of the Sylvan people — apparently they’re pretty similar to me, with hooves and antlers. I may be some bastardised descendant of them.”

Master Grim spoke of them a while ago, not too long after he had taken them. He had remarked how they looked similar to Mori. A people of forests, who worshipped pagan gods, held many intricacies and lived peaceful lives. They were never interested in anything but the preservation of their own culture, and only fought wars in self-defence.

They went extinct a long time ago.

‘The angels’ ever merciful God may have had a hand in that,’ — their master had said while he casually played a short blade on their bare belly, letting them shiver against its edge.

They had been called over and ordered to sit with him. They could not remember the last time they were allowed up on a couch, especially such a large, luxurious one. He even asked them if they were comfortable once they settled onto it. Then he laid their head against a velvet duvet, led them to lie across his lap. They were not being punished, they were told, yet they could not stop trembling.

‘The Heavens had come up with a word: impiety. Disrespect; to their Lord, to their moralist ways and to their winged people. They simply could not stand the Fauns’ lack of devotion. Perhaps that contempt is what gave their battle angels the conviction to wrench each of the harmless creatures’ heads off their bodies. I was present for it, of course. I saw Archangels dressed in red, setting forests aflame. The sky you see outside today does not look so dissimilar to the sky the angels had painted bloody with guts and viscera all those years ago.’

The blade had travelled up the length of their torso as The Reaper spoke, landing right over the hammering pulse in their neck. Against their better judgement, Mori had let the smallest whimper slip free from behind their lips, and begged not to be killed, promising they would be useful. Their then new master had only chuckled, a fond expression on his face, and pressed the dagger harder against their flesh, not letting up until their blood rose from beneath it. His eyes glimmered at the smell of fresh pain.

‘You could be the very last of your kind, little fawn. The last living Sylvan spirit. I had led every Sylvan soul on to the other side; and now the last one has fallen right into my lap mere millenia later. Lost in an inferno conceived by the ones responsible for their people's extinction, the little fawn wanders into the jaws of a predator, unknowing…’

One of his hands — the one not tarred charcoal black and dressed in a  silver gauntlet of claws, — took a hold of one antler then. The knife slowly slid across the thin skin of their throat, stretching the wound wider and catching their blood on its surface. Only then did Master Grim lift the cold steel away from them, holding it right up to his lips. That was the first time he had tasted them.

He would take his time observing their tears and mulling over the drop of blood on his tongue. Purring, he would add; — ‘Fate is a curious thing, hm?’

The scars from that day cross over their skin like a memento. At the time, they had barely understood why The Reaper would be interested in such a nobody. They were far too scared to dwell on anything their new owner was telling them, only capable of thinking just far enough to provide short, agreeable, inoffensive and polite answers sandwiched between two pleas. Since then, the anecdote stuck with them, haunting them with its implications.

Sometimes they ponder if Master Grim only told them all this to send them down a puzzling path of infatuated, senseless self-discovery. He could have just made it all up; he does that sometimes. He is thousands of years old. Few can truly confirm or debunk everything that comes out of his mouth, and he finds great amusement in that.

Their brows furrow. — “Or it could just as well be that someone thought having a deer-man mix for a slave would be cute, and had my creation commissioned — making me a runt, or a mutt per definition. Some people just refer to me as ‘the hybrid’, so I guess that's what I am. Better than being called a dog. I think this option is much more likely anyway.”

The black waves part between the teeth of a wooden comb as Mori gently slides it along each lock. It's so different from Auden's own comb back home. It's heavier and rougher, impossible to use gingerly.

The Sylvan, mutts, hybrids… Auden only knows of angels, mortals and demons. He has never heard of people that did not belong to any of these three groups. He must learn more.

“What kind of dark magic allows demons to help conceive of beings like you?” — Auden asks rather rudely. Mori only sighs, running on an amount of sleep far too low to be engaging in theory crafting — or thinking at all for that matter.

“I don't know. I'm not smart enough to understand. Demon lords can do it. Some witches can do it. Powerful ones,” — they mutter, working through a particularly nasty knot as gently as possible, — “nearly always made to be servants. Some are made for their strength, some to be pretty lap dogs, some just to see what would happen. Like some science experiment.”

“Do you know what you were made for?” — Auden asks.

“Not for what I was used for, that's for sure,” — Mori replies, an exasperated tone catching their voice.

“What were you used for?”

“Bad things.”

“But what specifically? Like, like murder or — ?”

“Auden,” — Mori cuts him off, exhausted, sharp, — “please.”

The angel’s eyes turn away, flustered. — “Oh, sorry. I-I just… I got too excited. Sorry.”

Mori raises an eyebrow. — “Excited about slaves?”

“No! No,” — he cries, nearly offended, — “not — n-not that. That is terrible. I meant, um… interested. No, that sounds just as bad. I-I just want to learn!”

“Then you better learn when it’s a good idea to ask questions, and when it ain't.”— They set the comb aside. It falls to the ground following the path their heavy hand takes. The floor tilts and stretches like the bottom of the sea. They don't bother picking it up. — “Running your mouth like th-, th-that is a surefire way to get beaten. If you think asking Master Grim about his, his markings like you did, for example, is even remotely allowed just because he thought it was so fuckin’ ridiculous he let it pass, I gotta tell you; it is definitely not. Your c-comedic genius won't save you next time.”

“Do, do you know…?”

“He didn’t answer, so I'm not answering either. Lean back a little.”

Once Mori has rinsed all the shampoo out of Auden's hair, they step away to retrieve another decorated glass of something; something that shines white and smooth like the blood of a pearl. It smells of almonds and feels very slippery upon his curls.

Mori looks half dead.

Every time they force themself up on their hooves, they must experience such vertigo that they nearly pass out. Their steps are slow and calculated, but just as sloppy while they struggle their way across polished tiles slick with their own darkening blood. Auden can feel their hand shivering as they work the conditioner into his roots. As their movements become more sluggish, Auden worries they will fall and smash their bleeding head off the edge of the tub.

Mori’s skin starts running colder than Auden's, and that's when he can no longer allow this to go on without a word.

“Maybe you should take a break?” — the angel tentatively asks, — “I can finish up while you take a nap; surely he wouldn't mind — ”

“No,” — their voice cracks and trembles, but it is filled with certainty, determination, desperation, — “he would. He will know. H-He always does.”

Auden jerks his head around, throwing their already hard to manoeuvre hands off of himself to  find Mori’s exhausted, shadowy eyes. His concern is infuriating. — “But you are badly hurt! Your wound still bleeds, I can see how pale you are and I am not a healer; if, if something bad happens to you I will not know how to help — “

A shaky exhale, somewhat frustrated, somewhat desperate, definitely losing patience. A single spark. The littlest, thinnest, most afraid-to-exist flame ignites in their eyes and furrows their brows. — “How you can help, is by staying fucking still and letting me do my job, you — “

Auden’s mouth snaps shut right away, but his eyes fill with emotion. Mori sighs. A deep, already regretful exhale.

He doesn't quite get just yet how much worse it can get for the both of them. Obeying is a must, a requirement so they may keep breathing, and punishments are plenty. They are just frustrated that Auden cannot seem to grasp that concept. They are so similar; how can he not understand this?

“I will be fine,” — they whisper anyway, having to physically strain themself not to fall back into their submissive, terrified shell and beg for Auden's forgiveness instead like they did before. — “I know what I can take. This, this is n-nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing…”

“Well for you it probably wouldn't be n-nothing, what with your f-fancy wings and perfect skin and your, your weird eyes… Do all angels have pink eyes? What is with those things?”

They don't sound angry anymore, the single drop of vitriol in them having evaporated immediately. Auden turns around again, to Mori's bother. His eyes sparkle like a mini galaxy. — “They are not pink, they are purple!”

“Mm.” — Mori takes an index finger and twirls it in the air, to which Auden turns right back around, muttering another apology.

“And, um, no. It is not very common.”

“Then I’m even more baffled you’ve made it this far without getting fuckin’ mutilated. Special eyes, healthy wings, bein’ a Fallen in general — that kinda stuff gets you picked off the street in under ten minutes. In, in a good neighbourhood. In a bad one you'd start a serious street riot. You'd, you'd…”

They trail off. Auden cannot feel their hands on him, so he turns around to find them staring blankly at the crimson painted floor in front of them, the darkness under their eyes turning more than just worrying. — “Mori?”

They lift their head to look at Auden, but can't seem to find him past the dark spots in their vision. — “F-fuck…”

They suddenly look very scared, eyes wide and breaths swift. Auden reaches for them — their skin is ice cold and paler than a sheet. It's sticky with cold sweat. One of their eyes is squeezed shut, filled with the blood flowing right into it.

Their breathing becomes funny. — “Auden? Can you, um… can you do me a favour?”

A direction; a way to help! — “Yes? Anything!”

“I uh… Dh-, don't panic, alright?”

Mori goes limp and falls to the side.

~

Mastelist | Ko-fi

Taglist: @whumpsday @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpifi

[bunny300]

I want a villain or a bad guy or maybe a whumper (whatever you decide), I want that character to be well known by whatever group of people.

He’s a big name and everyone knows of him. I want this villain to be big and bad and menacing

And I just picture a scene where our big bad villain sits down at a bar and orders. What do you think he orders?

APPLE JUICE

“Do bars even have apple juice?”, you may ask and here I will tell you:

THESE ONES DO

They’d have to be dead not to have heard the rumors.

No one has ever seen him hold or drink an alcoholic beverage. In meetings or parties or any social event where alcohol is available he always only gets apple juice.

ALWAYS.

If a business wants to be a business, wants protection or maybe just less bad things happening to them, they’d have apple juice on hand. Better yet if it’s the specific brand of apple juice. Better better yet if its one of those well known brands and not some high end fancy apple juice.

I want stories where our villain, maybe when he was first rising to the top, would get harassed for ordering or drinking apple juice, and I just imagine him not being violent and since no one ever sees him retaliate, they all think him soft.

That is until they hear about people getting fired from jobs or going out of business or getting in a car accident. Really anything your mind can conjure. Maybe someone fell into debt or got super drunk and cheated on his partner and proof of doing so was swiftly shown to the partner. Maybe someone got their kids taken away.

I imagine that depending on the situation and how they treated and acted towards him determines the level of disparity he causes towards that person and their family. No one has physical proof that he caused it. Many have looked and found no connection linking him to the “bad luck” going around and some are skeptical that it’s all a coincidence, that is until the people investigating start having “bad luck” and maybe even the openly skeptical too.

It eventually get around that if villain shows up anywhere, a restaurant, meeting, bar, wherever, they must have apple juice for him. And they remember not to act any different, no one dares taunt him, throws alcohol on him, actually serves him alcohol or alcohol in the apple juice, or any other childish thing someone could do, not after they recall now the first few were treated.

Villain knew he had to send a message. He was new after all. Up and coming. Not known to many. Not feared. Not respected. He let himself be known. And responding with (more than slight) overkill the first few bad ones, people knew of him. He was feared. Some respected him.

No one would question his choices.

It’s also great that you could have scenes where people that look up to villain order apple juice when they are out and about.

There are so many things.

OMG

I would love for someone knew in town to come. I imagine this is our whumpee or love interest, (since the other one is villain in this post, this character will be civilian) and they don’t know this person and he overhears him ordering apple juice (let’s say at a bar) and civilian says, “really man, apple juice?”

And the bar becomes silent.

Civilian doesn’t quite notice it fall silent because he’s hyper focused and is already saying, “orange juice is way better! I LOVE ORANGE JUICE. Hey bar tender! Do you have orange juice!?”

I imagine a chaotic, neurodivergent, adhd riddled civilian getting SOOO bummed the bar doesn’t have orange juice and responds with something like, “FINE. I suppose the gods win this round! I’ll have some apple juice.”

And when he’s waiting for his apple juice he notices how loud the tapping of his fingers and his humming sounds, and that’s when he realized just how silent it was around him and he looked up.

This can happen two ways:

Either everyone is looking at him or looking away.

Everyone could be watching him, gawking at what in the heck just happened. Some are perhaps worried, unknowing if this will get the young man in trouble since what he said was so frantic and all over the place. Or they can be looking away. Sort of the ‘don’t make eye contact’ kind of mentality. Maybe afraid that if he sees them they’ll have “bad luck” despite having stayed out of it.

But oh man, just imagine all of this. And villains reaction! GAH it all makes me giddy

OH OH OH

I also want it where a lot of businesses, maybe at a dinner meeting or something, when dealing with villain, will only order apple juice and not alcohol as a sign of respect. Cracks me up really

[generic-whumperz]

This one’s for all the unsuspecting Caretakers out there 🥂

[solar-eclippse]

A whumper who is under someone else's thumb. A whumper who is also a whumpee.

Whumpee thinks that they know the person who has been abusing them by now. In their mind, they're a perfect monster, unflinching, unrelenting, and untouchable. Then, one day, as whumper is giving them their usual "treatment", someone new steps into the cell. They speak softly to whumper, and whumpee watches as they shy away, answering questions in low, trembling tones, and whumpee thinks they might be shaking. All at once, they realize that there's a larger scope they've been clueless to.

[whumping-in-the-dark]

Caretaker pretending to hate whumpee so that whumper wouldn't leverage whumpee against against them-

Cue clueless whumpee feeling betrayed by caretaker's harsh words :(

[vivisectedboy]

Drugs in whump

Very underrated stuff imo, feel free to add more prompts !!! Also sorry if there's any medical/scientific inaccuracies lmao

CW for uhh. Drugs and stuff, overdose, drug use etc you get it

Drug dealer Whumper getting Whumpee hooked on substances, the power dynamic between dealer and customer

Whumpee kept as a test subject for experimental drugs to be sold later

Captive Whumpee given painkillers after being tortured. More fun if the drugs have a cost, like Whumpee's loved ones getting hurt. They know they shouldn't take it, but it just hurts so much

Whumper who is simply a horrible trip sitter, going out of their way to disorient Whumpee and make them paranoid during recreational drug use. Lacing the stuff with something? Denying it later and gaslighting Whumpee? Yeahhh

Torture in the form of deliriants. Could be in a medical setting, or any form of captivity. Forced to experience hallucinations and dissociation, completely detaching whumpee from their reality. Fun stuff!

Actually, deliriants and other hallucinogens can easily be found in nature. Clueless Whumpee in a survival setting accidentally eating poisonous plants and going through their own personal hell, wearing down their body and mind in the process.

The classic drugging and kidnapping. Slipping something in Whumpee's drink or food, watching them slowly realise they've been drugged, the state of panic before losing all control.

Anaesthetics. Complete lack of them? Good. Desperate Whumpee trying to fight it? Very good. Begging to be put under, only to be given stimulants to make them stay awake even longer? Veeeery good.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

hii. if you're taking requests, how about a whumper who really sucks at Actually Doing The Whumping. they have noo clue what theyre doing. maybe a big strong handsome man could help guide them. /silly.

thank yoouuu 👍

tw: mention of murder

because whumper’s cluelessness makes them unstable and unpredictable, they are actually more dangerous than those who do know what they’re doing.

does whumper suck at whumping? yes, but just because they’re clueless and a dork, doesn’t mean they can’t ever go “too far” whether or not it’s on purpose.

in the sense that whumper is like a child who has a toy, but doesn’t quite know how to play with it; and the thing about a Child With a Toy It Doesn’t Know How to Play With is that most of the times, the child ended up maiming that toy.

❝ Oops, I didn’t really mean for that girl to die. who would’ve thought that that would kill her? not me. but oh well. good thing there’re always more lovely whumpees to play with! 🤭🥰 ❞

then comes this guy who’s ridiculously hot and painfully annoying.

it irritates whumper because this dude sees the bloody mess whumper made and starts laughing.

❝ is this the best you can do? a plain old stabbing? how boring, ❞

whumper tries to stab him. but the next thing they know, they’re on the ground with the guy holding them down, keeping them still.

they hate that this guy sees them as a feisty cat rather than an actual threat. but he promises he will help them get better at killing and creating art out of the crime scenes.

so…

whumper agrees to let him help. not because he’s hot, of course not!!!!!

the guy teaches whumper everything, how to hold a knife, where to make the cut, and basically just how to haunt.

hot gay sex

they’re unstoppable.

[bedtimescenarios]

The Highway

Based on this trope that I posted about recently: Whumpee having to pretend that Whumper is their friend, lover, etc. around other people . . .

CW: Kidnapping, injuries, mention of death, blood, non-con touch (not sexual), implied torture, and I think that's all:)

Whumpee panted, clutching the side of their abdomen. They gently lifted up their shirt, wincing as their knuckles brushed against broken, bruised ribs. The pain was intensifying with every step, and their skin was turning purple in too many places. But they couldn't stop. Not now, not when they were so close.

So, despite the stinging pain, they started running again.

They had reached the highway a while ago. At first, they'd been thrilled. It was something they didn't think they'd see again after being stranded in that facility in the heart of the forest for so long. No cars had passed by, which they were thankful for. They didn't want last year's incident to repeat.

Suddenly, the memories flooded their brain. That same highway. Them running, the car stopping to help them. Then, the screaming, the blood. Oh, God, all that blood..

"Please, don't! They're innocent!", they had begged.

To which, Whumper had simply responded: "You brought this onto them."

Those poor people didn't have to die. Death was their reward for being selfless, for trying to help Whumpee.

They still saw the couple whenever they closed their eyes, haunting their dreams as well as their waking life. If only...

They flushed the memories out of their head. Right now, they couldn't afford the guilt swallowing them whole. The only important thing was finding a police station. They sprinted along the highway, ignoring the painful feeling in their limbs. It was definitely less painful than what Whumper would do to them if they were caught, and they were aware of the closing distance between them. Their heart hammered in their chest, their breaths shallow, as whenever they took a full breath in, it almost felt like their ribs were being broken all over again. Run, Whumpee, they tried to motivate themselves. Keep running, or-

"There you are."

Whumpee's heart dropped. Their head whirled around, glancing at Whumper with wide eyes. He wasn't that close, but he wasn't far enough either. If they ran slower, he'd catch up with them.

How much could they keep the pace in their condition? Not long, they supposed.

They thought about venturing into the forest, but Whumper most certainly knew it better than they did. Whumper thought this was all a game, anyway. The highway held their best chance, which was still slim. But hope - it clung onto them like a virus. So they kept running.

At least, until they heard a car honk.

Please, just go. Drive further. Don't look at me, Whumpee pleaded in their head.

"Hey, you there!" A young man's voice echoed.

Shit. Whumpee's heartbeat was going crazy. It would've been better if they'd just died in that facility. Now, this clueless man was at risk. They couldn't let him find anything out unless they wanted him dead. They had to pretend...

They slowed down, put on a joyful face, trying to mask how scared they really were. As they turned, they glimpsed the car, a blonde-haired head sticking through a window. As he pulled over, Whumpee took a few deep breaths. They smiled at the passer-by.

For a second, their smile turned into a wince as they felt Whumper's arms wrap around their waist. The man didn't seem to notice, though, as he just stepped out of the car. Whumpee sunk their fingers into Whumper's arms, trying to mask their shaking.

"Hi, can we help you?" They said.

The blonde walked closer to them, a smile on his face. His eyes betrayed him, full of suspicion and doubt.

"Are you all right?" He addressed Whumpee directly.

Whumper's arms tightened around their body. A warning. Perhaps a reminder. Whumpee tried to seem confused by his question. "Of course I am, why would you ask that?"

"Well-" He quickly glanced at Whumper, "-I saw you running, and I was just.."

"Oh, don't worry!" Whumpee said cheerfully. "I'm just on a run with my boyfriend."

Whumper propped his head on Whumpee's shoulder, making them tense up. When the man's wary expression didn't change, they added: "You know that marathon, the one that's gonna take place in Queens next week?"

He visibly relaxed at the familiarity. "Yeah, you training for it?"

"Yep", Whumper responded, and Whumpee felt them grin. "We're pretty competitive, ya' know?"

Whumpee hated how casual this conversation had become. They wanted to just break down, beg for the man to help them. But they knew better.

"Yeah, I got you. Me and my wife are participating as well!" The man leaned on his car door. "She's wanting to keep fit with our 2nd baby on its way."

Whumpee gulped, but their mouth remained in a smile. "Congratulations!" They said, and the man nodded in gratitude.

"Well, we'll look forward to seeing you there." Whumpee said, silently begging all the deities they believed in to just have the man, the husband, the father, on his way as soon as possible.

"Yeah, us too!" He grinned, getting in his car and turning the key into the ignition. "Have a good day!"

It worked. Whumpee thought. At least he's safe.

"You too!" Whumper smiled, and as the man drove away, they added: "I know I surely will."

At least he's safe, Whumpee repeated in their head, trying to reassure themselves.

As soon as the car was out of sight, Whumpee dropped their act, their eyes teary. But Whumper stayed there, in the same position, his arms tightening even more around Whumpee, who just squeezed their eyes shut at the intensifying pain in their ribs.

Whumper leaned in and whispered in their ear. "I see you've learned. At least, now, the only one who's getting hurt is you."

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Spinoff Story Vampire & Vampire Hunter part 10

Warnings: captured vampire, whumper turned whumpee, anti-depressants and mentioned severe depression, awkward passive-agressive heart-to-heart, Alex being absolutely clueless on how human emotions work

Mallory got to feet, unsteady until he found his balance, and walked out without another word, still looking a bit out of touch with reality.

Alex frowned and trailed after the hunter through the facility, catching a lot of glares from other wary hunters who hurried to get out of the way. He followed as Mallory made his way out of the building entirely, emerging outside to get some fresh air.

Alex hesitated in the doorway, watching the hunter walk over and slump into a wooden bench nearby, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Then he decided to approach.

"Mallory? Mind if I--"

"No," Mallory snipped without opening his eyes, "you may not."

Alex paused, then sat down next to him anyway.

"Of course you wouldn't listen," Mallory muttered under his breath. "Can't I have one moment of peace without you sticking your nose in my business? Why are you even here? You already got what you wanted, there's no need to keep harassing me..."

Alex chewed his lip, scratching his mind for the words to say. "I... couldn't help but notice your blood tasted different," he blurted. Then grimaced. Probably not the best way to start the conversation, considering everything revolving around the word 'blood' typically meant bad news to Mallory.

"So?" Mallory challenged flatly, still not opening his eyes. "Why does it matter?"

Alex's brow furrowed slightly. "During the feeding you just seemed kind of... I don't know, disconnected. And along with the funny taste in your blood, I was curious as to what the cause might be?"

Mallory finally opened his eyes, and Alex caught a glimpse of embarrassed guilt with a hint of shame in his expression before he pointedly looked away to hide it. "I don't know," he mumbled. "Probably just caught a mild cold or something."

Alex could hear his heartbeat quicken for a second. Liar. "Mmm, no, I think you do know," he pressed with a fang-filled grin.

Mallory winced. Right. Vampire hearing. He'd forgotten. "...I don't want to talk about it," he whispered, half to himself. Then raised his voice. "Go away, Alex -- just leave me alone. Can't you do me that one favor? Our agreement was my blood for your help -- I don't want to talk to you."

Alex slowly tilted his head to the side, regarding him coolly. "I think you do want to talk to me," he stated confidently. "You just don't want to let your guard down around me. But I think secretly, you wish to speak with me, as the only other person who understands. Who knows what you went through five years ago."

"Because of you," Mallory spat, eyes flaring. "You're the reason I'm like this!"

Alex nodded. "I am. But if you hadn't gone through what you went through, you wouldn't have known who I was, and known to come to me for help finding the vampire clan. Life has a funny way of making things work out in the end." He startled when Malloy abruptly stood up from the bench and whirled on him, face twisted with anger as he threw his hands up uselessly.

"There you go again, making it all about you!" He snarled loudly. "You always find some twisted way to glorify yourself! It's disgusting!"

Alex blinked in surprise at the uncharacteristic outburst, but Mallory was far from finished.

"You claim to 'understand', but you don't know anything about me! When you had me in your mansion, you almost killed me half a dozen times through sheer incompetence alone!" The hunter roared. "If Anisa hadn't given you instructions, you would have killed me already! And you have the sheer audacity to claim you understand what I went through?!" His chest was heaving, hands shaking with anger, but he was swaying on his feet, looking a little dazed and pale.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @floral-comet-whump

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @nevermore-ramblings @mj-or-say10

@tippytappytyping

[pigeonwhumps]

Introduction and masterlist

Hi! I'm Ruth, they/them pronouns, 25, and I enjoy most types of whump! I do art, graphic design and writing.

I try my best to tag, but if I miss a content warning you'd like added, please just shoot me an ask! I won't tag lady whump as a content warning, but anything else I will if you ask.

Favourite tropes:

RECOVERY WHUMP!!!

Found family

Gagging

Muzzles

Pet whump

Whumper pressing down on whumpee's back to keep them from getting up

Branding

Whipping

Caretaker turned whumpee/whumpee turned caretaker

Hero/villain whump

Tall whumpee/small caretaker (or vice versa)

Tall whumpee/small whumper

G/t whump

Whumpee thinks caretaker is their new whumper

Incompetent/clueless caretaker (they're trying their best but they have no idea they're doing)

Non-human whumpee

Immortal whumpee

Human weapon

Picky:

Major character death

Mouth whump

Pregnancy whump

Squicks:

Graphic tooth whump

Everything taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Other taglists part 1 / part 2

Masterlist

↓ under cut ↓

BBU masterlist

General contents: pet whump, dehumanisation, amnesia, PTSD

Sam and Lucan 'verse

In a world where non-humans are enslaved, our characters are just trying to live out their lives in peace. And failing, mostly.

General contents: non-human characters, institutionalised slavery, fantasy racism, dehumanisation, PTSD

A Death in the Family

When his estranged father dies, Tristam, against his better judgement, attends the will reading, and ends up leaving with long-term bloodbag Sunday Afolayan and Eldrida, his father's former employee (and a terribly mistreated one at that, it turns out).

Even with Aileen and Evelyn's expert advice and friendship, it's tricky to bring Sunday back from the depths of his enthrallment, and Eldrida's struggling too. Six years under the cruel fist of Barnabas Sharpe was hard to survive.

It's a difficult recovery for both of them. But surely, things can't get worse now.

Contains: vampire whumper, non-human whumpee (vampire), lady whump, conditioned whumpee, disabled characters (Tristam has ADHD, Eldrida has anophthalmia, and Sunday has joint problems, a badly-healed arm, and an absence epilepsy-like condition), recovery whump, multiple whumpees

Botanist Whumpee

When the rich and powerful Sebastian Beaumont offers Alyssa a place to stay, she doesn’t expect to become his captive for three years. And when Silver rescues her at a party… well, the only thing she’s absolutely sure is better is that they don’t have a basement. They don’t have much of anything, actually. And she doesn’t know whether she can trust them or not, but she stays anyway. With no-one left to care about her, and Beaumont using all his money and connections to search for the pair of them, where else is she supposed to go?

Contains: recovery whump, captivity, lady whump, somewhat defiant whumpee, found family, intimate whumper

Cian and Row

In a world where superpowers are real, heroes and villains exist, and there's a large black market in powered people, Rowan's been enslaved for as long as they can remember. They're befriended when they're three by Cian Sinclair, a local empathic five year old, and at the age of eleven is rescued and adopted by the Sinclairs. Years later they become a supervillain, disappear for five years and reappear to reunite with their family, and attract another enemy, one far more powerful than their previous captors and obsessed with their healing powers.

Contains: slavery, PTSD, minor whump, past minor whump, immortal whumpee, discrimination, villain whump

Immortal Cannon Fodder

Phoenix, an immortal hero, joins a team that hurts them and uses them as cannon fodder. But their teammates are only doing what's necessary to help them all survive. Phoenix's regular sacrifices are necessary. And it's not like they've got anywhere else to go anyway.

It takes the arrival of Kai, a wolf-shifter and telekinetic, to help them see what's going on. But a friendship and a promised eventual transfer can't fix everything.

Contains: hero whump, abuse, past abuse, immortal whumpee

MD-264N

When MD-264N, the government's best weapon, runs to avoid being decommissioned and collapses on the doorstep of a small ragtag team of rebels, it's a surprise to everyone. But despite resistance, the weapon, now known as Morgan, starts to find their place, and the rebels soon find that they'll do anything to keep them free.

Out of the Frying Pan

Contains: living weapon, found family, dehumanisation/self dehumanisation, team dynamics, reluctant caretaker (not the main caretaker), recovery whump, caretaker whump, disabled caretaker (forearm amputee)

Operation Badger

In the year 2037, Earth is invaded by the Stex. 14 years later, superpowers start appearing in teenagers, and are apparently humanity's best defence against the aliens. What is Earth Security to do but train these people up as weapons?

Contains: sci-fi, living weapons, team whump, multiple whumpees, minor whump, aliens, disabled character

Five years ago Elis, former bodyguard and weapon of Lord Wulfric, was rescued from a fiery death by Col and Sæwin. He now lives in relative peace with them in Sorestan, a peace that's abruptly disrupted after an unwelcome visitor brings his past colliding with the present.

Contains: medieval whump, fantasy elements, living weapon

Out of the Water

Túathal, a merman, is captured and kept prisoner by pirates for his valuable scales. While Robyn, the youngest of the crew and not very popular, takes care of him, the others only bother with his scales (and anything that makes their extraction easier). Especially James. And once the rest of the pirates discover that Robyn and Túathal have become fond of each other, things only get worse.

Contains: merwhump, pirate whump, mutual caretaking, language barrier, outcast whumpee, defiant whumpee

Survival Skills

Whumpee is captured by a Whumper who wants to teach them survival skills. Painfully.

Contains: survival skills whump, sadistic whumper

The Greatest Show on Earth

Damon and Pythias are an unwilling two-person sideshow act in The Greatest Show on Earth, Pythias forced to kill Damon multiple times a day for the entertainment of paying circus patrons. Damon has been in captivity since birth, Pythias not quite so long (although certainly long enough), and they're both ready to get out.

But the outside world is even trickier to navigate than they imagined.

Contains: non-human whumpees, multiple whumpees, immortal whumpee, lady whump, circus whump, public whump, captivity, recovery whump, temporary character death (both implied and shown at times), guilty whumpee, whumpee as caretaker

Other writing:

Non-series whump masterlist

Miscellaneous writing, art and graphics

Fanfic/fanart (AO3)

BBC Merlin, Good Omens, Doctor Who, The Sandman, The Murderbot Diaries

Other stuff:

Whumpmas in July 2022 masterlist

Prompts

Ask games

Bad Things Happen Bingo

[sir-fenris]

➛ Hello, fellow travelers!

I am called Fenris, and although the title "sir" has been somehow bestowed upon me during my travels, I do not frequently use it. I am but a spectral being, simply traveling around the Limbo to find new content to study and entertain myself with.

I'm not well acquainted with the concept of age, but I've been considered a full adult in most places I've travelled in Limbo. And about pronouns? Any would be fine, I am not a being of genders, but usually I go by they/them.

English was not the first language I encountered in my travels, so I ask for patience if you find grammatical errors in my writing.

(Usually, I embody the Fenris personality on my posts. You will see more of my true personality between parentheses/brackets and in tags.)

(This is a whump blog. You can always send asks, requests or leave messages, if respectful)

➛ Limbo Posts

#Limbo Writings (masterlist link)

(The same thing as "my own work", it's the stories I wrote.)

#Limbo Arts (masterlist link)

(The same thing as "my own art", it's the arts, drawings, that I did.)

#Limbo Specials

(Tag for when I answer asks or use my Fenris personality in random tags/posts)

Tropes, squicks and warnings under the cut... ↓

➛ Favored whump tropes:

Whumpee thinks caretaker is new whumper

Clueless/Inexperienced caretaker

Reluctant caretaker

Experienced caretaker

Enemy turned caretaker

Found family and Recovery

Living weapon whump

Pet whump

Slavery whump

Touch starvation and Sensory deprivation

Non-human whumpee

Non-human whumper

Reluctant whumper

Condescending whumper

Intimate carewhumper

➛ Things I don't usually like to read/write:

Character death, suicide and mourning

Pregnancy and newborn whump

Betrayal

Animal death/abandonment/severe injury

Heavy sad endings

Sea settings (I have thalasophobia)

➛ Content warnings:

My own works will always have content warnings and a cut line, so if you're uncomfortable with emeto, suicide, self-harm, nsfw, minor whumpee or eating disorder-y stories, you will always be warned, and the story will be under the cut, so you will only see it once you click to read more (and I rarely do any of those, except minor whumpee, that will show up here and there).

I try not to reblog works with those contents when they don't have a cut, but I cannot promise they won't appear sometimes (if it doesn't have a content warning before the story, however, I will never reblog. So you will always have at least a warning).

Images of those things will not be reblogged unless they're marked as sensitive content (and I'll remind the content warning in tags) or put under a cut with a content warning.

➛ Additional warnings:

Everyone is welcome here as long as you're respecful towards me and others. I don't accept any racism, homophobia, tranphobia, religious intolerence or any kind of prejudice whatsoever, towards me or anyone else. You won't see anything like that here.

I just ask that minors please don't click on nsfw posts (which will be rare, but will show up). Being exposed to those kind of content when you're still developing maturity and sexual notion is dangerous. Pretty much all of the content here is 14+, but I trust no one younger than that would be here.

-

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Villain and Flirtatious Hero in battle. Villain is/has been abused by a very creepy intimate whumper, Hero is unaware of this. Bonus points for Hero flirtatiously pinning Villain and misunderstanding their terror. Once Hero finds out they get super protective >:) angst and fluff pls

Weird, this ask seems familiar…

part 1, written by my beloved @epiclamer

tw: mentioning non-con (touching)

Didn’t speak.

The villain didn’t speak for a very long time. What had sounded like sobbing, what had torn the hero out of their already terrible sleep, had vanished. The desperation and the sadness, the longing for some loving human connection had disappeared and once again, the hero felt clueless.

They’d rushed over to the villain’s, fully aware they were in no condition to make it to the hero’s but now, the villain was politely refusing any help, composed with the only indication of suffering being their red eyes.

“I’m really sorry for making a scene,” they said eventually. Their apartment was nice and clean but the hero couldn’t help but think of them a little out of place in their own home, especially with how messy and imbalanced they seemed.

Restless. Always restless. On the hunt. With absolutely nowhere to go. The hero had encountered a lot of people in their life who felt like this. But this was different.

This was someone who had been pushed not only close to the edge but over it. Every murder, every torture session, everything the villain had done was thanks to a higher motive the hero didn’t know yet.

Suspicion marked the hero’s entire career and suspecting they did but all in all, they didn’t feel like this was their place nor they right to do so.

“You didn’t make a scene,” the hero answered, helping themselves to some tea and filling the villain’s cup as well. However, they knew the villain wouldn’t touch it. “I’m sorry I…I’m sorry I didn’t see that you were suffering, that you were uncomfortable. Looking back at it, I should’ve known.”

The villain didn’t answer, just stared at the hot tea in their cup.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know you don’t but…it might help.” The villain looked at them, little red capillaries making them seem crazily robbed of sleep.

“It won’t.”

“You called me here for a reason,” the hero said. It broke their heart, especially because it was their enemy. Always, the villain had always been the stronger one of the two of them. Ruthless and scary. Efficient and accurate.

Seeing them panic like that…

“I was desperate.”

“Listen…whatever happened to you, whatever they did to you…it’s not your fault. The world is full of shitty people. Fucking assholes who want to take advantage where they can. What happened to you isn’t right. It’s not excusable. You didn’t deserve it. God, you didn’t deserve it.”

The villain stared at them, aghast.

“Maybe I did,” the villain said. “Maybe I deserved it. All the bad things I’ve done…maybe I deserved to be stripped off of my freedom.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I hurt a lot of people.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I am a horrible person.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Stop saying that.” The hero stood up, eyes on their nemesis, staring into the deepest part of their soul. Into the deep part that was tearing up, breaking, falling apart. Their villain was close to crying again. “Don’t you get it?! It was my punishment, why can’t you see that? I didn’t want to be touched, I didn’t want them in my bed. I was scared and I was so fucking tired of fighting. I was so fucking tired of it.”

“And it’s not your fault,” the hero said gently. They cautiously took the villain’s hands, grip loose and soft. They squatted, maintaining eye contact. “You did nothing wrong. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I was too weak.”

“Another human was too cruel,” the hero said. “You’re not responsible for someone else’s actions. Someone did you wrong and I promise their life will end very soon if I should find out who they are.”

The villain was all rough, reminding the hero of shards they’d cut themselves on if they picked them up. The villain hurt other people, hurt the hero and yet…

“You may feel like this world resents you. As if this is some sick game that’s out to get you. People suck. People are horrible. Fucked up things happen and they aren’t just. They’re not fair. But, Christ. I need you to stay strong. You’re lovable. On some days you’re the only person who actually makes my day. When we work together, hell, even when we fight. I feel like I’m the strongest person along side you. You lift me up.”

“You’re joking.”

“We cannot change what happened,” the hero said. “But I know you deserve to be loved. You deserve to be held and comforted. Wounds like these leave deep scars and I’m more than willing to treat every single one with the utmost care I can come up with.”

“Can I get another hug?”

They did.

[whumping-in-the-dark]

Whumper who's a healthcare worker falls in love with injured whumpee at first sight. They lovingly nurse them back to health and are sad when they're finally discharged from the hospital. This quickly turns into an obsession, with whumper stalking whumpee until they end up drugging whumpee/orchestrating an accident to get whumpee to return to the hospital. Once there, they keep messing up the drugs in whumpee's system to turn them into a long-term patient.

They promise to pay all of the hospital bills too. Whumpee is completely clueless and profusely thanks whumper all the time. Soon, whumpee loses their education and their job, and whumper slowly coerces whumpee into moving in with them so that they don't have to 'worry about rent'.

Whumper lets them heal enough to return home, except home is just whumper's house now. It starts off fine-- whumpee feels much better and whumper is happy as long as they get to coddle whumpee. But then whumpee talks about returning to university and whumper just snaps. They yell at whumpee about how hard they worked to take care of them and now whumpee is just throwing it all away. Whumpee panics and tries to reach out to a friend, only to realise the landlines only connect to whumper's phone-- no matter the number dialed.

When whumper returns home from the hospital, they decide to start chaining whumpee in a room (the basement? The bedroom?) and then it all escalates into a pet whump scenario.

Bonus points is caretaker is another health worker who notices whumper putting fucked up drugs in whumpee's system and tries to report it, only to get shut down because whumper had a very clean record and reputation. People start accusing caretaker of jealousy and defamation, but caretaker is relentless. In the end, they manage to put two and two together and come to rescue whumpee from whumper's house :')