#oc whump

[dying-crying-pining]

whump tropes that make it into every single thing i write because i’m unoriginal:

• trauma reveal by bedridden/weakened/recovering character

• blood-loss related collapse

• somebody gets shot/stabbed/impaled in the chest/gut region

• face holding/checking for injuries

• gentle and/or frantic manhandling (bonus points if hurt character is extra floppy lol)

• fading in and out

• A (who’s usually bleeding out) asks B if they’re ok, cue B trying not to burst into tears or getting pissed off

• A returns to work/regular activities/battle too soon after injury and needs to be scraped off the floor and tucked back into bed by B

[kabie-whump]

♡‬ Febuwhump 2025 Day 9: Necromancy ‪‪♡‬

// torture mentions, character death, bound and gagged

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Whumpee was relieved when Whumper killed them.

It had been a mercy. A final end to the pain. 

But it doesn’t last.

Whumpee gasps violently, their whole body seizing against tight restraints. Agony floods their body, an unbearable feeling after they’d spent the last few hours floating in total nothingness.

“Oh thank the gods.”

No.

That’s Whumper’s voice. It all floods back to Whumpee, the torture, the blood loss, the loopy ecestacy of finally succumbing to it all. 

“I lost you for a little while there.”

No no no no no it’s not fair.

Whumpee squeezes their eyes closed, a muffled sob escaping from behind their gag as they try to come to terms with the fact that it’s not over.

“You didn’t seriously expect me to just let you go, did you?”

Tears stream down the sides of Whumpee’s face, soaking into their hairline. They scream through the gag, because this isn’t fair and it’s supposed to be over and they don’t want to fucking be here anymore.

“Mhm, yeah. It’s good to see you too. Now, let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@febuwhump

[whumble-beeee]

You Look So Much Prettier This Way

Poor Stan. What will you do to get out of this predicament, I wonder?

What will you do when fighting back isn't even an option?

Stan sat stunned. He couldn't speak. He couldn't scream for help, he couldn't complain, he couldn't quip, he couldn't stand, he couldn't struggle, hell, he could barely even move.

He wanted to cry.

His face hurt from where they punched him. His neck hurt from where they grabbed him. His entire body hurt from where they'd manhandled him to the ground and pinned him down and tied him up, choking him, punching him if he dared flinch, or god forbid he struggled against their grasp.

And after all that excessive tying, the rope that scratched against his tender skin and pressed in on his ribcage in a suffocating embrace.

They'd gotten out the duct tape. His heart stuttered, eyes wide. He started to scream, he kicked out at them.

Big mistake. As soon as they finished they mortifying ordeal of wrapping his mouth in layer after layer of duct tape, they slammed him down onto his back and hoisted his legs into the air, bent them into the most odd position, and by the time Stan realized that had still more rope, they were already wrapping it around his ankles and his thighs.

Over and over.

He tried to scream. They kicked him. He screamed some more into the duct tape gag. More blows. Tears. It didn't stop. He couldn't even curl in on himself to protect his soft underbelly.

Then they plopped him on the floor.

Surrounded him.

Appraised him, hungry eyes searching over his body.

Stan couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

The one he thought to be the leader stepped foreward.

Knelt in front of him, cupped Stan's cheek in their hand.

Stan could barely even find the strength to jerk away, and when he did, they just grabbed his collar and yanked him back, made him stare right into their ruthless shark-like eyes. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them.

"You look so much prettier this way," they lulled. "I wonder if your friends will agree when they come to find you."

* * * * * * * *

Whumptober 2024 | Day 7 | The Bee's Whumptober Masterlist

Stan is an OC that belongs to The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping!

Whumptober Taglist: @whumperofworlds | @whumptober-archive | @regular-whump-sfx

(If you wanna be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[elliehallers]

Me with my favorite OCs:

[ohbandera]

day 9: Injury

When u get shot by an arrow and then strike a pose

[inhurtandincomfort]

A Night to Regret

CW: Kidnapping, abusive relationship

Part 2 / masterlist

“Hey babe,” Kieran answered his phone with a grin, “Yeah, I’m on my way back now. Guess what? I’ve got a job!” 

“Really? That’s amazing!” He pulled it back from his ear as Abigail squealed, “What is it?” 

“It’s a short film, an original horror I think. I don’t know all the details, Kate said she’d email them to me first thing Monday. It’s a student film, but they’ve done quite a few popular ones.” 

“You know what this means? Celebration! We should invite Mike and Lisa, I’ll see if Cameron’s free too, and Jaysen, though I think he’s busy…”

Kieran laughed softly, “Is that really necessary? I was thinking we could just have a quiet night in, just the two of us.”  

“We do that all the time! Come on, we haven’t had a get together in ages. It’ll be fun. We’ll order pizza, and if you pick up some drinks on your way home… ooh, make sure you get some of that beer I like.”  “Since when did this become about you?” 

“I’ll pay for everything!” 

He smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “I got it, don’t worry. You order some pizzas, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” 

“Love you!”

Kieran slid his phone into his pocket, making a u-turn to head towards their favoured liquor store. He shivered, hugging himself as he walked down the quiet street. Strange, to be so quiet on a Saturday evening; it was freezing, he reasoned. It wasn’t that late, but the sun set early this time of year and a starless sky made the frigid air seem bleak. Still, deserted streets always held an eerie feeling. Though they weren’t completely empty, he only saw an occasional passerby in thick coats, scarves weaved around their faces. Man, he should have brought a scarf; his lips were probably turning blue. 

A small, childish part of him wished he had stayed talking with Abigail. Past every alley, every covered stranger, a chill crept up his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He considered calling her back. She was probably calling their friends though. You’re worrying over nothing, he scolded himself. He was a grown-ass man, he could handle walking down a street himself, the same route he’d taken many times before. Alone. In the dark. 

Abigail kept telling him he should ask his doctor about anxiety meds. Maybe she was right. 

He was relieved when he made it to the store, offering him a brief respite. There was only one other customer who seemed to be studying two bottles intently. Kieran made his purchase, making easy small talk with the grizzled cashier trying to ignore his stomach twisting in knots.

He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get warm, an awkward motion carrying bags of glass bottles. He hummed to himself as he walked, a cheesy romance he hoped would stave off anxious thoughts. He glanced behind. A couple of men were trailing at a steady pace, scarves concealing their faces. He turned back to face forward, his pace quickening just slightly. People are allowed to walk behind you, Kieran. He told himself firmly. Learning to face your fears is an important part of recovery. Don’t let anxiety control you. 

…But he’d also been taught to follow his instincts. What was he supposed to do when every gut feeling told him to run? 

He considered stopping to let them pass. Would that just make him seem suspicious? It would probably be weird. Home wasn’t far, he’d be there soon. A black car with tinted windows was parked up ahead. Had it ever been there before? He shook his head. Paranoid. He’s just paranoid. Lukas had always said so. It was hardly an unusual car, it’s no surprise he’d never noticed it. And people were allowed to visit.

Still, as he got closer his shoulders hunched, blood rushing in his ears. His stomach cramped, tightening painfully as every signal in his body rang wrong, wrong, wrong. Something was wrong. He halted in his tracks, willing himself to move, his body frozen as his mind raced, every alarm bell screaming go back, go back, danger danger dangerdanger-

A heavy weight slung around his shoulders drawing him in. He opened his mouth to yell, a gloved hand silencing him. Something hard pressed into his back, small and rounded and fuck, this wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening-

“Don’t make a sound,” A gruff voice whispered, a voice that didn’t sound natural. They were trying to disguise it. “Come with us quietly, and there won’t be any problems.” 

Kieran nodded numbly, his heart hammering against his chest. With a small nudge from whoever stood behind, with a gun did they have a gun please say that’s not a gun he was bundled into the black car where someone was already waiting to drive away. Two men sat either side of him, blocking every exit.

“Head down,” One commanded, shoving his head to his knees before he even had a chance to do so himself. His shopping bag was placed by their feet. They’d probably take the drinks for themselves. They took his phone too, along with his wallet leaving him with no form of identification. 

“Who are you?” Kieran dared to ask, his voice trembling. “Where are we going?”

“Shut up.” 

They were going to kill him. Oh god, he was going to be murdered, his body thrown in a woods somewhere or a lake or burned and oh god. Would they ever find him? Would his mother get to bury him? What about Abi, would she blame herself? How long would it take her to grow concerned? Was she already pacing around anxiously, wringing her hands, waiting for him to come home?

When they were out of city limits, they pushed him to the floor, wrapping cloth around his eyes, binding his wrists and ankles with duct tape which they also placed over his mouth. They must have driven for miles. He was transferred to another vehicle at some point, open conversations taking place in a language he couldn’t understand. Occasionally they’d rip the tape off to pour water down his throat. He fell asleep at one point, he thought. It was all a haze, fuzzy memories leaving him unable to distinguish what’s real and what is fake. 

Next thing he knew he was being roughly dragged outside, mud staining his clothes as  he was thrown to the floor. 

“Good to see you again, Angel.” 

Kieran stilled, every hair on his neck stood on end, his heart leapt to his throat. He thought it might just stop. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Lukas jeered, his honeyed voice washed over Kieran like acid. The blindfold was yanked off his face, letting him look up to a man he wished he’d forgotten. 

Calloused fingers cupped his cheek tenderly, bronze eyes filled with such gentle warmth met his own. He used to melt under that same gaze, putty in his hands. He would have done anything to please him, debased himself in so many ways just to see those soft eyes look at him once more. 

Now they just filled him with fear. 

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it Angel? Were you afraid you wouldn't see me again? I was beside myself. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing your face, haunting me like an enthralling ghost. I didn’t know what to do, I was so lost without you.” Lukas grabbed Kierans face in both hands, leaning in so close their noses almost touched, staring deep into his eyes in a way that made his skin crawl. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some horrible nightmare, he was gone, he got out, he fled across half the country just to be safe and it wasn’t enough. He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to kick and scratch and do anything that would get him out of here, anything to never be trapped with this monster again. 

But his limbs were bound, his mouth stuffed full of cloth. Even if they weren’t, he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. He’d never fought back then. He hadn’t changed at all, not really. He was still the same meek figure he’d been back then. 

“You should never have left me Angel,” Lukas breathed, his breath hot on his face. “You’ll never leave me again.”

If you enjoyed please consider reblogging, it really helps the reach and lets others enjoy it too!

Being kidnapped by your abusive ex is bad enough - even worse is Lukas needs to make money. How will he do that? Hurting his Angel on camera, of course <3

[silver-bunnyspell]

Inquisitor Isidore Toller from my fanfiction What You Deserve!! :)

[sacredwrath]

P14. Be Very Afraid

I feel like this one deserves an extra warning. Not sure I can "diagnose" exactly what's going on here, but for those with mental health issues related to the content warning list, just be extra cautious <3

Masochistic meltdown, !!!extreme self-harm!!! suicidal thoughts, masochism, self hatred, gore, sadistic fantasies/ feelings, referenced torture, touch aversion, PTSD, disorientation, dissociation, sensory issues, nausea, unhinged raving

!!!disturbing imagery/ hallucinations: needles, hands, screaming!!!

Adrian paces.

He tries to count his steps, but keeps losing track as he fumes.

He can still feel her phantom touch on him, fingers light against his neck. On his skin. Exposed. Her fingers grazing the back of his neck. On his neck. exposed- He slaps the spot, hard. Not enough

Rage

He needs to hurt someone. Needs to make them bleed.

She cowers on the floor, clear in his minds eye- no! She cowers from him- no- Not her, not enough. He barely touched her. Not enough. He will hurt her. Make her beg. Beg like he did, like Jesse did- pathetic cringing creature

He sees Jesse's broken body, wet eyes begging, feels their trembling body against his own, feels them holding him. his guts clench. Revolting disgusting pathetic- he banishes the vision

He's hot, dizzy and sick, a loud ringing in his ears, pulsing in time with his racing heart. Each beat sends waves of heat scorching through him.

Someone's screaming again. Screaming in his head. He hates it. Hates their noise, their weakness

“Shut up!!” he roars, clamping his hands over his ears. Fucking disgusting creature

Jesse's screaming. He hears their muffled sobs through his their cell door

Should he open it let them in?

He watches them cower from him. Good

He hears their begging. Desperate pleas for mercy. Little jerks and twitches of pain as he holds them underwater. Yes

He holds them underwater. Yes!

He's burning. Sweat like battery acid on his skin, but no pain. Why doesn't it hurt? It should hurt. He needs it to hurt to feel it

Needs it needs it needs it-needs - Shut up! He smacks himself across the face.

Pull yourself together.

But he burns. Burns with a sickening lack of sensation, a numbness that picks at him like millions of tiny needles. Taunting him. Tickling his skin. Digging gentle points into him never far enough to actually hurt

She touched him and it didn't hurt

It hurts

He shrieks in frustration.

Rage

Humiliation

Whirling, he grabs the cot and smashes it into the wall. Wooden legs shattering against the brick sending shards flying around him. He can't stop the screaming! Not enough!

Fingers in his hair, pulling, twisting, wrenching harder. Tearing. More more MORE! Wetness on his scalp, on his fingers. His hands! Not enough!!!

Every hair on his head, his body, he can feel them. Droplets of acidic sweat. Tiny needless tracing over him taunting, tingling crawling. He slaps his skin, trying to swat them away, but they congregate on his neck, his back, the places she touched him. He feels them under his skin burrowing- He needs them out out

OUT!

He drags his nails across his neck, no pain. Fucking numb itching, making him sick. He needs more! Anything!

Viscious scratching at his neck, OFF OFF OFF he needs her fingers OFF of him! He needs more than that he needs to feel her fingers breaking.

The grind and pop of a joint giving up, the loose ripping of muscle and tendon as parts never meant to hold a finger together stretch past their limits. Further! The sharp crack of bone breaking- screaming- The limp wiggle of a body part broken in half, held together by nothing but frail skin. Her screaming. Yes her screams-

Screaming

He scratches harder, feeling the first layers of skin come away, bunching up under his nails. HARDER 

He tears at his neck, his arms, his chest. He digs deeper, trying to claw his way out of himself.

Weak cowardly thing- its what it deserves. What he deserves. needs it needs it so badly it hurts

NEED

Blood on his fingers. Yes

Who is fucking screaming? There's always someone fucking screaming. THERE'S ALWAYS SOMEONE FUCKING SCREAMING!! Jesse again? Someone screaming! in his head? Why can't he tell?

Is he screaming?

He can't fucking take it anymore

His legs, he remembers his legs, the burns, he reaches down for them, but there's something in the way, fabric.

He rips his pants off, hurling them away, collapsing hard to the floor. He huddles there, against the wall, shaking, always fucking shaking!!! Revolting, pathetic, disgusting.

Should've killed yourself years ago. Coward

Nausea churns his stomach

He can't handle it. Never could, never will

He needs someone bleeding. Blood on his hands. Knife in his hand. Screaming to drown out the screams in his head.

He needs someone to hurt. anyone, anything

He brushes finger tips against the burns on his legs, groaning. Sensation, no pain, his stomach turns. Not enough! Never enough! WHY CANT HE FUCKING FEEL IT?!

He digs in, pain, but it's nothing. NOTHING!

He digs his nails deep, gasping as he finally feels, still nowhere fucking near enough!

He drags his nails slowly down his legs, gasping. Lose blistered skin giving way like wet paper. For a second blinding white pain overwhelms him. Finally

He rips a set of stitches open in one brutal motion, falling back against the wall, panting in relief as the agony washes through him. More

He scrabbles on the floor for one of the wood splinters. Desperate, revolting animal-

He jabs it into his leg and the world contracts, narrowing to the pain

Silence

His eyes roll back and he moans, extacy, torture

He digs the spike further, feeling the tip scrape against bone

A string of siliva slips over his numb lower lip

Agony throbs in time with his beating heart

His eyes flicker, his body suddenly very heavy. Almost impossible to keep upright

Fingers search the floor for another spike

He's losing consciousness now. He can feel his brain shutting down. But he needs another, just one more. He feels around for a spot then digs the spike into burned meat. His body convulses, trying to escape the torment, but he forces it still, digging deeper, reveling in its pathetic struggle

The agony is so hot he feels himself unraveling in it. Finally. He whimpers, thoughts fragmenting unable to hold him

Deeper

His consciousness pours out of him like the blood spilling from his punctured body and he collapses like a stone

Prev | Masterpost | Next

Tag list: @whumpacabra @turn-the-tables-on-them @kiichu @whatwhump @jay--o @starsick1979 @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @syncopein3d @fuckcapitalismasshole

[dying-crying-pining]

whump tropes in everything i write pt. 2:

• that pause and dizzy sway A does after a fight/ordeal/magic overuse. B grabs a fistful of A’s shirt to steady them

• running a character into the ground: every time they get a second to rest, another fight happens/they’re on the run again/they’re attacked. bonus points if they’re in the same outfit the whole time and it progressively gets bloodier, more stained and ripped—makes that final collapse sooo good

• A is on the verge of completely losing it, shaking hands/frantic pacing, whether that’s bc anxiety/the horrors™️/the plot etc. B is the only person who can ground them. Love a good forced hug that A resists but B’s stronger and it turns into B guiding A to the floor as A melts into them

• A hiding an illness/injury right up until they literally tip over and give B the fright of their life

• a character coughing up blood and still pushing thru

• obligatory homoerotic wound cleaning: A and B both covered in A’s blood. lots of shushing. frantic soothing. very handsy. bonus points if B is inexperienced and freaking the f out while A is delirious & breathlessly trying to comfort them

[kabie-whump]

‪‪♡‬ Febuwhump 2025 Day 6: Forced to Stay Awake ‪‪♡‬

Or: Mage whumpee forced to stay awake to keep up a magic barrier so all of their friends don't die a horrible death.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Stay with me, Whumpee. You have to keep going.”

Whumpee’s whole body trembles, their hands outstretched over a glowing circle of runes, fingers twitching as golden light pulses from their palms. Their vision swims, their limbs feel like stone, and their thoughts are slow, sluggish things. How many hours has it even been?

Too many. 

“I-I can’t,” they choke out, their words slow and slurred. The magic is icy cold inside their chest, sapping every ounce of energy they can muster. Their head lolls forward, and it’s only thanks to a strong pair of hands that they manage to stay in their kneeling position instead of slumping to the floor.

“You have to,” Caretaker says, their voice firm. “No pressure, Whumpee, but we all die if you let go of this barrier.”

Whumpee forces their eyes open. A shimmering golden dome surrounds their little group, and on the other side they can see shadowy figures clawing at its surface, dark tendrils slamming against it with enough force to shake the ground beneath them.

Caretaker’s right. If they fall asleep, everyone dies.

But they’re so, so tired.

A shudder wracks their body. They’re running on sheer force of will now. Everything else was burned out hours ago. It’s not enough. It was never going to be enough. They’re just one mage, and not even a particularly powerful one, and they don’t even know for sure that help is on the way.

Whumpee sobs, shaking their head. They don’t want to be the reason no one makes it home. But they just can’t keep this up.

Caretaker puts a firm hand on their shoulder. “Whumpee. Breathe.”

They suck in a gasping breath.

“Good. Again. Just focus on breathing.”

Another breath. Their head swims. They can’t even see straight anymore. The runes flicker.

“Come on! Stay awake!”

Whumpee barely hears them. Their thoughts have dissolved into static. 

Sleep. Just a few minutes of rest-

A sharp pain jolts them back. Caretaker had pinched the delicate skin of their wrist hard, leaving a little purple mark. 

“Focus!” Caretaker’s voice wavers - maybe fear, maybe guilt. “Just a little longer!”

“I… I can’t! Stop it!”

“You can sleep as much as you want when this is over, I promise. But for now you’re staying awake, even if I have to force you.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@febuwhump

[melpomenelamusa]

Chimeras - Masterlist

Hi! I decided to make a little masterlist of the original story I'm writing, to make it easier for those interested in reading it.

SUMMARY: Chimera children are humans who, for reasons still unknown, develop animal characteristics during adolescence. Considered by most to be an anomaly, they are often hunted, killed, kidnapped or simply discriminated against by society. These are the stories of some of these chimera children and how they try to survive... Genre: slice of life, drama, fantasy Major prompts: Whump, found family, kidnapping, pet whump, blood and injuries, mention of death, hurt/comfort #chimeras universe -> Find all the post related to Chimeras here.

CHARACTERS' PICREWS

CHAPTERS:

First meeting Pt. 1 🦌

First meeting Pt. 2 🦌

The Stay🦌

Bad Memories 🦌

Poison 🦌

The Hunter Pt. 1 🦌

The Hunter Pt. 2 🦌

The Hunter Pt. 3 🦌

Speak, I'll listen to you 🦌

Something magical 🦌

Always pretty 🐍

Dollplay 🐍

The show must go on 🐍

Something fishy 🐯

A matter of pride Pt. 1 🐍

A matter of pride Pt. 2 🐍

Pity Party Pt. 1 🐍

Pity Party Pt. 2 🐯

A promise 🐍

A gift 🦌

Bad Habits Pt. 1 🦌

Bad Habits Pt. 2 🦌

Changes 🦌

The escape plan 🐍

Allies 🦌

Failed escape 🐯

Decisions 🐍

Cat vs. Dog 🐯

Playdate Pt. 1 🐯

Playdate Pt. 2 🐯

Playdate Pt. 3 🐯

Danger in the forest Pt. 1 🦌

Danger in the forest Pt. 2 🐍

Danger in the forest Pt. 3 🐍

The rescue 🦌🐍

Last chance 🐯

One way or another 🐍

The true last chance 🐍🦌

Coming soon...

SPECIAL CHAPTERS:

Deer Hunt: 2nd POV whumper 🦌

Holiday surprise: Christmas special 🐍🐇

Warrick´s Birthday 2025

Febuwhump DAY 10: Magic Exhaustion 🦌

Febuwhump DAY 21: Put on display 🐍

Elafi's Birthday 2025

EXTRAS:

Chimera Children's historical context.

More Chimera Children worlbuilding

Tag game OC Songs

Warrick OC in 15

Elafi Character Profile

Seasons-beating Gift 2024 (a Chimeras fanfic)

What my OCs do for Valentine´s Day

Chimeras' OCs Height Comparison

#chimeras ocs answers -> More funny facts about my ocs

CHIMERAS' ART:

Warrick fanart

Halloween ft. Warrick & Elafi

Christmas Eve ft. Elafi & Fidi

Elafi fanart

Elafi & Fidi fanart

Fidi doodles

Elafi, Fidi & Tigri fanart

Elafi, Fidi & Tigri: Kids vs. Adults

Another Elafi, Fidi & Tigri fanart

Thanks for reading! ⭐

[whumpurr]

i'll take "bruises and blood" for 500, please

[emcscared-whumps]

WHUMPMONTH - 28: "Trophy"

Ao3 | Navigation Post

Animal trap | Strung up by the hands | Hunted for sport

Pete got caught out by some particularly nasty humans, now they're playing games with him; and he's not the one having fun.

(Whumplovers WhumpMonth is a month-long event of daily whump prompts hosted on the Discord server Whumplovers Collaborate. Works are submitted to a collection on Ao3)

Taglist:

@a-crumb-of-whump

@coldside

@dang-i-like-whump

@gem2117

@onlywhump

@nowjustanothermain2notjudge

@painful-pooch

@pigeonwhumps

@snaillamp

@whump-cravings

@whumplovers-collaborate

@willowtreewhump

If you would like to be added or removed, please let me know <3 More info [here]

[whumpinthepot]

Febuwhump 2025 Masterlist

@febuwhump There may be triggering content in these links, proceed with caution. Some may include blood, death, pet whump, gore, horror, ect.

Link to other Febuwhump Masterlists.

Prompt - Drawing - Writing - Other

—

DAY 1: vocal chords

DAY 2: holding back tears

DAY 3: pinned down

DAY 4: hivemind

DAY 5: not trusting reality

DAY 6: forced to stay awake

DAY 7: alternate timeline self

DAY 8: bleeding out

DAY 9: necromancy

DAY 10: magic exhaustion

DAY 11: demonic possession

DAY 12: used as practice

DAY 13: Alt 6. emergency surgery

DAY 14: becoming the monster

DAY 15: icarus

DAY 16: eaten alive

DAY 17: power instability

DAY 18: living weapon

DAY 19: death wish

DAY 20: Alt 3. pick who dies

DAY 21: put on display

DAY 22: “grab the little one”

DAY 23: gunshot wound

DAY 24: forced to beg

DAY 25: bound and gagged

DAY 26: concealing an injury

DAY 27: Alt 10. Feeding Tube

DAY 28: recovery

Bonus: Alt 4: body swap

[inhurtandincomfort]

The Black Syndicate Survival Guide

Have you found yourself caught up in a powerful criminal organisation? Did they neglect to tell you the rules, letting you find out the hard way? Well don't worry: Eldwin’s here to help! Begrudgingly. Don’t fuck up next time.

Aka what started out as me just making some rules for my own reference and amusement turned into them being accompanied by little drablets or snippets. Just a little something to tide us all over whilst I plan the next fic >:)

CW: Implied noncon, just the italics under number Eleven, it's very brief.

There are rules in the Black Syndicate that must be followed to maintain order. Although perhaps they’re less Syndicate rules and more Family rules. Lower ranks get away with more; the closer you are to the head Family, the more important rules are.

One: Do not speak unless you are spoken to. You better be good socially because woe betide you if you answer a rhetorical question, or neglect to speak when you were expected to. 

His jaw ached, a humiliating gag forcing his mouth open for long hours. Saliva dribbled down his chin and his face burned when Clyde knelt in front of him, tilting his head up to look in his eyes with amusement dancing in his own. “What a state you are,” He tutted, tenderly running his hand through Eldwin’s hair before yanking his head back further. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before disrespecting me, hmm?”

Two: Do not look at your seniors unless given permission. Stand up when they enter a room, always keep your head bowed in submission, and make sure you kneel when you beg for forgiveness. 

“It won’t happen again sir.” He sounded pathetic. He must look it too, bowing so low his head touched the floor. In a way, the blindfold made it easier - he didn’t have to see the smug look on Clyde’s face. “Please sir, I’m sorry.” His own voice made him feel sick. How had he fallen so far? Clyde hummed thoughtfully, no doubt enjoying the sight.

“Grovel a little more for me,” he said, and oh Eldwin was glad he couldn't see because that tone alone made him want to wipe the smirk off his face. "Then perhaps I'll take it off before the week ends."

Three: Respect senior ranks. They do not owe you the same courtesy.

A sharp slap resounded through the room. “Yes, what?” The Handler demanded, towering over him as a new bruise blossomed on his cheek. 

“Yes, sir,” Eldwin hissed through gritted teeth. The word still felt like lead on his tongue.

Four: Appearance can make or break a good impression. Be neat, maintain good posture and dress nicely when representing the Family. 

He fixed his collar, smoothing it out to carefully sit over the bandages on his neck. He folded the sleeves back with a set of engraved cufflinks carrying the Family crest before drawing on a sleek waistcoat, wincing as his shoulders tugged on sore muscles and healing wounds. Black gloves were his final addition, softer and more elegant than the rough fingerless ones he usually wore, hiding bruised knuckles and the demon's brand, his ultimate mark of shame. He looked in the mirror only briefly, for he didn’t recognise the man he saw. It wasn’t just because of the makeup concealing dark shadows under cold, lifeless eyes staring back at him, hiding contusions that decorated his skin like paint on a canvas. He couldn't explain it if you asked; he looked like himself, yet at the same time he looked a stranger. 

He flattened his hair, checking one last time that he was appropriately covered before grabbing his coat by the door. Alastair was meeting with business partners tonight - it would not do to embarrass him in front of them.

Five: Do not cry in front of The Handler. He will not sympathise with you.

"Such weakness has no place here. You want to be a man so badly, act like one."

Six: Treat your fellow members with respect. Do not touch their wives or children, nor their property.

“It was a mistake, please, please,” A man cried as he was held down by others, legs outstretched. Eldwin pretended to muse over the implements he had been provided. Crowbars, cleavers, pistols, and more. There was only one thing he needed today, though. “I’m begging you, please, I won’t do it again, I swear-”

“You’re right,” Eldwin said pleasantly as he picked up a large hammer, swinging it around to get a feel for it. A rare smile graced his lips as the man squeaked, growing evermore frantic to the point the others were almost struggling to keep him still. Gods, those terrified pleas were intoxicating. “You won’t.” 

Seven: Alistair is exempt from this rule. Alistair can do what he wants.

“That fucking bastard,” Clyde growled, banging his fist on the desk. Eldwin had never seen him break composure like this - he wondered what happened to make it so. “He has no right!”

“What are you going to do?” The Handler asked. “His word is law.”

“I know that! Fucking damn it, I know that.” Clyde ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. His face twisted in various expressions, none of them pleasant. He eventually came to a stop in front of Eldwin, placing a hand on his shoulder almost comfortingly though his words were anything but. “You better do as he says.” Clyde tried to sound calm, confident in his command but his face hardened and he couldn’t hide the ripple of anger in his voice. “Just remember who you really belong to. Don’t you dare disappoint me now.”

Eight: You are not allowed to say no. You cannot fight back, you cannot refuse an order.

"No more, please I can't do it, no-" His words turned into a scream as Mordwen lazily flicked her wrist sending an agonising pain coursing through his body like a shock of lightning, yet there was no physical sign anything had occurred. Her brand of magic was something he couldn't begin to fathom, effortless torture without the barest trace. There was something wrong with it. There was something wrong with her.

When she decided to stop he lay crumpled on the floor, gasping for breath, his muscles still twitching.

"I don't care if you can't do it." Her voice was sickly sweet. "You will. We'll go through this as many times as it takes."

Nine: It can always be worse. 

That's what they all tell him. Other's have it worse. Be grateful.

Ten: Be grateful for what you are given. 

He is grateful.  He knows what it’s like out there.  People like him don’t last long out there alone. He has the scars to prove it. If Clyde hadn’t got there when he did… 

The Family grants him protection. He bears their mark and it keeps him safe. With them he is safe.

Eleven: Remember it can always get worse. 

That’s what he tells himself whenever he closes his eyes with a lump in his throat, hot breath on his neck as he lies still, too afraid to move, can barely bring himself to even breathe as he pretends hands aren’t wandering, trying to let go, to go anywhere but here… 

It can always get worse.

Can it?

Twelve: Do not die. Reviving people takes a lot of work; you will be punished. 

"I'm getting tired of this." Mordwen's voice rang clear with an uncharacteristic bite in her tone. "I don't think you appreciate how much work I put in for you. You ought to be more grateful."

"I'm sorry ma'am," He said robotically. He's not sorry. He's not much of anything anymore. Every resurrection, he feels a little piece of himself is left behind. How much more of him is left? How many times can he be broken and put together again before he's no longer considered human?

Her eyes narrowed. "I only do this because I have to. If it were up to me, I'd leave you to rot.

"Maybe some time in isolation will fix your attitude."

Thirteen: It’s your fault. 

“You brought this on yourself,” The Handler shrugged as he closed the door, leaving him chained up in the darkness. Desperate pleas were swallowed by the void. His chest tightened. Faces lurked in the dark, taunting him. Their voices overlap crying out at him demanding to know why. Why did he hurt them? Why did he deserve to live while they don't?

Why did you do it, Eldwin?

Why did you do it.

Why why whywhywhy-

Chains dragged along the floor as he began to tremble. There wasn't enough air. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. Why wouldn't they leave him alone?

Fourteen: It is always your fault. 

He drew his knees up to his chest grasping a fistful of his own hair, his breathing increasingly quick and shallow. “Shut up shut up shut up!” He hissed into the empty room. Cackling laughter echoed in the back of his mind. He tugged harder, squeezing his eyes shut. His nails dug into his scalp. Reminiscent of a child, sitting on the stairs listening to his parents arguing, arguing over him, they argue so much these days. Hearing his mother wailing at her husband's bedside. Her piercing scream that awoke the neighbourhood when she gazed upon her second son, fear reflected in her eyes as she saw what he had done.

"Why should I?" The demon purred in delight. "You brought it all upon yourself, my dear." Eldwin flinched,  feeling cold hands snake around his shoulders, the presence of a looming figure behind him. If he were to look, there would be nothing there. But he knew. He could feel the icy breath on his skin and he knew, he knew when the demon whispered, can sense his wicked grin. 

“You’ve no one to blame but yourself.”

----

If you enjoyed this story please consider reblogging, it really helps the reach for others to enjoy it too!

Taglist: @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees (let me know anytime you want to be added or removed!)

UPDATE FEB 2025: Revised it a little, it's still mostly the same with some rephrasing and grammatical corrections.