#enjoy two whumpees trying to caretake each other

[whumpitisthen]

Foreboding Intermezzo

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

The silence is unbearable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Talk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yes, okay. Go ahead.”

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

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

“Mori, can I ask you something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mori looks… very confused.

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

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

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

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

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

So why does that sound so wrong to say suddenly?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

They went extinct a long time ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What were you used for?”

“Bad things.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do, do you know…?”

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

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

Mori looks half dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doesn't look like nothing…”

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

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

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

“And, um, no. It is not very common.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I uh… Dh-, don't panic, alright?”

Mori goes limp and falls to the side.

~

Mastelist | Ko-fi

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

[serickswrites]

hello I've been reading your blog for a while now and I really love your writing!!

I was wondering if you could write something with a whumpee pushing themselves too far, like they're very weak but still get out of bed just to try to prove to caretaker they're not useless, even though they're on the verge of passing out

that's it bye!! you're amazing :D

Hello, anon! Happy to write this for you, no problem at all! Please enjoy!

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced hospital, wounds, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, unconsciousness

Whumpee rose on shaking legs. It had taken the better part of an hour to sit up and stand. The healing wound in their gut protested with each movement. But they couldn't stay in bed any longer. They had to get up and do something.

They didn't care that they had only been released from the hospital two days ago. They didn't care that they had almost bled out in Whumper's compound. They didn't care that they had survived weeks of torture. All they cared about was not being a burden to Caretaker.

And so they had to get up.

As the room began to swim as they took a few stumbling steps forward, Whumpee wondered for a moment if they had overdone it. If they should turn around and go back to bed. But they had made it this far. They had to show Caretaker they weren't a complete invalid.

Slowly, painfully slow, Whumpee made their way out into the hall. Once there, they clutched onto the wall for dear life with each step. One had on their belly, keeping sure their stitches were still in place, and the other on the wall, Whumpee made their way to the living room where they knew Caretaker would be.

Black spots filled their vision as they walked. Sweat poured down their back. But still, Whumpee kept going. They had to.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker shouted as they started at the sight of Whumpee. "Good lord, sit down. You look terrible."

Whumpee felt terrible. Their whole body shook with the effort to remain upright. But they had to keep going. "'mmmmm fffffinnnnnne," they said as they stumbled.

The ground swam up to meet Whumpee, but hands kept them from falling. "I've got you. I've got you. Let's get you back to bed."

As much as Whumpee wanted to reply, wanted to tell Caretaker everything was fine, Whumpee knew everything was not fine. As their grip on consciousness faded, Whumpee made a promise that the next time they were awake, they would show Caretaker that they were stronger, that they were healing. They had to keep going.

[whumplump]

Day 20 of @augusnippets

Prompts used: homemade meal

Not used: quenched thirst / favorite treat

CW: recovery, just whumpee and caretaker spending time together

This one is a lot shorter and less elaborated as I'm very tired

Whumpee lightly tapped the egg on the edge of the bowl. The shell didn't break. They tried harder, but it was too much, cutting the egg in half. They poured the white and yolk into the bowl and threw the shell away with a sigh of frustration.

Seeing their friend's difficulty, Caretaker went to their side and held their hand.

"Try it like this."

They tapped the egg twice on the edge of the bowl, breaking it cleanly without much damage. Whumpee looked at their friend's face, fascinated. Caretaker smiled back.

"Okay, now add the flour."

Whumpee obeyed carefully, paying attention to Caretaker's instructions.

The two keep the atmosphere calm, just the sound of their voices every now and then. Like this, quiet, just enjoying each other's company…

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Whump Prompts: Recovery + Bathing

Content: Multiple caretakers, multiple whumpees, vampire whumpee, tail whump, [non-sexual] nudity, begging, recovery, PTSD/trauma.

Whumpee quietly begging Caretaker to stay with them while they bathe because they're too scared of being alone.

Caretaker cupping Whumpee's face in their wet hands and gently washing the dirt and grime off their face.

Two whumpees bathing together and gently washing each other to make sure they get every spot because their bodies are so sore that they can't do it by themselves.

Whumpee starts to cry as they lower themself/Caretaker lowers them into the tub because they're it's so warm and so nice on their beaten skin.

Perhaps a vampire whumpee who has been put in the sun to burn more times than they can count, taking a cold/lukewarm bath instead and enjoying it just as much.

Two whumpees fighting over who gets the first go in the bath.

A whumpee with a long, fluffy tail finally getting to wash it for the first time in months. It's so matted and filled with dirt, Caretaker can't even begin to imagine how much discomfort it must have brought them. Bonus points if Caretaker helps to carefully cut the clumps off and brush it out after the wash.

Caretaker sitting outside the door of the bathroom and talking to Whumpee as they bathe.

Caretaker gently waking Whumpee up every couple of minutes because they've dozed off in the tub again.

Whumpee trying to convince Caretaker to get into the tub with them because they just wanna feel warm and protected. Major bonus points if it's between two best friends instead of a romantic couple.

Two caretakers helping one whumpee bathe. Whumpee has never felt so comforted and taken care of, and they let their head come to rest on one of Caretaker's legs while the two work at gently cleaning them.

The two of them falling asleep in the tub together. By the time they wake up again their fingers are all pruned and the water is murky and cold, but Whumpee hasn't looked so peaceful in months.

Caretaker lifting Whumpee out of the tub and drying them off before tucking them into bed because they're too weak and tired to walk on their own or they've fallen asleep.

Perhaps Whumpee has been waterboarded/drowned/etc. before and it's a huge hassle even getting them into the tub because they're convinced something is going to hurt them again.

That feeling as Whumpee's muscles begin to relax and they let out a pleasurable little moan because it feels so unbelievably good...

Whumpee refusing to get into the bath naked after getting to cover themselves up for the first time. Caretaker ends up giving them a swimsuit of some kind to make sure they don't end up wearing their favourite sweater and pants to do it.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Serving Tea

A writing exchange for @laffy-taffy-creations! Hope you like it! Also, big thanks to @creweemmaeec11 for helping me write this!

The prompt was as follows:

Set up: Whumpee who is currently staying with Caretaker after being rescued from a place they were used as a servant, every month Whumpee has a breakdown about 'not being used like they're meant to be' (thanks to brainwashing) and each month Caretaker promises to try but never does because they can't imagine ever asking anything of Whumpee.

Prompt: "Master/Mistress, you say this every time... *Let me do something for you*..."

----------------------------

“Whumpee, what’s wrong?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee tried to maintain their composure, but they let out a choked sob anyway. They stood in front of Caretaker with their head down, unable to look them in they eye. Caretaker got up out of their armchair and approached Whumpee, concern etched into their features. They wanted to hug them, but they refrained, knowing Whumpee wouldn’t know how to receive it.

“You s-still won’t use me like I’m meant to be!” Whumpee cried.

Caretaker bit their lip.

“I promise I’ll try-”

“You say that every time!” Whumpee blurted, then gasped.

Whumpee withdrew into themselves, frightened that they had interrupted their master. When they spoke again, it was much quieter.

“Let me do something for you, Master…”

Caretaker’s face fell. Whumpee sounded so… desperate. The last thing they wanted to do was feed into their conditioning, but…

“Okay, Whumpee, can you- can you bring me a… can you bring me a cup of tea?”

Whumpee blinked, looking up. Their face brightened as they nodded quickly. They practically ran to the kitchen to make Caretaker’s tea. Caretaker sighed, settling back into their armchair and burying their face in their hands.

Whumpee returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea in their hands. They handed it to Caretaker.

“Thank you, Whumpee,” Caretaker said quietly, “there’s something else I’d like you to do for me…”

“Of course, Master! Anything.”

“One, like I’ve been telling you, you can call me Caretaker, I’m not your master,” Caretaker said, “two, I want you to bring me another cup, empty this time.”

“Empty? O-of course, Mas- Caretaker, I’ll be right back.”

Whumpee left and returned with an empty teacup. Caretaker took it and poured half of their tea into it. Whumpee tilted their head, puzzled. Caretaker handed the second cup back to Whumpee.

“I don’t understand, M- Caretaker,” Whumpee said.

“It’s for you to drink,” Caretaker explained.

“Oh, Caretaker, I couldn’t-”

“Answer this for me, and be honest, do you not like tea?”

“Oh, I love it, but-”

“Would you not enjoy drinking it?”

“I would enjoy it-”

“Then that’s all there is to it,” Caretaker said with a soft smile, “that’s your tea, and you should drink it. Just like you have your room, and your freedom to do what you want. You don’t need permission from me, and you don’t have to do everything for me.”

Whumpee looked quite conflicted. It was as if Caretaker was speaking a foreign language to them. Hesitantly, they took a sip of the tea. They looked to Caretaker for reassurance.

“It’s alright,” Caretaker said, “no one’s going to punish you. Sit down.”

Caretaker gestured to the other armchair. Whumpee looked horrified.

“Whumpee, this is your home too, you can sit where you want.”

Whumpee gulped, and very gingerly sat down in the soft seat. When nothing bad happened, Whumpee relaxed just a tiny bit.

“There, see?” Caretaker said, “I know it’s hard, but you’ll get used to it, I promise.”

Whumpee nodded, then took another sip of tea. Caretaker held back the urge to cheer.

“Good job,” Caretaker said instead, “it’s good, isn’t it?”

Whumpee nodded with a small smile, taking another sip of their tea. This was the most progress they had made in months. One day, they’d be fully recovered, and wouldn’t feel the need to ask permission for anything or become subservient to a master. Caretaker eagerly awaited that day.

Patreon

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm

[mj-iza-writer]

SP Special Containment part 4. Human Weapons Whumpee

If you want to get a reminder of how this story is going or need to be caught up, use the hashtag #sp special containment. I'm sorry this has taken so long to post.

The director gave an odd look when Caretaker, Agent Mcgee, and Andy entered their office. He eyed the ice pack.

"It didn't go well I take it", the director sighed.

"Aramais threw slippers at my head, and I had to be rescued", Andy sat in a chair.

Mine threw her lunch at the cameras and told me to leave before they lost it", Agent McGee leaned against the wall.

"Whumpee said my heart was beating out of my chest", Caretaker sat in a different chair, "they get spooky when they know something isn't right."

"You didn't tell them anything?", the director sat back.

"I didn't have time too, she said I smelt like secrets, and needed to leave", McGee frowned.

Caretaker sighed, "I told them I wasn't at liberty to talk about it, they shut down completely, and had no interest in me."

"I made a mistake and left the speaker on while we talked. Aramais knows something is up. He is demanding a meeting with you and the other two weapons to be present. He says he wants you to tell them that they shouldn't know what's going on. He gave a warning that a cornered weapon is a very dangerous thing to play with", Andy paused, "he is refusing to eat until you talk to them."

The director groaned, "great."

"We have decided this is far to dangerous for them and us", Caretaker spoke up, "I suggest you explain to them what is going on."

The director sighed, "can we force feed Aramais."

"If you want to try be my guest, I'm not getting anywhere close to him to force a tube up his nose", Andy looked at him angrily, "I took slippers to the head. You need to talk to them now."

The director eyed the three of them, "okay fine, bring them to the board room. Let's get this over with. Each of you bring two guards with you as well. We've never had them together in a room before, I don't know how this will go. I'll be in shortly."

They all grabbed the wheelchairs and went to get their human weapons.

Andy peaked into Aramais's room.

"I don't have the slippers, what did the director say?", Aramais frowned.

Andy pulled in the wheelchair, and grinned.

"Well, first they mentioned to force feed you, but I told them not in a million years am I attempting that", Andy locked the chair into place, "they have okayed a meeting, the other two are being grabbed right now."

Aramais stood and walked to the chair, "full offense, the director sound like an idiot."

"We were joking saying we should have them take care of you three for three separate days", Andy started to strap in, "tell you guys to be on your worst behavior."

"I'd do it, I'd chuck the slippers at him", Aramais waited patiently as he was strapped in, "speaking of, can I wear those please, my feet are cold."

"I'd record the whole thing in the monitor room to watch later", Andy laughed as he put the slippers on Aramais.

Aramais looked around as he was wheeled to the board room.

"I think this is my first time out of that room", Aramais sighed.

"You were considered high risk do to your rank", Andy stated as they wheeled the chair down the hall close to the room, "you were supposed to be given two caregivers actually, but one of them didn't make the cut. You seemed to like me enough that they left it at one."

"You didn't annoy me that's all", Aramais muttered, "plus you're good to me, and I appreciate that."

Andy saw the room ahead, "here we are. I enjoy taking care of you if that helps."

Aramais nodded, "thankyou, I appreciate you taking care of me."

They entered the room.

"Oh no, you're here", Aramais laughed, "who let Jaimie in?"

"I was about to say the same thing", Jaimie smirked.

"Is this a problem?", Agent Mcgee jumped up, "we've never had you three together, and we are a bit on edge."

The guards also stood at the ready.

"No, we just like to pick at each other", Aramais laughed, "Jaimie and I were classed in the same level so we were teamed up quite a bit, we're friendlies."

Jaimie nodded, "it was for our entertainment, and it annoyed our trainers."

Caretaker rushed in, "sorry we're late, Whumpee wasn't wanting to come out at first, then they wanted to look out a window for a few minutes."

"We have Whumpee here to", Aramais grinned.

"Is that okay?", Andy sighed.

"Everyone gets along with Whumpee", Jaimie smiled.

"I had no idea it was you two that were being held here", Whumpee smiled.

"They've been keeping secrets", Aramais stated, then eyed someone as they walked in, "I bet you that person is the reason", Aramais whispered.

"Good we are all here", the director smiled weakly, ignoring Aramais' comment.

Caretaker, Mcgee, and Andy stood behind their charges as the director climbed up the podium steps.

"Hmph", Aramais sighed.

"I'm sorry?", the director looked at Aramais.

"I don't think you are in any position to stand above us and talk down to us, any of us, our caretakers and the guards even", Aramais stated in annoyance, "I know only one of us has actually seen you. You haven't earned any of our respect, and you're keeping secrets."

The director sighed, "you're a hard one, so the rumors are true."

"Not hard, just not a pushover", Aramais came back, "you have to earn my respect. Just like Andy did."

The director stepped down from the podium, "very well, your point is made clear."

Jaimie grinned.

"So we might as well get right to it. I didn't want anything said until it was fully confirmed, as in people are triple checking paperwork. Their is a chance one of the trainers evaded capture, and we don't know where they are", the director glanced at each one of them, "we didn't want to make you three uneasy. Especially if there was an error."

Aramais frowned at the news. He glanced at Jaimie, then at Whumpee.

"Who is it?", Aramais looked back at the director.

"It's uh, it's Whumpee's trainer", the director looked down, "I'm sorry, all of the holding facilities are on high alert. We started the moment we found out."

Whumpee gulped loudly.

Aramais and Jaimie both looked at Whumpee.

"That's a problem, a very big problem", Aramais gritted their teeth, "he was one of the harshest trainers their, Mitch was a living weapon himself. He was above my level even."

The director sighed, "that's why I didn't want you to know, I'm hoping it was an error."

"You don't make errors", Whumpee almost whispered, their mouth dry, "it's not an error."

"Whumpee?", Aramais frowned.

"He's here already", Whumpee looked down, "I haven't said anything as I thought it was my imagination."

"We don't know that", the director stepped toward Whumpee.

"I've seem him, I've smelt him", Whumpee squeezed their eyes, "they're here."

"You know for sure", Jaimie looked at Whumpee.

"Yes, the day in the cafeteria. Right before the sedative took affect, I saw him, I thought it was because of my blackout, my brain was imagining him", Whumpee looked at the director in tears, "he wears a guards uniform."

"You smelt him even", Caretaker leaned over the wheelchair, "are you sure?"

"Yes", Whumpee cried out, "I know that scent."

"You weren't going to tell us", Aramais looked back at the director, "you were just going to let this slide, and while you did that Whumpee was being targeted."

The director couldn't even speak, 'what now?', was his only thought. A lump sat in his throat as he watched Whumpee fighting panic mode. 'WHAT NOW?'

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

SP Special Containment tags. @written-by-jayy @notpeppermint

Thankyou to those who gave me a push to finish this. Part 5 is in the works and hopefully won't take two months. I hope you enjoyed.

[noisilyeclecticmilkshake]

Nothing but Sleep. (1)

pt. 2

“Come on Whumpee, you know we have a big day today. We’ve been planning this all week.”

Caretaker was attempting to gently pull the covers off of Whumpee, but they just groaned and death rolled into another layer of sheets. They were always like this, early to bed, late to rise. Their dreamwalk ability meant their mind was drawn to sleep, and, after one night out with Sidekick, they had found it was also extra-sensitive to not getting enough sleep, something they cursed Sidekick for when they had to go to work the next day. It also meant getting them up for breakfast required 12 workers and a bulldozer. Or, if you happened to have one on hand, Sidekick did pretty well too, so Caretaker went to get her.

“Okay, Whumpee, you have ‘till I count to three, then I’m rolling you out like a sleeping bag!” Sidekick was the very opposite of Whumpee in regards to sleep, she would party ‘till midnight and still be up to make breakfast for everyone the next morning. She also seemed to have no sympathy for Whumpee’s sleeping plight.

“One” Sidekick grabbed the edge of the blanket Whumpee was sleeping in.

“Two.” Her superstrength meant this would not be an issue. Whumpee had to know this, but maybe they thought Sidekick was bluffing.

“Three!” Sidekick was not bluffing.

Whumpee fell out of their cozy blanket burrito with a flop, but awake. “Ohh. Whyyyy? Why can you never wake me up normal?”

“Because you sleep like a dead brick, my very beloved friend.” Sidekick was beaming a smile and Caretaker just laughed, his ability to see auras meant the room was split in half with a purple discontentment and a light orange excitement. 

“I love you guys. Never change.” And Caretaker watched their auras even out a bit, each color adopting a pinkish tint, embarrassed. “Come on. It’s breakfast time, get dressed Whumpee, and don’t even think about getting back in bed. 

“UGH! Fine.” And Whumpee got up. It was a big day after all, they were going with Hero to scope out Villain’s base. 

-

“We’re going over the plan one more time.” Hero had everything planned, even managed to get a blueprint, it was spread out on the table in front of them, covered with marks and notations, a testament to the overtime hours they had put in preparing through the week.

“Whumpee?” 

Whumpee was holding the largest size energy drink they could steal out of Sidekick’s room. It was something they rarely drank on account of thoroughly enjoying sleep, but everyone had put in extra hours and it was getting to Whumpee a bit.

“I stay outside, radio for any trouble I see entering or exiting the base.” It was perfect for them, they could fight, defend themself if need be, but they didn’t have a combat-useful power like Sidekick or Hero.

“Sidekick?” 

“Break down that door! Subdue anyone in our way!” It was said with the cheerful imposition of pacifist.

“Gently.” It was more a warning than a statement, judging by Hero’s tone.

“Yes, Yes. Of course. Gently superstrength subdue anyone in our way.”

“Good, and you’re not breaking down any doors. We don’t want to give Villain a reason to go after anyone, so far we’ve stayed off his radar. Hopefully it can stay that way. I am going to portal myself, Sidekick, and Caretaker inside the building. Remember, this is a recon mission, if we see anyone, we take note, and make plans to go back, we do not engage. There aren’t enough of us to do anything other than what we plan. Understood?”

“Yes.” The team said it in unison. They had heard too many stories of too many groups destroyed trying to save people they were unprepared for, how the captive got team members caught, and, against some particularly bad villains, killed. They even heard mention of minions pretending to be hostages and prisoners, not that anyone would ever not fall for it, you just can’t assume that kind of thing. Not without a ‘what if’ for the rest of your life.

“Caretaker?” Hero’s voice was the same, even, demanding tone it always was in mission mode, but now with a tinge of grimness.

“I am going to be on the lookout for auras. Stop us from running into the Villain’s people.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

[lili-loves-whump]

uhhh hi. Is the mic working? I think so...

Behold! It is I, lili-loves-whump!!

I'm a teenage writer from Australia, and have been on Tumblr for about a year before finally deciding to post my own content!

A few things about me:

I love love love love any version of TMNT, and all the creators who do art and stories around them. Shoutout to my fellow comrades trying to revive ROTTMNT. Keep fighting!!

I mostly write Hero x Villain snippets (not prompts- if you inspire from my work, be sure to take me!!) but occasionally you'll also see whump or even fanart

I don't really like things. If you earn a like from me, that means it's gone in my archive so I can see it again someday.

My book collection is off the charts, so I love giving and receiving recommendations!

The ask box is always open, and even if I take a while, I cherish each person who spends the time to send me a message through it.

you are not perfect

(an angsty fanfic about rottmnt.)

Whumpmas 2023

(all prompts from the 30 days of Whumpmas in 2023)

I'll always continue a snippet if you ask me to, jut drop it in my inbox!!

I am not creative enough to come up and remember all the parts to a previous story. If you realise I've made a mistake somewhere, feel free to send me a polite message so I can fix it :)

Hero x Villain Volume 1

Hero x Villain Volume 2

(50+ prompts about Hero, Villain, and the gang of Supers and Evils running around a city. Not connected unless specified by a number after the title.)

Whump: Volume 1

(5+ prompts about Whumpee, Whumper, caretaker, and the trials and aftermath of torture. Not connected.)

lili thinks

(tiny snippets and random ideas thought up that I don't have motivation to write. Includes shitposts. Not connected.)

lili continues

(mostly just ask games or work I'm tagged in)

Random others:

Donnie

Finger Guns

Vivienne

Lily

Mittens

The Bizarre Restaurant

Lmao

Love

Queen Card

Secret Santa

(prompts that do not fall under the two main subtypes. Not connected.)

that's it!! I really hope you enjoy what I've written.

my ao3 (big projects go here)

my homepage

my reading/book blog

uhhhh yep. that's it from me. have a nice rest of ur day/night xx

[letstalkwhump]

Let's Talk Whump No.16

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community! I’m Malice and I’ll be your host today. 

Here today to talk all things whumpy is the fabulous @whumperofworldsrlds!

Thanks for joining us today! Let’s start with a fact or two about yourself!

Hi! I'm WoW, 28, and I love gaming and writing! I also love making new friends and chatting, even though I'm bad at keeping in touch!

What does whump mean to you? 

To me, whump is an escape, like how some people draw and write to escape from their problems! I'm going through a lot right now, and writing and reading whump is a good way to ease the stress! That and I really enjoy torturing characters, haha!

And how did you find the whump community? What made you want to join? 

I first heard of the term "whump" from a Sherlock Holmes (the original) fic that I forgot the name of at the moment. I first discovered the community around 2019 on Tumblr, after looking up a bunch of kidnapping scenarios. I joined in 2020 because it sounded like fun, as a huge fan of writing kidnappings, and man, I'm glad I did!

Do you think your view on whump changed since you joined? Any specifics such as new or disliked tropes or fandoms?

It hadn't changed a bit, I have to admit, haha! I still love kidnappings and characters getting restrained in some way! There are a few tropes that are squicks and dislikes for personal reasons, but otherwise, the only thing that changed is my love of whump, which has gotten bigger! OC vs. Fandom, I love both, though I wish we had more fandom whump, especially in the fandoms I'm in, Fire Emblem, Super Smash Bros, and Final Fantasy 1!

And your favourite whump trope?

Used as bait is my favourite of all time! Whumpee getting kidnapped as bait for Caretaker/their team, bound and gagged and placed in a highly revealing location for them to find, and they could only scream and struggle in vain as their saviours try to rescue them and get caught themselves! I also love the Parting Words Regret trope! It makes me cry every time whenever Whumpee and Caretaker had a bad argument, and something terrible happens to Whumpee, getting kidnapped, or worse, died. The angst is so good!

Time to hype yourself up! Wat’s your favourite piece that you’ve written?

Out of all the fics and stories I've written, I absolutely LOVE writing and rereading my Super Smash Bros fic, Plead To Me, sadly on AO3 only, sorry! It's a way to celebrate Sephiroth joining Smash Ultimate, and what better way to celebrate his appearance than writing whump where he hurts Cloud Strife and his boyfriend, M!Robin, named Reflet since there's a female version of him to tell them apart! In the fic, he tortures Reflet first, while forcing Cloud to beg and plead so he could stop. He then turns his attention to Cloud himself and tortures him while Reflet watches! And then the rescue from the other Smashers… epic! It all ends well but Sephiroth is still out there, and he'll likely strike again when he has the chance… I absolutely love my description of the whump, along with the two boys' reactions when they're forced to watch each other get hurt and can only scream and plead for the other to not get hurt!

Do you mind sharing what your writing routine looks like?

My writing style needs a bit of work, admittedly, especially in the description parts haha! I usually write while I'm at work (which is overnight), on my lunch break! After working a lot, it feels great to sit down, relax, and write some whump after working hard! I usually have a drink and food with me though I end up forgetting them since I get too focused on my writing, haha! I also write with music blaring (without lyrics so as not to distract me) that fits the mood, like fight scenes, I put RPG fight music. I sometimes do blocks of sentences, but otherwise, a sentence here and there! As for inspiration… I write when inspiration strikes me! I try to write regularly but it feels forced to me, so I usually wait till I find a good prompt for me to use or I get a random idea out of nowhere!

And do you find that it's easier to write some things over others?

The easiest for me is writing what the characters are doing with a flair of some descriptive words as best as possible! The words flow as I write and think of what they're doing, like are they having a conversation? Working on something? Oh man, descriptions are my biggest struggles! Like if I need to describe a chair, all I say is "it's wooden and red" and that's pretty much it, hahaha! I'm working on it though, but it's hard to think of ways to describe some things like settings or items!

Is there anything you're working on at the moment?

I'm working on a few stories and fics with whump! I'm writing a new part of Decedents of Chaos but that kinda stopped for a bit so I can take a break from whump. I also have You're Mine still in the works, just ran into a writer's block. I then have a generic prompt idea sitting in my drafts, and don't get me started on the 292847291 WIPs that I had in my Google Docs for a few years, hahaha!

Is there any advice you’d like to share?

Keep writing, never give up on it! If you need practice, do a "quick scenes" document (basically like sketch dumps for artists, but you put in random scenes that you thought of), and write, write, write whatever you can think of! Also READ! I got better at writing thanks to reading, and I copied a bit of ideas and styles from other writers!

And now a shout out to your favourite writing/whump blogs, bffs or people who've inspired you!

I'll give special thanks to @painful-pooch, @actress4him, @kawhump, @guys-in-distress-database, and my BFF and sister @thequestingbunny for all the encouragement, the love for my stories, and for letting me ramble on about my ideas! Y'all are awesome! I have a lot of others but the list will be too long haha!

Anything you'd like to add?

Know that you're loved, everyone, and keep on trucking! Happy whumping, and keep on torturing your faves!

So good to have you here today, @whumperofworlds!

And to all you folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

[writereleaserepeat]

Information + Writing Masterlists

This blog is 18+ and contains explicit sexual and violent content. It is centered on whump, hurt/comfort, and some ocassional smut. Primarily original content and some fanfiction. Recovery and rescue stories make up the majority of my original writing.

Requests: I am open to requests, for either fanfiction or original content.

Fanfiction: I enjoy writing fanfiction for popular media as well as Tumblr whump stories that move me.

Writing Masterlists: Below the "Read More."

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Original Fiction One-Shot and Prompt Response Masterlist

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Hear No Evil

Rowan is an activist with the Pet Liberation Front. He has spent the better part of a decade assisting the cause as a multimedia specialist, but never spends much time with the victims he is so intent on saving. After going undercover as a buyer to capture abuse on film, he finds a broken boy that steals his heart. Before Rowan knows it, he has a rescue pet at home. Both Rowan and his new houseguest must take steps to heal and adjust to their new normal.

CW: BBU recovery-focused whump. General warning for dehumanization, ableism, BBU and its associated dynamics.

FFO: overwhelmed but well-meaning caretakers, sweet whumpees just doing their best, permanently disabled whumpee

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Gnashing of Teeth

Two years ago, Sasha signed away his humanity in exchange for paying off his debts to the mob. Now he’s not just subhuman, but a prize fighter, set against other unfortunate souls in no-holds-barred matches. Each win earns his new masters cash, and each fight gets him a few days closer to the end of his contract. But this is a brutal industry, and death has long awaited him at the whim of his masters and his competition in the ring. What chance does a monster like him have at rescue and rehabilitation? 

CW: non-BBU pet whump, with both a whump-focused arc and recovery-focused arc. General warnings for dehumanization, body modification, drug use, and violence.

FFO: semi-defiant whumpees, caretakers way out of their depth, whumpee who is aggressive from conditioning, body modifications, whump arcs and recovery arcs

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Blood of the Sun

After 16 months as a living blood bank for a cruel coven of vampires, Shiloh finally makes his escape. There’s just one problem: he escaped into the endless Alaskan tundra, where the sun won't rise for another six weeks, and where hungry vampires rove in packs. Fortunately for Shiloh, a coven is willing to keep him safe until the sun finally rises, and try to heal his many wounds along the way. That is, if Shiloh doesn’t kill them first.

CW: permanent injury, mentions of gore and blood, bloodbag whumpee, hypothermia, frostbite

FFO: vampire caretakers, human whumpee, angry whumpee, spiteful whumpee, whumpees who are fighters (except those times when they're not)

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Tumblr Whump Fanfiction Masterlist

[serickswrites]

Hi Serick! It's good to see you back, I do hope things have been better for you.

Since you're back at writing, see if you like this idea: two whumpers that kind of hate each other have a common enemy, stubborn defiant little whumpee. They're on an alliance for whatever reason and happen to capture whumpee. So now they want to have a little fun with their hated enemy and see who can make them beg first. And they might even get along a bit while doing that!

If you like the idea I'd love to see your take on it! Again, I hope good things come your way. Stay safe.

-Blue

Hello BLUE! My friend! Happy to be back! And thank you for the well wishes. I hope good things come your way!

This is a great idea! I love it. Please enjoy! (And I think this has series potential if anyone wants it continued lol)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warnings: kidnapping (planning), future torture, restraints

Whumper sat in the bushes outside of Whumpee's work place. They hated Whumpee so much. With their perfect life, perfect work, perfect everything. Always rubbing it in Whumper's face. And always escaping. Or being saved. Never giving in to Whumper. Always beating them.

They hated Whumpee so much. And they were going to get them this time, once and for all.

Because this time, unlike all the other times they had tried to get Whumpee, they had help. Second Whumper was here to help them.

Weeks ago, when Caretaker had sprung the still angry and fiesty Whumpee from Whumper's clutches, Second Whumper appeared. Whumper also hated Second Whumper. Just not as much as Whumpee. Second Whumper was always getting in their way. Taking and hurting Whumpee when they, Whumper, had been trying to grab them for weeks.

"We should work together, you and I," Second Whumper said as they offered a hand to Whumper to pull them off the floor.

"Why in the ever loving fuck would I work with you?"

Second Whumper rolled their eyes and pulled their hand away. "Because Whumpee always escapes. Never breaks. Always safe and sound at the end of the day. With Caretaker."

"And?" Whumper struggled to stand, they were still shaky from Caretaker's punches.

"If you and I were to work together, we could catch and keep Whumpee for good. And put an end to their smug little mug."

Whumper did like the sound of that. Which is why they sat in the bushes while Second Whumper lured Whumpee outside and near Whumper. Soon. Soon they would spring and Whumpee would be theirs. And nothing was going to stop them from ending Whumpee. Nothing at all.

[fanatichistory]

Scene Prompt 20

Taking a stab at some hurt/comfort today! Hope I did okay lol

TW: scar/ cigarette burn mention

Whumpee stood uneasily in front of the floor length mirror in the guest bedroom the Team was currently staying in. 

The R&R was long overdue and they were ordered by the higher ups to stand by in the townhome, under cover as a family until given their next assignment.

They honestly hoped that day was a long ways away yet and had a lot of anxiety about returning to the field.

The townhome they were staying in came with a pool and the rest of the team was currently enjoying the amenities as they either splashed around or soaked up the sun. Team Leader was even cooking at the grill, the delicious smell wafting in through the open bedroom window and making their mouth water.

The last assignment was particularly difficult for Whumpee. Having been captured and used as a hostage put the entire team at risk and nearly cost them the mission, which weighed heavily on them. 

As Whumpee stared at their reflection in the mirror, dressed in their swimsuit as if ready to join the others, they could see every scar made by Whumper during their time as a hostage. 

Cuts and long jagged lines criss crossed their arms and back, a few travelled down their legs. Their sides sported two pronged marks, from the cattle prod, and a few cigarette burns along their jaw and several more burns on their palms. The swimsuit showed all of it. Everything Whumper had done to them.

Bile rose in Whumpee's throat as they couldn't bear to make eye contact with themselves in the reflected image anymore. Arms crossing over their torso as they anxiously rubbed their hands on their arms as if to get warm despite the summer heat.

"I wouldn't worry about it."

Whumpee yelped, startled at the sound of Caretaker's voice as they were caught leaning on the doorframe watching Whumpee take stock of themselves.

"You're a survivor Whumpee, like me. You're scars just tell the story is all. Granted there is a bit of an adjustment period..." Caretaker gave a small, yet reassuring smile as they entered the bedroom.

"I-I...I don't know how Caretaker..." Whumpee admitted quietly, looking down at the floor as Caretaker approached them in front of the mirror.

Without saying a word, Caretaker peeled off their shirt and revealed their own scars to them. The same criss crossing lines marked up their torso and arms, travelling down past their shorts. The same two pronged marks Whumpee had from the cattle prod were in a similar pattern on both sides of Caretaker's own torso. 

Whumpee's eyes moved along each mark and scar on Caretaker's body in quiet awe. They were the same, survived the same person. "Whumper?"

Caretaker merely nodded as they sat down on the edge of the bed while motioning Whumpee to join them. Slowly and cautiously, they did. Gingerly sitting next to them while trying not to stare at the scars that told a similar story to their own.

"My scars show pain and suffering, that much is true for both of us, but they also show my will to survive. Our will. They're part of my history which will always be there. And yours too, Whumpee. " Caretaker rested their hand on their leg in offering for Whumpee to hold it.

Whumpee took it and Caretaker gave their hand a squeeze to reassure them further.

"This is just your adjustment period. If you're not ready to show the world your story, that's okay too. Here." Caretaker offered them their shirt to wear over their swimsuit in attempt to hide the scars. 

"I promise it will get better. You've got me and the rest of the Team looking out for you, so don't give up just yet Whumpee." Caretaker added with a brilliant smile.

Whumpee couldn't help the hope that bloomed in their chest as they clutched the shirt to themselves. 

Caretaker just radiated warmth and comfort, which felt so good to Whumpee that they couldn't restrain themselves from giving Caretaker a hug while thanking them profusely.

Caretaker gave a light laugh and squeezed them back.

"Team Leader should be just about done with the grilling...how about we go dig in before the others lay claim to the good stuff?" 

"Sounds like a good deal!" Whumpee grinned, donning Caretaker's shirt and giving themselves one final appraising look in the mirror. 

Yes, the shirt covered the scars nicely, being two sizes too large for Whumpee's frame, but that was okay Whumpee determined. 

It was just an adjustment period after all.

[a-crumb-of-whump]

A New Beginning #9: Overwhelmed

Masterlist

Content: Vampire whumpee, human caretaker, [mentioned] multiple caretakers, [non-sexual] nudity, blood (feeding), recovery.

Not sure how happy with this one but take it anyway <3

-

Picking what to wear each day was hard- far harder than Carlos ever could have imagined. His entire life had been spent wearing whatever was given to him, and that was assuming he even got to wear clothes in the first place. Now that he had full control over what went on his body, he wasn’t sure he liked it all that much.

Today, however, was a particularly bad day. He must have spent an hour or two at the very least staring at every item of clothing he owned, eyes getting progressively wetter and his bottom lip jutting out more and more. He even took to trying several different outfits on, but before he even managed to look at himself in the mirror, he was desperately yanking it all off again. Nothing felt right, and it made him want to claw at his brain. Why was this so hard?

By the time Ryker finally came to say good morning, he was curled up against the headboard of his bed with nothing to cover him up. He gave a quiet ‘come in’ before returning to complete silence, glaring at all the clothes scattered across the bed and the floor.

You really are pathetic, he heard the voice in his head sneer. Can’t even dress yourself without throwing a tantrum.

“Good morning,” the human greeted as he stuck his head inside. He took a brief look around and then glanced over at Carlos himself, seemingly confused by the state of everything. Despite it, Carlos couldn’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed. “What, uh… what happened?”

“Everything is wrong,” Carlos whispered into his arm. He watched as Ryker carefully stepped inside and closed the door again; picking up a few items of clothing as he went. “I can’t- there’s too many options. Everything I put on looks and feels wrong. I- I mean; I have to pick out a shirt and socks and pants and underwear, and they all have to go together or it’ll look weird, and- and then there’s accessories like belts and jewellery and probably other stuff that I don’t even know about. How do you do this every day? How does Adam enjoy this? It’s so- so overwhelming!”

Carlos hardly even realised he was crying until Ryker sat down beside him and gently wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. He felt so silly, crying over something so incredibly mundane but he couldn’t help himself.

Then he felt Ryker pulling him into a hug. “I know,” he murmured as he gently rested the side of his face against Carlos’ head. Despite himself, the vampire leaned right into his hold and propped his chin on his shoulder, wanting desperately for the tears to stop. “I know it can be hard. Would it be easier if we picked out an outfit together?”

Carlos thought about it for a moment before forcing a small nod. Perhaps it would be. If there was two people doing it, that meant less thinking for him, right? Maybe he could do that. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt his head so much.

He gave a second, firmer nod. Yeah.

-

Ryker took to simply holding him for a few minutes before they moved on to picking an outfit. He seemed to need it a lot at the moment – proper contact from another person that didn’t involve hurting. Even Adam had noticed it, and though he wasn’t a particularly touchy person, he’d give Carlos the occasional random hand squeeze or hug.

It wasn’t until his tears had slowed a little and he wasn’t hyperventilating to such a degree that Ryker gently peeled Carlos off him and stood up, careful not to trod on any of the clothes lying about. Adam was sure to have his head if he ever did that in front of him.

Though he didn’t like it, Carlos accepted the lack of contact and curled up again as he watched the human pick up some more clothing and dump it on the bed. There wasn’t a lot, but with the way it was all sprawled out across the place, it certainly looked like a lot.

“So, we’ll start with underwear,” he informed him, already reaching down to pick up a pair from the floor. “You don’t have to worry about what they look like because nobody is gonna see them, so how about we go with these ones?” Without even waiting for a response, he carefully tossed a black pair in Carlos’ general direction; waiting until he was sure the vampire was content with his choice before moving on.

“Now, we’ll pick out a shirt. I personally find that picking out pants is always easier once I have the top picket out. Would you like to wear a hoodie or a short-sleeved shirt or something else?”

Carlos didn’t seem to hesitate. “Can I have my pink hoodie? The one with the heart on the sleeve? I know it needs a wash but I would really like it, just for today.”

“Of course you can,” and Ryker threw that his way, too.

Within ten minutes, Carlos finally had an outfit that worked for him. His arms were barely long enough to fit through the sleeves of the hoodie, but he seemed to like that aspect of it. Ryker couldn’t help but smile as the vampire looked at himself in the mirror; the edge of one of his sleeves in between his teeth as he looked himself over.

Gently, he slung one of his arms across Carlos’ bony shoulders and met his eyes through the mirror. “Feel better?”

He was met with a rather enthusiastic nod. “Yes, sir. Thank… thank you for being patient with me.”

“Of course,” Ryker grinned, lifting one hand up to ruffle the vampire’s growing hair. Seeing the small smile curved on Carlos’ face was enough to keep him happy as well. It so rarely happened that when it did, he knew he’d done something right. “I get it; picking out clothes can be scary. I can imagine you haven’t had a lot of practice, either.”

Not to his surprise, Carlos agreed as he leaned into the human’s touch for a moment. “Not in many years… do you think I’ll ever enjoy it like Adam does?”

“No one enjoys clothing like Adam does,” Ryker joked with a snort. He then glanced back at him through the mirror and sighed quietly. “Not everyone is into fashion, unfortunately. I wanted to be, back when I was younger but I never really… cared enough to actually enjoy it. I’d throw on the first thing I found and call it a day. Perhaps with someone like Adam in your life, you’ll start to enjoy it more, though. I don’t know.”

Carlos seemed a little disappointed by that answer; his lips curving into a small frown and his head sinking a little. However, the moment Ryker happened to mention that there was blood waiting on the counter for him, all thoughts of the previous conversation were immediately forgotten as he skipped off to find it; leaving the human to follow along behind him. By the time he got to the kitchen, Carlos was already downing the entire cup; his face tilted right up in an attempt to get as much as possible.

“Is Adam at work?” he asked quietly as he lapped up the last of it from the bottom.

“Unfortunately. I’ve got some paperwork to do, but I’ll still be around if you need me. How are you coping with being by yourself?”

The vampire glanced up. Ryker couldn’t help but smile when he noticed the way his tongue stuck out between his teeth as he thought about it.

“Good, I think. I miss you and Adam when you’re not home, but I have Luca and Murphy to keep me company. I also have movies and colouring books and lots of other things for entertainment. Did you know I even tried cooking the other day while you were both out?”

Ryker raised an eyebrow as he dumped his coffee cup into the sink and flicked the tap on. “Really?”

“Yeah! I made a little brownie cake. I don’t think I did a very good job, but it kept me occupied.”

“—and where was this brownie when I arrived home?”

Carlos flushed bright red. “In Adam’s stomach, I think… but I can make another one if you’d like! I promise I clean up very well.”

“That would be lovely.”

While he waited for the sink to fill up, Ryker began to collect dishes from around the house as he and the vampire talked. Eager to help, Carlos followed along behind him; picking up the odd utensil or cup. He was so content just existing within the human’s presence, and getting to help out where possible only fuelled it. Thankfully, he was now getting strong enough to afford doing chores, so Ryker didn’t have to worry about possible injuries or working himself too hard. It was virtually impossible.

So instead of playing parent he let him do as he wished, and when they were both done, Ryker flicked the tap off and began to scrub things before setting them on the drying rack while the vampire sat on top of the kitchen counter.

For once, he had a genuine smile playing on his lips as he swung his feet and quietly rambled on about his new favourite colouring book, and it took a moment for Ryker to realise that this was major progress for him.

Major progress.  

"I'm proud of you," he suddenly blurted before he could even begin to stop himself.

There was a brief pause as Carlos tried to figure out why, but after a moment, he simply lifted his chin and grinned. "Really?"

“Yeah! You’ve… well, you’ve come a long way since you first got here. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I know that you may not see it, but I see it and I think you should know.”

—and instead of his usual protests of embarrassment and red face, he puffed his chest a little more and returned to swinging his feet.

“Thank you, sir!”

-

Taglist: @whumpsday @whump-blog @emcscared-whumps @pigeonwhumps @sacredwrath @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpshaped @inkkswhumpandstuff @pumpkin-spice-whump @whumpycries @espresso-depresso-system @trans-writes @alexkolax

(Ask to be added or taken off. The taglist is for the main story, along with any AUs, drabbles, etc.)

[kim-poce]

Full House 30 - “Garden”

Previous | Next

Masterlist

This came out a bit more bittersweet than I planned

CW: Pet whump, multiple whumpees, caretaker new master, force-feeding mention.

=-=

There were two bromeliads on the youngest's window, as he did not join the others in the garden. Between the bromeliads was one of Beige’s aloe vera, so it was like —Beige liked to think— a small part of the outside inside the room.

Purple and Pink put their in the living room, it was —Purple was sure— bad behavior, but the opportunity of putting green things around the room he is in the most is too good to let pass.

Night put his outside, in a spot he can always watch when on guard, and Day's was inside his room by the window.

The pets weren't sure where Master's was, maybe in his room? Must be since no one could see it around.

Master Eri said that they could use the garden —a small, stair-like thing with three "steps", each one was in truth a wooden box full of black earth— as they wished, and that he would plant his other one later.

“So…” Day started, he was talking really often lately, not only the whispers to Night from time to time, not only the little warning of what he heard to Beige so he could do something about it, he was truly talking.

Night —as always— had a theory of the reason, he said the pets always used every little time they could to talk to each other, to warn each other, because they needed to in order to survive, and now every time they are alone and out of the earshot of Master they talked, he also said —while putting a lot of emphasis in how this must be a trap and how bad Master is— that there are less warning now, less perceived dangers, and more time together, so the pets still talk, but now they can talk about things other than a way to stay alive.

“Where is he now?” Day asked in a low voice, carefully digging a small hole in the soft soil, taking way more time than needed.

“W-w-with the boy,” Pink told, Master had entered the bedroom right after he left, which was scary but fast.

“Doing what?” Night asked, not caring about hiding the anger in his voice at first, but being more careful after Pink flinched. He had planted his snake plant in a couple of seconds as soon as he arrived and was now stabbing the soil with a plastic shovel, “We shouldn’t let Sir Eri stay with him.”

“We are pets, we can’t tell Master what to do,” Purple said, his voice trained but with a drop of warning.

“We can if we try, people are idiots anyway.”

“Night,” Day scolded, looking from one side to another, “Enough.”

Night tsked his tongue, he kept stabbing the soil, but now with a slightly shivering hand.

“What if-” Beige started, tracing his fingers on his aloe vera, “He said he won’t- won’t hurt us so what if-”

“Nope,” Night cut, “He is human, so he is bad.”

“I… I don’t want to to badmouth him but please Beige, don’t… don’t create hope,” Day said, voice full of worry and sadness.

Beige glanced at the lapdogs, Pink shook his head and Purple swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact.

“Y-you… you must be right,” he said, heart racing, he didn’t want to say that he won’t be able to steal things with the way Master is organized, he didn't say he can't help the way he did anymore, it would make the others scared, and he certainly wouldn’t say what he thinks Master’s identity is, he wants to be sure before telling such scary news.

The “garden” —it was kinda hard to see the five plants in there as a garden— was all planted already, but Master had yet to come to plant his, which wasn’t too bad, it was the end of the afternoon, the area was shadowed and the day wasn’t hot.

The lapdogs appreciated the sunlight and outside air, most of the time they must stay pretty and kneel in the living room, looking down rather than out the window.

Beige also enjoyed the time out; an allowed time to rest, near most of the other pets. He felt less lonely, even if just for a while.

“I didn't talk to him yet,” Purple admitted when the talk moved back to Little One, “Master never said I could go there.”

He also didn't say you couldn't do it. Night thought, but he knew that permissions must be clearly stated. “You want to?”

“I don’t want him to think I don’t want to meet him,” Purple said, the only time he had seen him was when he was punished in The Room, back then, the boy was unconscious and Purple was too scared and in too much pain to really pay attention to him. “But… but I’m not allowed.”

The other pets silently agreed, it isn’t because everyone is being bad that Purple needs to misbehave too.

“Is he… eating?” Day asked, Beige just shook his head.

Pink swallowed hard before speaking, “What is… what is the problem with with food? I know he doesn’t- he can’t eat, but why?”

Beige, Day and Night glanced at each other uncomfortable, “It’s…” Night started when the other stayed in silence, “... there is this… this funnel and Day hold him and I… I force the the food down and…” he was looking down guiltily, “He used to to throw up so… so there was a gag, and he he couldn’t… anymore, but he tries so…”

“Sorry, I I shouldn’t asked I-”

They all kept silent for a long time after that, just looking down at the ground. The only sound was coming from Night still stabbing the soil with the shovel.

“Oh!” Beige said, “I I almost almost forgot to to tell, he doesn’t he doesn’t like touching he he hates it, since since always.”

Pink looked up, “T-this explains why he backs away when I touch the bed… thank you I’ll I’ll keep this in mind.”

They all wanted to ask how things would be from now, but neither of them would be able to answer, and talking about it would only scare them, so they tried to simply enjoy the little current piece instead of thinking about the uncertain future.

Master came after a while, he praised everyone, gave pets to everyone, and planted his small succulent in a corner, as if he didn’t want it to mix with the pet’s plants, “It’s getting late,” he said, “Let’s come back inside, I made dinner today.”

Beige glanced up, but before he could beg for forgiveness Master told him that it was okay, he patted him once more and they all came back inside. Master was nice once again, as all the days before that, and the pets were just actively killing any hope threatening to grow, and trying to keep these nice moments in their memory because they know it won’t last long.

=-=

Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-blog, @wolfeyedwitch, @octopus-reactivated, @sufferfictionalcharacters, @rat-father, @badluck990, @onlybadendings, @inpainandsuffering, @mazeish, @neuro-whump, @freefallingup13, , @sideblogformindtrash, @extemporary-username, @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @neverthelass, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whumpfessional, @sinning-shipping-trash, @batfacedliar-yetagain, @scp-1296, @dont-touch-my-soup, @endlesscyclezz, @nicolepascaline, @rose-pinkie, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @theadorelocksly, @dyingisbadforyourhealth

[painsandconfusion]

Soft Caretaker / Whumpee Interactions

Wouldja look at that. Sand can write comfort. Weird, I know. @not-amber-schmidt got me thinking about it.

Just some soft comfort things for your bruised babies in recovery. Enjoy.

Caretaker and Whumpee spread out a picnic blanket in the park, watching for shapes in the clouds and they role lazily by.

Caretaker and Whumpee sitting on a beach, trying to guess who the seagulls will terrorize next. Laughing and exchanging "I told you so"s when they get one right.

The two decorating the house for the holidays. Snacking on far too much chocolate and candy as they put up cheesy figurines and window stickers.

Caretaker making two cups of tea and wordlessly handing one to Whumpee, sitting next to them so they are just a little bit less alone.

Whumpee knocks quietly on Caretaker's door after a nightmare. They slip into Caretaker's bed, snuggling in close and letting the fear melt away into warmth and sleepiness.

Caretaker and Whumpee curled up on the couch watching a horror movie. Caretaker holds them close during the scary parts, letting them bury their face in Caretaker's shoulder.

Caretaker and Whumpee are washing both sides of a glass door at the same time. Caretaker laughs, trying to perfectly mirror Whumpee's movements. Whumpee darts the rag back and forth, trying to evade them until the two are cracking up, playing tag until the glass is spotless.

Caretaker and Whumpee sit on the ground in front of a campfire, staring into the shimmering coals and telling countless stories.

The two climb onto the roof with a bottle of cheap wine in the middle of the night. They just lay there, passing it back and forth as they stare up at the constellations.

Caretaker and Whumpee singing along to the song on the radio at the top of their lungs, bouncing up and down as they drive down long, empty highways lit by stars.

Caretaker gently putting a kitten in Whumpee's lap. Reassuring them that they won't drop it or hurt it. Guiding their hands to pet gently along its back as it curls up to sleep.

Caretaker gently brushing through Whumpee's hair, pulling free any knots or tangles.

Caretaker making Whumpee close their eyes. They hand-feed them pieces of fruit or candy, letting them try to guess what one they just got. Whumpee gets most of them wrong, but is laughing anyway, swearing they're doing better than Caretaker would.

Caretaker washing Whumpee's hair. Whumpee's eyes flutter closed as Caretaker massages the sweet shampoo into their scalp. Their tense muscles unwind under the soothing, rhythmic pressure.

Caretaker and Whumpee playing Jenga on the floor of the living room. Caretaker blows on the tower, prompting Whumpee to squeal 'No no no!' as Caretaker laughs. When Whumpee wins regardless, they beam at Caretaker.

Caretaker holds Whumpee's hand as they drive, gently rubbing their thumb up and down Whumpee's.

Caretaker asks Whumpee to cut their hair. It's just a trim, but Whumpee is nervous they'll mess it up. "Don't worry. I trust you. It's going to turn out great."

Caretaker reading a book out loud while Whumpee works on small chores, knowing their voice will sooth them, even if the words are random or out of context.

Caretaker draws a bath for Whumpee after a stressful day. They get it exactly the right temperature with scented, soothing oils. A place where they can just escape, sit and forget the worries of the day.

Caretaker snugging Whumpee in a big, fluffy blanket, wrapping them up like a big floofy burrito.

Playing video games together, just letting the world melt away as they explore the game and talk to npcs, reading the dialogues out loud in silly voices.

Hugs. Just....big hugs. Long hugs when Whumpee comes home. Quick goodbye hugs. Surprise hugs. Tackle hugs. Soft hugs. All the hugs.

Caretaker and Whumpee walk through the park, holding hands. Pointing out squirrels chasing each other around the trees and sitting for a while to watch the ducks swim.

Caretaker gives Whumpee their big, cozy, worn out hoodie. Whumpee wraps themself completely in it, refusing to take it off.

.

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @jadeocean46910 @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @lav-whumps @wormwriting @meowsikbox @villainsvictim )

[bright-whump]

FEBUWHUMP2022 DAY 5: "LET ME SEE"

@febuwhump

CWs: torture, knives, branding, captivity, self-sacrifice, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee + defiant caretaker, threat of non-con

"Choose."

Whumpee grabs at Whumper's pantleg, gasping, "Me. Please. Me."

"No!" Caretaker cries, pulling hard at the lock around his ankle, keeping him chained to the wall and the ability to defend Whumpee just out of reach, keeping him helpless. "Please, me!"

Whumper smirks at him, malicious and dark. "As much as I'd love to...Whumpee is the one who gets to pick today. You two are so cute...loving each other more than you hate being hurt by me. But oh, this one is such a special honor...Whumpee, my favorite...I'm glad it's yours."

They flip their knife around, heating the tip with a lighter. They straddle Whumpee's hips, rip open his shirt, and then take the red hot blade to their chest. Caretaker can't see Whumpee's face, but he can hear the screams of pain, the agonized groaning, and he shouts for Whumper to stop...but knows by now, with all of his own wounds, that they won't.

"Perfect," Whumper finally says, standing up, and Whumpee curls into himself, back to Caretaker, weeping.

"Sweetheart...it looks great, don't be so upset...do you need some comfort?" They cover Whumpee's mouth with one hand, and then slide the other down to his stomach, lower— "I could—"

"Don't touch him!" Caretaker yells, as loud as they can. "You sick fuck!"

Whumper sighs heavily, and then turns to smile at him. "I should fuck him right here, shouldn't I? How would you feel about that, dear Caretaker? Would you still feel like playing tough?"

Whumpee groans, squirming to get out from under them, and Whumper presses their knife to his throat, stilling him.

"Do you think if I asked..." Whumper goes on, "he'd still pick himself? Or would he pick you? He's terrified...you should feel how much he's shaking..."

"Fuck you," Caretaker says. "He's good, right? Your favorite? What am I?"

"A pest I hope to get rid of soon."

"Then hurt me. Fuck you. Hurt me! You fucking piece of shit, you asshole, you—"

Whumper swings his hand out, and Caretaker doesn't realize it's the one holding the knife until there's a sharp sting across his cheek, and blood starts to drip down and off his chin.

"Next time it'll be your neck," Whumper says, as Caretaker presses his hand over the gash. "Or maybe I'll just cut your tongue out. Would you be so happy choosing yourself, if that was what I was going to do?"

Caretaker doesn't respond. They know the answer already.

Whumper hums. "You're fun. I want you dead, but you're fun. And when you are, I promise...I'll keep Whumpee nice and warm."

But they move. They get off of Whumpee, and stand up, sheathing their knife. "Your turn again tomorrow, Caretaker. And because of your pretty mouth not knowing when to stay shut, I'm thinking...something really awful. Maybe with...electricity? Fire? Hmm? I'll make it good, I promise. You'll enjoy it. I'll enjoy it, in any case."

Caretaker doesn't falter, even as his heart skips, and he glares at Whumper until they're gone, until the two of them are alone again.

"Whumpee—"

Whumpee's whimpering is heartbreaking. He's rocking himself gently, curled up as tight as he can manage, and Caretaker can do nothing but try to verbally coax him to move closer.

"Whumpee...love...please, please, come here, it's okay...it's okay..."

"What did you do...?" Whumpee asks. "Caretaker, why did you—"

"Should I have just let them—"

"Yes!" Whumpee shouts, and then curls up tighter.

Caretaker is silent for a moment, and then shakes his head. Whumpee doesn't know what he's saying. He just doesn't. "Stop. Just...it's over. Come here, please..."

Whumpee hesitates, long enough Caretaker feels tears mixing with the blood down his cheek, but then pulls his shirt closed with a trembling hand and then drags himself over to where they're both at the ends of their chains, where Caretaker can lean over to hold him, to cradle him in his arms with Whumpee's head on his lap.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Whumpee's mumbling, reaching up to touch Caretaker's cheek, as if any of this is his fault or Caretaker was the one just branded, and Caretaker pets through his hair, shushing him.

"No, no...it's okay...it's okay...you didn't do anything...this isn't your fault...oh, Whumpee, what did they do...? Let me see..."

"No!" Whumpee shouts, slapping Caretaker's hand away. "Don't. It hurts. It's just...cuts. It's nothing. I can take tomorrow's! I can. Whatever it is. You have to pick me, Caretaker, I can't—"

He trails off into sobs. They both know Caretaker won't. Caretaker doesn't even bother responding, or pretending, and just rocks Whumpee until he's cried himself close to sleep, shivering feverishly and limp in Caretaker's arms.

He takes a finger, and pulls back Whumpee's shirt, gentle as he can, and has to hold back any reaction, any scream of frustration he wants to let out.

Whumper had etched their name into Whumpee's chest, just below his collarbone.

"Whumpee..." he whispers, and then buries his face in Whumpee's hair to cry, fearing what tomorrow will bring.