#forced to hurt

[painsandconfusion]

You know when whumper forces caretaker to hurt whumpee?

And the only thing 'making' them do it is the simple threat "Do it. Or I will."

And that's enough?

Yeah. That's the good stuff.

[funkytownwinchester]

This scene was fucking delicious. There is so much underappreciated whump in supernatural, generally speaking, and i think that's a crime (S15E09)

[Click here for my supernatural gifs]

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

what do you think about a whumpee coming very close to death, but not actually dying? do you think that would be peaceful too? or just.,, agony?? (i definitely lean towards it being painful, but i love your posts about peaceful death and i was wondering what you'd do with an NDE)

Why not both?

Honestly, I really enjoy when pain is used to signify the line between life and death! Dying hurts. The burning pain that steals your breath, the pounding of your heart that only makes your blood spill faster. The pain is unbearable, and the terror that comes with dying is maddening. Dying hurts.

Being dead doesn’t hurt. It’s a painful road with a peaceful destination, one that becomes easier the longer you’re on it. Because pain is for the living, those who still have a chance to survive. As that chance fades, as whumpee’s body gives up on them, the pain fades with it.

Whumpee’s senses dull as their body gives up, shutting down. Their heart slows, adrenaline fading as their body loses the energy to struggle. The agony becomes a distant throb, the terror sinking into a confused, delirious daze. They can’t feel the cold anymore, even as their lips turn blue.

Whumpee is dying. They know it, but the knowledge grows more distant as everything fades. All they can feel is the sticky warmth pooling around their body.

And! I just love how it inverses our understanding of pain and peace. Suddenly, it’s comfort and peace that represent danger. Suddening, resting is a death sentence, escaping pain is to embrace damnation. To be alive is to hurt, to scream and cry and writhe, fighting against the pain with everything you have. In this moment, peace is a deadly temptation.

It also puts caretaker in an interesting situation. As they’re cradling Whumpee’s bloodied body in the ambulance, they can’t help the mix of sorrow and terror and relief at the look of agony on whumpee’s face. If Whumpee is hurting– fingers clenched into tight fists, sweat trickling down their brow, tears spilling from their eyes—it means they’re still alive. Every moan of pain is a promise that they’re still there.

Caretaker comforts them as best as possible. They run shaking hands through sweat stained hair, uncaring of the blood staining their fingers. They promise that Whumpee will be okay, they refuse to leave whumpee’s side for a moment. In that moment caretaker would give Whumpee anything they’d ask for. Anything but rest.

When whumpee’s eyes begin closing, caretaker doesn’t hesitate to shake them away. They don’t hesitate to pinch sharply at their sides, slap roughly at their pale face. Caretaker doesn’t hesitate to push into Whumpee’s wounds until they scream.

It hurts them to see Whumpee like this, it hurts them to cause Whumpee so much pain. It hurts when whumpee’s hazy eyes turn up to caretaker, a look of betrayal and hurt stretched onto their features. It hurts when Whumpee begs to be allowed to sleep and Caretaker has to refuse them.

But Caretaker will do it. They’re willing to do anything to keep whumpee alive, even if that means hurting them.

[whumpshaped]

thinking about like.. a cursed/brainwashed whumpee trying to seek comfort from caretaker. but in reality, whumpee is hallucinating any sort of comfort and they’re actually just attacking caretaker instead of hugging them. and they don’t realise until caretaker is either severely injured or dead. （╹◡╹）

content: murder, forced to hurt, knives, stabbing, emotional whump, psychological whump, major character death, magical whump

"Caretaker?" Whumpee raised their teary eyes to meet their friend's gaze, their voice shaking as they called out. "Is— is it really you?"

Caretaker nodded, breaking out into a big grin. "Sure is. I've been looking everywhere for you."

It was too good to be true — yet here they were in the flesh, opening their arms for Whumpee to give them a hug. Whumpee didn't hesitate a second.

They rushed to Caretaker and wrapped their arms around them, holding them tight. "I've missed you so much! So much! You have no idea what they did to me, I— I don't even want to talk about it, I don't care, I'm just— I'm so happy you came!"

"Of course, Whumpee," they said gently, rubbing their back as they talked. "I told you I would come, didn't I? I told you I would always come."

"It was so hard to believe it," they sobbed. "But I— I tried, I tried my best to hold out until you came... I tried my best..."

"Whumpee?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Don't pull out the knife."

Whumpee frowned in confusion. "What? What knife...?"

"Don't, Whumpee—"

The illusion shattered just as Whumpee pulled back a little, and they suddenly saw their friend for what they were: a battered and bruised heap on the floor, clutching their stomach like their life depended on it.

And it did.

"Caretaker!" Whumpee looked down and saw the bloody knife in their hand, and they immediately threw it away. "No! No, please, I'm sorry! I don't understand! I don't understand!"

They fell to their knees and pressed their own two hands against the wound too, sobbing in anguish.

"I didn't mean to! I didn't see— I don't get it, I was hugging you!"

Caretaker tried to answer, but all that came out was a bloody gurgle. There were no comforting words left in their steadily filling lungs. All they could do was grab onto Whumpee's wrists with their stained fingers, but even their hold was becoming weaker and weaker.

They were drowning. Slowly, agonisingly, all because of Whumpee.

"Please," Whumpee choked out. "Please don't die, please, no, please..."

It was futile. All too soon, Caretaker's hands fell limply to their side, and Whumpee was left with a corpse whose face was forever twisted into the expression of a betrayed friend.

~

this is one of my last drabbles here, please feel free to follow me on my new blog @sowhumpshaped

[befuddled-calico-whump]

T$$ Drabble: Nothings

cw: violence/beating, adult language

prev // masterlist // next

×~×~×

“Again.”

Metal-crowned knuckles collided with a cheekbone, skin splitting on impact, the sudden change in pressure sending Hunter's hand throbbing throbbing throbbing, drenched in flowers and thorns alike after so many blows.

All he wanted to see was the petals, to focus on the color there, the outline, not the shining red of Sahota's face as the other man sagged in the chair, little wheezing gasps passing his lips, winces twitching in to overpower his stony face.

“Vic,” Hunter tried for what was probably the hundredth time, hating the way his voice shook in his throat. “Vic I think he's done, please, can't we be done?”

The splatter pattern had long stopped swirling, the shapes in its cyclone dropping as if dead, melting on the ground, clinging to his shoes. Hunter held his wrist, squeezing and squeezing, but no amount of pressure would drown out the flowers or the silver or the red swirling up from Sahota like blood in water. His head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it.

Vic was quiet for a long time, and Hunter wondered sickly if he was supposed to answer the question himself, if he was supposed to keep going. Wasn't this enough? Wasn't this enough proof that he could take it? He was standing, he had hurt him, he couldn't keep hurting him.

“I suppose I'd call it good enough, though I can assure you he's far from done,” Vic said at last. His voice sounded like nothing. Not a single fuck given that the guy who was supposed to be his partner and maybe even his friend was sitting half-dead and bloody in the chair. The smell of chlorine still clung to him, now with something else at its edges, stinging like rubbing alcohol. "Let's get going. He still has one more visit scheduled, mhm?"

Hunter's arms were dead weight at his sides. He couldn't move, could only just stand there, his eyes stuck on the floor. Couldn't make himself lift his gaze, not even when it landed on the specks of red scattered around the chair’s legs. That was him, he did that.

Vic wanted it.

Vic doesn't always know what's best.

A shudder ran through him as he looked up and found Vic's eyes on him, a darkness growing in his blue as he waited for Hunter to stop being such a bitch about it and follow orders.

“Hunter? Are you alright?”

I want you to come back.

Hunter choked down his own doubts, swatting at the air as if he could shake away the anxious vines that wrapped heavy around him like snakes.

Did he want to come back? If Vic… if he did this kind of shit? Hunter already knew he did, but not to his own partner, not to someone he wasn't even a stranger to, much less an enemy. Was he just gonna leave him here?

“I… I don't—”

“Come on now, he wanted this. Remember?”

Hunter didn't think he wanted this, but he gave a hesitant nod anyway, his eyes hovering at a spot just past Vic's head. Vic, on his way out, just... just leaving Sahota bleeding behind him, like it was fine, like this was fine.

It wasn't. It couldn't be. It has to be.

He was suddenly seized by the thought of saying no. Of giving Vic a big "fuck you" and turning around and cutting Sahota loose but what then? Vic would hate him and probably kick him out, and then he'd be alone again. He'd have nothing. He'd had nothing before, it wasn't a big deal, but he couldn't make himself do it. Not when obedience felt like the only real option.

Hunter moved to follow Vic out, a guilty gravity sitting in his stomach like hot stones, weighing down every step towards the door. He could hear Sahota's shaky, painful breaths behind him. In and out, in and out.

He didn't look back.

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes , @clickerflight , @sodacreampuff

[painsandconfusion]

Whumper who finds a whumpee and forces them to kill alongside them, determined to turn them into the perfect partner. Guiding their hand, keeping it wrapped tight around the knife. Whispering encouragement and instruction into their ear. It doesn't matter to them if whumpee sobs the entire time.

They'll learn to like it.

[fallenwhumpee]

Tour

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Torture, forced to watch, forced to hurt, restrains, water torture.

Right Hand shrunk their shoulders, hiding in the group of new recruits walking through the corridors of Whumper's base. This was their last chance.

Whumper was walking in front of them, just in their reach, but also untouchable. They had to focus on something else than the fact that they could just stab Whumper at that moment, and they would still have enough time to watch the monster bleed to death until the help arrived.

But then they couldn't risk their mission for the sake of revenge.

With a silent sigh, they looked around, the environment getting darker and darker every second.

The recruits marched in silence, the only sounds being the echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the cold, metallic walls.

Right Hand's muscles tensed as they fought to maintain composure, suppressing the anger that threatened to surface. Too secure. There was no way they could break out of there without gaining some access to the security system.

That meant it would take time. The time they didn't have.

As they neared a particular door, Whumper abruptly stopped, and the recruits followed suit. A cold chill crawled up Right Hand's spine with the harsh gaze studying them.

"The prison is the last part of our tour. You might want to cover your ears, my friends. We've got only a few prisoners, but we look after them well."

Before Roght Hand could comply, a loud, high-pitched noise leaked in through the door that just opened. They squeezed their eyes and covered their ears, an unbearable ringing making their head ache on the spot.

The sound got cut as they all stepped into the room, Right Hand's ears still throbbing.

They opened their eyes slowly, barely managing to hold back their gast. Leader was tied in the middle of the room, shackles on their neck low enough for them not being able to stand up, but their wrists hamding through thd ceiling high enough for their knees not to touch to the ground. They were trembling, a blindfold soaked with blood covering most of their face.

"While I like to deal with important prisoners personally, I should test my new minions, don't you think?" Whumper directly looked at Right Hand as they spoke.

Right Hand wanted to throw up.

Whumper slapped Leader, the chains rattling but not letting them fall. Leader whimpered, but they tried their best to keep it to themselves. Whumper put a hand to Leader's shoulder, patting it slowly as they speak.

"That's no way to welcome someone, Leader. You're so rude. We've got bright underlings here! Aren't you honoured to be their first experience in using interrogation techniques effectively?"

"Get off me!" Leader finally snapped after wincing in every pat, struggling weakly in the restrains.

"As you wish. I don't feel like a villain today, so I'm just going to take the blindfold off and leave you with the rookies."

Right Hand didn't flinch— but they didn't know how Leader would react to see them there. In the worst case, Leader would expose them. In the worst case for Right Hand, they would have to comply in this 'test'.

Leader snarled as Whumper pulled through black fabric, revealing dried blood on Leader's temples and burns covering half of their forehead.

"No, no, no. I don't think I broke you that much. You're still a human, act like it."

"Then treat me—"

Whumper punched Leader.

"I said yet. But you tempt me."

Whumper grabbed Leader's chin, making them look up for a moment to see the sadistic smile. Then they moved away, leaving the group in the middle of the room with not knowing what to do.

"Any volunteers? I will help, don't worry."

It was just what Right Hand was worried about.

Leader groaned as they looked around, their gaze lingering on Right Hand just more than a brief moment. They stiffened, a shiver running down from their spine.

"Anyone got ideas? No? Dont tell me you're all so decent. You came with knowing the job."

"W-water?" One of the rookies suggested.

"Ah, a classic. And perhaps a bit of showoff, but there's no harm in trying it. Now, would you go ask the guards for water? You— scared one at the back. Excuse my addressing, but I didn't want to learn names until I can be sure that you're fit to work. Getting attached and all of that isn't good for my heart. It gets harder to kill, you know."

"I'll get it," Right Hand sounded somehow stable.

"Be quick," Whumper huffed, bored.

Right Hand made the mistake of looking at Leader. The only emotion in those eyes was acceptance. Not acceptance of what Whumper did to them, but acceptance of what Right Hand was about to do.

Right Hand didn't take long with the task, their mind not capable of thinking anything else than what was going on in yhe room without them. They were already late with the rescue, and they were going to take even more time from that moment— they had a feeling that Whumper was already smelling the foul play.

When they came back, the only difference was that one of the rookies had a deep and bleeding bite mark on their hand, and Leader's nose was bleeding.

"My bad, you look so thirsty," Whumper chirped. "What about I make it up with a little extra?"

Leader stared with fire in their eyes.

Whumper pulled the wide bucket, pulling Leader back from their hair and unhooking the shackles on their neck.

Right Hand looked down as Whumper pushed Leader's head down into the bucket.

They didn't turn their gaze up until they heard Leader cough and gasp, collapsing to the floor as soon as Whumper let them go.

"I got distracted again. Who wants the job?"

Only a deep silence answered. Right Hand guessed no one had signed up for this.

"If there's no volunteer, I will show you how to do it."

Again, the only answer was silence.

Right Hand stepped closer as Leaders struggled to rise on their arms, but Whumper took it as if they wanted to, pulling them to their side.

"Good, good. At least not all of you are cowards. Now, pull them up."

Right Hand froze.

"Do it, I don't have all day."

Right Hand pulled Leader from their shirt, trying not to jolt them too much.

"Amateur!" Whumper roared, yanking Leader from their grasp. "I'm starting to think none of you want the job. I know all of you have records. At least no one will press charges for this one. Now, you will hold it like this, and..."

Without a warning, Whumper pushed Leader's face back into the bucket. Leader struggled right in front of Right Hand, but they couldn't stop this. Not if they wanted to end it permanently. But their confidence about pulling this stunt was just crushed in mere seconds.

Whumper pulled Leader up, who just tried to breathe as Whumper threw the body to Right Hand like a rag doll.

"Now try it."

"I'm so sorry," they whispered only to Leader.

They didn't know which one of them would be more broken at the end of this.

[whumperofworlds]

Reluctant Whumper (could be a Caretaker/Whumpee forced to do it) having to torture Whumpee. They're close to Whumpee (friend? Lover? Family?) and having to hurt Whumpee hurts Whumper more than anything.

As they raised the weapon at Whumpee, Whumpee looks at them with pleading and betrayed eyes.

"...But..."

Whumper frowned. "...I'm sorry."

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 19: "Please, don't,"

Content warning: vague suicidal idealation, forced to hurt a loved one

Caretaker would never forget how Whumpee played the piano. How their fingers danced across the keys, not even needing to look to know exactly where to press. How their eyes closed, how their body swayed in time with the music.

How they smiled when they played, like there was nothing else they’d rather do in life.

Whumper had strapped Whumpee onto a table. Their arms were spread, hands pinned down and fingers splayed out, exposed. Even as they writhed, breath coming out in desperate wheezes from their efforts, they couldn’t pull their hands back. Whumpee was shaking.

Caretaker stood over Whumpee. A hammer was gripped in their hand, hovering above Whumpee’s bound right hand. Caretaker was shaking, too.

“Please, don’t–,” Whumpee’s eyes were impossibly wide, tears dripping down the side of their face and soaking into their hair. Caretaker felt pinned down by that look.

They felt Whumper shift behind them. And yet they flinched hard, an animalistic whimper leaving their throat, as Whumper’s hand laid heavy on their shoulder.

“You can break their hands, or I can break their neck. Your choice,” Whumper’s voice called behind them, thick with amusement.

Their fingers twitched around the hammer.

They knew what was going to happen. They knew Whumper wouldn’t give Whumpee the care they needed. They’d let the wound sit, let the bones heal incorrectly, let the damage become permanent. Their hands would never move the same way again.

So much of their lives would change. Whumpee’s career, their passion. Their ability to look at Caretaker without terror and hate in their eyes.

But everything would change if Caretaker didn’t.

“Caretaker please,” Whumpee begged. “Don’t, don’t let them take this from me–!”

They both knew what Whumper was threatening. They both knew what Whumpee was asking them to do. They knew Whumpee would rather die.

But Caretaker couldn’t do that. They couldn’t. They couldn’t. Caretaker’s hand moved—

“Caretaker! Caretaker stop–!”

—And brought the hammer down.

[writinggremlin]

So here it is! The final planned part of Bind... Gag... Kill. Thank you to everyone who's been enjoying reading this! It means a lot!

I don't have much else to say about this, so I hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

CW (above cut): Mind Control

CW (under cut): Restraints, Blood, Stabbing, Hypnosis/Mind Control, Forced To Hurt, Torture, Lady Whump, Choking/Asphyxiation Mentions, Vomit, Fainting, Unhappy/Uncertain Ending

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Bind... Gag... Kill Harm. (Pt. 4)

The Answer

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Sunni and Mars erupted into various shouts and yells, which Jacky wasn't paying much attention to. Instead, her focus remained on Kage, on her heart loudly pounding in her chest, and on the pit of dread that was eating away at her insides.

She watched as he approached, his movements unnaturally smooth, his posture uncharacteristically straight. It was almost mechanical, as if he were on autopilot; his brain turned off while his body handled the rest.

It was almost as if he were just a puppet...

Just a toy to command and control.

She gulped when he stepped up, the man she usually saw as a friend now towering over her.

"Kage...?" She nearly whispered, "Are you--"

She blinked, and her head was turned to the right. A sharp pain crept across her cheek, and she felt something trickle down. She looked at Sunni, who was silent, eyes wide as she stared back.

Everything was now still. The room held it's breath. And this was the moment Jacky knew...

This wasn't Kage.

Or at least, not the Kage she knew.

The next few strikes were just as quick. The small blade sliced through fabric and flesh like butter. Jacky tried to grit her teeth and bear it...

But then he stabbed her.

Right in her stomach, Kage stabbed her.

The pain was sudden. Sharp. It tore a ragged scream from her throat.

...Then he moved on.

She didn't know what he was doing instead. She didn't care. Her vision swirled as she looked down at the knife handle protruding from her abdomen.

He stabbed her. The person she once saw as a helpless, scrawny, apologetic teen. He stabbed her without a second thought.

None of this felt real.

Her breath hitched, and a whine followed. Pain radiated from the throbbing wound, sweeping through her nervous system in drowning waves. Blood oozed from the fresh wounds and dripped off her chin. It darkened her brown apron, painting it a deep, inky red.

This was just some horrible nightmare... right?

She screwed her eyes shut and grunted as another wave of pain crashed over her. On the next inhale, she sniffed, and when she opened her eyes, she found her vision blurry. She felt something trickle down her uninjured cheek. Tears.

Jacky sniffed again, sending another horrible jolt through her body.

When did she start crying?

When did it become so difficult to breathe?

Her panted breath hitched again, pulling out another strained grunt. Her fingers tingled, and so did her lips. She needed to breathe.

In-out-in-out--

A muddled voice to her right caught her attention. She blinked through the tears and looked over.

"Jac-- ky. Jacky! Hey! Can you-- Can you hear me?!" It was Sunni, now gagged with the muzzle and struggling to speak around the bit in her mouth.

Jacky gave a small nod.

"Hey, look-- lookit me, ok? Breathe. Breathe. In, out. In. out. In... out..." her voice trembled as she guided Jacky's breath.

Another wave of pain hit, but this time it was different. Wrong.

A shout snapped her attention over to the left, where she saw Mars kneeling on the ground. Kage tied rope around his neck, wrists, and ankles. Mars' back arched as he tried to keep the rope around his neck loose enough to breathe.

Breathe. She couldn't breathe. Something was wrong.

Something was horribly wrong.

"Jacky! Hey! Don't look-- Don't look over there-- lookit me. Look, at me-- there you go. Breathe, Jacky. Focus on y-- hey! Nonono, don'-- don' worry abou' that right now." Sunni glanced over Jacky's shoulder, then drew in a shuddering breath as her focus returned, "Jus'-- Jus' focus on your breath, ok? Ok. In..."

Jacky tried her best to follow, breath jagged and stuttering. An attempt to shift in her seat spiked her pain once more, and the alarms blared louder in her head.

"Some--" even her voice sounded wrong, "Sunni-- fuck, I'm-- it's wrong, everything's--"

"Jacky. Shush. Quiet. Don' talk. I know, 's-- it's scary, I'm scared too, but jus'-- jus' focus on me, ok? Focus on-- my voice. Ya're not gonna-- You're not gonna die here. I won' let you. I won't FUCKING let you!" Emotion grew heavy on her voice, and she took a moment to breathe herself, "Jus'-- Jus' breathe, Jacky. Ok? Come on, in... and out."

Jacky did her best to try and follow, though it was a task the proved itself to be difficult. But Sunni was patient; she adjusted her speed to fit within Jacky's abilities at the moment. Eventually her panic did calm back down to something more manageable, but her breathing never did. In fact, it started growing a little shallow, the tingling only growing more intense the longer this went on.

Jacky didn't know how long it was until she felt a presence next to her. She couldn't ignore it. Looking up, she spotted Kage towering over her once more.

She heard Mars speak from the left, "Damn, you're seriously just-- you're just gonna leave me hanging like this?" She stole a quick glance over, and found that Mars had been hung from the ceiling by a rope around his waist, his bound arms and legs dangling beneath him. He seemed to struggle with keeping the rope around his neck from completely choking him, "C'mon man, what's-- what's wrong? Am I just-- Am I not, interesting enough for you? I promise I, won't bore you if you-- if you come back, over here!~ ...Please?"

Kage didn't even spare him a glance, instead reaching for the knife that was still lodged in Jacky's stomach. She looked up at him, lightheaded and dizzy. One more surge of pain and she felt as if she might pass out. Or vomit. Or both.

He grabbed the knife and yanked. A strangled scream was torn from her throat, which was then choked out by a retching heave. Then another. Then her partially digested lunch, splattered across her lap and the floor.

The only noise she had the strength left to summon was a faint whimper. He raised the knife to strike ag--

"Freeze," came August's voice from behind him. He went still, stuck in place like a statue, "Alright, mister, that's enough. Crow, come."

Jacky could barely raise her head enough to see Kage turn on his heel and walk away. She watched him through watery vision as he stopped in front of August.

"Kneel," she commanded.

Jacky heard a thump as he obediently fell to his knees.

August ran her fingers through his hair, "Good boy. You know, I always get so tempted to just keep you like this every single time. You're just so lovely... So obedient... So adorable..." She giggled, and Jacky saw him melt into the praise and lean against her touch, a euphoric grin spreading across his face.

Jacky felt her head bob. Her vision was refusing to focus, her eyelids threatening to flutter shut. She felt nothing short of horrible. The sirens sounded in her head once more, though faint this time.

Snap.

"Sleep."

As Kage crumpled to the ground, Jacky felt the last shreds of her consciousness bleed through her fingers like sand. Her eyes rolled back, her head nodded lower...

And her world went dark.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The end...?

Tune in next time for...

Prev | Masterlist | ...Next?

(If you would like me to continue this, feel free to send in an ask!)

Taglist: @whumperofworlds, @3-2-whump, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs (:000!! A third person! Yippee!!!)

If anyone would like to be added or removed from the taglist, feel free to let me know!

[whumpshaped]

deer anon asked:

It's me, ya bitch, back at it again with more horrible whump ideas. Very please that so far, you have entertained my shenanigans, because thus far, my cat has been the only one to sit through my horrendous ideas, and she is indeed, quite poor company.

Characters infected with something, characters who know they're going to lose their mind or change into something vile and violent, characters who know that they need to leave their team behind now before they try to kill them and before their team has no choice but to destroy them. Characters who can't leave their team (or family, lovers, friends...) for various reasons. Characters spitting out their lungs over the floor while staring at those they love, begging them to just kill them before it's too late.

And those who love them realizing that their only choice is to shoot their best friend.

Everybody hurts, nobody wins, the world sucks, and I really need to start posting all my ideas on my own blog but BOY do I love seeing what you manage to do with em 😅

Follow up to my 'slowly becoming a monster' ask because it popped into mind just as I hit send:

Whumpee's/infected char's loved ones choosing to instead cage/restrain them until they can find a way to save them.

---

tw body horror, nonhuman whumpee, whumpee turned whumper, bad caretaker, guns, infection whump, forced to hurt

"Please!" Whumpee screamed, voice so scratchy and distorted that if Caretaker hadn't been looking straight at them, they would've never guessed it was their friend speaking. They could hardly believe it, even like this. "I don't know how long... I can keep this thing at bay... It wants to– It wants to kill– It wants to kill you–"

"You'd never hurt me," Caretaker said tearily. "I know you wouldn't."

"But it would. Caretaker, this isn't... this isn't me." Whumpee shivered, then coughed, and Caretaker couldn't even look at the fresh blood splatter on the floor. "Please. Please, let me go out as... somewhat myself. Before I hurt you. I don't want to hurt you," they pleaded between two sobs.

"I... I can't." They couldn't even raise the gun. Couldn't even take aim. It was too much. "I can't kill you. I can't. We can still find a way to reverse this–"

Whumpee lunged before they could react. They tore the gun out of their hand and shoved the barrel into their own mouth, ready to end it all– but their attempt was interrupted by a violent coughing fit that made them drop the weapon. Caretaker snatched it up immediately and took several steps back, their heart hammering in their chest as they realised just how close they'd come to losing Whumpee.

"Just fucking do it, goddammit!" Whumpee yelled, but they sounded weaker than before. Their speech was becoming... garbled and difficult to understand, and the involuntary muscle spasms came quicker and quicker, one after the other until Whumpee was but a convulsing mess on the floor.

Caretaker wanted to help. They wanted to turn them onto their side and make sure they didn't choke, or whatever the protocol was in this situation, they couldn't even remember, what if they made it worse– But they never got the chance.

Whumpee's body changed within seconds. Their skin tore and their bones cracked as the infection forced them into a new shape, their limbs bending in unnatural ways and taking on an entirely new appearance. Their back split open with a sickening squelch, several tentacles sprouting from the wound like an octopus was trying to escape from inside.

Caretaker screamed and tried to run off, but something wrapped around their ankle and made them trip. The thing yanked them back effortlessly, and they soon found themself trapped under Whumpee's new, monstrous body, with rows of sharp teeth uncomfortably close to their throat.

"Stop!" they shrieked, but the creature — their friend — showed no signs of understanding them. "Whumpee, stop it! Please! Stop!"

Drops of saliva landed on their cheeks as the thing gnashed its teeth and prepared to tear their throat out, and Caretaker acted on instinct. The sound of the gun going off was unbearably loud, rivalled only by the pained cry of the monster. It was an utterly inhumane sound that grated on Caretaker's ears, and they wasted no time getting away from it. They didn't turn to look where the bullet had hit it.

They opened the door and slammed it shut as soon as they were outside, but Whumpee, or what had remained of them, crashed into it within the next second. Its arm broke through the wood and managed to scratch Caretaker, making them yelp and give up on the idea that locking the stupid thing would do anything.

They had to run. They had to run fast.

They weren't even at the stairs when the thing got out, and the way it moved sounded like the biggest spider was chasing them down. They jumped over several steps while blindly shooting backwards, only guessing that some of the bullets had hit from the way the monster shrieked.

"I'm sorry!" they cried. "Whumpee, please! Leave me alone! I'm sorry!"

The creature was faster than them, and in a last ditch effort, Caretaker spun around and tried to aim for its head. They should've honoured Whumpee's wish. They should've done this while their friend was still human. They were the worst fucking friend.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

It collapsed in a heap not too far from Caretaker, too many limbs twitching with entirely too much life for something that had been shot this many times. It was still growling and groaning, and... Caretaker suddenly had an outlandish idea.

If it wasn't dying... If it was just incapacitated... If it could be dragged around safely... The basement door was solid metal... There was some rope in the garage...

They looked at the monster's gruesome face and thought of Whumpee's soft features. What if they could still undo this? What if they could bring them back? What if Whumpee's consciousness was still in there, trapped and waiting to be freed?

"I'll help," Caretaker choked out. "I'll help you. I'll make this right. I'll– I'll get you back. I swear."

[linecrosser]

several of you folks suggested whipping or flogging / scars on the back, so there we are! added twist: delivered by a loved one (he tries to not hit too hard but hard enough so they will be satisfied and not prolong this whole ordeal)

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Whump prompts: Crying

Content: Forced to hurt, reluctant whumper, defiant whumpee, carewhumper.

Caretaker crying the moment Whumpee isn't awake to see them.

Similarly, a defiant whumpee breaking down the moment Whumper has gone and they're left alone.

Caretaker thinks Whumpee's tears are fake, so they start to tease them for it.

Caretaker and Whumpee crying as they reunite.

A carewhumper bursting into tears after they accidentally take things too far.

A reluctant whumper crying when the whumpee they're being forced to hurt says they hate them.

A creepy/stalker whumper crying when their beloved whumpee is stolen away from them (rescued).

Whumpee is fine until a phobia of theirs is used against them. Then, all of a sudden, the tears won't stop.

Whumper licking a crying whumpee's tears away.

Caretaker gets a call from Whumpee who managed to get ahold of Whumper's phone. They can't stop crying as they try to get any information they possibly can.

Whumper mocking Whumpee for crying.

[pigeonwhumps]

Forced to hurt a loved one

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 13: forced to hurt a loved one

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @den-of-evil @dustypinetree @cardboardarsonist @skittles-the-whumpee

Morgan's conditioning is triggered again, for more nefarious purposes, and Director Jodie Armstrong makes a breakthrough.

1.3k

CWs: conditioned whumpee, living weapon whump, forced to hurt, burns, dehumanisation, self dehumanisation

Morgan lies on the floor in the front room, legs up against Rhian's armchair, colouring. This is the most comfortable position, and even though weapons shouldn't take up so much space, Rhian says it's acceptable to sit here.

Asha hops over Morgan's legs to join Asim and Blue on the sofa, and the weapon cranes its neck all the way back to look up at her. She peers at the colouring book.

"Nice owl. You're doing the same colours as your Archimedes?"

Morgan nods. Technically this is a Sword in the Stone colouring book and so maybe it should colour the pictures the same as the film, but both Asha and Rhian have said that it doesn't need to be accurate, and this is the first time in its memory that that's been allowed. Despite seeing the video, it still can't remember any solid memories of its childhood before the government.

It is allowed, right?

Asha grins. "I like it. Hey, Asim, you can start the whales now."

Rhian squeezes its ankle reassuringly as the DVD starts, and it relaxes. Yes, it's allowed.

This is Asha's favourite whale documentary, and Morgan's seen it several times before, so it doesn't pay as close attention as it might otherwise, focusing on its colouring. It's okay, that's allowed here, the video isn't training or a briefing or anything that it's expected to memorise in its entirety. It's just entertainment.

Suddenly, a loud siren-like sound emits from the TV and Morgan jumps, looking up. Blue curses.

Asim frowns. "We didn't hear anything about this."

The screen switches to a news channel, and Morgan straightens up immediately, dropping its pencil and sliding onto its knees, hands behind its back.

"Morgan?"

Morgan doesn't respond, doesn't look round. It can't. That's the Director on-screen, and its full attention must be focused on her at all times.

"This is an emergency announcement. All citizens within the immediate area of Base 47 are requested to stay in their homes until further notice. Please be alert, but do not be alarmed, there is no danger to civilians if you do as requested. We are searching for the stolen government property MD-264N and the traitors hiding it. The crisis will be resolved swiftly and the traitors taken into permanent custody."

MD-264N, whose mind went blank when the Director spoke its designation, doesn't hear anything beyond that point. It has its orders, to take the traitors into permanent custody, and it stands, swiftly identifying the leader. It picks up the nearest makeshift weapon it can identify, an electric iron that swiftly heats in its hands.

Then it strides forward and pushes the rebel leader to the ground. It's not hard, he's clearly not really expecting it, and it presses the iron into the top of his shoulders. It tunes out his ear-splitting screams from years of practice, pressing it down, its free hand holding him down to stop him bucking away.

Someone wrenches it off its target and throws it to the side, kneeling on its back to cuff its hands as it struggles. No, no, it hasn't completed its task yet, it can't be captured.

It's sat up against the wall forcefully, still struggling, and someone crouches down in front of it.

"Sweetheart, you're crying," she says gently.

"Weapons don't cry," refutes MD-264N.

"Yes. You do. Morgan, do you remember who I am? Think, sweetheart, it's okay. Come back to me."

The person touches it gently on the shoulder and pulls it into a careful hug, one its commanders have never given it before. It feels so warm, so cared for, so–

A soft and rough owl-shaped toy is pushed into its hands.

Its mind rushes back and it gasps. Morgan. It's Morgan. That's Rhian. This is Archimedes. And– and–

"Asim. This weapon hurt him. Is he okay? It– it didn't want to, it's sorry, it's sorry, it–"

"Shh. It wasn't your fault, that was Armstrong forcing you. Asha's with him now, he'll be okay, I'm sure. Do you want to go back to your room?"

Morgan nods vigorously. "Please."

"Okay. Let me help you up, sweetheart. Blue's going to escort us."

"This weapon's ankle is malfunctioning. It, it doesn't think it can walk there."

"I'll help you."

Rhian puts her arm under Morgan's shoulders and starts helping it towards their bedroom, Blue following close behind. He shuts the door, standing guard outside, and Rhian tries to help Morgan into the bed.

Morgan stops dead in its tracks, forcing Rhian to pause, frowning at it.

"Sweetheart?"

"This weapon is dangerous. It should not be out in the open where it can hurt people."

"We broke through your conditioning, faster than last time. You're not going to hurt me."

"But it, it, I, it might. Something could set it off again. It doesn't want to risk it. Please, Rhian, it should go in the cupboard, where it can't harm anyone."

Rhian bites her lip. "It won't be comfortable."

"Weapons do not need comfort. It is a more usual place to be stored than a bed anyway, it will stay in good condition."

She sighs. "Okay. Okay. Can I uncuff you?" Morgan shakes its head. It should stay disarmed, it's not safe. "At least let me refasten them in front of you." The weapon pauses, uncertain, and then nods. Its hands will still be cuffed, after all.

Rhian uncuffs it, massaging its shoulders as she moves its arms in front of it, making sure that the sleeves of its hoodie are cushioning the cuffs.

"Is that comfortable? I know you said that doesn't matter but it does to me."

Morgan nods. "Thank you, Rhian."

"No problem. Let me sort out the cupboard. I wish you'd consent to staying somewhere more comfortable, sweetheart."

"The cupboard is already more than this weapon needs or deserves," replies Morgan readily. "This weapon's top priority is your safety and the cupboard will allow it to fulfil that objective best."

"Okay. Okay."

Rhian doesn't look happy as they line the cupboard with spare blankets and pillows, and Morgan doesn't understand. It's fulfilling one of its basic functions, to keep people safe, surely they should be pleased?

"Alright. I'll give you a duvet, torch, and a bottle of squash once you're in, we have all of them in this room. Can I give you another hug first?"

"Yes, Rhian."

They pull them into a tight, warm hug that Morgan wishes it could stay in forever.

"You're sure about this, sweetheart?" Morgan nods. "Okay."

Too soon, Rhian lets go, and Morgan climbs inside the little cupboard. Rhian passes it a duvet, a bottle of squash, and a torch.

"Come out when you're ready, yeah? I hope it's soon."

"Yes, Rhian." It might not be soon, it needs to stay in here until everyone's safe, but it will come out.

Rhian shuts the door behind it, and it's in darkness, alone. It buries its head in its knees, Archimedes held close to its chest, and tries to stifle its muffled sobs.

It didn't want to hurt anyone. It never does. But somehow, it always has to anyway.

_

A few miles away, Director Jodie Armstrong smiles at the blinking light on her computer screen. It worked. It actually worked. Maybe the scientists deserve a bonus for this.

It'll be a few days before anything's settled enough to come online properly, but that's okay. She can wait. She's waited months, after all.

And then, once MD-264N's back, they'll see what needs to be done about it. Whether it can be re-trained, used for experiments, or just needs decommissioning. It all depends on what's been done to it in its absence, because wherever it is, she's sure it hasn't been treated appropriately.

She presses a finger to her ear.

"Contact Colonel Colgrave of Section 13. Tell him that the verbal activation of the implants worked. We'll have MD-264N back in a matter of days, along with all the information we require. There's no need for him to interfere again."

[painonthebrain]

Only the Beginning

Masterlist

CWs: Angel whumpee, fem whumpee (though never addressed in fic, whumpee is female/female adjacent), capture, captivity, restraints, cult setting, religion, nonbinary whumper, forced to hurt/kill, semi-cannibalism (consuming a sapient humanoid’s flesh), major character death, gore

Death marks the beginning of our protagonists’ story, recounted by the very one who met her untimely end.

My name is an Infinite Expanse of Starry Skies… and this is the story of how I died.

It’s not an easy tale to tell, nor can I put into words the experience of dying, but I will recount it as well as I can.

I was an angel, a paragon – in my mind I am still, despite no longer living.

I tended to the religious spaces of my Realm. I sat behind a confessional screen, always listening, offering peace to troubled souls. They came to me: young and old, religious and not – and laid themselves bare. Their sins, their regrets, they were mine to hold, and I took them as if they were my own. In return, I gave them words they needed to hear, ones that the Realm never gave them.

I'm not the wild creature I was made to be in my last moments.

When they found me, I was wandering their Earth, searching for someone dear. Someone I would call my love … though the two of us never made that label official despite our affections. We were as different as could be – I, a devout worshipper, and she, a clever being with a tongue gilded in silver. Her sharp edges carried me to places I can’t name, and I was there to hold her steady, balance her out.

Her intensity drew me in, and I’m not sure what part of me appealed to her — but she made sure I always knew how she felt. She’d never been vocal about her opinions except to a close few, and I knew them all. Coupled with her actions, I gained a true understanding of her. Her passions, what she valued, every quiet thought of dissent she had, how she ached to feel real again.

I supported her. I covered her with my wings and offered shelter from the world and its worries, but she pushed me away.

“This isn’t something I can ignore.”

I had no reply.

Eventually, it became too much, and she fled to these lands seeking something I couldn’t offer her.

There I followed, finding myself caught in her motion again. Like a leaf in the wind, swirling and floating on its currents, subject to its whims.

Scouring the ground, the surface soft with the beginnings of spring, I looked for her, heart aching. The new growth padded with every step I took and the sun shone in my eyes, a far cry from the light of the Angelic Realm.

No luck yet.

And there would be no more to come.

They ambushed me when I considered what to do after hours of searching — pausing my ambling and standing tall, unmoving, breathing in the air. The stillness felt tangible in the barely warm sunlight I’d found myself in … and it tore apart so easily.

Ensnared like a beast, with my limbs twisted together and my cheek digging into the dirt, they took me down. They snapped the bones of my wings with swift kicks, tied me up and carved sigils into my flesh. I wailed. My blood welled up to kiss their blades, so eager to spill, something they licked off, tasting, savoring.

They were only humans. Mortal creatures.

I was brought back to their settlement and caged.

My powers had been rendered useless, and it was no use to struggle. Yet I did, hopelessly fighting against my imprisonment, desperate to find a way out. I hated to admit it, but deep in my chest there was a sliver of fear that hurt more than it should... impaling my heart while it still beat.

Help would not come for me. Yet I fantasized anyway, watching the humans come and go.

Over time, one caught my eye.

They were fully clothed in white, with white skin and white hair, save for dark gray streaks in it. They looked to be no more than a few years into maturity. Months? I’m unsure of the rate humans age. Whatever it was, it would be the age where an angel stopped aging so quickly, where time found itself stagnating, as if it were dipped in honey.

They kept their head bowed, seeming to be an important figure in the settlement despite their age. The others would give them flowers or sweets, whisper blessings and praises to them. They accepted them with grace, tipping their head in acknowledgment and responding with hushed words.

They never talked to me. They only stared, eyes lingering on the gilded cage at the center of the settlement that held me. And I stared back.

I had no desire to speak to them, and they must have felt the same. I found no solace in their lingering gazes.

Perhaps I should have.

I was convinced we were too different. We were not the same age, truly, nor the same species. We came from two separate words, each with their own unique history and culture, one in the sky and the other dwelling on the ground. Enough to keep us apart.

They were the one to speak to me first.

“I- I’m sorry..”

I didn't respond, for fear of ruining the moment.

“I have no choice. They want me to kill you. I can’t run.

“I’ve tried so many times.

“Please understand.”

I remembered that. What they said word-for-word, the date — a few days into my captivity — everything. It had been barely a blink’s worth of time, a moment’s eternity.

That was the day I ceased to be trapped.

It was sunset.

The humans had circled around me, opened my cage and dragged me out into the open. I fought them, thrashing and spitting, snapping into a frenzy, something so unlike myself, so violent — but so right.

It’s what she would have wanted me to do.

The hazel-eyed one walked before me, knife in hand. “I’m sorry.” They said again, tears forming in their eyes. They sparkled like rare gemstones or beads of dew, glowing in the dying light.

I realized what they had told me before was a confession, and I stopped struggling, my breath catching in my lungs.

…

Oh.

We weren’t so different, were we?

They slammed their knife in my chest and I screamed, the moment shattering.

My silver blood painted the ground, wet and warm and I thrashed, bucking against the ropes holding me down.

“Please! Please stop!” I begged, shrieking. My voice was sharp. The sound of it was the same as a violin played harsh and high, the notes incorrect, the sonata it played turning into sounds of horror and prayer.

They didn’t stop. They carved open my chest, digging the blade deep into my flesh, dragging it through the meat. It hit bone, scraping against my ribs, and that was when I began to fade. My limbs were untied as my life left my body, splayed out as my heart was torn from the cavity of my chest.

I was then eaten from. Consumed inside out, bled for drinks. The tender flesh of my heart was severed by teeth, chewed and swallowed, found its home in the human’s stomach.

I had died knowing no peace.

And now I find myself here, at The Divine’s judgment.

Once again, I become unraveled, and It consumes me too.

[painsandconfusion]

Answer with the first scene that comes to mind!

What's a whump scene or moment you've read from another blogger that you keep thinking about even weeks, months, or years after reading it?

AAAAAA

Ah shit I can't remember who did this-

Uhhhhh-

Hhhhhhhhhhelp? Peanut gallery, help?

The moment is from the continuation scene, but the premise of this was there was a hunter/bow and arrow sharpshooter (for lack of a better term) that whumper kidnapped via threatening their sibling. At the end of the first scene, whumper made them shoot someone kinda just to prove they would, then in the second, whumpee is pissed and snapping at whumper for making them kill someone and whumper stands in the middle of their insult, and whumpee just shuts the fuck up and practically flinches back. Just suddenly done. The smallest threat just shuts them down, and I think about that scene literally constantly.

Can anyone find the link perchance? I think it was called Winter Hunt or something...?