#poor immortal whumpee

[blackrosesandwhump]

@astorichan Yes, EXACTLY. That's exactly what I was getting at 😁😈

Whump Prompts 100: Immortal Whumpee Aesthetic

Feel free to reblog with any additions you might have. :)

CW: death, suicide reference, torture, implied vivisection, implied gore, experimentation, begging for death

Realizing that immortality is actually a terrible, inescapable curse

The despair of knowing that everyone they care about will die, leaving them completely alone

Being passed down from generation to generation, gaining more scars and wounds as the years go by

Or, always healing...on the outside. The inside is a completely different story...

Experiencing firsthand how torture methods have changed through the ages

Experiencing something (drowning, hanging, etc.) that should kill them over and over again, because, you know, they can't die

Tremendous guilt over always surviving no matter what happens to everyone around them

Intentionally working the most dangerous jobs because, you know, they can't die

Being afraid that their secret will scare people away

Cutting themselves off from everyone so they don't have to experience the pain of losing someone

Being captured, then abandoned somewhere where no one will ever find them, and having to endure eons of isolation and darkness

REMEMBERING THEIR OWN PREVIOUS DEATHS

Being able to endure extremes: temperature, air, water, etc. Imagine an immortal whumpee as a scuba diver or an astronaut...

Used as a test subject for all kinds of experiments, because, you know, they can't die

Or, being used for med students to practice on. How better to learn how a heart works than by watching it in action?

Suffering the same level of pain as an ordinary mortal, but without the escape of eventual death

How does it feel to be drained of blood and still be alive?

Feeling less like themselves, less sane, every time they come back from the dead

Suicide for convenience, because they'll just come back to life no matter what

How does it feel to regrew an organ, or a severed limb?

BEGGING FOR DEATH, EVEN THOUGH DEATH IS IMPOSSIBLE

[paingoes]

Crash Out

Nimrod III

the gang goes on a bender

(Content: (ex) royal whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, sadistic whumper, immortal whumper, drugs, dissociation, amnesia, blood, guns, threat of dismemberment, actual dismemberment, psychological torture, addiction mention, fainting)

==========

“Do you have painkillers?” Lorelai picked at the bandages on her arm. Paris looked at her through the side of his eyes.

“…Obviously I have painkillers.”

He didn’t like them much. He didn’t like anything that felt like it was slowing him down, not before and especially not now. Still, he had a bit of everything stashed away in the compartments.

“I want them,” Lorelai said softly.

“Is it that bad?” There was some small worry in his voice. Johanna had nicked him too, in many different places, but it hadn’t felt like much at the time and it didn’t feel like much after. He guessed his own pain tolerance was a bit skewed. Still, he didn’t like the thought of her messing with them. “Take the aspirin first. Let me know how you feel after.”

She shrugged, pulling the pack out from the first aid kit. She chewed down on the chalky tablets so they’d absorb faster. Her phone went off. He noticed that it was a different phone from the one she had when they had first left — or at least a different case. This one had irregular pearls all over the back of it. She read off the notification.

“I want to go to Xcelcia’s Fair. We’re gonna fly over it tonight,” she hummed in a weary voice.

“I think you should go the fuck to sleep.” 

==========

“When did we get to the mall?” He blinked. She looked up at him in surprise, wearing different clothing than she had been the moment previous.

“Two hours ago?” she guessed. He could tell it was a guess.

“Did we sleep yet?” he asked.

“You blacked out? No. I don’t know. Were you blacked out that entire time?” Lorelai laughed a little. It did nothing to conceal the concern evident on her face.

“Why are we in a mall?” It was eerie. They had been living like vampires, only ever among the living in the dead of night. The bright sun coming in through the skylight gave everything an unreal quality.

“I needed new sneakers. And you said you wanted to come.”

“I don’t think I would say that.”

“I swore you did.”

Her eyes were bloodshot. He was starting to get freaked out. They carried on throughout the mall anyway, the sneakers having not yet been acquired. He sipped idly at the blue razz slushie that was already in his hand — he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have got that, either. Just carrying it made him feel like a dickhead. It tasted decent, though. The sugar helped. Water probably would’ve been better.

“Oh what the fuck.” He squinted as the aura hit him again. 

He looked up to see Johanna walking by on one of the upper balconies. As if she could sense his eyes on her, she spun around on her heel to look. Her initial reaction was instantaneous, so easy to miss, but it was surprise. Or at least the mockery of it. She hadn’t even been hunting. Just bad fucking luck.

“Your Highness!” She broke into a grin, yelling loud enough for everyone in a two block radius to hear. “We can’t keep meeting like this!”

Johanna leapt down from the balcony, the whole story. She did an — admittedly beautiful — tuck and roll to avoid absorbing the fall’s shock. Why bother? Even if she had broken her ankles, they’d heal in two seconds.  

Lorelai bolted just as soon as she’d heard the voice. He realized she didn’t have the gun on her, remembered he didn’t have his sword. Johanna had the damn sword; he’d left it in her chest. He took off too, not knowing where they were going. Lorelai seemed a little more there than he was. She might at least remember where the ship had been parked. 

Something exploded loudly. He dropped via trained reflex, tugging Lorelai down with him. It’d been the right call. Large pieces of shrapnel flew right over their heads. 

“What the hell?” Lorelai whined, stretching out the syllables, “Was that for us?”

Johanna limped forward, carrying the smell of smoke. A piece of pipe hung out of her shoulder. Her glistening blood coated her shirt.

“That one was for me, actually.” The smile she wore then was not the same one it had been a few moments ago.

Lorelai scrambled back to her feet, taking off again. Paris’s own curiosity slowed him. He looked in the direction of the explosion, the same direction Johanna had come from, but it was clear she hadn’t caused it. A few people circled behind her, prowling. They had guns. What the fuck kind of mall was this? They seemed to know her pretty well. She shot him a last look, seething, smirking. Saved by the bell. She turned to face them instead.

He knew if they shot her and missed, it’d go straight into him instead. That was just the kind of day he was having. He hurried himself out of their sightline. Another explosion went off. 

My name is Johanna, she had said so proudly the first time they met. Was he actually supposed to know what that meant? Someone with a lot of explosives did. He made it outside. Lorelai honked the ship’s horn, beckoning him over. He crawled into the passenger’s seat.

“What even was that? Right?” Lorelai wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like her.”

“I literally don’t know what the fuck is going on right now?” he said.

==============

But he was fighting her again. He’d just taken something, he didn’t remember what. It made him faster, made him hit harder, made him fucking terrified with such a deep sense of foreboding he was sure he was about to die. Not that Jo would let him. That obviously wasn’t what she wanted.

He knew he was kind of losing it. If he’d ever snapped like this in the field, he’d have already been pinned down and sedated. He wasn’t sure if that had ever happened or not — it seemed plausible, though when the thought entered his head there was no specific memory he could attach it too. He could not attach anything at all to Johanna. She wasn’t a girl. She wasn’t even a person. She was blight. She twisted all about him like she was made of air and smoke. He had trouble holding her at all. 

He had the sword again. She’d brought it back to him. She had meant to threaten him with it, but he’d managed to wrestle it out of her hands. In an act of manic desperation, he cut straight through the bone of her arm, severing the limb. He did not think much of it at the time. It was simply a thing you could do to a body, among many other things you could do to a body. Maybe he’d just been curious. Nothing else seemed to work.

==============

Again. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he knew he’d fucked this one up severely. Johanna’s freshly grown hand was curled up in a fist in his hair. The other twirled the knife. He recognized, distantly, that it was a collector’s item. He’d had one just like it. One of her knees was planted on his elbow, the other on his chest, one boot planted firmly on the wrist of his opposite arm. She gave the knife a little toss in the air, catching it deftly, taking her time. She placed the knife’s edge right by the skin of his shoulder and did not wait a second before slicing it open. He writhed. It didn’t do any good.

“Stop,” he said, “stop stop stop stop stop s”

It cut in half an inch below the surface. He could tell she had hit muscle. His arm twitched involuntarily even as it was held in place.

“top stop stop stop stop stop stop stop st”

Johanna laughed. She pulled the knife out before it could reach bone. He had never seen blood gush that way before. He thought it only did that in horror movies. She winked at him. Just kidding. She went back to spinning the blade between her fingers. It moved like she had it on a string.

“Did you even feel that?” She asked. “You didn’t, did you? Oh, I’ve got to try it again when you’re sober. That’s not fair.”

===========

He blinked. Back in the passenger seat. His arm was bandaged around the shoulder. Lorelai was covered in blood. None of it was her own.

“Thanks,” Paris said numbly, filling in the blanks.

“Don’t mention it.”

He looked out the window and into the vastness of space. He still couldn’t figure out what time it was. He reached into his pocket and was relieved to find his vape was still there. It was the only constant in his life.

“I think we should blow up her ship,” he suggested.

“How?”

“I don’t know. Don’t you know any bomb recipes? I thought you were a radical.”

“Not off the top of my head. Don’t you?”

“I should, right? Like, I swear I learned them at some point. I think I have legitimate fucking brain damage. I’m not even kidding.”

“No, I think that’s true. You’ve been hitting your head a lot.”

“I meant from the alcoholism, but yeah. Probably both.”

“Oh.” She frowned. 

It was the first time he’d ever called it that. He thought it was a bit unfair to scapegoat alcohol specifically, considering all the other shit he was putting into his body. But that was simply what came to mind first. He hit the vape.

“I’m going to pass out,” he informed her.

“You’ve been meaning to do that. You know-“

He did not hear the end of the sentence.

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[scratchandplaster]

Wax homunculus ⚗️🕯🧙‍♂️

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

I am still obsessed with this concept and wanted to try digital art anyway, so this happened:

Idk it just would be so cute to have a candle pet run around your desk (you need to ignore the existential horror) and illuminate your workplace, even if it will meet its untimely end soon :(

You could even make fondue with its help!

[brutal-nemesis]

YWDaC: Turns Out, Forever Is a Long Time

Ayo we have FINALLY arrived at the end of Castys's lil pirate misadventure I hope you have enjoyed all of the delicious lore

←Previous - Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: storm at sea activity, mentioned stabbing, suicide for "convenience" (it's not quite the usual level of he doesn't care but it's still not like bro wants to die yk), a little self harm (once again, out of practicality)

What Castys really wanted was to have something for breakfast, but responsibilities came first, so here he was, delivering a message that he could have ordered anyone else to relay, just so he could go back belowdecks and hopefully grab something on the way back, which made him wonder if he should have been given responsibilities in the first place, but oh well, he didn’t put himself in charge. Now, to get this done so he could eat. Castys knocked on the door in front of him, and upon hearing a noise that sounded like a word, he entered. Captain Izogie was sitting with her shirt partially off and her back to him, exposing the bold patterns of white fire ink curling around her dark shoulders. Alfyn was standing behind her with his hands on her bare back, clearly concentrating. It was a sight he’d seen before, but he always felt a little awkward stumbling upon it. 

“Uh, sorry, didn’t realize it was woman magic day.”

Izogie laughed a little as she turned her head to look at him. “Is that what you lot call it?”

“Less of a mouthful than whatever Alfyn says.”

Alfyn just sighed. “Estrogen production stimulation?”

Castys nodded. “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Anyway, Captain, just thought I’d let you know the sunrise is red this morning, and given the clouds now, we’re all pretty sure it’s gonna storm. And yes,” Castys held up a hand, “preparations are already underway. Just wanted you to be aware.”

Alfyn, finished with Izogie’s treatment, stepped back. “In that case, I have a few things to secure in the med bay. If you’ll excuse me, Captain.”

Izogie nodded as she buttoned her shirt. “Thank you, Alfyn, you’re excused.” He gave Castys a smile as he left. “Thank you as well, Castys.” She gave him a thoughtful look as she pulled her coat on and stood up. “You know, when you first arrived, I wasn’t sure if you were going to last here, but here you are, my first mate, of all things. You’ve grown quite a bit.”

Castys rolled his eyes and smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, yeah, a scared tied up kid rarely looks like he’s gonna amount to anything. And it took you a few years to get that mouth off of me,” he laughed.

“You say that like it’s gone completely,” Izogie said with a glint in her eye, coming up to stand in front of Castys. Despite more than a decade passing, she still towered over Castys, the passage of time only showing in the lines on her face and the gray streaking her hair. He hadn’t grown any taller, but he’d at least gained some muscle and quite a few scars, which was well within the realm of expectation for being a pirate. “Well then, let’s go help out, Castys. This isn’t our first storm, and we need to make sure it won’t be our last.”

“I’d prefer to go down to a sea monster, at least. And I can’t imagine anything short of a hurricane taking you, Captain.”

“I’d like to see one try.” 

The storm that night certainly did.

The rain came down in sheets, driven to needlepoints by the harsh winds. It was more difficult than ever to hear the shouts of the crew as reports and orders were passed around, and Castys’s throat was raw from relaying directions to the men at the helm. He was glad for the storm sails, because even though they hadn’t had time to put all of them up, they were still making good progress through the crashing waves. At least, he hoped so. 

The ship’s bow pierced through another wall of water, and it was all Castys could do to stay on his feet, holding tight to the rope tied around his waist. Shit, one of the men at the helm had collapsed, and there was no one else to take his place. Castys ran up, grabbing the wheel alongside the others as he continued to keep an eye on the angle of the bow and the oncoming waves. It was fine, he could keep this up even as his arms burned from the strain, the hairs that had escaped from his ponytail blowing in his eyes and sticking to his face, making it even harder to see, the ever-louder thunder overhead drowning out the sound of his own voice. Didn’t matter if things were only getting worse, they had to keep-

CRACK

Everything was too loud, or maybe too quiet, roaring and buzzing, he was pressed up against the soaking wood of the deck and there was a ball of dense, sharp agony buried in his chest, making it hard to breathe, he kept coughing, couldn’t stand, couldn’t see, the blackness was coming, fading in and out, and all of a sudden he was belowdecks, blood and rain puddling around him, hands on his chest, pulling up his shirt, the words muffled, his chin moved up, Alfyn’s eyes were gray and full of fear, he hadn’t seen that expression before, or maybe he had, and maybe he was going to die, here, because of the storm, because he couldn’t breathe, time was up, that was it, those thirty-four years were over and done he wasn’t getting that time back no more tries he was satisfied with that right he had to be he couldn’t have any regrets because he wasn’t supposed to but it would have been nice if…if…

Castys woke up to a vast expanse of yellowish-white, which was not the color he expected the afterlife to be. Upon further inspection, though, it turned out that it was just a sheet over his head. After tossing it off and sitting up, he was greeted by a shrill scream that should have come from a young girl but actually came from Alfyn. 

“Chill, dude, you shouldn’t have put that over me if you’d healed me.” Castys narrowed his eyes a bit as he talked. Did his voice always sound like that? Maybe whatever injuries he’d had had damaged his hearing or something. He wasn’t in any pain now, though, so that was good.

“C-Castys you-you’re-how are you-” Alfyn ran over, nearly tackling Castys as he pulled up his tattered shirt to reveal a rather bloodstained but otherwise perfectly fine torso. Castys gave him a weird look, leaning away.

“Uh, you’re the one who fixed whatever it was, weren’t you?” He brushed his wet hair off of his face as he stared down at himself. Why the fuck did he grow his hair out, again? It was annoying as hell like this. 

Alfyn shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t heal you, Castys. You-you were…both of your lungs had collapsed and I-I couldn’t fix it but-” He looked Castys in the eye, frowning. “You…you look different. Younger.” He ran a hand over Castys’s ribs, and Castys was very glad that he was more than used to the medic touching his bare skin. “There’s no scar from what just-” 

“Hey, what are you-” Castys yelped as Alfyn forced him to lean forward, pulling up his shirt even more to expose his back.

“You still had scars from your first day, didn’t you? When you were flogged?”

“Uh, I think so? I don’t really make it a hobby to look at my back, so you’d probably know better than me.” 

Alfyn sighed, letting go of Castys and standing up. “Well, if they were there before, they’re gone now. You…” He looked around at the patients lying on the cots on the other side of the room. “Do you feel alright, Castys?”

“I think so? I’m not in any pain or anything, but…I dunno, does my voice sound weird to you?” There were a few other things that were bothering him, but he couldn’t really get a solid hold on what they were. He just felt different, his thoughts more scattered, his arms less muscular than he remembered, the persistent ache in his left knee from a battle wound a few years ago completely gone now.

Alfyn nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, it does seem a little…off.” He frowned again. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, Castys, but I have more urgent patients to attend to, and I’m going to ask you to stay put until we can get this sorted out.”

“But the s-”

“Fine then, I’m not asking, I’m ordering. Doctor’s orders supersede everything else, you know that. And the storm has almost passed. So stay. Put.”

Castys grumbled and crossed his arms, but he didn’t move to get up. He knew all too well that Alfyn wasn’t above restraining disobedient patients, and he’d rather avoid that today. Bored, he peeked at his chest again. It was very bloody, but there were no injuries anywhere, and poking his ribs didn’t hurt like a bitch, so they weren’t broken or anything. What was weird though was that he still had some scars, just not all of them. The twisted one on his tummy and the clean line over his heart were still there. He slapped a hand on his right cheek and tried very hard to smile, finding that, yup, he still couldn’t really do it on that side, so the remnant of the gash on his face was still there. But the one on his knee, on his arm, and apparently the ones on his back…gone. It didn’t make sense. Unless…

He put a hand over his heart. Every scar he still had now, he’d gotten before…before that day. The day he still didn’t want to believe had happened. Just as he was about to dig up that lovely little box of buried memories, Captain Izogie rushed in, worry etched in her face. 

“Alfyn, is it true Castys is-” she laid eyes on Castys and the tension visibly drained from her body. “Oh thank Mydnar.” She walked over and crouched down in front of where he was seated on the floor, eyeing him suspiciously. “What…what did Alfyn do to you? You look like a kid again.”

“Not my fault!” Alfyn called from where he was working on someone’s fucked-up arm.

“Uh, yeah, I, um,” Castys laughed nervously. “It’s my fault. I think. But I’m okay! All the breathing is happening fine.”

Izogie shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Laias said a broken piece of the mizzen top yard poked a hole through your chest.”

“It did,” Alfyn said, wiping his hands as he walked over. “Both of his lungs were punctured. I worked as quickly as I could after I pulled it out, but…” he swallowed. “Your pulse was gone, Castys.”

“But I…I’m fine. I’m…” He swallowed. Everything was so cold all of a sudden, that was the only reason he’d be shaking like this, right? Had to be. Unsure if he even wanted to know the answer to this question, Castys lifted his shirt, poking at the scar on his stomach. “Alfyn…what if a person was…was stabbed right here. And the knife was dragged and twisted a bit before being pulled out. And then it went,” his finger was over his heart now, “right here. Would that person…would they die?”

Alfyn looked at Castys in slight horror before slowly nodding. “Without medical attention, in a matter of minutes. Possibly less depending on how much the stomach wound had bled and how much damage had been done.”

Every worry line in Izogie’s face stood out more than ever before. “Castys, you-what are you saying? Are those scars-”

“I think so.” Castys dropped his shirt. “At least, from what I can remember. So maybe I…I already died. Before this. All this time I just thought I might be remembering things wrong, but if what Alfyn said about earlier is true, then…and it might explain why I’m…different.”

“So you think you’re some kind of…” the furrow in Alfyn’s brow deepened, “immortal?”

Immortal. The thought was sort of exciting, as ridiculous as it seemed, but it was also sort of terrifying. Why the fuck was he one, anyway, if it was true? He was just Castys, a random pirate with incurable amnesia about his childhood and hadn’t done anything special besides the whole…maybe this was some kind of fucked-up reward for finishing his mission? But then where had-fuck, okay, no more of that, his brain hurt too much. Why think about things when he could get some results?

“Hey, Captain, could you stab me or something? I wanna see what happens.”

Izogie, who was still clearly trying to process whatever the hell was going on, gave him a very concerned look. “No, Castys, what-even if you think you’ll-you’ll come back what if-”

“Well, I should have died twice now. So I feel like I’ve already gotten a second chance if I was going to be dead anyway.” He glanced over at Alfyn. “Could you-”

“I’m a fucking doctor, Castys. My hands aren’t-I can’t. No.” The other pirates cursed pretty much every other word, but coming from Alfyn, that word might as well have been a cannon blast. Seeing that neither of his friends were willing to stab him for science, Castys dropped the idea and let them examine him for a bit before finally getting cleared to go back to his quarters. The crew gave him odd looks as he passed by, just hammering it in even more that he was different somehow. Either that or they’d heard he fucking died and was now walking around perfectly healthy, which was also probably cause for concern.

Once he was alone, he pulled out his sword and looked at his reflection in the blade. From what he could tell in this shitty makeshift mirror, his face did look a lot more youthful than he remembered. The scruff on his chin and his longer hair did make him look a bit older than the age he supposed his body was now, but the beard was itchy and long hair was a pain in the ass. Part of him wanted to hack his ponytail off right now with his knife, but he’d rather not look like a total mess on top of everything else, so he could wait to ask for a haircut tomorrow. He could shave, however, and he felt a lot better once it was done. 

Turning the razor over in his hands, Castys wondered if he really would come back to life again if he slit his throat or whatever. Well, only one way to find out. His clothes were already super bloody, anyway, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Here goes nothing, then.

Why were his hands shaking so much? It was just dying, he’d apparently done it before, it was fine, he’d come back, he wasn’t leaving anyone behind, just a quick swipe of the blade and then…then…he’d come back, right? Right. A-and if he didn’t, he’d already cheated death before, so it was only fair for things to end now. Deep breath maybe his last-

The blade moved a little more slowly than he would have liked, a flash of pain before-

Castys opened his eyes. He was still in his cabin, lying on the floor, razor still gripped in his hand, fresh blood warm and sticky on his neck. S-so then…he’d died. And come back. And wasn’t in any pain. 

Some sick fascination drove him to slice a deep gash in his arm before turning the blade on his neck again.

He woke up just as healthy as before, no cut in sight.

That settled it, then. Castys…he was immortal. A deep feeling of freedom unlike anything he’d ever known washed over him. He could do anything, go anywhere, not having to worry about wasting his time or being in danger, because fuck that he was immortal nothing would ever stop him again. 

Lying in a puddle of his own blood, Castys couldn’t help but laugh.

He got slapped and lectured the next day for testing things out on himself, sure, but it was nothing in the face of his infinite future. He could go on with everyone forever and e-

Kamon left. 

Alfyn died. 

Izogie retired.

And then, one day, Castys was standing on the deck of the ship, his ship, and he realized he didn’t recognize a single face looking back at him. Well, he recognized them, but he didn’t know them, didn’t remember any of them from his life before the years felt like minutes. There was a divide between them, and he wasn’t sure who put it there.

Immortality was…lonely. Isolating. 

Someone else like him had to be out there, right? So he’d look all over, chase down every lead, even an immortal monster or something would do, he just needed-

Castys felt as alone as he was all those years ago, trapped on that deserted island, the passage of time impossible to follow. 

But no matter what, he’d find that ship on the horizon. 

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump @theelvishcowgirl​

[clickerflight]

Whump Week: Your blood looks so pretty

@week-of-whump

Masterlist

Part 3

This one is actually a plot point that I've explored a lot in previous whump challenges, and will continue to explore.

Content: Semi-immortal whumpee, creepy whumper, vivisection, permanent scarring, restrained, blood, mention of skinning for just a moment, healing factor training, self mutilation (whumper), acid in wounds, stress position, healing wrong (I guess?

Let me know if I missed anything cause this one's dark

........................................

Matsu stared into the light above the table he was tied to before looking over at the wall, watching the swirls of colors that somewhat blinded him. It was the most interesting thing he'd had to do for the past few hours. He didn't know why he was here, or what the man who brought him to this place wanted from him, but he was trapped here and he couldn't escape. 

He thought back on the man. There had been something very wrong about him. Matsu wanted to say he was of fae descent, but it was hard to say. The man was bent over and knotted, and he almost seemed to be missing parts. He certainly was missing his sanity if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. 

Matsu heard the door open and he lifted his head from the table to see what was going on. The mad man was back, hunched over and grinning. 

"Hello," the man crooned and it sent shivers down Matsu's back. There was something very wrong about this man, but the half mer couldn't quite place what. "Are you ready to get started?"

"About as ready as I was three hours ago," Matsu said mockingly. "What's this all about, old man?"

"Old?" the mad man said, tipping his head. "If you need to call me anything, you can call me Yarrow. Or, no. You are quite special to me so I should have a special name to you. How about Hailey?"

Matsu wrinkled his nose. "What's going on here?"

"Ooooh, yes. I'm a scientist, you see, and I have some interest in you as it pertains to the research I'm currently conducting. How much do you know about healing factors?"

Hailey waited for a reply and Matsu finally gave in. "Some people have it, some don't. It's usually genetic and can often lead to cancer."

"Smart boy," Hailey said, clapping his hands. There was a pop and a cart full of medical grade tools appeared beside the table. Matsu eyed the knives and rib cutters nervously as Hailey said, "Now, sometimes there is someone who comes along with a trainable healing factor. A healing factor that becomes quicker and more powerful with time to the point that they nearly achieve immortality. So, why don't you guess at why you're here."

Matsu snapped his attention back to Hailey, eyes wide. "I don't have a healing factor, what do you mean?"

"Oh, yes you do. It's hard to spot because it's not trained up yet, but I tested some samples and it's true. Since you haven't had to heal all that often it hasn't presented itself as a healing factor yet. Don't worry. We'll be changing that," he said, picking up a syringe and a knife. 

"W-wait, no. There's been a mistake, I-"

The syringe plunged into Matsu's thigh hard enough that he could feel it unloading. He pressed his head to the table, dizzy as whatever was injected made its effects known immediately. Or maybe that was just the shock. 

Hailey got to work cutting open Matsu's clothing with a zeal that could only be seen on a child's face on Christmas morning.

"I'm going to make you perfect," Hailey whispered before neatly skinning Matsu's collar bones. 

...............................................

Matsu panted, blinking hard against the light above. He didn't know how long he'd been here. It felt like years. It had to have been years. Hailey stood over him, watching as muscle tissue mended before his eyes. 

"You've made quite the progress for the short time I’ve had you. I think you have a talent for this," Hailey commented. Matsu heaved a sob, trying not to think about how he could feel the skin that was supposed to be along the front of his torso folded down across his sides. 

Haily jabbed something into his torso, spreading his ribs to reach in and touch something. An entirely foreign sensation wormed through Matsu's body and he squirmed despite the intense pain jolting through him. 

Hailey reached in deeper and Matsu sobbed, feeling him touch the inside of his back. The pain was unbearable. It was like nothing he could describe. The pain along where he had been vivisected was like lines of fire. Pins in the flaps fastened them to the flesh of his arms, making the folded muscles cramp as they were forced to the sides unnaturally. 

He could see the flaps of skin and muscle twitching as he flinched, trying to get away from the invasive touches. 

Hailey continued to stroke Matsu's spine, a strange look on his face, like he was awakening to something. 

He pulled his blood covered hand out of Matsu and looked at his subject's face. He reached out, still in a daze. Matsu flinched, sobbing without restraint as Hailey painted Matsu's face with his own blood. 

"So pretty," he murmured. "So, so pretty. I'm never going to let you die."

......................................

Matsu was on his feet, arms chained above his head. He stared vacantly at the ground, shivering. He'd been through three vivisections, and there wasn't even a mark on his torso to prove it. Hailey had even opened up Matsu's head and everything had already healed back up even though it had taken place only three days ago. Matsu had no idea what the mad scientist would do next. Scoop out his eyeballs? rip off his fingers to see if they grow back? He already did so to his fingernails, and they'd grown back within the hour. 

Matsu ran his thumb over his nails, shivering more. He wished the others would find him soon. The only thing keeping him sane anymore was imagining Kira helping him down, flirting with him the whole time while Anisha and Laurance pounded Hailey into a little pile of goo. 

Matsu closed his eyes. They wouldn't leave him here, right? Even if their emotional bonds failed somehow, he was still their healer. Still their distance fighter. He was still Kira's husband. 

When he heard the door open, his legs gave out from fear and he hung in the chains, shivering uncontrollably. 

The chain's lowered until he could kneel upright, his arms still stretched out far above his head. 

"I wonder how much it would take to scar you," Hailey said, as though it were an intriguing thought. 

"No," Matsu groaned, closing his eyes against the very idea. "Please, mercy. Please. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, it was nothing you did," Hailey said, pouring something over his blade which sizzled when it hit the ground. "Just what you are."

"Why are you doing this!" Matsu screeched, struggling to get out of the chains, but even if he broke his hands he wouldn't be able to escape them. 

"To make you perfect. You're not the only one, you know. Here. Hold this and I'll show you."

Hailey stabbed the acid-covered knife into Matsu's shoulder, the burning whiting out Matsu's vision. When he could see again, acclimating slightly to the pain, Hailey had turned around and removed his lab coat. There were burns and scars all over his back, including two large ones where wings used to be. 

He looked over his shoulder at Matsu and grinned. "I've been perfecting myself too, you see."

Matsu couldn't even comprehend what that was supposed to mean, but that became the least of his problems as Hailey buttoned on his coat again, pulling the knife out of Matsu. 

The half mer gritted his teeth. He could still feel the acid burning him, but where it had burned itself out he could feel it healing. 

Hailey reapplied the acid and got to work. 

He carved a line from Matsu's left collar bone down to his ribs on the right. And he did it again, and again, and again. Matsu shook, unable to curl in on himself to protect himself. He screamed the first few times, and then his voice gave out, only allowing him hoarse cries, and eventually just a shallow burbling that Hailey seemed to really enjoy. Hailey poured the acid directly into the wound, everything dribbling down Matsu's front and melting his flesh. He shoved something into the wound to keep the skin from closing and, after taking a moment to paint Matsu's face with a mixture of blood and acid, he left, whistling as he went. 

..................................

Matsu didn't remember much after that. What he did know was he had a horrific scar across his chest. 

"Matsu? Matsu? Can you hear me?"

Matsu opened his eyes. He was laying on the floor, his arms bound behind his back. He didn't remember getting there. 

Laurance crouched over him, looking him over. 

"Laur....." Matsu wheezed. His voice was still mostly gone, more from exhaustion than damage. His voice couldn’t be damaged anymore. Laurance pulled Matsu into his lap, cutting away the restraints with a practiced flick of his knife. 

"We've got you, okay. Who did this to you? This place is abandoned."

Matsu blinked hard, raising his hand to his face. He was losing seconds with each blink, too tired to think straight. His hand. His hand felt wrong. He tried to lift his pointer finger, but something moved wrong in his wrist and his ring finger lifted. He stared at it for a moment before moving each finger, trying to figure out why it was wrong. 

"Matsu?"

"He..... he connected my tendons wrong," he whispered. "Why.... why would....when…" 

Laurance held Matsu close as the man broke down into small, raspy, whimpering sobs.

Part 4

@whumpsday

[susiequaz12]

Whumptober 27

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

Day 27! A continuation of Marlowe and Solomon's adventure. Last part was in Day 24. CW: nonbinary whumpee, immortal whumpee, vampire caretaker, nudity (consensual), branding, scars, talk of past injuries, forced feeding, negative self talk and bad mental space. Some angsty fluff and awkward tension.

- - -

They had finally made it across the river. The threat of the vampire encampment looming far behind them. It had taken another day or two to hike to the base of the mountain, where they had been camping for the past few days, regaining their strength before they made the trek over its peaks. 

Thankfully there was a small cave, hidden by some trees and bushes. Enough room to keep the sunlight out during the day, and the warmth inside during the night. A small creek ran by only a short trek away, filled with fresh fish and plants for Lo, and a source of clean water. 

It was perfect. 

Almost too perfect. 

But they knew they couldn’t stay there forever. The pair would take advantage of the amenities while they could. For Lo, that meant fishing and collecting as much food and drinking water as possible. For Sol, it meant ridding himself of the filth and dried blood that had been piling up over the past weeks of travel. 

He had barely managed to wash himself once they crossed the river, but they were pressed for time, trying to get to safety. And the river was too rough and dangerous to really take a beneficial bath. 

So now Sol was taking advantage.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon. Giving off enough light for the world to still be visible, but not enough heat to burn the vampire. It was the perfect time. 

He had stripped, wading in the shallow water up to his thighs, before lying down in the sand at the bottom and letting the water rush over his skin. He tipped his head back, feeling it soak into his long, dark hair, and carefully combed through with his fingers. He longed for some good soap- his hair had been greasy and tangled, and it was one of his proudest features. But the water would have to do as he soaked it thoroughly, combing out the knots. 

Sol flinched, ducking further under the water as he heard footsteps from down the creek bank. His heart paused its racing when he realized it was just the human, walking along the edge of the bank. 

Lo’s footsteps paused when they noticed the vampire soaking in the water- his cloak and clothes piled on a nearby rock.

“I- I’m sorry, I- I didn’t know you were over here, I thought-” Lo tripped over their words, averting their eyes.

“What are you doing?” Solomon asked, sitting up in the water. It barely rose over the top of his stomach when he sat down, baring his chest and shoulders to the open air.

“I’m just- just checking on my traps. I wanted to see if I’d caught anything I could eat tonight. I didn’t mean to interrupt-”

“You’re fine- you’re not interrupting.” Sol stated, moving back to work out the knots and tangles in his hair. 

The next few moments passed in an unbearable silence as Lo pulled the traps out of the water, revealing nothing but a few small crawdads and some weeds. The crawdads could be boiled, it’d give them a bit of meat. Better than nothing.

“Do you want to come in?” Sol mumbled, barely above a whisper. Before Lo could respond or protest Sol continued speaking. “The water’s nice, it’ll- it’ll be nice to wash off, I mean-” 

“Are you telling me I stink?” Lo teased, pulling the trap onto the bank. 

Sol flinched back, the water splashing lightly around him. “Okay, all humans stink. You have a certain smell-”

“A certain smell! What does that mean?” 

“It’s like, musky? Like earth, and- and firewood. It’s hard to explain.” Solomon glanced down at the water, seeing his reflection briefly below him, trying to find something else to say. There was a splash beside him as Lo entered the water, having quickly stripped of their clothes. 

“You- you seem to be moving around a lot better-” Sol mumbled. 

Lo nodded before diving fully under the water and bobbing back up, wiping their now wet hair from their face. “My foot’s nearly completely healed. It’s not perfect though.” 

“That’s good. We’ll wait til it’s perfect before we start the climb over the mountain.” Sol groaned slightly as he pulled at a particularly tricky knot. He really needed to brush through his hair more often. 

“Here- let me see.” Lo stated, and Sol felt the human’s presence at his back in the water. 

He didn’t resist as the human grabbed ahold of his hair, carefully unpicking the tangles and knots that he couldn’t quite reach. When the knot was released he felt Lo’s fingers combing through the strands, pulling them together at the nape of his neck, threading fingers through the strands at the top of his head.

“Lo- what are you doing?” 

“I’m braiding it. It’ll keep it from getting so tangled. You have nice hair, you should take care of it.”

Solomon scoffed, closing his eyes at the feeling of Lo carding through his hair. 

“It, it reminds me of my mother. But I never knew how to take care of it.”

Lo paused for a second before continuing to pull the strands through their fingers. “You had a mother?” 

“Of course. Vampires had to come from somewhere, we’re not born this way.” 

“I- I thought you- I-”

“There’s a lot of misconceptions. Every vampire is turned though, at some point or other in their life. My mother she- she had hair like mine. Longer even. But that’s all I remember about her- it was- a long time ago.” 

Lo’s hands paused- their mind flashing back to their own mother. Lo’s memory was faded and spotty over the countless lives they had lived, but they always remembered their mother.

Marlowe finished the braid in the silence, listening to the water rush around them. As they tied up the ends their eyes cast to the nape of the vampire’s neck, a circular brand embedded in their pale skin. They couldn’t help but let their eyes wander further- finally taking in a good look at the vampire’s body for the first time. 

He was no doubt muscular- strong, incredibly agile. But there were countless scars littered across his back. Whip marks, cuts, old burns, but the most prominent was the brand. Lo couldn’t help but let their fingers brush lightly across the raised marks, taking in the lines and curves of the symbol that they didn’t recognize. 

Solomon pulled away at the touch, splashing through the water as they turned around to face the human. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, instantly getting defensive.

Lo retreated away from them slightly, the light dimming further behind the horizon, the water suddenly growing colder.

“What- what happened?” Lo whispered. Their eyes automatically scanned towards the front of Sol’s chest, where just as many scars and lashes covered their body. 

Solomon sighed, turning away and pulling his knees to his chest. 

“It- it was a long time ago.” He whispered. His mind went back to the brand on his neck- the fire and racing pain that had grown in the pit of his stomach. Even now he could remember the pain- the shame and the agony as it had bit into his skin. Being held down by the others as they watched and laughed. Being told it was "a right of passage." "He should feel lucky." He hung his head on his chest, his voice soft and shaking.

“It was- part of the process. Of being turned. It’s done to all the new vampires when they find their tribe. It means they accept you- that you can trust and be trusted.” 

“That’s- that’s cruel.” Lo shuddered. They had felt a similar fire against their own skin. A branding iron. Or a match, or a torch. They just didn’t have the scars to prove it. “And the- the rest of it?” Lo asked carefully. Not wanting to push any more buttons or cross any more boundaries. 

Solomon’s voice got even softer and for the first time Lo could feel his vulnerability. 

“I- I had to learn. Symbols of- of my disobedience, and my mistakes. And now they’re- they're symbols of my betrayal.” Solomon clenched his hands in fists, watching the water rush around his skin. 

He had abandoned his family. Abandoned the only life he’d ever known with the only other vampires that had shown some semblance of care for him. For a human that he had insisted on saving.

Solomon brought his head back up as he heard a sniffle of tears from the human, Lo was wiping their eyes as they turned away from his gaze. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Lo whispered. Their breath light against the cooling air. “I can make it on my own, you don’t have to stay.” 

Solomon shook his head, the braid Lo had made falling over his shoulder. “Even if I wanted to go back I couldn’t. My fate would be worse than yours. Vampires don’t forgive easily.” 

Lo wiped away another strand of tears as the vampire moved closer in the water, grabbing their hand and pulling it away from their face. 

“Lo- I don’t regret taking you away from that place.” He whispered, leaning in so close that the human could smell the venom in his breath. “You deserved better.” 

Marlowe paused for a moment, holding their breath and taking in the closeness of the vampire, the nakedness of their bodies- the movement of the water around them, and Lo closed their eyes. 

They took in a shaky breath as the vampire's presence grew closer, the water shifting around them where they knelt. Marlowe opened their eyes to find Solomon staring into them, almost as if he was trying to read their soul.

“Thank you for, for rescuing me.” Lo whispered, finally matching the intensity of his gaze. “But can I ask one thing from you?” 

Sol responded with silence, and the human proceeded. 

“Feed from me. Please.” Lo continued before he could protest, cutting off his words. “I know you haven’t been feeding as much as you need to. You’ve been more irritable, and tired, and- and it’s the least I can do in exchange for the protection you’ve given me.” 

Solomon turned his head away, breaking the gaze the human had placed on him, even if just to hide his tears from Lo. He didn’t deserve to feed after everything they’d been through- after Lo’s countless injuries and deaths. The last thing they needed to worry about was having their blood drained by a blood-thirsty monster. 

He was forced to look back into the human’s eyes as they pulled his face closer, a small, gentle hand on his cheek. 

“Please, Solomon. I can’t see you starving yourself like this.” 

Solomon closed his eyes. The images of Lo’s body being torn apart by the vampires flashed through his mind. Their blood spilling out onto the ground. More images of Lo being pinned down and violated- drained of blood against their will while Solomon stood by, helpless to do anything. And then images of himself- capturing Lo that first night in the forest, keeping them tied up and drugged, leading them like a lamb to the slaughter to his camp of hungry vampires. 

Lo rose higher on their knees and leaned in, pressing their forehead to the vampire’s, their breath warm and steady against his face. Solomon choked back a sob. They didn’t want to hurt Lo- never again. 

“Please.” They whispered, before gently guiding his head to the side of their neck, Solomon shuddered out another breath. “It’s okay-” Lo whispered. “Sol I- I forgive you. Now eat, please.” 

There was a cry and a strangled sob as Solomon wrapped a shaking hand around Lo’s waist, pulling them closer to him in the water. And then the most gentle bite into their neck- so soft that Lo barely let out a gasp as his fangs slid into their flesh. 

Solomon began to drink as he pulled the human closer into him, his arm curving around their waist, the other reaching up to cradle their head. Lo settled onto his lap underneath the water, their thighs tightening against the vampire’s hips, Lo’s chest pressing into his. Warm skin against warm skin.

Tears leaked from Solomon’s eyes as he continued to drink, holding the human closer as the light grew dark- the moon and stars peeking out through the budding night sky. 

Lo let out a sigh, their body relaxing as they began to feel limp and they slumped forward in the vampire’s embrace as he held them tighter and continued to drink- hopefully until he got his fill of as much blood as he needed. 

When the vampire pulled away, satisfied with his meal, Lo briefly found the strength to lift their head and smile, before passing out backwards into the water behind them. 

Solomon quickly scooped the human up out of the water, pressing their naked body into his as he rose, climbing out of the creek. He collected their trap in one hand, holding the small human against him with the other, and carefully lifted them against his body, straddling their legs across his hips, his other arm bracing across their back for support as he began to carry them back to their cave, leaving both of their clothes behind on the rocks. He could come back for those later.

Once he reached their encampment inside the cave he realized how cold the human was- and quickly laid them down amongst the blankets, bundling them up gently before he started the fire. 

Sol threw on his extra change of clothes, and set a pot out to boil, using part of it to make tea, and the other to boil the crawdads like Lo had showed him. 

He had eaten his fill, so it’d only be fair for Lo to have a nice meal waiting for them once they woke up.

- - -

Tag List: @imagination1reality0 @thecyrulik @whumpsday @termsnconditions-apply @spectral-whumpy-writer @raddyscoops @whumptober-archive

[whumpy-wyrms]

Blood Runs Cold #2: You Poor Thing

previous | masterlist | next

content: captivity, cold whump, starvation, dehydration, begging, strangulation, mind control, blood drinking, non permanent death, defiant immortal whumpee, creepy vampire whumper

IT’S BACK!!! finally gonna start writing this series again, sorry for the long wait!!

— 

Aspen slowly opened his eyes, and once again, the first thing he noticed was how cold he was. But unlike being trapped in a thin metal freezer, Aspen was laying on a small mattress.

He curled into himself, shivering violently. After realizing there were no blankets to keep him warm, he sat up, but immediately felt the dizziness hit him. He groaned in pain, his head pounding and his body aching from his last death. His last death.

Everything that had happened the last day came flooding back to him like a punch to the gut.

He died. Twice— no, three times, apparently, though he didn’t remember the first time—

And he came back.

It hurt to think about— what any of this could possibly mean. Nobody could just die and come back to life! …But here he was. Alive and well. Aspen almost thought it could all have been one bad dream, if not for the dull pain in his neck. He traced his fingers over his throat, and felt two small scars from where the vampire had drank from. The vampire.

That thing was what had killed him- bit into him- tore him apart. And it said it would do it again. Aspen had to get out of here. He couldn’t stand the thought of being around that monster again, he couldn’t.

He took a deep breath and decided to start looking around the room he found himself in, though that didn’t help much since all around him was complete darkness, not a window or flicker of light in sight. The mattress beneath him felt rough and grimey; it definitely hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. Aspen put his hand to the wall to steady himself as he stood, feeling the chill and cracks of the cement on his fingertips.

He took a step, but heard a rattle of metal coming from the floor. He took another step, feeling a heavy weight and cold chill on his left ankle and he realized that he was chained to the wall. Shit.

Aspen tugged on the chain a bit, to no use. So he started walking anyway, wanting to see the furthest he could go. He walked around the room and held his hands out in front of him, trying to see if he could feel anything in the darkness. He eventually found a staircase, but could only get a few steps up until he reached the farthest the chain would allow him. He went around the other side of the room and felt a small drain in the concrete floor. Startled by the new texture under his bare feet, he jumped away, the chain pulling taut on his ankle and causing him to trip and scrape his knees on the concrete. He staggered up and collapsed back on the mattress in defeat.

And that was it. Nothing else in the room offered him much help, and he was stuck waiting in horrible anticipation. It was hopeless; there was no way out of here and he was going to be hurt by that vampire again.

He shook those thoughts away and decided to be smart about this. Sure, Aspen couldn’t actually die— for some reason— but vampires could. All he had to do was find… what was it? Silver? A wooden stake? Aspen never really had been too interested in vampires; he was more of a werewolf type of guy. And he didn’t even know they were real until now, whatever he’d heard about them in the past might not even be true. But nonetheless, he’d find a way to kill that bastard and reunite with Lyle again- wherever she was. He wouldn’t just give up.

. . .

Aspen didn’t know how long it had been since he’d woken up, or how long he had been waiting in the dark, laying curled up on that mattress. He realized soon enough that he was hungry; he hadn’t eaten in who knows how long, and definitely hadn’t drank any water. Oddly enough, he didn’t have to go to the bathroom. After all those deaths, he probably had nothing left in his system.

He also realized, after hours of laying on that mattress with nothing but his anxious thoughts, that the vampire hadn’t given him his glasses. It wasn’t like he needed them in this dark, but he still could hardly see normally without them. He also hadn’t given him his chest binder. He was just wearing his jeans and hoodie, not even a shirt underneath! That asshole. He didn’t know whether it was to humiliate him, give him less warmth, or both, or some other reason, but Aspen had never felt so vulnerable and defenseless.

The vampire had broken his phone, so he obviously couldn’t use that to call for help. Like the corpse that he was, he had nothing. Absolutely nothing that could help him. The only thing he could do was wait.

And after what felt like forever of waiting, stomach aching with unbearable hunger, Aspen heard the thud of footsteps coming from the ceiling above him. They walked slowly until they stopped by the stairs. The click of a lock echoed through the basement, and light finally flooded into the place.

Aspen sat up on the mattress, heart thumping rapidly through his chest as he stared ahead.

Finally, the vampire was back.

The vampire walked down the stairs, taking slow, deliberate steps that echoed in the silence. His wavy black hair fell down in his ghostly pale face. He wore a dark red dress shirt, the first few buttons undone, and a black suit coat hanging messily over his shoulders. Aspen gulped and hugged his knees to his chest, noticing the blood-red eyes peeking through the strands of hair and staring directly at him.

His captor reached the bottom of the stairs and stared down at Aspen, watching him tremble in fear.

“Hello, little corpse,” the vampire said, his voice sending a shiver down his spine.

Despite Aspen having so many things he wanted to say and ask— like let me go, I’m hungry, don’t hurt me— his words went dry in his throat. He felt acutely aware of his position; held captive, frozen in place under the vampire’s intense gaze, afraid that any movement or noise would cause the vampire to pounce and tear him apart again.

“What? Got nothing to say?” The vampire hummed, tilting his head.

Aspen swallowed and tore his eyes away from his captor, deciding to get a look around the now visible room.

The basement was not much larger than he had originally thought. Most of it was empty, but against the left far wall was a large metal table. It was hard to see without his glasses, but squinting his eyes, he could make out various dangerous looking tools and weapons hanging on the wall above it. The sharp blades were all covered in faded, dried blood. Higher on that wall, in the corner by the ceiling, was a small window, boarded up with wood that had looked like it’d been there for ages. Hanging down from the ceiling in the middle of the room were various hooks and chains. Dried blood faintly painted the floor by the drain.

That was it. It looked like everything in this place was just made to cause pain, to hurt him.

He looked back at the tools. They were too far away to get to with the chain around his ankle, but if he could somehow get his hands on them, he could defend himself.

Unless… somebody else got his hands on them first.

His eyes flickered back to the vampire, who had been following his gaze to the wall. He smirked.

Aspen’s heart plummeted.

“I see you’ve noticed my—”

“Don’t hurt me!” Aspen said, body trembling. “Please let me go, I- I—”

“Begging already?” The vampire mused, and started walking closer. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Yet?

“N-no, stay away from me,” Aspen said, backing up against the wall.

“Why would I do that?” His captor walked closer, boots thumping against the concrete. Aspen pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to hide as much of his body as he could, trying to make himself small. The vampire crouched down in front of Aspen and put a hand in his curly hair, gently scritching the top of his head as if he were nothing but a spooked animal. “You’re much cuter up close.”

Aspen trembled under the vampire’s touch, pulling away ever so slightly but being fully backed into the wall, there was nowhere to hide.

“How’re you doin’? You making yourself at home?”

Aspen just stared ahead, mouth agape, words caught in his throat.

“I asked you a question, Aspen,” the vampire hummed in a light tone, though his hand gripped tighter in his hair— a warning.

Aspen swallowed thickly, and said in a quiet, shaky voice, “I-I don’t wanna be here. Let me go.”

“Aw, is it really that bad? I even gave you a mattress and everything.”

Aspen frowned, shivering into his hoodie and wrapping his arms around himself. “It-it’s so- so cold down here. Just let me go.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” the vampire cooed, wiping Aspen’s tears with his thumb. He didn’t even realize he started crying. “I don’t care.”

Aspen sniffled. “I don’t even have my glasses.”

“Oh, of course. You need them to see?” The vampire’s voice was laced in mock sympathy.

Aspen nodded his head, looking up at him through his curls.

“Well, I kinda like it when you look all disoriented and confused. I might just keep you like this forever.”

Aspen’s heart dropped, his despair plastered all over his face. “Why are you doing this?”

“Aw, did you forget already? You exist only for me to drink that delectable blood of yours. You’re nothing but my food. You’re mine. I can do whatever I want to you.”

“B-but- but…” He was speechless. As he struggled to come up with something to say while his captor played with his hair, he saw the vampire’s eyes light up, smiling that horrible grin that showed his deathly sharp fangs.

“Oh, you’re going to be so much fun to break.”

“W-what?” He squeaked.

“We’re going to have so much fun together, Aspen. Just you and I. It’s been so long since I’ve had a human of my own, this place hasn’t had much use in ages, but not anymore. And since you can’t die permanently, I won’t ever have to hold back.”

The vampire’s gaze wandered back to the tools hanging from the wall and the chains hanging from the ceiling. Horrible visions racked Aspen’s mind. Visions of pain. Of agony. Torture. Death. It hadn’t happened to him yet, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it. He couldn’t do it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stifle a sob. The vampire was too close. It and its fangs and claws were too close and it was touching him and he didn’t want to be here and why wouldn’t it just let him go?

“Open your eyes, Aspen,” the vampire said in a sing-song tone.

“Huh?” Aspen opened his eyes.

“I like to see the fear in my prey’s eyes as I feed. Makes the blood all the more intoxicating.”

“F-Feed?”

“Did I bash your skull in a little too hard last time?” Silas flicked Aspen’s head roughly with his finger. “Every night I am going to feed from you. And every morning, you will come back to life fully healed and regenerating more blood. The process will repeat itself. It’s simple. No more questions.”

“But I don’t- I don’t want this. I wanna go h-home.” He looked up at the vampire through his curly hair with tears in his wide, terrified eyes. His lips wobbled as he spoke so quietly that it was barely a whisper. “Please.”

“Oh, Aspen. You still think you have a choice. You’re so cute, it’s unbearable. It makes me just want to squeeze the life out of you.” The vampire thought to himself for a moment, before a mischievous grin crossed his face. “And I guess… I can do that, can’t I.” It was more of an observation to himself than a question.

“N-no.”

“Oh, I will.” The vampire broke out into a wide, maniacal grin, fangs looking sharper than ever. “Whenever the fuck I want to. How about now?”

Before Aspen could say anything, the vampire pounced. Inhumanly strong hands wrapped around his neck and shoved him against the wall. His nails dug into Aspen’s delicate skin, causing blood to drip down his throat.

“Ow!” Aspen gasped. “Stop- stop stop stop- please stop.”

The vampire suddenly squeezed his hands tighter around Aspen’s throat, crushing his windpipe. Aspen gasped for breath, but could no longer get any air.

“L-et g-o,” Aspen choked out, a whimper soon broken by his lack of oxygen.

He clawed at his neck, at the vampire’s hands tightening his grip on him, at the blood spilling from the small cuts, desperately doing all he could to get air. But his captor’s hands didn’t budge, they only pressed down harder on his throat.

Aspen’s mouth opened and closed, trying and failing to suck air back into his lungs. He tried to plead, to beg, but no sound came out. Dark spots filled his vision as his lungs screamed for air.

The vampire leaned in and started drinking the blood trickling down his skin. Aspen felt his hands squeezing tighter to get more to spill out, as if he were nothing but a living ketchup packet.

Tears fell down Aspen’s cheeks as he went limp in the vampire’s hold, finally losing strength. He struggled to keep his eyes open, to keep his head from lolling to the side and into the vampire’s grasp, to keep himself from slipping away into unconsciousness, into death.

The vampire squeezed his neck again, this time harder. A horrible crunching sound filled Aspen’s ears, and everything finally went black.

. . .

Aspen gasped awake, hands instinctively flying to his neck to get air- to stop the bleeding—

…That wasn’t there. There was no puncture wound, no blood, not even a scab. Just smooth scars over his skin from where the vampire had scratched him and drank from.

He took a deep, long breath, closing his eyes as sweet refreshing air filled his lungs. He breathed out, and in, and out again. A steady pace to calm his racing heart.

The room was dark again, and the vampire didn’t seem to be in there anymore. He must’ve left after Aspen… died. Maybe that was a good thing. Though, he was still incredibly hungry. And thirsty. And his captor was the only one who could give him that necessity.

He cringed thinking about the last thing he remembered, that moment with the vampire. He shouldn’t be so scared of him. He had to stand up for himself and fight back, that’s what Lyle would have told him if she were there.

He didn’t know what time it was or how long he waited for, but when the basement door opened again, Aspen swallowed his nerves and ran towards the stairs, wasting no time in going as far as the chain would allow him. He was standing on the second step and holding on to the railing, his left leg held out in the air a little bit due to the chain pulling on it.

“H-hey,” Aspen said, looking up at the vampire. “Let me out, I’m so hungry!” He pulled against the chain, not caring about the cold metal digging into his skin, and pushed his arms against the railing as if trying to heave himself up the stairs. “I can’t- can’t take it anymore! Let me go!”

The vampire was standing at the top of the stairs, his entire body cast in a haunting shadow from the light behind him, making him nothing but a looming silhouette. He took a silent step down the stairs, and another.

“Brave little corpse today, huh?” The vampire growled, his two red eyes glowing bright in the darkness. He seemed to be in a different mood today, one that sent a shiver down Aspen’s spine.

“I’m starving. I don’t care what you do to me, I just need food! Please!” Aspen cried.

He didn’t even see it coming.

The vampire pounced, leaping down the stairs and slamming his body straight into Aspen, sending both of them tumbling into the hard concrete floor. Aspen cried out in pain, his entire body hurting from the inhuman force pinning him to the ground. The vampire quickly stepped back and shoved Aspen into the wall by his mattress. After struggling to catch his breath, Aspen’s eyes went wide when he noticed the vampire walking towards him.

“W-Wait!” Aspen exclaimed. “Please don’t hurt me—” He squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating another blow to the head. When that didn’t come, he blinked and saw the vampire crouched down next to him, inspecting the chain around his ankle.

“This chain is much too long.” Before Aspen could do anything, the vampire wrenched it through what had it fastened to the wall, effectively shortening the length Aspen was allowed to walk, leaving the chain only a few feet long now. Aspen could only move around the mattress, and that was it. “Much better.”

He was about to curl into a ball, but he remembered his goal. He needed to stand up for himself. He needed to show him that he wasn’t weak. He blinked back his tears and stared at his captor. “L-let me go!” he demanded. “I’m hungry! Really really hungry. I need food. You can’t just keep me down here!”

“Aspen,” Silas growled, turning to face him. “Are you really making me repeat myself again? You’re mine. My food, to do with as I please.”

His mind raced, frantically trying to come up with anything at all that could change his mind. “If you’re going to- to keep me here, you need to feed me! You can’t just k-keep me starving forever! It hurts! Please!”

“You haven’t died from starvation yet, so why would I waste time and resources letting you eat if you don’t need to? Seems like a big fucking waste to me.”

Aspen looked up, pleading with his eyes that were filled with anger and confusion. his breath hitched in his throat. It was getting harder and harder to be brave. “You ca-can’t do this. You can’t!”

“I can do whatever I want to you.”

Tears fell down his cheeks. “P-please!” he sobbed. “I’m begging you, is that what you want? Please. I’m starving, I—”

“Stop screaming. Holy shit, you’re insufferable. Did you know that?” The vampire turned away from him and started walking towards the other side of the room. “I usually love hearing the horrified screams of my prey, but today isn’t one of those days.”

“Wh-where are you going? —Wait!”

In a flash, the vampire was back to kneeling in front of him, shoving a piece of cloth into his mouth and tying it around his head, effectively gagging him. Aspen reached up to pull it out, but winced when his captor grabbed his wrist and roughly twisted his arms behind his back. The vampire tied his hands together with rope, and pulled it tight. Aspen whimpered as it dug into his skin.

He screamed through the gag, and his captor slapped him roughly across the face, shutting him up. His head shot to the side, and he whimpered as his cheek stung in pain.

Cold, inhumanly strong hands grasped at his shoulders as the monster bit down into his neck, ripping and tearing the flesh away like a deranged animal. He cried out, but there was nothing he could do to stop this. It wasn’t long after that Aspen’s world went dark yet again.

. . .

Time seemed to stretch on in one big blur. The vampire came to the basement to feed, to kill, and throw any and all kinds of hurt or pain into the mix that he wanted. No matter how much Aspen pleaded for it to stop, that only seemed to fuel the vampire’s cruelty. He mocked him for being weak, for being unable to do anything against him. His captor would either kill him or leave him alone in the basement until he came back hours later, alive but in no way living.

It was always dark, and Aspen didn’t know how many days were spent down there. He thought that if the vampire fed once a day, he’d been in the basement for at least five. Five days without food or water. Five days trapped in a cold, dark room with nothing but his worried, anxious thoughts to distract him from the agonizing pain. Not to mention however long he’d been in the morgue before this, however long ago he’d died the first time.

But he could be wrong; he really didn’t know how long he’d been trapped here for. It could have been a few days or a few months and he’d have no way to tell. He wondered if anyone was looking for him, or where Lyle was, or if he’d ever be able to see the sun again. Surely, he’d be rescued in no time. He was going to get out of here, he just had to wait.

He laid his cheek against the rough mattress, arms still tied behind his back and gag stuck firmly in his mouth. Even though he tried to stay optimistic, sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was his life now. Cursed to be trapped starving in a basement and used as a vampire’s bloodbag for all of eternity— and killed, over and over, that too.

He found the actual death to be somewhat… peaceful, as grim as that sounded. It was the only escape he got from the pain before he was forced back into the cold cruelty of the basement— of his life. It was an unwelcome distraction, but it was at least something. He always hated having nothing to do, being bored out of his mind. At least now he got a break every now and again.

Then, for the first time in days, he heard something new. Aspen’s ears perked up, listening closely to the faint, muffled noises coming from above him. Voices. Multiple voices upstairs. He stood up, despite his weak and starved body begging him to rest, and stumbled towards however far the chain would let him.

He shook his head vigorously, rubbing his chin against his shoulder and finally, finally getting that disgusting gag out of his mouth.

And then, he screamed. His throat was sore and raspy, dry from the lack of water, but that didn’t stop him. He called for help as loud as he could, hoping to get the attention of whoever was up there.

The voices suddenly stopped as Aspen’s frantic pleas rang through the air. There was a loud sigh, and the snap of someone’s fingers. Eerie silence filled the air except for the all-too-familiar footsteps walking towards the basement.

The door swung open violently, and Aspen flinched back at the noise, chain rattling behind him.

“What do you want?” The vampire hissed, flicking the lightswitch on and slamming the door shut behind him. Aspen had never seen someone look so angry. He cowered away as primal terror flooded through his veins.

“I- I, th-the people! There are people up there! Help, help! HELP!”

The vampire did nothing but stand there silently, staring at him with that creepy smile on his face. “Keep screaming, Aspen. See where that gets you.”

“But there’s… What…what did you do to them?”

“Mind control. Their dumb little minds don’t belong to them right now, and they certainly won’t rescue you.”

“You can… control people’s minds?”

“Of course I can,” his captor hissed. “And the next time you try to ask other humans for help, I won’t be so merciful to them.”

“Were they looking for me?”

The vampire couldn’t help but laugh. “No, they weren’t looking for you. They were looking for directions.”

“Directions?”

“Yes. We are in the middle of fucking nowhere, by the way.” The vampire took a step down the stairs. “And nobody will come looking for you. You’re dead to the world, already buried six feet under. And scream all you want, there’s no civilization in miles. That gag was just there to keep you from annoying me all night and day with your incessant whining. I almost never see people out here unrelated to my business.”

“But when I do,“ the vampire continued, “oh, you have no idea how hard it is to resist feeding on them. I’m glad you’re awake now. I deserve a snack for having to deal with those insufferable morons.”

“And you,” the vampire drawled, walking closer and causing Aspen to flinch back in fear, stumbling onto the mattress behind him, “deserve a punishment for spitting that gag out and trying to call for help. You’re mine. You do not try to call for help. You are not getting out of this. Get that through your thick skull before I bash it in.”

Aspen breathed heavily. The vampire was standing a few feet from him, but was more menacing than ever before.

“Say it, little corpse. Tell me you’re mine. I wanna hear it from you.”

Tears pricked in Aspen’s eyes, cheeks going red. “I-I’m, I’m y-yours.”

“And you’ll never try calling for help again?”

“N-No,” he said, shaking his head and sniffling.

“Good. Now enough chit-chat. C’mere.”

Aspen let out a sob and crawled forward, palms and knees aching against the cold stone floor. He crumbled in despair as Silas leaned down to feed again. Sharp fangs sank into the same spot on his neck, blood started flowing out and into the mouth of his captor. He grew even more lightheaded, squeezing his eyes shut and silently begging for unconsciousness.

…Only, death didn’t come this time. The vampire pulled away early, licking his lips and stepping back with a sour expression.

Aspen dared to peek an eye open and look up at him. “W-wh-what are—”

“Your blood. It’s not as good as it was before. What happened?”

“I-I don’t- I don’t know.” When the vampire yanked a hand to his hair, Aspen sputtered frantically to get his words out, wracking his mind for what it could possibly be. “M-maybe it’s- maybe it’s because I haven’t- haven’t eaten anything?”

The vampire stared at him for a moment in consideration. Then, his hand let up, and he stepped away. “Hm. I guess that makes sense.”

“Y-yeah, p-please, I really need food. I need it.”

“…I don’t have any human food here. I’ll have to get some the next time I go to town.”

“...Oh,” Aspen said quietly. “B-but you’ll still feed me? Th-thank you.” He looked up at his captor with hope in his eyes for the first time, and finally let his body relax, as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He’d finally get to be fed.

“Yeah. Holy shit, you’re pathetic.”

“C-can I at least ha-have a blanket in the meantime?”

“No. Can’t let you get too comfortable, can I? Or you’ll forget your place.” The vampire chuckled, patting his head in mock affection.

“But it- It’s so cold here…”

“If you’re suffering so much, why don’t I just kill you now and make the pain stop?”

“N-no, please don’t kill me,” Aspen whispered.

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“W-wait!—”

But he had already put the gag in place, and tied it tightly around his head, more so than before. Aspen let out a muffled whimper as the vampire walked up the stairs and out of the basement. The light was turned out, the door slammed shut, leaving Aspen in suffocating darkness once again. All alone.

His stomach growled. The cold bit at his bare skin. His throat ached with thirst and the lingering pain of the bite.

Maybe he should’ve accepted the offer.

— 

i’m not like super proud of this one but i think it’s as good as i’m gonna get it so here u go :3 future chapters will be better (and probably shorter), i’ve written a whoooole bunch of this recently and i’m realllyy gonna try to get regular updates now!! yayyyy

taglist: @inkwell-and-dagger @vidawhump @taterswhump @toyybox @andithewhumper

@creppersfunpalooza @bottlecapreader @whumpsday @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kisa-writes

@mintflavouredwhump @fleur-a-whump @starfields08000

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

[whumpninja]

I don’t know why it took SO LONG to fill this prompt! Thanks to everyone who sent me ideas, I…ended up using none of them and going with this random thing. Whoops.

Prompt used: Whumptober, defiance

Featuring: magic whump, smoking, vaguely 1920s setting I think, anger, defiant whumpee, magic spells/curses/whatnot, immortal whumper

Whumptober Day Thirteen: Deal With The Devil

"You're not happy."

Lawrence kept the remark casual, offhanded. He flicked open the engraved silver lighter he carried in his pocket and lit a cigarette, pretending to be absorbed in the action. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his young assistant do the washing up. "You can't hide things from me, Jamie. I can tell you're angry."

Across the room, the young man set down the plates with more force than strictly necessary. They rattled dangerously on the edge of the counter. Lawrence took note of the taut lines of his back, the hard set to his jaw, the snap of fire in his dark eyes. Jamie wasn't just angry; he was furious.

"Was there anything else you needed, Mr. Lexington?" Jamie asked through clenched teeth. Mr. Lexington. Not Lawrence. Oh, this was going to be interesting.

"I can't remedy whatever I've done unless you tell me about it, Jamie," Lawrence said, taking a drag of his cigarette. "If you're finished banging things around like a child throwing a tantrum, I'll listen."

Jamie stared at him for a moment, black eyes blazing. He seized the back of a chair and dragged it out from its place with a deliberately ear-piercing screech, then dropped into it with enough force to make it teeter on its back legs before it rocked forward onto solid ground again.

"I certainly hope that's the last display of temper from you tonight." Lawrence put just a hint of a warning in his voice.

Jamie ignored it completely. He stabbed a finger in Lawrence's direction, trembling with fury. "You put a spell on me." He practically spat out the words. "Didn't you?"

Lawrence raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know how I didn't notice before. I can't disobey a direct order from you- not without feeling sick, and it only gets worse until I obey. I also can't go a certain radius away from you. I walked the whole of it today, just to see. I can't go more than a few miles away from wherever you are." Jamie slammed his hand down on the table. "I can't think of any other explanation. Did you or did you not put a curse on me?"

"Yes," Lawrence answered.

He could tell Jamie had been expecting him to deny it, which was exactly why he'd done the opposite. The young man was an open book, easy to predict and even easier to fool. Lawrence worked in double crosses and blind sides and traps set in fine print. It was hardly his fault if poor souls just happened to stumble into them.

Jamie found his voice again. "Why?"

"Oh, I needed some way to keep you in line. You'll find that if you attack me the spell will reflect any damage back onto yourself, so I wouldn't try that either." Lawrence tapped out his cigarette, one eye on Jamie's outraged expression. "See, you bound yourself to my service in exchange for power. Which I gave you. But I needed a way to make sure you didn't someday take it into your head to use that power on me. So, the spell."

"This is not what I agreed to."

"I think you'll find that it is."

"How long does it last?"

"As long as I need it to. Only the person who cast a spell can lift it. Haven't I taught you anything?" Lawrence clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"I don't need to lift it," Jamie snarled. "If I can break it."

"Good luck with that. I'm an immortal sorcerer, boy. The day someone like you pulls a trick on me...well, it'll never happen."

"I won't stop trying."

"I don't doubt it. I chose you because you're spirited. I like the fiery ones." Lawrence stood up, in no particular hurry, and sidled around the table to stand over his young servant. "You fight me as much as you please, Jamie. Scream insults at me. Try to strike me. Use your own magic if you like. It will amuse me to watch you try- and fail- to break my spell."

He took the boy's chin in his hand, tilting his face up to look into the angry dark eyes. "Because you will fail. Magically speaking, I own you. You would do well to remember that."

[galaxywhump]

Ending and Beginning

[An Immortal Among Stars Masterlist]

Not really whumpy, takes place after Abandoned.

contents: character death, terminal illnesss, lady whump, immortal whumpee, redeemed whumper.

~~~

“You can leave soon, dear. When I’m gone.”

Karita nodded, staring out the window, her gaze blank, as it had been for the last several years. She flinched when Iris was sent into a coughing fit, which sounded even worse and more strained than the previous ones. Time was running out, Karita’s freedom was drawing near, and yet she didn’t know how she felt about it.

Yes, Iris had tortured her at first, used her as a test subject, a power source, but then… something changed. They were both lonely, and Karita was still in mourning after being betrayed by the people she considered her friends at one point. Iris needed someone to spend time with, and Karita didn’t need anything - and so she stayed, even when she was allowed to leave the tower.

There was something therapeutic about being away from everyone, lost in a new routine, tending to Iris’s small garden, gathering herbs around the island, sitting in the tall grass and looking at the wild sea. In the evenings, curled up in a very old and very comfortable armchair in front of the fireplace, she made use of Iris’s extensive library, and once Iris was no longer able to read on her own, Karita started reading the books to her. She still felt empty, numb, but it was a lighter kind of emptiness, one that brought her relief. 

“Karita?”

“Yes?” She looked away from the window, at Iris. The old mage was pale, her eyes had a sickly gleam to them. She was wasting away, but she had made her peace with it long ago.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said, her voice raspy and forced.

“You already have,” Karita reminded her with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and she couldn’t remember the last time it did.

“I know,” Iris sighed. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you.”

“It’s okay. It’s never permanent.”

Iris frowned in concern and shook her head.

“That doesn’t make it right. Immortal or not, you don’t deserve to be in pain.”

It was a simple statement, yet it felt like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t something Karita heard… well, ever. She was always fine, eventually. She always persevered, escaped or outlived her tormentors, and there were no scars to remind her of any of it. She was fine, she could handle pain, and it became inevitable the moment she woke up on the battlefield centuries ago, surrounded by dead bodies, having been one herself mere moments before.

“You poor girl,” Iris said softly, reaching out to her. “You’re crying.”

She was, and she tried to laugh it off, but all it did was force some of the tears out of her eyes. She wiped at her cheek, cleared her throat, and took Iris’s hand.

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be, though. No-one should. I am sorry I contributed to your pain.”

A shaky exhale, even more tears, a suffocating lump in her throat.

“Can we stop talking about it? It’s…” okay. She ended up only shaking her head. “Yes, you hurt me, but you stopped, and you’ve been kind to me ever since. I really appreciate that. It’s been a… more peaceful few years.”

Iris smiled at her and squeezed her hand, and hers felt so frail, so small, as if she wouldn’t be able to gesticulate enough to cast even the simplest spell.

“It was the least I could do. And now the least I can do is give you something I’ve been working on for a while.” She nodded towards the nightstand by her bed. “Open the drawer, dear.”

Karita frowned, but followed the request, not letting go of Iris’s hand. The only thing in the drawer was a bracelet made of small translucent gray beads. She took it out and held it up.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, and Iris laughed, which immediately turned into another bout of coughing.

“It’s not mere jewelry,” she explained once she could speak again, though her breathing remained strained. “It’s imbued with my magic.”

Karita hummed and cupped the bracelet in her palm. With a bit of concentration she could sense the magic coursing within; it was subtle, but undeniable.

“What does it do?”

“It lets you alter your appearance.”

Karita’s eyes widened and snapped to Iris as the implication made her heart skip a beat.

“So I can…?”

“Yes. It’s not a strong spell, sadly. When I tried to make it more powerful, the beads shattered, and I didn’t want the vessel to be anything more obvious than this bracelet. Trust me, I wanted to make it as small as a ring or an earring. Regardless, it should let you create an illusion of aging.” As Karita exhaled shakily, Iris continued. “I remember you telling me that your not aging forces you to move all the time. I hope that with this little trinket you can stay in one place for longer. Make a life for yourself, at least for a few decades. My magic isn’t what it used to be, so the spell won’t work for more than half a day, I believe, but-”

“No, no, it’s wonderful. Really. I… I don’t really know what to say, no-one…” No, she was getting choked up, so she shook her head. She teared up again, and she hated crying, she hated showing weakness, but this was different, she wasn’t weak and didn’t have to act tough, and no-one was going to mock her for crying. Iris smiled at her with sympathy, and gave her hand another gentle squeeze.

“You deserve a good life, Karita,” she said softly. “You really, really do. I hope you can find it when I’m gone.”

“Y-yeah,” Karita choked out, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll try. Thank you, Iris. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Besides, I should be the one thanking you.”

They stayed like this until Karita stopped crying; then she fetched Iris’s favorite book to read a few chapters to her, looking up from the pages every now and then to make sure Iris was still awake and listening. She continued reading for hours, only taking breaks to drink some water when her throat went dry, until Iris let out a relieved sigh, closed her eyes, and faded.

Karita fell silent, and watched as the mage’s body was engulfed in bright light, which then dispersed, clung to the walls and ran through them in the form of thin veins. The body was gone, but Iris’s life essence had become one with the tower, her beloved home. It would eventually turn back into ruin, just as she had found it, but a part of her would still be here, on the island she’d found solace on.

Sitting on the front steps, Karita looked up at the stars and exhaled. Despite Iris’s death, she felt light. It was a good death after a long life, and she was glad to have helped make the last few years more bearable. But now she was alone, and she had to find a new place, a new life.

She spent a while listening to the rustling of grass and the crashing waves, and for a moment she considered staying here. It was a good place, a place she knew well, isolated enough that she shouldn’t be found for some time. She could continue living in the tower, existing without worrying about anything, but… she would be completely alone, and despite Iris’s repeated claims that people like them were doomed to live a lonely existence, she couldn’t and didn’t want to agree. Besides, the bracelet was proof enough that Iris wanted her to be able to live like a normal person, among others.

She returned to the tower, where she lit the fireplace and spent one last night in the armchair, which felt way less comfortable now, and in the morning she descended the stairs to the basement, where she ignored the tools that were used to torture her once upon a time. She headed for the teleportation device, a circular spot that used to glow with a much brighter, steady light, but now was pulsating weakly. 

“It won’t work forever. I put most of my magic into it, so even when I’m gone it should stay active for a few days, but you should act quickly. I don’t want you to be stuck here on your own.”

She didn’t want that either, despite everything.

Where did she want to go, though? She wasn’t sure. She could go anywhere, there weren’t many places she had strong connections to, and she didn’t want to go back to any of them. She was starting anew.

Just take me somewhere safe, with other people, she commanded as she stood on the device, looking around one last time, taking in the familiar walls of the tower. Right before nothingness surrounded her, she looked down at the bracelet on her wrist, and couldn’t help but smile. She had more of a chance than ever before, and she was… excited.

If the spell worked, she could live her new life for several decades, and she was going to make the most of it.

~~~

taglist: @stab-the-son-of-a @poeticagony

[sleepyiswhumping]

5, 22, 24 for ask :)

5. I currently don't write about characters that aren't OCs, but I may in the future. As for my two favourite OCs to whump; Theo, a skinny, tall boi with hella long ginger hair. He's just so soft and kind and wholesome and so good to whump. He's the whumpee in a short I'm considering posting, once I rewrite it to my satisfaction. Talbot. He's a vampire who smokes and doesn't want to hurt anyone. Immortal whumpees being the victim of vampires will always be one of my favourites, but when the whumpee is the vampire, and they're being tormented by a hunter who knows exactly how to take advantage of their vampirism, it's almost as amazing. 22. I don't have any specific playlists or albums, but I've been making one recently. It doesn't match my typical style of music but I've also been in the mood for sadder songs recently, so it fulfils that and my want for whumpy songs. But, typically, if I'm writing whump I'm just struck by random inspiration or an aching need to get an idea I love out there so I don't lose it. 24. I'm probably weird for this, but poor grammar. I know my grammar is far from perfect, but I strive to keep it as good as possible, regardless of what I'm writing (unless I'm messaging friends). Seeing poor grammar, for reasons unbeknownst to me, instantly makes me apprehensive and critical toward the fic, which often leads to me not enjoying it as much. Aside from that, not much. Character death, when done well, is probably another, but that's just a me thing. Character death is just far too final for me to enjoy in most cases, especially if Whumpee or Caretaker are the ones dying, but that's probably just my love for the love, connection and kindness Whumpee and Caretaker tend to share, considering I don't mind it nearly as much if Whumper or a minor/bad character dies.

Thanks for the ask, @dresden-syndrome! <3

[kim-poce]

Let's make a collective whumpee

A single little poor meow meow that everyone in the community can hurt as they please.

Put other suggestion in the tags/replies (even the niche ones), I'll make several polls and I'll put the more voted option of the polls against each other later.

[carosbee]

👋 Hai!

Top 5 whump tropes?

-- @whumperofworlds

My top 5 whump tropes would have to be:

1. Dehumanisation.

I love the idea of a character being treated like an animal, object or plaything. Gives me brilliant whumperflies. My love for it stems from Dream SMP Primeboys/Discduo fics because there's no way Dream sees Tommy on the same level as him.

2. Defiant – Obedient Whumpee.

When they start off hitting and kicking and end up doing whatever Whumper wants them to do? When there's nothing left of who they were? Delicious.

3. Institutional whump.

I'm not a bbu fan I love but when nobody will help Whumpee despite seeing their suffering. Like medieval fics or if Whumper is famous or powerful.

4. Obsessed Whumper.

For example, if Whumper is a stalker (like c!Dream from the Dream SMP) or sees Whumpee as some figure above everything and something they alone deserve and should worship.

5. Immortality/revival Whump

Believe it or not (I've never mentioned the Dream SMP before, I know, very surprising) but this happens between c!Tommy and c!Dream on the DSMP. Dream wants to make Tommy and him immortal so they can be alive together, forever. Dream's obsessed with the poor guy and Tommy just feels like a corpse by this point. I eat it up every time I rewatch this arc of the Dream SMP or see similar whump.

Thanks for the ask.

[painonthebrain]

ImMortal Triplicity

During their travels, an angel named Starling and their guard Oath are captured by a demon. Soon after, a human finds himself wrapped into the conflict due to his poor decisions — and the three come to realize there’s more connecting them than what meets the eye.

General CWs/themes (may vary in writing): Religion, torture, power dynamics, angel whumpees, gore, transformation, carewhumper, whumper-turned-whumpee, death

— — —

[PRELUDE]

Only the Beginning

Back from the dead

[MAIN STORY]

Celebration

Like lightning

Tensions

Cracks

Stitches

A single blanket

Bloom

Please don’t

[EXTRAS]

Snowfall

Wait

PLEASE NOTE: THIS SERIES IS CURRENTLY UNDERGOING A REWRITE — DETAILS MAY CHANGE

[whimpity-whumpity]

List of my characters because even i forget sometimes and i do not expect yall to remember them when i dont even post abt them much. Will be updated as i remember more of them because there are quite literally hundreds rattling around up there.

Whumpees

Caleb (he/him, immortal, does not have a good time)

Sorin (he/him) (knockoff spiderman)

Lace (lab whumpee) (she/her) (also mind controlled via SCIENCE)

Tango (lab whumpee) (she/her)

Delta(lab whumpee) (she/her)

Yankee(lab whumpee) (she/her)

Charlie(lab whumpee) (she/her)

Lars (gladiator) (anxious big man) (he/him)

Elipso (satyr, emergency food) (they/them)

Emily (she/her)

Quinn (they/she)

Jakob (poor baby i hurt him so bad) (it/its but in a dehumanizing way, then he/him later) (he just wants to play his songs)

Donny "Trix" Riggs (he/him)

Ryder (any pronouns but I only use they/them because they'll stop letting me write them if i don't) (betrayed villain my beloved)

Amy (she/her)(???) (villain whumpee)

Bucky Ark Patton (he/him) (he works for Waylan!) (yes his initials are BAP.)

Whumpers

Arcturus (he/him) (utter asshole)

Esyn aka Emily (she/her) (shy but later also asshole because of how my power system works :<)

Sorin (really a sweetheart) (he/him) (he just wants someone to cuddle and is all kinds of fucked up)

Arson aka Gwid (alien) (they/them) (their culture has very very normalized violence and like. slave gladiators. its not great. they did not mean to come to earth. they hate it here.)

Riclle (vampire, the oldest) (he/him) ("gender? i'm fucking thirsty, fuck gender") (creepy whumper)

Tobias (vampire) (he/him) (pretends to be a creepy whumper, is just trying to protect his little brother)

Phil (he's a surprise tool that will help us later) (reference) (vampire) (he/him) (idk he might get deleted, i made him for a rp and he never really came back)

Sir Nicholas the 23rd (he/him) (PROFESSIONAL asshole. asshole EXTRORDINAIRE. i hate him so so much.)

Lukas (reluctant) (he/him) (crime family go brr) (he just wants to sell glowy clothes)

Harlow (doesn't like its job but gets paid well) (he/it) (only has this job to provide for his son)

Waylan (he/him) ("gender? is that uh, one of them new medicines?") (have you noticed i like giving assholes kids? have you?) (you will.) (her name is ronnie and i love her sm. baby. she kicks off his redemption arc.) (waylan 🤝 sorin fucked up childhoods)

Bucky (he/him) (hes literally that one stereotypical henchman i love him) (also hes trans)

Hadrian "Pike" whatever the fuck surname. (he/him) (basically he gets hired to kidnap people and keep them out of the way and or kill them)

Jude (he/they) (basically a supervillain) (feral) (but also wildly cheerful) (would just strap somebody down and sit on their lap and wait for the knife to wake them up) (giggles like a child while torturing people)

Caretakers

Quinn (they/she)

Sami (she/her) (Waylan's cousin, but she and the rest of the family think he's dead)

Karma (she/it) (hero) (bloodbender equivalent) (starts up a recovery center later <3) (also very much enjoys watching people in pain) (it hates that about herself)

Maewyn (vampire) she/her (successor to Riclle) (can't turn people)

Tobias (kind of) (vampire) he/him (he tries)

Donny (AU of Riggs) he/him (works in a temple of Melu!)

Ophi? Maybe? If she cooperates? (she/her) (Jakob's youngest sister)

Bucky!!! Ark!!! Patton!!!!! (literally he does anything his Boss tells him to hes so fucking blorbo rn)

Divines

Kypripos (Chaos and all not written below; Lord of Lost Things, Sky-Painter, and prankster. Father of Fathers, the First, etc.) doesn't really care about gender, goes by he/him through most of the story because their vessel is male.

Estor (Domain: History) he/him

Tai (Domain: War, grief, poets, and strategy) he/him

Rask (Elder Child of the Depths) xe/xem/xeir

Melu (Domain: Illness and Health, often credited with making ALL life) I've been referring to Melu with feminine pronouns till now but Melu just said no so I'm gonna just not until Melu finds some that vibe right.

Saras (Child of the Depths) Saras also sees no need for pronouns. Saras speaks in third person.

Ponma (Domain: Drama, acting, lies) (Dead) Whatever the role demands: he, she, they, xe, it, she delights in wrapping new roles around himself like a new cloak.

Rust (Child of Ponma, once known as Vera) they/them (clown)

Ent (Embodiment of "Chaos comes for all in the end") (Dead) he/they (never STARTED fights but would finish them) (same with pranks)

Misief (Domain: General mischief, pranks, laughter) (Dead) it/its (always started the fight/pranks)

Cosmo (Domain: All the things of the sky)(Dead) she/it (the token serious child)

Arcturus (Domain: magic) (dead-ish) he/him

Esyn (Domain: magic) she/her

Mara (Domain: destruction and rebirth) Similar attitude to Ponma, but less about new roles and more about destruction not needing a gender

Madac ("Sea-mother") she/they

Seli (Parent of selkies) ????

Spiren (Death) Spiren is older than the concept of eyes, Spiren doesnt give a shit. Uses "Father" in refrence to Bilen, Hen, and Renwick, though.

Bilen (Soul-chaser, "The Bear") she/her

Hen ("The Hare", Guide of Violent Ends) he/him

Renwick ("The Rabbit", Singer of Lives) (they/them)

Dara (Domain: Song) he/they

Julokal (Domain: Honorable Combat) she/her

Discord for more about them

[susiequaz12]

Solomon and Lo- Marlowe the Immortal, Vampire AU

This is the next chapter in the installment for Marlowe the Immortal, and Solomon the Vampire. The latest chapter chronologically is here. Marlowe's masterlist is here. CW: nonbinary mc, vampire whumpee, whipping, restraints, blood. (Vampires are seen as animals, and are treated as such)

After making the climb over the mountain Marlowe and Solomon had come upon the village, settled in the valley at the bottom. They'd been living in the village for a few weeks. It was a short amount of time, but the village was so small, so remote, that it didn’t take long for them to figure out how to seamlessly blend in. 

Solomon was not allowed outside of the house. Not unless Marlowe took him out with a collar and a leash around the vampire’s throat. Sol refused- he would not be paraded around like a dog- so he stayed inside.

Anyone in the village with a vampire was required to register them with the head council of the town. That vampire’s behaviors were required to be appropriate, and fitting within the beliefs of the town’s laws and regulations. 

These laws and regulations meant that all vampires had to remain docile. They were given a set amount of pig’s blood as all they were allowed to eat. They had to be submissive and obey any order- especially ones from their owner. Any act of defiance from a vampire towards anyone in the town was threatened with punishment. As they witnessed their first week- that punishment often included a public whipping in the middle of the square. 

Solomon was grateful not to have seen it, but Lo remembered that poor vampire’s screams piercing the air. 

The sun was dipping low behind the mountain, and Marlowe had just finished their work for the day. They had taken up a quiet job cleaning the tavern at the edge of the town and were walking back to their small house. It was a simple job- didn’t pay too much, but it was enough to pay for some food and clothes and the rent on the house they had been provided with. The village, despite having their strict laws regarding vampires had been hospitable. And the townspeople were more than happy to provide Lo with a dwelling, providing them and their vampire earned their keep. 

Lo was passing through the town square when they saw the large gathering. It was most of the townspeople and all the shop owners, they reckoned. There was an eerie glow amongst the horizon as night fell, and a soft chill from the breeze. Marlowe wondered what all the fuss was about- and then they heard the screams. 

It was the familiar sound- the crack of the whip followed by a piercing shriek. 

Marlowe’s curiosity had outweighed their horror and they inched forward towards the crowd, perching on tiptoes until they could see the vampire, strung up by his wrists in the middle of the square, bare from the waist up. The whip crashed down again, blood spattering as the lashes burst open. 

“It’s a shame isn’t it?” One woman in the crowd said, turning towards Lo. Lo turned their head towards her and caught her eye. “That poor farmer’s dog. Did you not hear?”

“What happened?” Lo asked. 

“That vampire went on a rampage, killed and completely devoured Farmer Brecken’s sheep dog. The monster went crazy.” She shook her head, turning her gaze back to the display of cruelty. 

Lo recognized her-  Ms Floreta- she was always one to gossip, but it was easy to keep your nose in everyone’s business as the town seamstress. Lo remembered being sent to her to get their clothes when they arrived with nothing but the rags on their back. 

“You’ve got your own at home, don’t you?” 

“Hmm?” 

“A vampire.” She hissed, like it was vulgar to say. “I remember seeing you arrive with it when you first got here. Yours has that really pretty dark hair, doesn’t it?” 

“Oh, yes ma’am” Lo nodded. “Sorry, I should be getting home. Dinner should be ready soon.” 

Ms Floreta turned, her hand coming to clutch her heart as she gasped. “You trust your vampire- that creature, to cook your food?” 

Lo chuckled, hiding back a smirk. “Yes ma’am, he’s very… well behaved. Excuse me.” 

Lo dipped out and around the crowd before she could utter another word of disgust towards them and their vampire, and quickly made their way around the crowd. 

That first whipping had been a few weeks ago, and Lo was grateful that another one had yet to occur. 

It had been over a month, and still every day Solomon would be waiting for Marlowe to get home. He would have dinner ready for Lo right after work, and then they’d spend a few blissful hours together before Lo went to bed, and Sol resorted to doing the cleaning. He would sleep during the day while Lo worked, and together they kept their quaint little house in order. 

It was a simple wooden structure, with a little hut outside for their bathroom, a washtub, and a kitchen with a small table and two chairs, a living space with a fireplace, a pile of wood, and a straw mat by the door. A single bedroom with a simple bed and just a few blankets, a chest for their clothes, and a small table with a few books. There were two windows, one at the front of the house, and one in the bedroom, with dark curtains that stayed permanently drawn closed.

This specific night Lo came home tense. There had been talk of that same vampire- the one from the whipping nearly a month ago. Lo had seen a wagon pull into town, the vampire dragged out of the back, and tossed at his owner’s feet. The poor vampire had been shaking, he looked so small and frail. 

As they opened the door and set their satchel down Solomon greeted them with a smile. 

“How was work?” He asked.

“It was fine, nothing unusual.” 

Solomon set down the spoon he was holding on the table and walked up to Lo, cupping their face in his hands. 

“What’s troubling you? Something happened, I can tell. Come, eat and tell me what happened.”

Lo melted as they looked into the vampire's piercing gaze. They sighed following Solomon into the kitchen. He dished them up a bowl of the stew he had been cooking over the fire, and broke off a piece of their bread, setting it down on the table and sat across from his human.

Solomon enjoyed cooking for Lo- he found it entertaining to try new recipes, and then see how they tasted from Lo afterwards. The stew had been both of their favorites so far. Full of meat, potatoes, and an herbaceous broth. Lo’s blood afterwards would always be rich- full of deep flavors and earthy undertones. 

Sol folded his hands, resting his chin on top and glanced across the table at Lo, an eyebrow raised as Lo took a tentative bite of the stew. 

“It’s good.” Lo mumbled. “Thank you, Sol.”

After a few more minutes of silence Lo finally sighed, setting their spoon down. 

“Do you remember that vampire I told you about a few weeks ago?” 

Sol shivered. “The one in the square? With the farmer’s dog? I remember.” 

Lo nodded. “I saw him again today. A big wagon pulled right up in the middle of the square. He was dragged out of the back, and- and given back to his owner I guess. The poor thing, he just- he looked so scared, and malnourished and it- it made me wonder what they’d done to him.” 

Sol shook his head, “I don’t blame him for what he did. Killing that dog- it’s sad but with the amount of food provided, it’s- it’s not nearly enough to sustain off of. He had to have been starving to get to that point.” 

Lo nodded, looking over to where they had Sol’s food sitting. 2 pints of blood a week. Vampire’s were not permitted to be given any more. It was something in the rules about keeping them weak and docile. Solomon would drink double that amount every week from Lo. He would drink the pig’s blood only out of necessity, so as not to arouse suspicion when the town council did their inspections- or when Sol was required to collect his weekly supply. But the pig’s blood was nothing compared to Lo. It was nearly sour- almost rancid and bitter, whereas Lo had always been sweet. So incredibly rich, and divine, and beautiful. 

“This whole town just makes me worried.” Lo muttered, picking at their piece of bread. “If someone were to find out- about- about us, what would happen to you? Would they cart you away, or- or string you up in the square?”

Lo’s mind flashed to the nights spent curled up next to each other- the lazy mornings spent with sleep in their eyes, Sol’s body entwined with theirs. There was the gentleness of his touch- the strength of his hands, the feel of his lips, and Lo felt their heart racing. 

“The- the things we’ve done, Sol- To these- to these people, in this town, it’s- it’s criminal. I can’t imagine what they’d do- I- I can’t see you get hurt, I-”

“Shh, Marlowe-” Sol quickly moved around the table, kneeling next to their chair, cupping their chin in his hand. “Look at me- they’re not going to find out. Here, in our home, we are safe. I will ensure of that. I promised to protect you and I will do whatever I can to ensure you stay safe.” 

Marlowe reached a hand up to the back of Sol’s neck, entwining their fingers in the dark strands of hair. “I need you to stay safe too, understand?” Lo leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “I need you here, Darling, - and not just so you can cook me dinner to see how I taste afterwards, all right?” 

Solomon chuckled, a smirk playing across his lips. 

“I promise. We've been through hell and back to get here, I won't let anything change that. I’ll ensure it.” Solomon closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to theirs and Lo hummed softly, smiling beneath the kiss. 

Marlowe let their lips part softly as Solomon slid a tongue between their lips, tasting inside of their mouth, breathing them in like air.

Lo let themselves be held. As long as they were here with Solomon, in his arms- they'd be safe.

-

Tag List: @imagination1reality0 @thecyrulik @whumpsday @termsnconditions-apply @spectral-whumpy-writer @raddyscoops

[fallenwhumpee]

Tattoo

Whumpay Day 12: Good Whumper/Bad Whumper • Masterlist •

Warnings: Multiple whumpers, immortal whumpee, torture.

It took Whumpee an embarrassingly long time to realise they had not one but two captors. But for their defence, they were like twins, only a tattoo at Bad Whumper's neck, often covered with hair, was marking them apart from each other.

There was no other way to know who was who before they began to work, as they liked to refer Whumpee's torture, or Whumpee saw the tattoo. One of the captors, Bad Whumper, was brutal, too hard on them, maybe the one who could actually break the information they tried to remember and keep. But the other, Good Whumper, had a weird effect on them. The small breaks for food or breath were a show of kindness, and Whumpee felt open at those times. They could do almost everything Good Whumper wanted. Almost.

Right now, one of them was standing in front of Whumpee and staring at the knives in front of them. They shivered. Until now, Good Whumper avoided spilling blood as much as possible, while Bad Whumper liked to leave them on the floor, bleeding. So, they prepared for the worst.

Whumper took the knife, and Whumpee closed their eyes, their breaths hitched—

They felt the binds around their wrist loosen.

"Good Whumper." Whumpee whispered.

"We don't need to do this, Whumpee." They sighed. "But I do need the information."

Whumpee opened their mouth to tell that they didn't, but closed quickly.

They saw the tattoo.

"No pleas? Whumpee, I might not be bad, but you know I'm not exactly tolerant either."

"You know I can't." They cried, knowing the punishment would be cruel.

"Too bad." Bad Whumper didn't hesitate to cut their throat.

Whumpee yelped, and they could taste their own blood with pain blinding everything else, and they desperately clawed their throat. They couldn't breathe, but a sudden feeling of energy brought them back, pain throbbing before dulling and they could breathe again, curse like power filling their lungs instead of air and a sob escaping as they felt their skin grow under their hands, covering the wide cut on their throat.

They were gasping ah ten they could see around again.

Now, there was Good Whumper, hair tied back and neck open. No tattoo. Whumpee tried to talk, but their hoarse voice was nearly inaudible.

"Poor thing." Whumper knelt next to them. "You need a hot drink. Or soup."

Whumpee just closed their eyes and tried to keep themselves awake. But Whumpee was so tired that their body had shut itself down. They had no control over it.

They were poked, and a spoon was forced into their mouth. It burned, and Whumpee trashed weakly against being fed. It was too hot, too spicy. Whumpee closed their eyes, tears falling.

"I can cook something else, or stop feeding you. If only you give me the information."

Whumpee swallowed the food and kept crying but didn't talk.

"Then I'm sorry. I can't help if you don't want to be helped."