#do this to your whumpee

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Reason I would make a great whumpee number 186: Earlier today I had this exchange with a few of my friends.

Me- walks into the room, dramatically slumps onto the couch.

My friends- “You okay?”

Me- “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… not exceedingly conscious…” Proceeds to pass out and collapse.

[whump-in-the-closet]

when whumpee is pinned against the wall. by their hands, by their throat, shoved against it by their shirt collar. Just…the choking, the clawing hands, the suffocated begging. and whumper leaning in too close for comfort. the terror, the sudden shot of panic in whumpee’s veins and the floor-dropping sensation of being trapped. when they feel more like an insect pinned to the wall than a human with whumper’s eyes studying them as if they were under a microscope. just…caught. not even like an animal in snare, just caught off guard and disoriented and wide eyed.

[oliversrarebooks]

sleeping standing up

There's something extra whumpy about sleeping or passing out while standing up.

Someone standing guard or performing some important tasks, so exhausted that they're falling asleep on their feet and have to be shaken awake by their comrades.

A whumpee hit with a fast-acting sleeping spell, that look of confusion followed by drowsiness, their eyes closing as they sway gently on their feet before falling.

A whumpee confined in a vertical space much too small, forced to try to get any sleep by awkwardly leaning against the wall. Or else the whumpee is chained to the wall in a way where they can't sit or lay down.

A whumpee falling under a spell or trance, going from acting normally to dazedly sleepwalking towards the enemy.

That moment when the whumpee looks down to realize they're injured, staring at the blood on their hand before they pass out. Especially if they pass out mid-sentence!

Or hit your whumpee with a tranquilizer dart. Let them pull out the dart and look at it with growing realization before they're overtaken and collapse.

[oddsconvert]

Izaak core.

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[b0amagination]

But what’s the point if your whumpee isn’t terrified beyond reason? Scared enough that their whumper has to comfort them and bring them back to reality before they continue torturing them? That the pain wouldn’t even register if not?

[whump-a-la]

Ok, but whumpers who can control/read minds. That's the good shit, and I kind of want to write something about that.

[whumperofworlds]

Have your autistic whumpee deal with an autistic meltdown.

Do it.

[uriswhumpchamber]

Whumpee rushes to their friend, unconscious on the ground, kneeling down beside them to check before they even realize what they're doing. Their friend is breathing, even if softly - and they don't seem hurt, no. Maybe there's the mark left by a needle, or the smell of chemicals, or the marks left by a spell - or maybe there is nothing at all, and it's the exhaustion - or maybe there is nothing at all because it's something else, they've both taken medication from Whumper before, after all.

It's Whumper they hear, walking towards them both - and Whumpee hugs their friend, trying to cover them enough, even if they know it's useless.

And even if they know it's useless, it does not take more than a moment for them to start pleading - not for mercy, because that is not something granted to people like them. For their friend's safety - for their friend's wellbeing. For them to not be hurt - not be hurt more. For them to be left alone, just this once, please, they will be so good, please-

“Fine. Let them go,” Whumper says, and they feel something that almost tastes like euphoria.

They obey, of course. Before they can turn around, before they can show the bitter gratitude they're supposed to, a hand grabs them by the back of their neck.

“Your turn, then.”

Whumper's laugh gets cut short by them begging, again - not there, anywhere else, please, just not in front of them, just not there-

The grip gets tighter, their head almost hitting the ground as they're shoved down, their face right beside their friend's. So close it almost reminds them of sleeping together, the hope of the first rays of sunlight from the window before having to sneak back out, and something stirs in their belly. They know they should brace, but they can't - their body might as well belong to someone else, weak and so detached from their brain they cannot even attempt to order it to prepare.

“Be quiet. You wouldn't want to wake them, would you?”

No. No, never.

[jordanstrophe]

“Whumpee what were you thinking!?” Caretaker grabbed their shoulders and hysterically shook them. 

“I- I-...” Whumpee stuttered, too dazed to feel their own trickling blood. 

“... I wasn’t.”

[cepheusgalaxy]

challenge: draw your whumpee in a maid outfit

[echoingalaxies]

Whumper making Whumpee perform a silly, endless, physical task, like emptying a whole boat full of water only with a tablespoon, no using hands as a tool allowed or the whole thing starts over. Any task that will take weeks, or months, and when they're done, Whumper might just reward them somehow before assigning them a new job.

[loonybun]

hi guys massive trigger warning for bugs and gore but like

one of my all time favorite ideas i’ve come up with for immortal whumpees is peeling back their epidermis and planting larvae inside, and then stitching it back up and waiting for the bugs to hatch. is it physically possible? probably not! but god damn if not for pain it’s still a sensory nightmare. i created this idea for a character of mine named callum. i love him a lot. even if he wants to put bugs under people’s skin.

[snaillamp]

Sunset

CW: contains major character death

“Uh, Villain, I mean no disrespect when I say this, but this building is a waste of money. I do not recommend purchasing it. You’re flushing money down the toilet here.”

Villain clenched their fists, whirling around to look at their assistant. “It’s not about money. This building. It’s more than that! I’m purchasing it now. I won’t let them knock it down!”

The assistant frowned at Villain’s sudden emotional outburst, taking a step back and glancing around the roof they were standing on. The apartment complex was old, a small 6 storey thing with a dirty, crumbling exterior. But when Villain had learned of it’s impending demise, they insisted on purchasing it.

“May I ask something personal, Villain?” The assistant asked cautiously. Villain huffed in annoyance, nodding. “What?”

The assistant sighed, glancing around at the roof. “Why do you want to buy this… derelict building, Villain? There are plenty of good apartments that are in need of renovations, what makes this one so special?”

Villain gazed out at the slowly setting sun, breathing in a soft breeze and smiling. “Let me tell you a story…”

~~

Villain spotted Hero making their way towards them, ready to thwart their plans. Villain quickly took off, running though the streets and scaling a fire escape, Hero hot on their heels. Finally they reached the roof, where Villain chuckled evilly, turning to face their nemesis and sliding into a fighting stance. Hero rolled their eyes, assuming their own and waiting for Villain to attack.

That was weird, Hero always jumped to make the first move. Villain threw a punch, then another, then kicked, easily making contact with Hero, who half heartedly fought back. Stopping suddenly, Villain panted, frowning. “Come on, Hero. Put your back into it, it’s no fun if you don’t try.” Hero scoffed, walking away from the fight, shaking their head. “Hey come on, what’s up?“ Villain asked, following them as they sat on the edge of the small, 6 storey building they were on.

Hero sighed, glancing away. “It’s nothing, Villain, and anyway, why the hell would I tell you? You’re my enemy. We hate each other.” Villain pulled a face. “I mean… sure, I’m not exactly your biggest fan, but I don’t hate you. I like our fights, our banter, everything. It’s all part of the fun that is our job.” They punched Hero’s arm playfully, only for their nemesis to glare at them and shuffle along the wall. ‘Yeah, okay somethings up…’ Villain thought, their face softening. “Hero… I know I’m the last person you wanna tell anything, but… Are you okay? You look… off.” Hero looked up at Villain, sighing. “No, Villain. I’m not.”

Villain shuffled over again. “Come oooooon. It can’t be that bad!” They smirked, wrapping an arm around Hero’s shoulders. “What, your partner leave your or something? Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea, Hero.” Hero scowled. “I don’t have a partner. I live alone. I don’t have anyone.” Villain’s smirk faltered, “Aww come on, Hero! You have me!” They smiled desperately, trying to get Hero to smile, but their nemesis only seemed to grow darker.

’You have to tell someone…’ Hero’s mind reasoned.

“Don’t be so down Hero. I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll be able to fix it! Come on, you’re Hero, you can to anythi-”

“It’s cancer, Villain.” Hero interrupted. “I have cancer…”

Villain stopped, staring in shock as their mind reeled. But Hero was so healthy and strong and alive? So youthful… so witty and smart and… how could they have cancer? “Oh, but I’m sure it’s fine, Hero. I mean, they’re great at treating cancer these days. A few months of chemo and you’ll be right as rain, and back to beating me up for robbing banks or something.” Villain was desperately trying to reason their way out of this as Hero sighed, their eyes shining with tears.

“The prognosis isn’t good, Villain. It’s a rare, aggressive type… It’s in my bones, my blood… my organs. It’s not going to get better.” Hero’s voice cracked as Villain’s head began to shake in disbelief. “But you’re Hero… you can survive anything! You can survive this… you have to!” Hero shook their head.

“No, Villain. I can’t.”

Villain sat in the weight of the silence for a moment, before pulling Hero into a hug. “You didn’t have anyone else to tell, do you?” Hero shook their head. “I live alone… have no friends… work a dead end job and my parents are gone… there’s no one to tell. No one to go through this with me.” Villain shook their head. “No. You have me. I’m not letting you go through this alone. I promise you, I’m gonna take you back here, a year from now and where gonna watch this same damn sun, set right damn here.” Villain pointed at the slowly setting sun, Hero glancing at it, laughing softly. “Okay. You’re on. If you can get me here a year from today, you win.”

The two enemies shook hands, before watching the sun set below the horizon, before both heading home.

~~

Hero sighed as they lay in bed, feeling awful. The chemo had been destroying them, the radiation and the needles and the operations. It was all so much. They were tired.

“And here’s my favourite hero!” Villain piped up, walking into their room. They were holding an obnoxiously large bouquet of colourful flowers. They smelled wonderful. Hero was honestly surprised they could still smell, their taste had vanished not long after chemo started.

Villain hugged Hero tightly, before gently tucking some of their hair out of their eyes. “How are you feeling?” Hero sighed, looking weak. It had only been a couple weeks of treatment but they already looked awful. At least they seemed to be happier with Villain around. They had really come to like each other, outside of being work enemies, they had similar interests, senses of humour… they got along like a house on fire.

Hero admired the flowers as they sighed tiredly, looking back to Villain. “I feel better now that you’re here. I was getting bored out of my mind without you to piss me off.” Villain blushed, hiding it with a smirk, sitting beside Hero, and taking their hand. They held it, rubbing Hero’s pale, weak fingers as Hero began to tell them about the different nurses and doctors.

“Well have you heard about Superhero and their sidekick?” Villain asked, grinning. Hero perked up. “No?” Villain sat back, looking at Hero with a glint in their eye. “Apparently they’re a thing now. Like officially.” Hero laughed, “I knew it! I knew they had a thing for each other, the romantic… hell, the sexual tension was so strong between those two.” Villain nodded eagerly. “I know right? I was wondering when they were gonna stop fucking on the side and make it offical.” Hero frowned. “I didn’t know they were fucking, how did you?” Villain pursed their lips, smiling mysteriously. “Well I was in my way back to my base one night, after fighting you actually. I heard a crash in the alleyway below me, looked down and saw them. They were really going at it…” Villain’s eyes widened at the memory.

“You’re bullshitting.” Hero smirked. “No! I swear!” Villain raised their hands in surrender. “Promise! I saw it.” Smiling, Hero nodded. “Honestly, kinda not surprised. They kept undressing each other with their eyes in the field I swear to god.”

The two laughed, swapping embarrassing stories about their coworkers for the rest of the evening, until Hero began to doze. “Sleep well, my Hero.” Villain whispered as they tucked their friend in, watching them sleep for a bit.

~~

Villain sat with Hero who gazed at nothing in complete silence. They were doing this more and more often since the months of treatment had begun. “Hero?” Villain murmured, touching their arm. Hero seemed to break out of their daze, looking upset. “Oh, Hero… what’s wrong?” Villain asked, already knowing the answer. Hero burst into tears, Villain deciding to crawl up onto the bed and hold them tightly as they sobbed into Villain’s shoulder. Villain rocked them back and forth, hugging them tight and running their hand over Hero’s thinning hair.

“I don’t-wanna d-die, Villain.” They stammered. “I know.” Villain replied, unsure of what to do. “But the treatment has been working, you said yourself, things are looking better.” Hero nodded, sniffing. “Yeah… I guess…” They looked up at Villain. “It’s just… it’s not fair! I wanna be like everyone else my age! Go on stupid dates and mess around with my friends and go to work and complain about the weather… I don’t wanna be here! I don’t wanna be waiting to fucking DIE!” They screamed, voice shaking as Villain held them.

“Hero. You can’t give up. You can beat this, I know you will!” Villain tried to say the words with strength, but they didn’t know if they were saying it for Hero or for themself. “You said yourself the chemo was working pretty well.” Hero shook their head. “Not well enough. Villain, I told you, this is gonna kill me. I’m not gonna see that sunset.” The reality of what Hero had said set in, Villain clutching Hero tightly. “No. You’re gonna see it. I promise you. You’re gonna make it through and see it. You’re almost half way, Hero. You can do this.” Hero shuddered beside Villain. “Bag.” They gasped, reaching with a shaking hand for an emesis bag. Villain grabbed one quickly from the table beside the bed, holding it over Hero’s mouth as they threw up.

“It’s okay, Hero… let it out… let it out…”

~~

Hero seemed to be doing a little better, as Villain helped them up the stairs to the roof. Together, they crossed the building, looking up at the sky. Villain had set up a little picnic before hand, helping Hero sit and eat as they waited for the sun to begin its descent.

Hero lit up at the sight of it, and they laughed, cuddling in the cool evening as they ate way too much cake.

Eventually, they both sat in the edge of the roof, watching the sun go down, hands entwined.

“Told you.” Villain smirked, kissing Hero’s cheek. “I win.”

Hero chuckled, nuzzling Villain’s shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been a year today, since we sat on this exact roof and you said you wouldn’t live to see this sunset.”

Hero laughed, wrapping their arms around Villain. “And I’m glad you made that bet. I couldn’t have done this without you. Especially after I lost my lease on my house… it’s just been nice living with someone too… someone who I love so much.”

The breeze blew gently. “You know… after I’m gone, I don’t want you to mourn me. Move on. Live life to the fullest. All I want is to see you happy.” Hero gazed into Villain’s eyes, before gently pulling them in for a kiss. Villain smirked against their lover’s lips. “You will live to see many more sunsets, my love.”

They watched the vibrant colours begin to fade, as Hero sighed in content, the breeze blowing gently around them. “Hey.” They murmured. “Yes?” Villain asked, running their hand over Hero’s head. “I want you to know, that after everything… every time you feel a breeze, that’s me. My spirit will live on the wind, flying and free… and it will always be with you.” Hero’s voice cracked, as they looked up at Villain, shivering. Villain smiled, cupping their hero’s face. “I like that. I like that a lot.” They swallowed back the rising sob.

“You’re cold. Let’s go home.”

~~

Villain sat beside the bed, clutching Hero’s emaciated hand. They had been in a coma for days… and it was time. “Hero?” Villain breathed through sobs. They had heard hearing was the last thing to go. “Listen to me. I love you. Okay? I love you so, so much. I always will.” They gasped, wiping away tears. “G-Go when you’re ready… okay? Go and fly, and become the wind. It’s okay… alright? You’ll be okay…”

Villains body shuddered as they looked up at Hero’s pale face. “Go when you’re ready… go when when you’re ready…”

Villain wasn’t ready. It had only been two months since the roof picnic. They weren’t ready to say goodbye… and yet, somehow… they were.

So they sat there, repeating their phrase as Hero’s breathing got slower and shallower. They repeated it through the tears, the cries and the shakes…

And then Hero drew their last breath, sighing in relief as they became the wind.

They were finally free.

~~

Villain stood in the rain in front of the grave. Everyone, heroes and villains alike stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the stone.

None of them could believe it. A hero so young and full of life… gone in just over a year. So that day, they all stood together, in solidarity.

For Hero.

~~

“That’s why I can’t give this place up.” Villain whispered, gazing at the sunset. “I’m not ready to move on. I never will be.” They smiled as a gentle, warm breeze kissed their face. “But I have to move on. Which is why I have to make this place something. Help their legacy stay alive.”

Villain glanced at the assistant, who had pulled off their glasses, dabbing their eyes. “I see.” They replied. “Well. I’ll get started on the payment process, and uh… give you a moment.”

Villain nodded appreciatively, feeling the breeze, stronger and warmer this time push against them. Something told them to turn around, so they did. A gasp escaped Villain, before they could stop it.

Hero was standing there, on the edge of the roof, gleaming. Their body was strong, healthy, just as it had been before and they looked so, so happy. Warm golden light illuminated their figure as they nodded at Villain, smiling softly. They were okay. They were free.

Turning into the sun, the light glowed brightly, Villain shielding their eyes as Hero dissolved into the breeze and the light. They could almost hear Hero’s laugh of glee.

Smiling wistfully, Villain nodded.

“Goodbye, my Hero. I love you.”

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump,

@the-lone-youth, @will-o-the-wips, @catnykit, @granny-aaravos, @mj-or-say10

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

[pixelatedraindrops]

I did a collaboration art with @kazinsblog ✨

She made the sketch and I lined/colored it. I even tried to be a little ambiguous and attempted to make detailed backgrounds for the first two panels. (then went back to simple and flat in the third)

I tried to draw out Makoto’s crazy penthouse in Kanai tower, referencing some screenshots I had on me. First panel is the open door of the bedroom leading to the main area, while the second panel I tried to draw out Makoto’s bed. I headcanon that he uses all the pillows on his side of the bed if he’s unwell, and uses the turquoise ones to prop himself up

Makoto, what is your house? XD

Anyway, the comic illustrates Yuma taking care of a sick Makoto. He runs out to get medicine for him, but comes back to him working despite his poor health, worsening his condition. He looks even more pale, and is drenched in sweat. (I gotta make ‘em look as ill as possible lol) This sends Yuma into a mini fit scolding his homunculi twin endlessly. Then he shoves the medicine he bought down his throat xD (that was a little addition that I made) The brothers are fighting lol

It turns out kazin and I share a similar affinity for sick whump, as well as targeting Yuma and Makoto. So we may make more comic art collabs in the future. I had a lot of fun lining and coloring this c: