#now broken whumpee

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Test Track AU (T$$ AU Masterlist)

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@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @suspicious-whumping-egg , @cryptidwritings , @painsandconfusion , @grizzlie70 , @bloodsweatandpotato , @ladyblogofficialreporter @whumper-soot

[whump-queen]

whumper pretending to be mad just to see whumpee squirming and groveling and apologizing within a second because they don’t know what they did wrong but fuck they’re so so sorry and they’ll do anything to make it better—

“sir please—please let me make it up to you—I promise I’ll be better I swear—just please—”

[jump-in-the-whump]

Whumpee feels Caretaker stroking their face, comforting them. It's no big deal, Caretaker says. I'll fix it, Caretaker repeats. I didn't even like that vase, Caretaker chuckles.

Whumpee doesn't know what to say, they can't form any sentence. They know Caretaker should be angry at them, but they are so gentle and Whumpee can't stand it.

Whumpee wants to push Caretaker away and yell at them to punish them. Whumpee wants Caretaker to kick them and punch them and scream at them.

Because Whumpee deserves just that.

Or, better to say, because Whumper taught Whumpee they deserve that. And Whumpee believes Whumper unconditionally.

[toyybox]

Derwyn and their test subject Ruaridh from Uilebheist A Rinn An Duine by @inkwell-and-dagger

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 11

I had an absolute blast with this prompt and I've been looking forward to it for a while. I should've gone and bought some wine so I could write being IDed from experience though. Unrealistic writing 😮😮😮

Convenience Store

Each item was set neatly on the conveyor belt.

A roll of duct tape. Kleenex. Air freshener. Trash bags. Zipties. Rubbing alcohol. Superglue. A bottle of merlot. Disinfectant. Sponges. Latex gloves. A wrist brace. Ibuprofen. A hammer. And a bar of chocolate.

A bright beep sounded as the cashier scanned each one.

“Doing some home improvement?” They smiled, placing the superglue onto the other side of the conveyor where one of their customers, the shorter of the two, was busy bagging with their head down. The other stacked the empty shopping basket with the others and pulled out their wallet.

“Definitely an improvement project,” they nodded back with a knowing look. “The whole thing just needs to be demolished and rebuilt at this point.”

“Oh I hear you. A pipe burst in my basement just last month and my spouse had to stop me from tearing the whole thing down then and there.” The cashier scanned the wine and paused. “Your ID please, Mx.?”

They flashed it with a toothy grin. 

“I’m flattered!”

“Just doing my job. Thank you.” They typed something into the system and picked up the next item. A few items later, a snort broke their calm demeanor.

“Hm?”

“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry Mx! Just had a funny thought.” The cashier scanned the hammer. 

“Do share! Lord knows we could use the humor.” They elbowed their partner who smiled meekly and nodded along, balancing with a crutch under their arm. 

“Well, sometimes home improvement supplies look a lot like premeditated murder supplies,” they giggled, and the taller one broke out into raucous laughter. The shorter just shook their head. “Sorry, I meant no offense.”

Realizing they were being addressed, they fixed the sullen expression across their face.

“Ah, none taken! I’ve just had a tough day, what with this shithead and all.” A playful poke to their partner who just laughed again.

“You’re in for it when we get home!” They stuck out their tongue.

The other went back to catch the items they’d missed in that time, slipping the chocolate bar in their pocket. 

“Alright, cash or card?”

“Card please.”

“Your receipt?” 

“Sure, why not.”

“Perfect. Have a good one!” 

“You too!”

The taller one took most of the bags, but the other still managed to carry one. They were almost out the door when a voice shouted out.

“Oh! Excuse me, I think you forgot one of your items!” The cashier held up the hammer, and the couple turned around. Neither came forward to claim it, but with a nudge and a whisper, the shorter allowed the cashier to drop it into their bag. “Can’t do any demolition without that, can you?” 

“Absolutely not, I’m glad we didn’t forget it!” The other didn’t say a word, struggling to lift the bag now, and then the two were gone. 

.

“Interesting what you choose to forget, darling.” A hissing whisper in their ear, so different from the friendly persona they put on in public.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re implying,” they averted their eyes as the trunk of the car opened. Fuck. 

Their captor’s foot landed on their broken ankle and they had to suppress a scream.

“I let you have one good leg for today. Don’t let me regret it.” The bag was taken right out of their hand. “In.”

They crutched up to the passenger door but a clearing of the throat stopped them.

“Childlock doesn’t work on that seat.”

Somehow, climbing into the back was more humiliating after that comment. The door was slammed shut before they could do so themself, and they felt the car shake with how hard the trunk was slammed. A horrible indicator of what was to come.

“I behaved around the store,” they grumbled when the doors locked and the engine turned on. 

“And then you fuckin’ ruined it.” 

“Black and white thinking much…” 

A fist flew against the passenger headrest and they were suddenly grateful to be flinching in the backseat.

“I’m buying a car with blacked out windows. That way, next time, I can throttle you in the backseat.”

[whomeidontknowthem]

Stitched lips

Content warning: slavery, implied sexual slavery (no actual discussion of any of it here but it is what it is), torture, body modifications, dehumanizing language.

Shout out to @whump-in-the-closet for giving me motivation to finally write this scene down with their wonderful prompt.

“…you can go fuck yourself! You, and your fucked up fantasies and your bitch of a wife, you can all go fuck yourself! Fucking monsters in a human skin, when I get out, I’ll make sure you survive for years until you fucking beg me to stop and then never listen, you pieces of fucking despicable shit!”

Ayzan panted, gasping for air after a tirade that was met with heavy silence and an even heavier gaze. It hurt — everything did — their jaw from being forced open with a gag most of the time, their throat from how each word felt like shards of glass across too dry and overused skin, their back and left arm where patterns of cuts and burns coiled around their skin, still fresh, crossed out by chaotic lashes made by a less caring hand, their knees from kneeling and joints from being forced to bend too far for far too long. It hurt, and had hurt for so long they could barely remember the before.

Emrose watched, face contorted in deep displeasure. He tilted his head when no more words came and Ayzan felt the belated panic rise up in their throat, chocking whatever they could add before they even attempted to speak.

The lord didn’t touch them. He only turned around and left, not sparing a single word of explanation or a threat, and it was so much worse. Ayzan thrashed in their binds the moment the door closed, testing the ropes to the new jolts of pain from where they dug in their skin, grating it red and raw. Nothing gave. They whimpered, overwhelmed by fear, helpless in the face of it. Whatever was going to happen, it was too much. They couldn’t go through that. They just wanted to go home — why had Kiris still not found them? Why, why, why, why?!

They heard the voices before the steps before the creak of the door. Feedali’s tilting phrases, sweet and light as they always were, urging the lord to think again. She begged him to reconsider. To not do to Ayzan whatever he was planning. They thrashed again even as it led to nothing but more pain.

“Please,” they begged the moment the couple came in. “Please, I didn’t mean it— I’m so sorry, I won’t speak like this again, please, I didn’t— I’m so— please don’t hurt me again, please please please—”

The lady spared a quick stroke down their cheek as the two passed them by, and Ayzan leaned into the touch. They hated it usually, hated the fake comfort she always gave before sliding a knife across their skin, how she always wiped their tears when the burning pain got too strong but never stopped no matter how they screamed and begged. They needed it now. Needed her to convince Emrose to change his mind. They felt like they were drowning, body fighting for breath so hard they chocked on the air.

“Dear, you see how scared it is. It really knows what it’s done wrong!” Feedali chirped, following the lord. “Perhaps something less permanent is a better idea? You can lash it as much as you’d like! You know how much I love when it sings for me.”

“I’m tired of it’s incessant talking,” Emrose cut her off. He brought a small table closer and placed something on it. Ayzan craned their neck, pleading words falling from their lips without ceasing. No use.

Something metal glistened in the lord’s hands as he pulled it out of the box. He put it at the table and took something else instead. “Open your mouth,” he threw an order. Ayzan immediately clenched their teeth. The ropes didn’t let them back away no matter how much they wanted and tried. “Open,” Emrose repeated. Ayzan shook their head, trying to catch Feedali’s eyes, to beg her silently to please please please please stop this. Emrose pinched their nose shut and painfully squeezed their jaw with another hand.

“Dear, you wouldn’t spoil all of my fun like this, would you?” Feedali hugged him from behind.

He shook her arms off, “Shut up, you too. It’s not like I’m stopping you from playing with it. It just needs to learn its lesson first.”

Ayzan saw her nose crinkle in disappointment at that as their lungs contracted in search of oxygen. They blinked back tears and clenched their jaw tighter even as Emrose’ fingers dug into the skin around it with bruising strength. Feedali stepped closer, brushing hair off of their forehead. “Come on then, pet. You’ve heard your master — you need to learn your lesson. It would only be easier for you if you relax. Come on.”

They didn’t. They held on, through the growing burning and the black spots before their eyes, through the pain and terror they refused to relax. They didn’t want a lesson. They didn’t want to know what was in store for them. They wanted it to end. Needed it to end. Gods, why couldn’t it already be over?! They couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t go on like this any longer!

It felt like they blacked out, and the moment their grip on their body faded just a bit, it acted against their will, gasping for breath. Fresh, tasty air finally flooded their chest, and immediately after they felt their jaw forced wide open something pushed inside their mouth, filling it and pressing their tongue down.

They couldn’t breathe again — they gagged, throat spasming to push the intrusion out, but there was no use as now their mouth was kept shut by the same unrelenting hand. Their lungs tried to suck in air again, and the fingers finally lifted from their nose. It only made the gagging worse. Half-delirious, they felt Feedali’s fingers on their cheek, caressing and tagging on something. They heard her voice, low and soothing, “Shhhh, you’re okay. You’re okay, just breathe, come on. Come on.”

Ayzan did, or at least tried their hardest, with slow and careful breaths, trying to force their body to relax. They felt fingers on their nose again and panicked, but Feedali only helped them blow it. They sobbed, grateful for her gentleness and overwhelmed by it. Tried opening their jaw, only to feel something hold it in place. Some sort of a strap? Was this it? Was it over?

The hope shuttered the moment Emrose stepped into their field of view. Ayzan saw the glistening of metal. They jerked back and whimpered and struggled and failed to speak. Feedali cooed at them. Emrose was not impressed.

They didn’t manage to see the instrument clearly before the lord was lifting their chin up and pressing something cold to their skin. Ayzan couldn’t get away — they couldn’t get away, couldn’t even beg them to. Tears streamed down their face and were brushed aside. They struggled to breathe through their nose.

The needle pierced through their lip with no warning.

Ayzan’s eyes flew open, Emrose tugged and demanded, “be still,” and they felt a string move through their flesh. The second wave of piercing pain came all too soon, as did the third.

“You’re not doing it evenly!” Feedali complained.

“Then do it yourself,” the lord snapped.

Ayzan barely processed the shifting before them, the pain and fear pulsating through their body. Their head was momentarily released and they desperately shook it, groaned and prayed to be understood. They’d learned their lesson. Please, they had, it was not necessary, please please please, why couldn’t they just let them go.

“Hold it for me, dear, won’t you?” Feedali asked and Emrose obliged. Ayzan stared at her as she smiled and turned the needle around before their eyes. “Hold still,” she addressed them sweetly. “We wouldn’t want to do it all over again if you thrashed around too much, would we?”

They didn’t want to do it even the first time. They hated it. They needed it to stop. Gods, please, why couldn’t it just stop.

Feedali cooed and smiled and talked comforting nonsense at them as the needle went through their lips mercilessly, up and down and then tug until it’s tight, and tug again to secure it with a knot. Up and down and tug, up and down and tug, and in the end they had no strength to even whimper, just crying in silence, body shaking with each puncture.

“Leave a gap for it to drink,” Emrose advised. Feedali agreed enthusiastically. She went to the very edge of their lips, tugged and tied it and Ayzan thought it was over. They hoped it was over, it had to be over, it had to.

The needle pierced them again, farther from the edge. “It’s a better pattern like this, isn’t it?” Feedali commented cheerfully. Emrose said something Ayzan couldn’t catch, but he also sounded satisfied. Ayzan cried and prayed for it to be over.

It went on slowly. It ended abruptly. They couldn’t remember half of it, and came to only when Feedali patted their cheek and praised them. They moved their mouth a bit and were met with a sharp pain. They cried.

“It must be thirsty,” the lady guessed. They didn’t catch the discussion that followed after. They heard laughter.

Something pressed to their lips — hurt, hurt, it hurt so much — past it, pushing them apart — hurt — just enough to squeeze through. “Open your teeth,” Feedali asked. Ayzan tried to. Their lips moved and it hurt. “Suck,” she encouraged them. They tried to — it was hard, with their mouth still filled so they couldn’t move their tongue even a bit. They gagged again, and they coughed when the water went down the wrong way. It hurt. They couldn’t even drink. They struggled to breathe. They hated it, hated it, hated hated hated hated it.

They barely felt the ropes around their limbs loosen and would have fallen over if not for someone’s arms lowering them down gently. “Look at it,” Ayzan heard Feedali coo above them. “So exhausted! I must admit, it was an ingenuous idea, dear. They’re so cute like this! And the gold looks so nice. I will definitely miss their voice, though.”

Ayzan’s hands were free. They moved one up, to their face, and felt thick blood caped around their chin. They moved further, to the lips. Ran a finger across them, pausing at each stitch and barely conscious of the pain that came with each movement.

Their lips were sewn shut. Barely a gap to press anything through anywhere but in one place, and even there barely a bigger straw could fit. They tried to force them open, and then tugged at the metal thread, scratched and tried to force the gag out, and wailed, and pulled so hard something tore, warm blood pouring in their mouth and down their chin both.

They felt their hands pried away from their face and tied together behind their back once more.

They curled up, crying helplessly, wretchedly, wishing only for this to be over. Clinging to the last bits of hope that it could be over, one day. That Kiris would find them. That they could survive until then. It had to end. It had to, had to, had to, had to. They needed it to end. It hurt so much.

A lash fell heavily, cutting across their back and their tied arms, and a few times more.

“Bring it to the dungeon until it remembers how to act,” Emrose demanded, voiced overflowing with disgust.

Ayzan felt something crack in them. They didn't resist being dragged away.

[whumble-beeee]

Whumptober 2023 | Day 10 | The Bee’s Whumptober Masterlist 

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you’d never leave.”

CW: yandere whumper, maybe broken bone, kidnapping, noncon drugging, syringe

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

Whumpee held their phone up to the sky, waving it around fruitlessly as they squinted up at the screen, hoping to be blessed by tiny bars of cell service gracing the hotbar of their phone. No such luck. They groaned much too loudly, enough that their friend would overhear and hopefully come to their heroic rescue.

“WhumpeeEERRRRRRR,” they called out, imitating a particularly annoying preschooler they used to hate. “There’s no signal. If you were gonna take me camping in the middle of nowhere, the least you could do is provide high-speed wifi.”

“Mm, yeah, my mistake, many apologies, m’lord.” Whumper deadpanned with a smirk as they scouted out the campsite, matching Whumpee’s banter. “I’ll take you to the Bermuda Triangle next time. Even less service there, so I’ve heard. ”

Whumpee let out an exaggerated gasp. “You wouldn’t! That's it, I’m canceling you on Twitter!”

“Right.” They made their way over to Whumpee, leaning against the car with their arms crossed, head tilted to the side. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that without cell service?”

“As soon as we get the high-speed wifi I requested, it’s over for you.”

“But then you couldn’t cancel me for not getting you wifi because you’ll have wifi, right?”

“Don't try to sway me with such trivial things as facts and logic!” Whumpee decreed hautilily. "You must be punished for your crimes. Your execution will be glorious!”

Whumper grinned despite their exaggerated tough guy act. Whumpee always knew how to make them smile. Their heart had been racing ever since they left, wondering if they were making the right choice here. They could still back out, just have a regular nice, normal camping trip with Whumpee.

But no. Whumper had to bite their lip to not fully oggle at Whumpee as they stood on the edge of the trunk, bantering without a care in the world. A warm all-consuming pressure filled Whumper’s chest and they had to make a physical effort not to squeal like a child when their crush noticed them for the first time. Soon they would have this all the time. This was the right choice.

They jumped up to join Whumpee on the lip of the trunk, awkwardly slouching down under the trunk door proper. “Well, might be kind of hard to execute me if you can’t cancel me in the first place, no?”

“You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Whumpee raised a challenging eyebrow at them. Whumper had to manually remember how to breathe. 

They snatched Whumpee’s phone out of their grasp and lept down from the trunk, sprinting halfway across the campsite and turning around to dangle the phone tauntingly before Whumpee even had a chance to jump down.

“Can’t cancel me without access to the outside world at all, yeah?”

“Oh, fuck you, Whumper!”

“You would!”

Whumpee snorted, jumping down and sprinted toward Whumper, but Whumper took off again in a different direction, so they were still the same distance away by the time Whumpee made it to Whumper’s original spot.

Whumpee blew some air up their face, their bangs fluttering up in the most adorable way. They made their way toward Whumper again, this time walking normally, panting lightly and holding out their hand. “Okay, seriously, I need my phone back please."

Whumper squeezed the phone in a death grip and bit the inside of their cheek, so hard they almost drew blood. They cherished moment, the way their heart fluttered. It may be a while before they and Whumpee could have moments like this again, but after that, life would be nothing but these moments.

Whumpee grabbed onto Whumper's shoulder to leverage themself up to the arm holding their phone toward the sky, but their hand fell just short of reaching. One of the advantages of being the taller one. But then Whumpee used their shoulder as a boost to jump higher, and Whumper had to stumble back to keep the phone away from them. Whumpee’s knees buckled from the sudden absence of Whumper's body to brace the fall and they fell on their ass with a shriek. Oh no. No no no.

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” Whumper yelled, backing up further.

Whumpee hissed. A telltale redness of the eyes betraying held-back tears as they cursed to fire shooting up their tailbone. 

“What was that for?” They demanded, more confused and pained than angry. Even when Whumper accidentally hurt them, they didn't get mad; Whumper could have cried. Whumpee really was perfect, weren’t they?

“Just give me my phone, would ya, man? Jesus, I think I bruised my tailbone or something. We might need to actually call someone now, or go to urgent care…”

“You can’t do that, Whumpee. Sorry.”

Whumpee, for the first time, groaned in annoyance and tilted their chin up at Whumper. That would need correcting later. But even still, the actions made Whumper want to squeeze Whumpee until they popped.

“Why not? You break the cell service on purpose? Or did you actually take me out here to kidnap me, torture me, then leave my remains strewn about the woods so they’d never find me again?” A wry smile crept onto their face again, one which quickly disappeared as soon as Whumper spoke again.

“Well… one out of the three.”

“What?” Their eyes widened into a brief flash of fear before the mask of confusion settled on their features again. Whumper always took the joke too far sometimes. They knew that. With some effort and a clenched jaw, they pushed up to their knees. “Whumper, stop fucking around and help me up. I need to get to a doctor.”

Whumper closed their eyes and took a deep breath, a loud roaring in their ears. No turning back now. 

They threw Whumpee's phone on the ground and smashed the heel of their hiking boot into the fragile glass, and Whumpee cried out, falling out of their precarious squat and straight onto their tailbone, then spasming out so they laid trembling on their side. Whumper stomped on the phone until it more resembled broken spare parts than an actual device, then swished it around in the dirt just to make sure.

Whumpee stared at the dust-bitten parts with wide eyes, mouth agape. Then their fiery gaze shot up and found Whumper. “What the FUCK?! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!"

Whumper stared at Whumpee, hardly able to breathe. This was it. The Confession.

“I’m sorry I have to do this, Whumpee, but I can’t let anyone else have you anymore. That includes people on your phone. You’re mine. And I’m yours. They might try to get in our way, and if that happens, I wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate the problem entirely. I know you might be in shock right now, but I think you’ll find that in time... I mean, I’ll make sure you never want for anything and no one–... no one will… Are you– Do you need help?...”

Whumpee struggled to their feet with shaky legs, wincing the entire time, breathing heavily, almost like a panic response. They never took their eyes off Whumper. It would have been perfect, except for the terrified and hurt and still slightly disbelieving expression that etched into their features. Whumper tried to go and help them up, but Whumpee practically lept backward, almost toppling over again in the process.

“The fuck?! No, stay away from me! This is– What is this? You’re actually kidnapping me?”

“No, no, Whumpee, look, you’re in shock,” Whumper rushed forward and grabbed them by the forearms to hold them steady. Whumpee tugged away violently, but still, Whumper held them fast. “I have a cabin out here, no one will find us, we’ll go there and we can patch you up and you can–”

“No, no! Let go of me Whumper, let me go, I don’t want to be kidnapped! Let me go, please, please I can’t– I can’t– please–... don’t–…”

Whumpee was getting hysterical, their breaths shallow and fast, their face so much whiter than normal and tears falling freely down their cheeks. This was all wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Thankfully, Whumper was always prepared. As gently as possible, they wrenched Whumpee’s arm downward and Whumpee collapsed to their knees at Whumper’s feet. Whumper slipped the syringe out of their pocket. A pre-measured dose. Just for Whumpee.

“Whumpee, you’re hysterical. I’m going to put you to this’ll help you relax, almost like you’re asleep. You won’t be able to move, but know you’ll always be safe from now on. With me.”

Whumpee tried to tug away from Whumpers iron grip, breath hitching intensely as they unsuccessfully tried to back up, shaking their head and pleading, “No–, no no no–, I don't–, please don’t, just– let me go–  I don’t– stop, stop, stop stop no stop stopstopstopSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP PLEASE!!”

Then they plunged the needle into Whumpee’s arm, more forcefully than they meant to. Whumpee was starting to get on their nerves. They let out a strangled cry, still trying desperately to pull away, struggling with all their might. Until they couldn’t anymore. They swallowed, doing their damnedest to fight the drug overpowering their body, slowly shutting them down. All that did was work the poison around their body faster. Their actions slowly got weaker and weaker until they collapsed into Whumper’s arms, eyes slowely blinking and unfocused, barely seeing through the fog.

Whumper smiled down into Whumpee’s eyes, scooping them up into a bridal carry, their head lolling against their chest.

“See, isn’t that better? Let’s go home and get those injuries all fixed up for you. I’ll make sure you get settled in nice and snug. You’ll love it… I’m so glad we’re finally going through with this. I’d be lost without you, dear. And you’d be lost without me.”

[whumporama]

Whumpees who feel rage inside, rage about what's done to them, about who did this to them, how they had no right, how this shouldn't have happened, how something has been taken and they can't get it back. They feel rage about their rage, about how this... anger, this monster, inside them has been created, and how they can't get it out.

They find Whumper. They fight them, and beat them. And as they're beating Whumper who has gone down (maybe they're already dead, maybe not) they break down. They started out angry and snarling, but now they're just crying and sobbing, until they scream, letting out all their rage.

It's Whumper's fault, it's all Whumper's fault, and now here they are, bloody, violent, and broken.

So they stop, and just sob. They're not angry anymore. Just empty.

So, so empty.

[whump-bunny]

Whumper overestimates how much torture Whumpee can take. The once-defiant Whumpee is broken and catatonic, not speaking or reacting to anything anymore. And Whumper isn't happy about it. Though they loathe to admit it, they liked Whumpee's defiance. It was entertaining. Whumpee was entertaining. With them not speaking anymore, Whumper realizes that they miss the sound of Whumpee's voice. The snarky little comments, the sarcastic jokes, the curses screamed in rage.

Now Whumper is desperate to get the old Whumpee back. They're being extra "nice," giving Whumpee medical treatment and food, anything to make them go back to how they were before. Anything to fix their favorite toy.

Because like it or not, Whumper doesn't have anyone else.

[whumptember]

2024 Prompt List

ask box | rules | tags and posting

Main Prompts

1. "Don't leave me." chains | failed escape attempt | abandoned building

2. "I can't do this alone." dried blood | begging for help | caretaker's front door

3. "You're my last chance." rusted metal | enemies teaming up | returning home

4. "Don't make me go back." white knuckles | used as bait | ballroom

5. "You've hurt them for the last time." slamming door | rescue | whumper's basement

6. "I never want to see your face here again." torn mask | reluctant villain | hero's headquarters

7. "Let me take care of you!" damp rag | whumpee turned caretaker | bathroom

8. "You'll never see me again." packed bag | secrets revealed | doorway

9. "What did they do to you?" bloodied clothes | homecoming | hospital reunion

10. "I need your help." breaking voice | secret intentions | villain's base

11. "One last favor, then I"ll leave you alone." knife | sacrificing themself | sacred ground

12. "Why did you do it?" new gravestone | confronting whumper | cemetery

13. "I never looked back, and I regret it every day." cracked foundation | city in ruin | middle of the road

14. "You changed my life. not for the better. Now I get to return the favor." blindfold | payback | abandoned warehouse

15. "I'm never going to let you go." silk ribbon | intimate whumper | whumper's bed

16. "What happened to you?" new clothes | recapture | whumpee's old room

17. "This wasn't the deal!" torn contract | betrayed | in the middle of the woods

18. "You're never going to see them again." letter on whumpee's pillow | disappeared in the night | caretaker's apartment

19. "Take me instead!" cloth gag | caretaker turned whumpee | getaway car

20. "I'm always going to be with you." worn letter | mourning | caretaker's bed

21. "I'm not okay." bruised skin | begging for help | hero's doorstep

22. "We have to go back and save them! They'd do the same for us!" drag marks | taken hostage | battleground

23. "You're nothing without me." invisible restraints | hero whumper | basement

24. "Change my mind, tell me why I'm wrong and I'll turn back and undo everything I've done." split lip | hero in the wrong | edge of a roof

25. "Stop it! You're going to kill them!" blood spattered wall | ambush | villain's home

26. "Let them go." blindfold and gag | ransom demand | undisclosed location

27. "Don't forget about me, alright?" packed bag | leaving home | secret destination

28. "I was supposed to save the world." shackled ankles | accidental villain | jail cell

29. "You're a child, go home now and I won't come after you. But if you stay and fight, I won't hold back." hand-made mask | villain mentor | bank vault

30. "What did I say about breaking the rules?" ruler stick | young whumpee | on their knees

Alternate Prompts

1. "You lied to them." 2. Broken wrist 3. "I've done things I can't even think about anymore." 4. Whispered apology 5. "You're coming back, right?" 6. Curled into a ball 7. "You make me feel like I can forget all the bad things." 8. Chained to a car 9. "This is just the beginning." 10. Villain whumpee 11. "Oh, come on, you can take more than that!" 12. Begging 13. "Don't make me."

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Content: Recovery, past torture, PTSD/trauma, chronic pain.

"I want you to ask for something," Caretaker gently requested. "Anything at all. Ask, and it's yours."

"I don't know what to ask for," Whumpee whispered. "Everything I had- everything I was, was something Whumper gave me. That's all I know."

Caretaker sighed from their spot on the floor. Their arms were draped across Whumpee's lap, their side pressed into the couch that they were sitting on. "Okay. Let's work with that, then. Did Whumper ever do anything for you that you enjoyed? Do you have any... not-so-bad memories while you were there?"

There was some silence, only broken by the occasional sniffle as Whumpee attempted to think back. They could feel Caretaker's warm gaze focused solely on them, waiting ever so patiently for a response.

"Sometimes... sometimes, if they pushed me past my body's limit, they'd lie me down and massage my joints until the pain wasn't so bad. I liked that." They were embarrassed to be telling Caretaker anything. It was hard to get the words out without their breath catching or their mind stumbling over certain syllables. "Everything always hurts now. I want... I just want some relief."

"You're asking for a massage?"

Whumpee tilted their head further down and nodded. "Yes."

"I can do that." They felt Caretaker intertwine their hands together in an effort to reassure them. "There. Your first request since you got back. That's good, right?"

Caretaker was smiling when Whumpee finally glanced back up at them again. It helped their own muscles to relax just a little, feeling less as though they were preparing for an attack at any moment. "You'll really do it?"

"Of course." Caretaker gave them a friendly pat on the leg as they stood up. "How about we grab some food and then you can show me what hurts, yeah?"

Unable to help themself, Whumpee gave a teary nod and smiled. "Okay."

[whumpdaydreamerx]

Little whump detail that I love: at the beginning of a torture session when Whumpee is first chained or tied up, you see them wrap their hands around to hold the length of the rope or chain.

But afterwards when they’ve been through hours and hours of agony, you see their hands now listlessly hanging in their shackles. Bearing Whumpee’s weight, limp and weak.

It shows a Whumpee entering the ordeal being in control or defiant, but ending up losing all of that and having broken their composure. So much so that they don’t have the ability or the strength to posture anymore.

[newbornwhumperfly]

athena, you’ve done it again (broken my heart with bittersweet angst is what you’ve done) ����🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

you just…convey my boy’s character so well here. this is how i envision morja at his most broken-down. his most vulnerable. so aching and braced and trying above all to be obedient to his duty (even if that means clinging to the semblance of rules in his own mind) to stay balanced. he’s so crushed here but the glimmers of strength shine through regardless and i am so, so moved you’ve captured that about him. 😩😩😩

and morja’s interactions with gray are so…you really capture the panic that accompanies being treated with respect when it’s unusual to you. how healing can also feel like being trapped (because there are no more rules). it’s just so juicy that it’s only when gray invites morja to breakfast as an equal that he remembers just how easy it would be to kill gray 🥲🥲🥲 just…oh, my heart.

especially cause you let me know that gray is scared shitless but extending the branch of trust anyway…i love them with all my heart, your honor.

gray is so goddamn clever by having isaac stay behind so that morja didn’t feel pressured in the request. the way isaac haunts this narrative is chef’s kiss too - morja wondering why isaac (clearly a member of this family) hasn’t been “used to put morja down”. as if morja expects even rescued guard-dogs to still be treated as such. it’s SO GOOD. 😩

sorry for raving so much, just!!! morja kneeling with his hands behind his head like a prisoner every single time is making me feel things 🥺😭 it’s such a good gesture, athena, and you’ve captured his rote gestures of subservience so well 🥺

and all his assumptions 😩😩😩 god, assuming the one and only time he doesn’t see gray with food means that his torment has started. assuming that he might be being brought to a different part of the house to be assaulted. assuming the worst with such…grim but casual resignation is GOOD STORYTELLING. and the line “it had taken him so little time to become soft after having been given food and water so frequently” hurts my soul.

He didn’t need a weapon. He was the weapon

screams 😭🥺😍 HE IS!!! this is such real shit, holy fuck.

He stared at Gray’s back, brow furrowed as his chest ached with an emotion he couldn’t name. 

(narrator’s voice) that emotion was basic decency but morja had never experienced it before. godddddddd. 😩😩😩

(athena, on a very tearful note, i wanna thank you so much for publishing and writing this very beautiful and aching crossover? 💖💖💖 simply put, my writing depression has been a heavy fog for a long time and i’ve wanted people to be able to experience my character so badly. it’s such a fucking blessing to let people know him and see him through your writing when i haven’t been able to bring more of him out of me onto the published page 💖😭💖 it’s truly such a meaningful gift to me.)

Breakfast, Part 1

Many thanks to @newbornwhumperfly for being so generous in letting me put their boy Morja in Situations, and many apologies to them as well for holding onto this story for so many months while waiting for me to finish it.

My masterlist

Morja is a diathésimos, one of a class of indentured servants owned by society’s elite - though some would call them slaves. He has been tasked with a mission of critical importance by his anóteros: to infiltrate a dangerous family that has taken refuge in the north, and kill the criminal that they are harboring: Gavin Stormbeck.

“It is your part to kill me, mine to die without flinching.”

— Epictetus, from Discourses (Translated by Robert Dobbin)

Your Part to Kill | My Part to Die | To Die Quietly | Despair | Dawn | Breakfast Part 1

Contents: captivity, conditioned whumpee, past drugging, thoughts of death, past torture

~

There were footsteps in the hallway. Morja was instantly awake, eyes wide open, back ramrod straight as he sat up. He stared at the door from his sleeping spot on the floor, doing his best to stop trembling before the anóteros of the family - Gray, they told him to call them Gray - came in. They’d done that every morning for the past five mornings now, taking away his bucket of waste, bringing him something delicious for breakfast. It made Morja’s stomach flip with shame to be served in such a way, and by the anóteros no less. If his owner benefactor heard of this, he would be whipped for his insolence. He was still waiting to be whipped now.

He was waiting for worse things than a whipping. He was waiting for drugs in the food, but not a single meal had left him sick, or weak, or unconscious, or in pain. Perhaps it was a slow poison that would work through his body over weeks rather than hours, but Morja couldn’t see the sense in that. Morja had puzzled over it in the days that he had had to himself; when this family had Isaac Moore - whom Morja now knew was a diathésimos like himself - at their disposal, why would they not use him to put Morja down like the threat that he was? Why would they waste their food, their space, their time on him when they were planning on killing him anyway? The time he could understand, even though it made him sick with terror: the time was to break him. The time was only the first step in the torture. But why was the food not drugged? His own anóteros drugged his food. How could this family of criminals, traitors, murderers do less?

The door handle turned, and he shuffled to his knees, just like he had every morning since he’d been locked in this room. And, just like every other morning, he slid his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together to keep them from shaking. He kept his eyes riveted to the carpet just in front of his knees as the door opened. 

“Good morning, Morja,” Gray said gently. They stopped at the door. 

Morja froze. So the torture would begin in earnest today, then. Starting with going without food. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to blow out a slow, even breath. “G-good morning, anó– Gray.” He must still be polite, even though he was terrified. His anóteros had made sure he could do that.

Still, he was thirsty. It had taken so little time for him to become soft, after having been given food and water so frequently. Morja’s eyes opened again, as he began to see the plan laid out in front of him. He wondered of Gavin Stormbeck had concocted it, or if the entire family was gifted in the art of torture. 

“I’m going to stop whatever thought process you’re so clearly lost in right now,” Gray said, their voice soft. Morja braced for whatever blow was coming. “You’re still being fed. You’re still getting water.”

Morja blinked, swallowed. His eyes flicked up towards Gray. His stomach lurched as he realized Gray was the only one standing in the door. 

Where is Isaac Moore?

Gray was already speaking again. “What I wanted to ask, without Isaac here, so you wouldn’t feel pressured either way,” they said, “Was whether you would care to join us all for breakfast?” Gray shrugged. “In the dining room?”

Morja shivered as he tried to decipher the meaning behind Gray’s words. He had been tied to a chair and interrogated in the dining room the first night he had been in this house - perhaps Gray was playing a game with him, trying to get him to agree to another interrogation for their own amusement. Or perhaps they simply wanted to move him to another part of the house under false pretenses. Morja was in a reasonably defensible position in this room, and that might be the case. Or perhaps… 

Morja swallowed hard, desperately hoping he was not playing into some sick game by guessing. “To… to serve you? Anóteros?”

The corner of Gray’s mouth turned down, and Morja knew he had guessed wrong. He shuddered and bowed his head low to the floor. 

“No, Morja,” Gray rasped, holding their hands out to the side. “No, it’s like I told you… We don’t want anything like that from you. I was wondering if you would like to… eat with us. At the table, instead of in this room. That’s all. Not serving us. Just as an equal.”

“Equal…” Morja croaked, staring at his knees. He realized he had spoken out loud and closed his mouth with a snap.

“Yes,” Gray said, sounding tired. “Is that… something you would like? If that would frighten you too much, I understand, but… I think it might be nice.”

Morja’s hands were shaking behind his head. Isaac Moore would be out there, and Gavin Stormbeck. But if he didn’t go… If he displeased this anóteros, and didn’t go… 

He swallowed bile, swallowed his fear. He drew in a quavering breath and slowly, slowly let his hands fall until they pressed into the carpet in front of him. “Yes,” he murmured, nodding jerkily. “Yes, if it would… please you, anóteros, I’ll do it.”

“It would please me for you to be free,” Gray said with a tone that Morja didn’t recognize. “And this, I think, is a good first step. Let’s see how this goes.” They took a step into the hall and waited for Morja to get to his feet before they started walking towards the dining room. Morja fell into step behind them. They had their back to him as they walked, he realized with a start. 

He could kill them, if he wanted to. It would be so, so easy. They towered over him, but he was strong, packed with muscle, as hard-won as his scars. A kick to the back of the knee, and his hands could close around their neck, or he could bash their head against the wall. He didn’t need a weapon. He was the weapon, and he could kill this traitor, just like he had been trained to. Just like his anóteros had commanded him, just like it had been beaten trained into him for years. Isaac wasn’t here with his gun. Morja could do it, and then go find Gavin Stormbeck to complete his mission. It could be over in a second.

Morja’s hands shook as he clenched them into fists. 

But Gray trusted him. They had to, or they would never do something so foolish. Morja couldn’t understand why Gray would turn their back to an enemy, someone they knew had been sent to kill one of their own. His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. He forced his hands to open at his sides. He stared at Gray’s back, brow furrowed as his chest ached with an emotion he couldn’t name. 

@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck , @whumps-the-word , @justplainwhump ,  @finder-of-rings , @inky-whump , @thatsthewhump , @orchidscript , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pretty-face-breaker , @cinnamonflavoredhugs , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal ​, @annablogsposts , @suspicious-whumping-egg

[bilightningwhumper]

Had a thought of someone (Caretaker or Whumper or some bystander) watching a Whumpee just slowly crumbling on the inside before it finally comes out in a tearful broken "I- I want to go home now" before they just fall apart.

That always gets me in shows, but dang seeing it in writing is powerful when done right.

[whumpster-dumpster]

Smol Whumpee who loves loves loves Tol Caretaker's big breathless pressure stim hugs that squeeze the stuffing out of them and fill it all with warmth and love. Smol Whumpee who's now been found so beaten and broken that Tol Caretaker has to handle them like glass, no matter how desperately they want to hold them tight and never let go again. It won't really feel like a reunion until they're healed enough to do so, if they can heal

[whumblr]

A bone to pick

"Just can't help yourself, huh?! Always getting in our way!"

Another punch blew them to the floor of the grimy cell. With their hands cuffed behind their back, Whumpee couldn’t do much more than literally roll with the punches, soften the blows, trying to dodge best they could as Henchman went off, releasing his anger on them.

A kick to the stomach made them curl up. Followed up by a stomp on their ribs.

"Not so tough now, hm?" Henchman hissed, grinding his boot against their ribcage as if he were stomping out a cigarette. "What, nothing to say this time?!"

"What is going on here?"

Pressure on their ribs immediate fell away when the Henchman literally jumped a little and stepped back.

Whumper stood in the cell door opening, casually leaning against the metal frame, arms crossed, taking in the scene.

"Teaching them a lesson, sir." Henchman puffed his chest out, boasting his confidence that he was doing nothing wrong. But his voice sounded awfully fragile, the plea for approval ringing clear.

Whumpee glared up at the man in the doorway. They weren't sure why they were looking for mercy there but at this point he was the only one who could stop this. Even just for some stupid reason like, 'Only I am allowed to touch them'. But of course, there was no reprieve.

"I see," Whumper merely said, cold indifference in his eyes as he looked at the figure writhing on the floor. "Nothing wrong with that."

Henchman deflated. As did Whumpee's small hope.

"Did you break anything?" Whumper asked.

"No, sir!" Henchman quickly defended himself. No, no, wouldn't want your boss to think you'd just broken his new toy...

A disappointed hum. "Do it now."

Whumpee stopped breathing and went completely still, as if they were superglued to the floor. Fear started prickling in their stomach. Their heart pounded against the concrete and spread the uncomfortable, heavy sensation all over their body.

"Sir?" Henchman didn't seem as sure about what was about to happen.

"Pick a bone," Whumper said, slowly, eerily calm and he looked straight in Whumpee's eyes as he continued, "And break it."

Whumpee forced themself to maintain eyecontact, to keep breathing calmly through their nose. But they lost to the panic rising in them as Henchman disappeared behind them. They turned to their side to keep an eye on him, eyes wildly flitting about to Whumper and back.

Henchman stalked around Whumpee and they could practically feel his eyes roaming over their limbs, their body, as he was trying to make his choice. A barely noticeable sly smile crept over his lips and his eyes settled on their upper arm.

No... They kept the word firmly behind clenched teeth. Nothing they'd say would make them stop and they'd be damned if they allowed them to hear them beg! Their jaw set, panicked eyes blazed as they shot Whumper a challenging glare.

"I know what you're thinking," Whumper rumbled, unimpressed by the scene in front of him. "You're not going to scream for me." He gave a light shrug. "You re wrong there."

As Henchman shoved them onto their front and pulled their arms into an uncomfortable angle, they did put up a light struggle, pulling fruitlessly at the cuffs, scooting inches away, but a boot landedly heavily in-between their shoulder blades and kept them pinned.

"Don't move," Whumper growled, "Or I'll pick something to break as well."

A broken whimper did slip free this time and only increased in volume despite their wishes when they saw Henchman raise a leg.

An enormous force came down on their arm. A disgusting snap vibrated through their entire body like a tiny explosion, but the explosion of pain was much bigger.

And Whumper had been right; they couldn't hold their scream back. A broken, stuttering shriek that fizzled to sharp, short outbursts as the pain faded, but kept throbbing.

The handcuffs held their arms back mercilessly, and pulled at the broken bone with every twitch and twist. They squeezed their eyes shut. Felt, to the their horror, a cold prick of wetness in the corner of their eyes and they turned face-down to the floor, hiding it, resting their forehead against the cold floor.

"Good," Whumper gave a nod. "Now leave us," he growled at Henchman, and poked a foot under Whumpee, nudging them over, drawing out another scream. "We still have much more to discuss."

-

General whump taglist O7: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink

@painsandconfusion @auroragehenna @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop