#death of whumper

[whump-in-the-closet]

dialogue prompts for traitor whumpees

(cws in tags)

the betrayed:

"What are you doing? Why did you lock...why did you lock the door?"

"No! Stop, you can't do this!"

"You don't have to do this."

"I thought I could trust you."

"When I get out of this-- when, not if-- when I get out, you're going to wish you were dead."

"Fucker. I always knew you were trouble. No one else listened, did they? They took in your sob story and swallowed it whole."

"Oh, you're sorry? You're sorry? Why don't you run back to your master like the dog you are?"

"Fuck off."

"I don't want to hear it. I don't!"

"We should have never trusted you. We should have never helped you."

"You're going to regret this, I promise you."

the betrayer:

"I'm...so sorry."

"Its for your own good."

"This was the only way, you don't understand."

"I'm sorry-- I had to, they forced me-- please, please forgive me."

"This would be much easier for you if you just held still."

"Oh? Are the handcuffs a little tight? Do they pinch? My bad, let me just cut off your circulation here."

"This is very satisfying, I have to admit. And just the tiniest bit humorous."

"Someone gag them. They never know when to shut up."

"You really should have known better."

"Why on earth did you think I ever needed your help?"

"It was me or you, old friend. And I really prioritize survival over any relationship."

"It's nothing personal. It just had to be done."

"I may regret this, I may not. At least I'll be alive to regret it."

"You don't understand what they did to me. You will though. Soon."

"Oh shut up, this isn't even the worst part."

"I had no idea some of the most brilliant minds in the world were so... gullible."

"God, you lot were stupid. You...followed me into a basement. Seriously, what is up with that?"

[seth-whumps]

living weapon whump x immortal whumpee prompts (hear me out):

(tag me if you use one!!)

Whumpee can die, but will always come back to life. Training entails pushing them to death and beyond over and over, timing their revival, so in the field, even death won't end the mission

Their immortality is engineered, so Whumpee finds death excruciatingly painful--which makes a perfect threat to keep them in line

Instead of dying, they retreat to a form meant to heal them (an object, a deep sleep, a small animal). It takes time, and their form needs protecting. Handlers assigned to Whumpee find this state disgusting

Whumpee cannot be physically harmed. Mental and psychological torment molds them into the perfect bodyguard--they simply need to stand in front of their charge and take the hits. God forbid they're ever in the wrong spot

Whumpee is immortal to a point. They have a certain number of lives, or one Achilles heel. This is lorded over them as a threat, to ensure they perform perfectly or be put out of commission

When held by Heroes, torture does not phase them. Death, apparently, does. However, they deem Whumpee as not useful and kill them. Imagine the surprise when they gasp in a bloody breath not five minutes later

When rescued by Caretakers and team, the rehabilitation goes swimmingly until Whumpee makes a mistake and immediately offers the nearest weapon to Caretaker, asking them to make it quick

immortal living whumpee...........

[holidayinhell]

“Fuck.”

Whumper’s hands trembled as he clutched Whumpee’s pale face in his hand. His skin was ice cold. 

Whumper pressed his mouth against Whumpee’s cold lips, delivering a powerful breath into Whumpee’s lungs. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but this is what they do on tv, right? He had to try something.

God damn it. He was just here, he was fine-- 

Pulling back, Whumper huffed, sputtering on huge mouthfuls of air. His eyes anxiously traced Whumpee’s white, sunken form for any sign of movement.

Open your eyes, just open your eyes…

“Hey, wake up….” Whumper’s fingers wrapped Whumpee’s knobby shoulders in his grasp, vigorously shaking his body back and forth. 

“HEY! Wake up for me!” He screamed into the man’s face. He laced his fingers together, hovering his palms over Whumpee’s bony chest before delivering a powerful push into his sternum. He pressed down hard, doing his best to mimic what he’d seen on television...

Each compression felt like a race against the clock.

He went too far this time.

“St-Stop that. Open your eyes.”

He fucked up.

“Whumpee, please.” He cradled the limp body strewn across his legs, panicked eyes darting over Whumpee’s face, searching desperately for a flicker of life.

He went too far.

Whumper slouched forward, drawing his warm chest to rest on the cold body. Water dripped from the ends of Whumpee’s hair, falling to the floor silently. Perfect, glass droplets clung to the damp eyelashes like tiny crystal balls. 

His eyes were closed delicately, still and motionless.

Fuck.

Fuck.

This was not supposed to happen.

And then, Whumpee coughed.

((((PART 2))))

[justbreakonme]

The hotel was a little chilly and had that odd old-carpet smell, but it was safe, for now. Caretaker helped get Whumpee washed up and into bed, and they were just about to climb into bed as well when the phone rang.

Both of them froze.

Caretaker picked it up, knuckles white.

“Hello?”

Whumpers voice crackled through the phone.

“You can’t prove I did anything to him.”

Caretaker’s grip on the phone tightened and they glanced at the triple latched hotel door.

“What?”

“You can’t prove anything, there’s no fingerprints or photos, just my word against his, and alibis are cheap.”

“Oh… you think that I care about putting you in jail?” the laughter in Caretaker’s voice was almost genuine, “No no, I’m going to hunt you down. I’m going to beat you to death with my bare hands. Then, I’m going to smile in my mugshot, knowing that no amount of money or powerful connections can buy your way out of hell where you belong.”

Silence.

Caretaker hung up the phone with a snap, and looked back at Whumpee.

“I’m sorry-“

“Thank you.”

[whumpwordsoftheday]

“Why, why is there dried blood all over the floor?”

“Because you weren’t the first sweetheart. And you won’t be the last.”

[whumpy-wyrms]

Blood Runs Cold #2: You Poor Thing

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

And he came back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, the vampire was back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless… somebody else got his hands on them first.

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

Aspen’s heart plummeted.

“I see you’ve noticed my—”

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

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

Yet?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what?” He squeaked.

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” Aspen opened his eyes.

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

“F-Feed?”

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

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

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

“N-no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t even see it coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can do whatever I want to you.”

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

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

“Wh-where are you going? —Wait!”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can… control people’s minds?”

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

“Were they looking for me?”

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

“Directions?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Now enough chit-chat. C’mere.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Holy shit, you’re pathetic.”

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

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

“But it- It’s so cold here…”

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

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

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“W-wait!—”

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

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

Maybe he should’ve accepted the offer.

— 

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

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@mintflavouredwhump @fleur-a-whump @starfields08000

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[whumpsday]

I Deserved It

Whump Oneshot - Writing masterlist here

content: time loop, pet whump, failed escape attempt, guns, major character death, whumper turned caretaker, suicide

Whumpmas in July Day 3: "___ deserved it."

i wrote this all in one sitting and when i looked up it was 4am. starting WIJ off with a bang!!

-

Day 1

Devran didn’t know it was day one of anything at the time, though he certainly learned fast.

The little shit had tried to escape. It had never done that before, and he certainly wasn’t a fan of it. He’d thought his training was getting him somewhere, Emereo seemed almost completely obedient. But somehow, it had all gotten away from him.

Not enough for the pet to actually succeed, of course.

His captive was weeping in a crumpled heap on the floor by the time Devran was done with it. Devran was careful to never go further than what he could fix on his own–it wasn’t like he could take the damn thing to a hospital without getting arrested. Still, the bruised, broken figure kneeling at his feet seemed thoroughly cowed, and the fresh, smoking brand on its shoulder blade ensured that it would never forget its place again.

He grabbed it by the collar, the pet’s eyes flashing with terror as it was brought up again.

“Master–” Emereo gasped, “Master, please, I’m sorry! No more, I won’t run again! I’ve learned my lesson!” It winced away from him as much as it could without pulling back.

Devran scoffed. “Clearly, you’ve learned nothing. Begging for the punishment you’ve duly earned to stop?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” it cried. It opened its mouth, then closed it again, no doubt biting back more pleas for it to end.

“You deserved it.” He shook the helpless thing a bit, watching it choke on the collar for a moment before moving with it. “Say it!”

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

Devran dropped it, then kicked it one last time for good measure. Emereo whimpered and curled in on itself, every muscle in its body tensed and waiting.

Exactly how he wanted it.

He dragged it back over to the wall, clipping its collar to the chain there. “No food today or tomorrow. You’re dismissed.”

Emereo slumped over. “Th-thank you, Master.”

Devran left it there, locking the basement up as he went upstairs. Two days nursing its injuries in the dark with no food should give it the time it needed to reflect on its actions.

He went on with his day, not paying any more mind to the crying mess in his basement aside from when he cleaned the branding iron.

Later, he would swear that somehow, when he went to bed that night, he could feel that something wasn’t right.

-

Day 2

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

Devran blinked.

He was back in the basement, his fist coiled around his pet’s collar, just like yesterday. Emereo’s brand was even still smoldering, he noted.

He dropped the wretched thing, taking a moment to collect himself while Emereo shook on the ground. He must have been dreaming, right? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep.

“Sir?” Emereo squeaked.

“Stupid,” he muttered, turning away and back up the stairs. Though he didn’t bother closing the door, the Emereo of his dreams had learned its lesson just as well as the real one and stayed put.

Devran straight up to bed, and though it was still light out, managed to get himself to drift off into a nap.

-

Day 3

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

Devran was not the slow sort.

He only gripped the pet’s collar tighter, drawing it up with a yank. “What’s going on?” he barked.

“I deserved it!” Emereo repeated, pupils dilated. Its hands raised slightly, then lowered as it snuffed out the instinct to loosen the pressure around its neck. “I’m so sorry, Master! Please!”

“Forget about the stupid escape!” Devran threw the pet to the floor, hard. Its skull cracked audibly against the concrete, though it did not lose consciousness. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Emereo’s breaths came quick as it wracked its mind, desperate to placate its master. “R-remember what, sir? I remember my lessons! I won’t forget again!”

“Great. Just great.” Devran stormed upstairs and locked the door behind him. If he was going to figure this out, it certainly wouldn’t be aided by a stupid pet who had no idea what was even happening.

Internet searches returned only science fiction. Obviously, this was out of the realm of the ordinary. He was on his own, but Devran was nothing if not adaptable.

And clearly, he had all the time in the world to figure it out.

After a day of fruitless research, he checked himself into a hotel for the night. Perhaps it was the bed.

-

Day 4

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

It was not the bed.

Devran sighed, dropped the pet, and headed back upstairs without another word. He started writing ideas in his journal, but scrapped that–it would all be erased anyway. He would simply have to remember everything.

He brewed a pot of coffee in pursuit of his next endeavor. Every time he slept, he reset. So he simply would not sleep. Obviously unsustainable, but maybe if he crossed some sort of threshold, time would go forward as it was meant to again. It wasn’t like he’d never pulled an all-nighter before. He would aim to pull two, at least.

On the bleary 40th hour of his endeavor, Devran was pulled from his countless shaky-handed cup of coffee by a soft knocking.

“Master?” came a small voice.

At least it was something to distract from the sleeplessness. Devran opened the door. “What?”

Emereo backed up, almost tripping over itself as it fled to the bottom of the stairs. “C-could I have some water, please? My bowl’s been empty… I’m sorry to bother you. It’s just…”

It was very, very clearly sorry. It was apparent that it would rather be doing anything else at the moment.

Devran rolled his eyes. “Stay.”

The pet obeyed as Devran filled a cup with water, brought it back, and tossed it down the stairs, spilling it all over the floor. It could lick it off the ground if it wanted it so badly. He was too tired to give a shit. “There’s your water.”

“Thank you, sir!” Emereo called as he slammed the door back.

Devran returned to his pacing until he was simply too exhausted, only daring to sit down for just a moment.

-

Day 5

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

“Damn it!” Devran shouted, throwing his pet to the floor. It shrieked, covering its face as it cowered away.

Back to the drawing board.

He stared curiously at the pet curled on the ground. He’d been focusing on himself and his behaviors to stop the loop, but why did he always wake up here? Was it simply random chance, or could Emereo be connected to this, somehow? Even if it couldn’t remember?

Devran lowered Emereo, then released its collar. “Have you ever seen Groundhog Day?”

“W-what?” it asked, completely tense as it looked up at him.

“The movie, the one about the man trapped in a time loop. Keep up.” Devran snapped his fingers.

Emereo immediately positioned itself into a kneeling position. “Yes, sir! I’ve seen Groundhog day. M-my siblings and I used to watch it on the actual holiday.” It covered its mouth suddenly, like it had said something it shouldn’t have.

“I’m stuck in a time loop. Like in Groundhog Day. Do you understand?” Devran asked.

It was immediately clear that the pet thought he was losing his mind. It looked up at him questioningly, trying and failing to hide its obvious disbelief. “...Yes, sir. And… should I be, um, doing something?”

“You should be glad your punishment’s interrupted. I keep resetting right then, why is that?” he muttered.

“I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.” Emereo’s voice was quiet, trying hard not to trip on unsteady ground.

“Useless.” Devran left it down there and headed upstairs, then out the door.

His friends were even more useless than the internet had been.

-

Day 6

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

Devran dropped it, heading upstairs without another word. It had been a while since he’d opened this drawer for anything other than cleaning, and, well, he’d always wanted to try this. Either it would break the loop and he’d be free, or it wouldn’t and there would be no consequences.

The pet’s eyes grew wide as it looked up the stairs when he returned, straight up the barrel.

“Sir?” it breathed, not daring to move a muscle.

“Good night, pet.”

With that, his basement was painted red. Devran didn’t bother cleaning it up.

-

Day 7

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

It was strange, seeing his pet so full of life after blasting its brains all over the walls. Devran released it to the floor, taking a step back.

“You used to watch Groundhog Day every Groundhog Day with your siblings,” he said simply.

Despite its aching body and cracked ribs, Emereo moved swiftly to prostrate itself, bending until it was the utter picture of submission.

“Please don’t hurt them,” it choked out, “I’ll do anything, Master, anything, I promise I’ll never try to run again, just please. I’ll be such a good pet for you, I swear! You’ll never need to discipline me again! Please don’t, oh God, please–”

“I’m not going to kidnap your fucking family. Get a grip.” Devran snapped, and Emereo in turn snapped up to an upright kneeling position. It cried out as the sudden movement jostled its injuries, but did not complain.

In all their time together, he had never seen it quite this distressed. Devran pocketed the idea to ensure future obedience, once he’d dealt with this damn loop.

“You told me this. I’m trapped in a time loop,” he explained. “Do you believe me now?”

“Yes, sir!” The pet was unreadable this time, its mind clearly elsewhere.

“Listen.” Devran snapped again, and Emereo flinched. “Every day for the past week, I’ve woken up to you crying here, and nothing I’ve tried has worked. I’m half-convinced you’re somehow involved with this.”

“I didn’t!” Emereo insisted, fresh tears brimming. “I s-swear, sir, I didn’t, I’m sorry I tried to escape, but I didn’t–”

“Not like that. In the more… catalytic sense,” he corrected.

Emereo pursed its lips.

“What?” Devran demanded. “Spit it out. I only have all day.”

“H-have…” It cut itself off. “I’m afraid I’ll be… punished again, sir. I don’t want to disrespect you.”

“You’re disrespecting me more by disobeying my direct order to spit it out.”

“Have you ever seen Groundhog Day, sir?” Emereo asked. It put its arm up to guard its face, as if that would do anything.

Ah. Of course that would be the first thing the stupid pet thought of. He hadn’t seen the movie itself, but it had wormed its way into popular culture enough for him to get the gist: a man is trapped in a time loop until he betters himself as a person.

“Very fucking funny. That’s a movie, this is real life.” Devran turned to leave it once more, then stopped.

Why not? He might as well try everything.

“You know what?” He turned back toward the pet.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Emereo wailed. “Please, I didn’t want to say it, you ordered me to!”

“Go.” Devran stepped aside, gesturing up the stairs.

Emereo shook its head, frantic. “I’ve learned, sir. I promise. I’ll never run again, never, never.”

“I said to fucking go.” Devran grabbed it by the collar and dragged it upstairs, throwing it out the door. “Don’t come back.”

He shut the door in its bewildered face.

It wasn’t even an hour later that police showed up to arrest him.

Devran didn’t particularly mind. If it stuck, he would still be imprisoned for less time here than he would be if it didn’t.

-

Day 8

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

Devran abandoned the pet once more to work on his own. While Emereo’s idea was juvenile at best, there was a kernel of worth in it: perhaps there was some use in looking to time loop narratives. If someone else had ever escaped his predicament, perhaps they’d write a book or script about it. It wasn’t like he was lacking time.

He threw some food and water down for the pet so he wouldn’t be disturbed, then set to work.

After Groundhog Day, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, and Happy Death Day, he fell asleep halfway through 1408.

-

Day 9

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

It had only been just over a week, but the spot Devran had left off in his old life was slowly starting to lose its meaning. He couldn’t find any energy to be angry about the escape attempt anymore.

“Up,” Devran ordered, releasing its collar.

Emereo struggled to its feet. “Yes, sir.”

Devran led it upstairs. “Go sit on the couch.”

“Yes, sir.” Emereo collapsed there, whimpering as it tried to find some semblance of comfort with its injuries.

“Your punishment is over. I’m going to be watching some movies and TV shows. If you’re good, you can stay and join me for lunch and dinner,” Devran offered. Perhaps the recent watch of Groundhog Day had made him soft after all.

The pet wiped its eyes. “Thank you, Master. I’ll be good.”

He put on 1408 again, fast-forwarding until he got to the point he’d fallen asleep at. The pet watched with rapt attention, not seeming to mind having missed the beginning of the movie. It did not speak at all during its run, only looking away to try and fail to spot the brand now taking residence behind its shoulder.

After a horrific torment at the hands of a cursed hotel room, the protagonist ended up setting it ablaze and escaping. Devran had already successfully fallen asleep outside his house, so that didn’t help at all.

“This wasn’t the original ending,” Emereo piped up suddenly. “They changed it because test screeners thought the director’s vision was too much of a downer. There’s actually four endings, ‘cause they made a bunch trying to find a good one for theaters, they included them all in the DVD release. He dies in the fire in the original one.”

Devran turned to look at it.

Emereo shied away. “I-I used to watch a lot of horror movies. Master.”

“Hm.” Well, that was equally as useless. If dying was the only way to escape the loop, he’d be dead after he escaped, and it would be pointless. “Lunch time, I think.”

It turned out that getting through all the movies and staying awake was easier with Emereo’s commentary. It slowly opened up as Devran encouraged it. It even gave recommendations.

-

Day 10

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

Devran lowered his hold slowly, then released it. That brand really did look nasty. All that bright-eyed babbling from yesterday was gone, now.

“Punishment’s over. Come on.” Devran helped it up, his hold firm even as Emereo flinched from his touch. “No more hurting for now.”

Emereo was able to get up the stairs much faster with help. Devran even applied some burn cream to its brand and gave it some ibuprofen for the pain.

“Thank you, Master,” it said after it downed the pills. “You’re… more merciful than I’d expected. Thank you. I really won’t try to run again. I’ve learned.”

It was a pathetically low bar, but it was also the most kindness Devran had ever allowed it at once. This was how he’d imagined it in the beginning, when he’d pictured training a human pet: a loyal, devoted companion, after the pesky conditioning was out of the way. He’d seen others in his circles accomplish the same. He’d thought for a while that they’d simply chosen better victims, and he was stuck with this one now that he couldn’t let it go without the police on his tail. Maybe it just required a gentler hand.

“Good. Maybe I’ve been too harsh with you, and that’s why you felt the need to run,” Devran conceded. “We can both learn from this. A better pet and a better owner.”

He chanced a soft pat on the head. Emereo only flinched a little.

“I’d like that, sir,” Emereo agreed. There was no doubt in Devran’s mind that it wanted to be free more, but its words were sincere nonetheless.

-

Devran fell into a routine.

At the start of each day, he took care of Emereo, learning more and more what words were most effective in calming him down–a he now, eventually–as he treated the injuries he’d inflicted. He made lunch for the two of them, then did something related to the loop. Research or an attempt to break it. As the days went by, he grew lazier and lazier with that, sometimes skipping it altogether as he grew more sure there was no way out after all.

He spent the rest of the day relaxing with his beloved pet, falling into a kind of peace. Emereo never reacted well when he tried to free him or take him outside, only causing more distress after the punishment he’d just taken. So he stayed.

-

Day 259

“I–I deserved it, sir,” Emereo sobbed.

“Good, there you go. It’s over now, I promise. You’re going to be alright.” Devran unclipped the collar from Emereo’s neck and tossed it aside. “You did such a good job. I’m not going to hurt you again. Let’s treat those injuries, okay? Let me help you up the stairs.”

Emereo’s face was the picture of relief. Devran had seen it hundreds of times. “Thank you, Master.”

It bothered Devran that this was the reset point. If only it could have been an hour earlier, before he’d caused so much pain. He’d even prayed for it, during his brief stint turning toward the church for an answer to his loop. But he always woke in the same spot.

After Emereo was all treated, Devran wrapped him in a blanket, brought him to the couch, and served him his favorite food: grilled cheese. It was about the most content someone recently-tortured could look, but through it all, there was always that undercurrent of pain and fear.

It was cruel, really. Devran had made his peace with the loop, but Emereo was the one that truly suffered for it, even if he couldn’t remember.

By this point, there was only one thing he hadn’t tried. He had mulled it over for quite a while, and he’d finally made up his mind. It was a bit drastic, but if it was the only way to free Emereo from his daily torment, he had to at least try, didn’t he?

He took his journal and wrote the names of everyone else he could think of, then tore out the page, folding it in half.

“Emereo? There’s something I need you to do,” he said as he joined him back downstairs.

“Yes, Master?” he asked, suddenly just a little more tense. Devran hated that. He wondered if Emereo would ever lose that fear, if he spent some years away from here. Away from him.

He handed Emereo the paper. “You don’t need to read this, it won’t make sense to you anyway. These are my… friends. If you ever get out of here, give this to the police, okay?”

Emereo looked lost, but that was alright. He didn’t need to understand just yet. “Um, yes, sir.”

“Good. You’re free to do as you please. Use the phone, take a walk outside, whatever you like. You won’t be punished.” Devran left him there and locked himself in his bedroom. He didn’t want Emereo to be the one to find him, even if it reset and he wouldn’t remember.

“Well, here goes nothing.” Devran clicked the safety off and shot himself in the head.

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event:

@whumpmasinjuly

[letitbehurt]

Whumper testing the limits of an immortal Whumpee.

A cut, then a burn, then a severed tongue. A fatal shot, a cup of poison, the snap of a noose gone taut. Whumper tries all of this and more, but Whumpee cannot die—at least, they cannot seem to stay that way. No matter how much they might want to.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“Yes.” | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal | Collapse | Cupcake | Foggy | Cracking | Just Breathe | Urge | Trim | Stupid | Upkeep | Old Defeat | Watching | Simple Loyalty | Overreaction | Set Up for Failure | Burning | Healed Wrong | Haunted | Boxes Buried | Heavy Blow | Loneliness

Six guys in a row, on their knees, blindfolded and gagged. Major seethes, shifting his weight on throbbing knees. How much goddamn longer does he have to wait for something to happen? He caught a glimpse of the other sorry fucks kneeling beside him, as he was forced down to sit on his heels. He tried to buck up, and only got pistol whipped for it, so. He’ll just fucking wait.

“Are you going to behave?” Says someone vaguely in front of him, off to the left. Talking down at one of the kneeling guys. Major cocks his head to listen as a gag is pulled out of someone’s mouth.

“Fuck you.”

A small, mechanical click. Then something like thunder cracks. Major jerks, trying to throw himself to the floor, heart lodged in his throat. There was a flash of light, he thinks, as a fist cinches in his hair and forces him back upright. A gunshot. It was a gunshot. He doesn’t hear any groaning or screaming, just… that’s a body slumping to the ground. Heavy, dull, lifeless.

A shoe scuffing on the floor, and that voice again. “Are you going to behave?”

A gag is pulled free, and a breathless, nervous voice answers. “Uh - yeah. Yeah, sure.” It’s right beside Major, this voice. He can all but feel the guy shivering beside him, inches away. He smells like sweat and stale clothes. Major chews on the cloth in his mouth, listening hard. A click, metal on metal.

Another deafening crack, and the flash of light is brighter this time. Major’s whole body tries to flee from the noise against his will. It’s only when he’s yanked back again, his scalp burning, that he registers the hot, sticky spray that hit his face a second ago. He doesn’t have to hear the body falling to know that there is now a dead body crumpled beside him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Someone is pulling the gag out of his mouth. Normally he would be cursing up a storm, demanding answers, calling these creeps every twisted insult he could string together. But for once, Major holds still, and holds his tongue. Hot metal presses to his forehead, the point of pressure small and haunting.

“Are you going to behave?”

All thoughts leave his head. There is no decision to submit. He cannot see, isn’t allowed to move, and the gun to his head makes his response come out as instinctively as a breath. “Yes,” He answers, firm in the knowledge that it is the right answer, and hushed in mortal terror. He’ll behave, whatever that means. There’s no other choice.

The cooling metal disappears. Another footstep, off to his right now. The kneeling guy on that side is barely breathing, taking in tiny gasps that probably starve him of oxygen.

Major feels dizzy himself. He wasn’t planning on caving this fucking early. Planned to be a stubborn asshole, maybe get tortured for a few weeks, or make some daring escape and kill a few fuckers on his way out. But he can tell already, from the tension in the air. From how fast those guys’ mistakes got them wiped out. He’s gotta learn fast, here, or his last thought will be that he should’ve behaved better.

[echoingalaxies]

"Close your eyes."

Said Caretaker to dying whumpee, caressing their hair, trying to make their last moments as peaceful and comfortable as possible.

Said Caretaker to scared Whumpee, holding a knife to Whumper's throat, about to make sure they never lay their hand on Whumpee again but wanting to spare Whumpee from witnessing any more violence.

Said Caretaker to injured Whumpee, cupping their chin and guiding their head up, not letting Whumpee look at the wounds covering their body.

Said Caretaker to sleepy Whumpee, who fears falling asleep because of all the traumatic nightmares they know they'll have, but with Caretaker by their side, whispering all kinds of reassurements, they might be okay.

[the-dump-of-whump]

Weapon whumpees in their last moments of sanity asking, begging, to be killed so that they can’t do anymore damage, so that they can’t hurt anyone else, so that they can’t be used anymore.

Better yet if there’s something stopping them from doing it themselves and they have to plead with caretaker to kill them.

Does caretaker do it? Does it hurt worse for whumpee to be dead or to see the wreckage they cause, the pain in their eyes? Does caretaker forsaken them too?

[abhainnwhump]

(Content warnings: Burning alive, implied death, immortal whumpee)

Everything thinks Whumpee is dead, but they're just in a heavily/magically induced sleep. Whumpee's friends decide to cremate their body. Whumpee wakes up in the chamber they're being burned in and scream to get out, pounding on the case.

Bonus points if they have some form of immortality and they are unable to die, just going through it until Whumpee's friends realize what happened. The trust there is forever strained.

[whump-galaxy]

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you like the others. I just want a little information.”

[honeycollectswhump]

whumpee being yanked abruptly by their collar from behind. they don’t know what’s going on and can’t even see their assailant. maybe they are so shocked they just go along with wherever they are pulled.

[whumpwordsoftheday]

“Kiddo you don’t want to do this, just come over here. A bullet to the head isn’t such a bad way to go.”

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #19: Eye Spy…

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content: lab whump, captivity, experimentation, nonsexual nudity, drugging, mind control, panic attack, sensory deprivation, fear of drowning, near death experience, sensory overload, angst, suicidal ideation, winged test subject whumpee, creepy scientist carewhumper

heed the warnings on this one folks… :)

— 

Despite things happening to Dew that he was never thought possible, nothing was making being here a better experience. His body and mind were changing without his control, he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, and despite trying so hard not to, he missed his old life. But the scientist was more giddy than ever, seemingly too enraptured with the experiments to notice Dew’s obvious sinking despair.

That was all it was, now. The same routine. Torturous experiments that left him in pain, dulling and mind-numbing tests, the scientist’s voice describing it all in his tape recorders, and the small moments of peace and comfort he got inbetween it all.

Dew wondered what would happen next. What the next horrible modification to his body would be, how much it would change him, how much of himself would be left when it was over. He wondered how his clone was doing, if his friends even suspected anything. He wondered how long this would go on for, how long he could last, how long he even wanted to last.

The past couple of days, Anton had been working in the lab alone, on something that was unknown to Dew. He’d brought out a giant rectangular tank of some sort, and had been messing around with the strange liquid inside. He refused to elaborate on it, and Dew had no choice but to ignore it.

So he was stuck in his small room, unable to really do anything besides draw, but even that grew tiring. Sometimes Sasha would show up, but they’d barely talk to each other, neither of them really having anything interesting to say.

His eyes felt mostly back to normal by now, and he was content without wearing a blindfold all the time. His third eye felt natural to him, and he almost forgot about it if not for him accidentally zoning out and seeing through objects sometimes.

The scientist had let up on him too, and Dew was allowed to do things on his own again. He was behaving, after all, and Anton wanted to respect his privacy and space as much as he coul, as if Dew was still a person.

He was still a person. Sometimes it was hard to believe that anymore.

“Dew,” Anton said, though he sounded so, so far away. “Wake up.”

“Huh?” Dew sat up and stretched, wings flapping lightly in contentment. Just another morning.

“Here’s your food.”

“Thanks.”

“You experiencing any more changes with your eyes?” Anton asked as Dew ate his breakfast. The scientist was wearing his weird goggles again, today.

“Nope. Just darkness.” He stared off into space, watching Anton write that down in his clipboard. Then he saw the scientist’s heartbeat through his chest. He blinked, and focused on the blindfold. Darkness.

“Hmm, okay. We have a pretty important experiment today. I’m excited.”

“Aren’t they all important?”

“Well, yes, but this one is…” The scientist waved his hands excitedly. “It will change everything, if all goes right.”

“They all change everything…” Dew mumbled, looking to the ground.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Anyway, you can take off your blindfold, you won’t be needing it. I’ll turn the lights out when we get there. Oh, and don’t bother putting on the hospital gown. Unfortunately, clothes will just get in the way of this one.”

“Oh… alright.” So it would be something different this time, after all.

They walked into the lab, and Dew could see the giant glass tank that Anton had been working on for the past few days up close. Getting a better look, he noticed it was filled with nothing but a pitch black liquid. He wouldn’t have thought it was glass at first, but the edges of it were thick and clear, so it had to be. The liquid inside was so dark and opaque, and he couldn’t even see through it if he tried, as focusing all his concentration on it just made his head hurt. This was the first time he’d been completely unable to see through something with his new eyes.

There was a ladder leaning against the tank, and the top of it looked like it could be opened and closed. The tank itself was smaller than the giant glass tube filled with green liquid on the other side of the lab, the one that had always been there but to Dew’s understanding, went unused. This one was just a few feet taller than him, and wide enough to hold his arms straight out in all directions, but not much else. The thought of being stuck in there filled him with dread.

He thought it surely had to do with whatever the scientist was going to do to him today. But he’d stopped spying on Anton’s notes and plans after a while, not caring about what happened to him anymore as the tests on his eyes grew more and more mundane and repetitive. This one though, seemed different. Perhaps he should’ve snuck a peak.

“Ah, yes,” Anton began, turning to Dew with that familiar unhinged, giddy expression. “You’re probably wondering what this is, right?” He gestured to the giant tank while casually leaning a hand against it.

Dew faked a smile. “Yeah.” He found the scientist to be in a better mood when he pretended to care about what he was saying, when he pretended to be happy to be there.

“Of course you do,” Anton said theatrically. “This tank here can hold just about anything in it, it’s very strong, impossible to break through. It can’t be moved from this spot, but it can be lowered into the floor, where it’s usually stored and out of the way. But you don’t have to worry about that, I have another way of making whoever’s inside be enclosed in complete darkness.”

“W-wait, inside?”

“Yes! For this experiment, you’ll be going inside the tank. The stuff it’s filled with is what I’ve been working on. When you go inside of it, it will— well, it’d be more fun as a surprise I think. But it’s breathable. You won’t drown in it, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s perfectly safe.”

Well, shit. “W-what are you gonna do to me?” Dew asked miserably.

Anton adjusted the goggles on his face, making them glow a bright green. He smiled. “You’ll find out soon.”

The entire lab faded to complete darkness, but Dew’s eyes adjusted quickly. The scientist had his night vision goggles on, and was writing something down in his clipboard. Dew waited in agonizing silence until Anton snapped on some black rubber gloves and started preparing a syringe.

“Don’t worry, Dewey. Just two injections. They’ll be over quickly.” The first syringe was huge, almost the biggest one he’d used on him yet. It was filled with a glowing orange liquid, fizzy with bubbles. Anton flicked it hard a few times, and brought it towards him.

Dew was about to ask if he could wear his headphones during this, distract himself with loud music blasting through his ears, but Anton was quick to inject the syringe into Dew’s neck before he got a word out. Pure agony erupted in his veins, just for a moment, but then it was over.

Dew didn’t even have time to process what had happened before Anton was injecting something else into his arm, but a far more familiar and just a little less painful substance than the first. By now, Dew recognised it as something that’d probably make him feel weak and sleepy, a sedative of some sort.

“All done,” Anton said, putting the needles away and walking back to Dew. “Now, we have to wait a little bit for the stuff to set in. In the meantime, you can, uh, take off your shirt and pants. You won’t be needing them.”

“O-oh. Okay.” Dew did as he was asked, and Anton tossed his clothes to the side. “Now what?”

“We wait. Tell me if you start to feel anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Dew said. And they waited. Anton spun in his chair with a smile on his face while Dew stood there awkwardly in the dark, cold and exposed, waiting in agonizing anticipation for something to happen. It was almost numbing, thinking about it, wondering what was going to happen.

A few moments passed, and Dew started to feel strange. His face scrunched up in confusion, then a worried realization.

“H-hey um, Anton?” Dew whimpered, scratching at his arms. “I don’t… I don’t f-feel anything.”

“Good,” Anton mused. “You’re not supposed to feel anything.” He took Dew’s wrist and led him to the ladder.

“W-what?”

“It’ll be okay, just trust me. Now, climb into the tank, Dew.”

Dew stepped towards the ladder, taking apprehensive glances back at the scientist. He put a hand on it, but felt nothing against his palm. “I-I’m scared.”

“Just relax. Climb up the ladder.” Dew felt his body move automatically, the scientist in control of his every action. He watched his hands gripping the ladder and his legs climbing up it, but felt nothing. “Good, that’s it.”

The entire top of the tank was covered by a thick metal lid, with a latch on one side. Dew crawled on top of it, and sat opposite from the ladder. Now that he was free from Anton’s grasp, he realized he was losing more and more feeling in his body. “I can’t- I can’t breathe—”

“You can, you probably just don’t feel it. That’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Dew.” The scientist climbed up the ladder after him, and Dew sat in place. Anton unlocked the latch, and slid the top half open. Dew could now see the inside clearly, the strange dark liquid only a few inches away from him. He knew where this was going. And he was unrestrained, he could still jump down or fly away from this. But of course, he couldn’t feel his wings either.

While Dew was staring into the darkness of the tank, he hadn’t noticed that Anton started to attach some wires to his skin, long, dangly things that attached to the tank and led to the machines and screens by his desk. Once he was all hooked up to whatever that was, the scientist placed his hands firmly on Dew’s sides, making his hair stand on end. “I’m going to lower you down now, alright? Stay nice and still for me, Dew. Everything will be fine.”

Dew tried to wiggle out of his grip, but he couldn’t seem to muster up the strength. “N-no, please, I don’t wanna do this,” He whimpered.

“It’s okay. This won’t hurt you.” Dew curled into himself as Anton lifted him up, and lowered him down.

Dew expected it to be cold, or warm, or to feel like something, but it felt like absolutely nothing. Half of his body was submerged, but he wouldn’t have even known that if he weren’t looking right at it. His body disappeared under the liquid completely, and the thought of his head being submerged made him want to cry. He grabbed onto Anton’s arms, silently begging him to stop or slow his descent. He tried to kick out, but he couldn’t feel or see if his legs were moving or not, or if they even could. He couldn’t touch the bottom, couldn’t kick his legs to swim, couldn’t keep his head above the surface if he were to be dropped inside.

“Anton, p-please. I- I don’t feel anything. I can’t- I-I can’t even feel my own heartbeat! That’s gotta be bad, right?” Dew let go of Anton’s arms and grabbed the ledge of the tank, scared that the scientist would let go and he’d have nothing to grab on to. “I-I feel like I’m gonna die— I don’t w-wanna die!”

The scientist let go and took a few steps down the ladder, reaching eye level with his test subject. He extended his hand towards Dew to ruffle his hair like he had done so many times before. He laughed maniacally. “Dew, if it was gonna kill you, it would have by now. I would never let anything bad happen to you. You’re completely safe.”

“P-please!” Dew held on for dear life. He couldn’t go under. He couldn’t. “I d-don’t wanna do th-this!”

“Shhh…” Anton said. And despite it all, he still seemed to have a hold on Dew’s brain, forcing him to relax deeper into himself. “Any minute now, you’ll start to get weaker. I recommend getting yourself comfortable in there before you succumb to the drugs.”

“And- and if I don’t?”

“You won’t be strong enough to keep holding yourself up like this. It’d be less distressing for you to go under on your own will. But I suppose it doesn’t really matter; you’ll go down either way.”

“But I…I can’t…”

His words were getting awfully sluggish, and it was becoming increasingly harder to hold on and keep himself upright.

“N-no…”

His eyelids were growing heavier and heavier, and it was taking a great deal of concentration to try and keep his one sense he had left.

“You’ll be okay, Dew. I promise.”

He looked up at Anton with wide, horrified eyes, as the scientist gently pried his fingers off of the ledge, and let go of his hands. Now that he was no longer holding onto anything, and had no feeling in his limbs, he began to sink deeper into the liquid. The last thing he saw before his head was submerged in that pitch dark fluid, was the scientist smiling down at him, the glow of his bright green goggles, and his hand slowly moving the lid closed.

Then, darkness. Complete and absolute darkness. Dew was fully submerged.

He couldn’t feel a thing. Not even the heavy beat of his own heart. He opened his mouth to scream but didn’t hear or feel a single sound come out. He tried to flail his arms, but he had no perception of moving anything at all. His vision was filled with a dark abyss of nothingness, and he definitely couldn’t taste the bile rising in his throat.

He tried desperately to bang on the glass, but with everything being pitch black and his sense of touch gone, it was impossible to know what he was actually doing with his body. He couldn’t tell whether this fluid affected his ability to see through the dark and objects, or whether his sense of sight was gone just like all his other senses.

Dew felt nothing. He felt as if he didn’t even have a body. If he was moving, if someone was talking to him, if he was even breathing— under this strange liquid— he wouldn't know. All he had was his mind, and his terrified racing thoughts to accompany him in this hellish limbo.

Dew felt like he was nothing but a brain in a jar. He felt like he was floating through space with no concept of human existence. No, he felt like he didn’t exist at all.

Wait.

Was he dead?

Is this what death was?

Dew never really thought about what happens when you die. He hoped there was a better place, and that it would be peaceful, but it didn’t matter in the end, because everyone died.

The concept of literally ceasing to exist always filled Dew with a strange feeling he couldn't describe. It was incomprehensible, but he wasn’t against the idea.

But this wasn’t that. Sure, he was floating in nothing but a black abyss, but he still existed. He could still think, and feel emotions, and wonder, and want so, so badly to know what was happening to him.

His life flashed before his eyes. His childhood with his family, his friends, his pets, his hobbies and his passions and hopes and dreams. He thought about happy days, sad days, sleepovers, being alone, camping trips, anxiety, coming out, failing, music, hurt feelings, school, loss, video games, grief, art, regret. He thought about everything Anton had given him, and everything he had taken away. He thought about the lab, his tomb.

Was this really all his short and pathetic life was for? To live, just to die? Just to die here, alone, by the hands of his tormentor during another horrible experiment on him? He never got to say goodbye to his friends or his pets or his parents. He never got to say goodbye.

It felt like an eternity, floating there, wherever he was, or wasn’t anymore.

Time passed on infinitely. He felt himself fading away.

Just as fast as this whole thing started, it ended. Dew opened his eyes— or maybe they were always open— and all five of his senses came back in a heavy, overwhelming wave.

No. He thought. He didn’t want to feel. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be free.

“...ey? Dewey? Can you hear me? Wake up, Dew. Please wake up.”

Dew’s hands immediately flew up to cover his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a pained yelp.

He was out of that horrible tank, laying next to it on the hard and cold floor, and the scientist was looming over him.

And he could feel everything again.

His heartbeat pounded deep and heavy in his chest and echoed through his ears. His eyes were wide and everything was far too bright and intense but closing his eyes meant he’d be back in that dark abyss, and he- he couldn’t go back there again. He felt his wings and their primal, yearning desire to fly, and he flapped them rapidly, feathers slapping against the floor beneath him. It was all too much.

“Dew, Dew calm down.” Anton’s voice was frantic. “You’re okay. I-I fucked it up, but you’re okay. We’re done now, this- this obviously has much more work to be done to it.”

“You said you wouldn’t kill me!” Dew sobbed.

“Hey. Dew, listen to my voice. You’re okay, you’re— look at me,” Anton dimmed the lights in the lab and waited for Dew’s eyes to focus on him— all three of them. “I-I didn’t kill you. Not at all. You- you were just unconscious. You didn’t die, and you’re still alive. You’re alive.” The scientist was stumbling over his words. Dew had never seen him like this before.

“Get the fuck away from me! Let me go! Let me out of here!”

“Okay, okay. Please calm down.” Dew saw the sight of a syringe and began to sob harder, he was hysterical. Anton quickly injected him, though it was hard when he didn’t stop moving. Dew’s struggles started to die down and after a while, he slumped against the floor and stared teary eyed at Anton.

The scientist just kneeled there, at his side, staring at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Dew slurred. “What the fuck- what the f…”

“Shhh, sh sh sh.” Anton said, and started messily carding a hand through his hair. “Relax, Dew. Calm down. You’re okay.”

“G-go to hell.”

“Shh. Let’s- let’s get you out of here.” Anton picked him up, holding onto him tighter than ever, and carried him to the couch by the kitchen. He laid him down and rested the side of his head to his chest, still clinging to him. Dew laid his head on the arm rest, and used the last of his strength to swat at the scientist with his wings.

Anton curled a hand through Dew’s hair, and wrapped his other hand around his torso. “Dew- Stop that, I’m just trying to make sure—”

“That I’m alive?”

“Yes.” Anton breathed heavily, closing his eyes and listening to Dew’s heart.

“How- how long?” Dew said quietly.

“What?”

“How long did you k-keep me in there?”

“Just, just a few hours, why?”

Tears fell from Dew’s cheeks. “It felt like forever. Like- an eternity. It felt like I was dead.”

Anton just held him tighter.

“I-I need to check your vitals,” Anton said suddenly, but it took him a while to finally move from that spot.

Dew laid there limply as Anton examined him. Sometimes he’d swat at him with his wings. Strange shadows kept consuming his vision and he tried to swat them away too. An icy chill went down Dew’s body as Anton put a stethoscope over his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut. It was all too much. It was all too much.

“Just a- just a bit elevated, but I supposed, that's to be expected.”

“A-Anton?” Dew squeaked.

“Yes?” The scientist turned all his attention to him, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“P-please don’t d-do that to me ag-again. Please.”

“No, yeah, I-I won’t. I won’t. Never again. I’m sorry. I-I’m so sorry.”

That was all Dew needed to hear when he broke down, grasping at the scientist’s sweater and sobbing into his chest. Anton hugged him back tightly, both of them clinging to one another as if their lives depended on it.

“Just let it out, buddy,” Anton said, rubbing Dew’s back and carding a hand through his hair. “That’s right. It’s okay, Dew. Shhh.”

They were like that for a while, neither of them knowing how long. Gradually, they both started to relax, heavy and rapid breathing turning calm and quiet.

Eventually, Dew fell asleep, and after a while of laying with him, Anton stood up. Running a trembling hand through his own disheveled hair, he went to clean up the mess he’d made. He stared at the scattered papers, spilled liquid, dropped pens and broken tape recorders that were littered around his desk, and grabbed a device. He pressed a button, and watched the giant glass tank lower back into the floor.

What a failure. A failure. But he could hardly think about that now. It’d been hours, it was well into the night; what they both needed was sleep. Tomorrow would be better.

After cleaning up the lab, Anton stood up, straightened his lab coat, and walked towards the couch. Dew was sleeping, body exhausted from the day’s events, but he was perfectly okay. He was breathing steady, blood pressure stable, brain active, healthy. Everything turned out okay. This experiment just needed some improvements, was all. They’d try again. …Or not, that was always okay too. Anton had more plans, better plans, than this stupid, reckless idea.

He picked his test subject up and carried him to his room. Anton lingered in his doorway for a little longer than usual, before saying goodnight, and heading out the door.

. . .

Dew woke up later that night. Everything was quiet, and dark, and cold, just like it had always been. He was lying on his back, blinking up at the ceiling, not able to muster up the energy to roll over and wrap his wings around himself and curl up into a ball and cry like he usually did. He just stared, alone and sad. He was glad he could at least see through the darkness, this time.

Dew moved his arms above his head, under his pillow. He felt the cool, sharp metal of his knife.

He could have used it. But he left it sitting abandoned in his pillowcase, day after day. It wouldn’t have been hard for the scientist to find it, or for Dew to get caught trying to stab him. But neither of them did. It existed, unused, as nothing more than something just to have hidden from the scientist.

Dew took out the knife. It stood out in this darkness, the shine glimmering off of his eyes as he turned it around in his hand. He wasn’t holding onto it very tight, he noticed. He was holding it in front of his face, laying down, staring up at the ceiling. If he dropped it, it would land on him. He’d have a scar on his face he wouldn’t be able to explain. Anton would take the knife away in the morning. Dew tightened his grip.

He closed his eyes. Nothing would get better here. Nothing. He was being good, he was doing everything Anton asked of him. He accepted his life here. He would never leave. This was it. This was it. All the pain and experimentation he had to endure every single day would be his life forever. Dew thought things might’ve gotten better if he just complied, but things got worse, he just fell deeper and deeper into his pit of despair. He’d never leave this place, he’d never see his friends again, and he’d never stop being used as a lab rat.

Dew sobbed quietly, squeezing the handle of the knife until his hand started to tremble. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed the pain to stop.

But he— he couldn’t! Dew had never felt this way before! He didn’t want to die! He didn't!

But he thought… maybe… he’d get to finally escape this hell for good, and see his parents again.

His ears rang, which made it hard to tell if the humming above him was real or not.

No, there was absolutely somebody humming nearby. It was coming from the ceiling— in a corner by the door. Dew furrowed his brows and tried to listen deeper. It was a tune he recognised, but one he hadn’t heard in a long time. The voice sounded smooth and peaceful, and yet shaky and quiet, almost impossible to hear. But it sounded so real. It sounded nice. He must be hallucinating.

Dew thought that if he opened his eyes, he’d be all alone, and the pleasant, comforting sound would stop. But if he didn’t, he’d never know where that sound was coming from. What did he have to lose? Dew opened his eyes.

His heart all but stopped.

Up in the corner of his room was a person. A whole person, just… floating there, curled up in a ball while their dangly locks of hair floated all around them. Their skin was dark, and they wore a baggy yellow sweater, but it almost looked desaturated. In fact, their whole body looked like it was blending into the darkness, blurry and hard to focus on, but so very visible to him. They were humming to themself, quietly, rocking back and forth in the air as if they were floating in space, or in the middle of the ocean. Their eyes were squeezed shut— but it was hard to tell because their hair completely covered one of them— and they didn’t seem to notice that Dew was staring.

He had no idea what to do. He must be hallucinating. He couldn’t trust his mind anymore— or his eyes; they were all fucked up, changed beyond recognition. He could see through darkness and walls and objects, of course his brain would trick him into seeing things that weren’t there. Or even… see through into…

No. No. That wasn’t possible. This wasn’t real. Dew was being silly, and stupid. He should just put the knife down and go to sleep.

But he didn’t want to.

“Hey,” Dew said, sitting upright and pulling the blanket to his chest. He got no response. “H-Hey.” The person opened their one visible eye and looked at him with a blank, but pained expression.

“Wh-who are you?” Dew asked.

A beat. Their eye went unnaturally wide for a fraction of a moment. “You can… You can see me…?” They asked, and their voice sounded soft, yet pained, echoey, hollow, like floating in a cave deep underground, crystal clear water dripping down from the stalactites into a shallow pool, letting out a drop amidst the silence. When they spoke, it felt as if they were all around the room and yet nowhere all at once, it felt as if they were touching Dew’s mind and yet far, far away.

Dew brought his knees to his chest. “Y-yeah. Who are you?” He asked again, voice wavering. “What’s going on?”

They blinked, and it felt like their eye was piercing into his soul. A wave of hazy emotions flowed through Dew, a sense of longing and comfort and relief and horror and suffering and sadness all at once. It felt like an ache of dread deep in his chest that didn’t seem to ever go away. He felt deep underwater, drowning in the energy that emitted off the person in his room. Dew didn’t know how long the two of them stared at each other for; time seemed to have stopped completely. He felt like the two of them were the center of the universe, deep in an endless void, alone. And yet, it felt so comforting— and horrifying— when they finally spoke again.

“I’m Max…” The ghost said. “The last lab rat.”

— 

:)

(max’s pronouns are they/them)

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