#two whumpees

[mj-iza-writer]

In honor of the 4th of July fireworks going around my house... it sounds terrifying out here.

Caretaker watched Whumpee dip their cookies in milk.

It was noisy around the house with everyone celebrating, and Caretaker made sure to get Whumpee's noise canceling headphones on them as soon it started.

They heard their phone ring in the kitchen so they quickly got up.

"Hello this is Caretaker... how can I help?"

"C.. Caretaker", a voice shakingly whispered.

"Oh Lawrence, are you alright?", Caretaker frowned.

"N-no", they answered, "I-I can't.... these fireworks... the flashbacks are really strong", they answered.

"Okay Lawrence, I'm coming to get you okay, I'll be right over. Pack an overnight bag, I'll bring you here for as long as you need", Caretaker went and grabbed Whumpee.

"So what is happening?", Whumpee pulled one of their ear covers up.

"Do you remember Lawrence?", Caretaker hurried through the neighborhood.

"Yes sir", Whumpee nodded.

"Well they are a veteran, who fought in a big war", Caretaker watched as Whumpee looked at some fireworks, "and do you know how you have flashbacks sometimes from what happened to you?"

"Yes sir", Whumpee nodded.

"Sometimes Lawrence and others may have flashbacks from those days that they served. These fireworks sound like explosions sometimes. They have a PTSD response like your therapist calls it", Caretaker waited for a car to slowly past, "you could go a little faster bud", Caretaker mumbled under their breath, "I got a war veteran and a trauma victim I need to get to safety."

"Are they alright?", Whumpee whispered with concern.

"They called, that's why we are going to get them", Caretaker turned into the driveway, "I'll be right back."

Whumpee nodded and watched Caretaker get out.

Caretaker led a person out of the house and to the car. They were wrapped in a blanket.

Whumpee could hear them sobbing before they even got into the car.

"Lawrence, I'm going to get your bag and keys, I'll make sure the door is locked", Caretaker whispered.

The person nodded and quickly covered their ears.

"I'm not there... I'm not there.... I'm not there", Whumpee heard them whisper reassuringly to themself.

They pulled their noise canceling headphones the rest of the way off and gently rubbed Lawrence's shoulder.

The person jumped and looked back at them with a horrified face.

"Sorry", Whumpee whispered, "loud sounds make me have flashbacks to. These will cancel out most of the noise."

Lawrence looked at Whumpee for a few moments before reaching for the ear covers.

"Th-thankyou", they shakingly put them on.

Caretaker got in and looked at them both before taking off.

"Whumpee I have another pair of those at home for them. They'll be a little bigger and more comfortable. Then you'll get yours back",

Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker gently led Lawrence into the house. Whumpee followed quickly behind. A loud bang put a little pep in their step.

"Mmm", Whumpee muffled a yelp.

"Okay, let's get you both settled", Caretaker gave a concerned look to Whumpee.

Caretaker settled Lawrence onto the living room couch. They grabbed a bigger pair of headphones, and quickly switched them out.

Whumpee excitedly put their pair back on.

The curtains were drawn closed.

Whumpee went back to their cookies and a fresh cup of milk Caretaker served them.

Lawrence was not ready for a snack at the moment. They had settled a little now.

Lawrence looked at Caretaker sadly.

They lifted one of the ear covers, "I-I'm so sorry for calling you like that. I-I didn't know what else to do", their lip quivered, "I couldn't..."

"Hey, it's okay", Caretaker walked over to them, "I told you whenever you needed me, I would help you. I am happy to help you as much as you'll let me. I wish that you'd let me help you more, but I don't push it."

Lawrence nodded.

"You can stay here as long as you need to. It is hard to be alone and to deal with these traumas", Caretaker patted Lawrence's knees, "I am here to help you."

Lawrence watched as Whumpee happily played with a puzzle.

They took down the ear covers again right when a loud firecracker went off. They jumped off of the couch.

"You know those work better when they stay on your ears", Caretaker helped them back down onto the couch.

"I-I'm sorry", they shook, "I wanted to ask about them though. They said loud sounds affect them as well, and I know you take care of trauma victims. What happened to them?"

"Oh, a lot of things", Caretaker frowned, then looked at Whumpee, "I forgot you haven't met them yet. It has been a while since you've been over. I can't really talk openly about what happened to them."

"Classified?", Lawrence frowned.

"Not really, but it's uh... just not something I like to talk about", Caretaker frowned, "it's uh... a lot of things happened to them."

"But they're smiling?", Lawrence frowned.

"Well it's not always like this. Right now they are relaxed. They trust that I have full control of what's around them", Caretaker smiled, "they go to a therapist... hint.. hint."

"I know you are big into therapist, but I'm not sure about that yet", Lawrence frowned, "I've thought about it, I really have, but I don't know."

"Well if you ever decide to, I will happily come with you if you want", Caretaker stood, "go ahead and get comfortable."

Caretaker gently tapped on Whumpee's shoulder.

"I see you are getting sleepy, and it is bed time", Caretaker gently smiled.

Whumpee yawned sleepily and nodded.

"Do you want to be in your bed tonight, or you could sleep down here on that couch", Caretaker pointed, "Lawrence has already fallen asleep so I'm going to sleep down here in my chair so they won't be alone."

Whumpee looked at the couch, then at Lawrence snoring away.

"May I stay down here with you", Whumpee whispered.

"Yes of course you can", Caretaker smiled, "go ahead and get ready for bed. I'll get the couch ready for you."

Whumpee came down to the living room and found Caretaker placing their pillow on the couch.

"It looks so comfy", Whumpee smiled, "are you sure you'll be okay on your chair?"

"Yes Whumpee that chair is very comfortable", Caretaker smiled while they guided Whumpee onto the couch, "plus I'd rather be ready if either of you need me", they watched as Whumpee laid down, and covered them with a blanket.

Whumpee smiled as Caretaker placed their stuffed toy under the blanket.

"Thankyou", Whumpee whispered.

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiled, "do you want the headphones back on?", they got down and knelt beside Whumpee.

"No thankyou", Whumpee looked at them happily.

Caretaker softly carded through Whumpee's hair a few times while whispering a few gentle words.

They didn't realize Lawrence had been squinting at them. Watching.

They quickly closed their eyes when Caretaker stood. They felt someone come over and adjust their blanket.

Lawrence saw the light was turned off. All that was on was a nightlight now.

Caretaker got comfortable in their chair and took a second to listen to their guest.

Whumpee made small snores already, they were on their way to a good night of rest.

Caretaker could hear that Lawrence was breathing. They weren't snoring like earlier, and hoped they hadn't disturbed them to much while getting Whumpee settled.

Soon though Caretaker was asleep.

Lawrence laid in the dark. It was peaceful here, what they wouldn't give to have to have peace like this.

In the morning Lawrence woke up and looked around. They remembered quickly that they weren't home.

They could hear someone in a different room. The headphones had gotten knocked off during the night.

Whumpee still slept on the couch nearby.

They got up and followed the voice until they found Caretaker in the kitchen.

"Hey goodmorning", Caretaker smiled at them when they came in, "how did you sleep?"

"I slept well, thankyou so much for bringing me here and letting me... well you know", Lawrence sighed.

"You're welcome", Caretaker nodded, "I made coffee. Would you like some?"

"Oh yes please", Lawrence nodded.

"Okay go ahead and take a seat at the table", Caretaker pulled out a cup, "I was thinking, would you like to know a little more about Whumpee? I have a journal that you can look at. It talks a little about their first month here. There's also pictures. It will turn your stomach though."

"I was watching you both last night... just a little. What I wouldn't give to have peace like you both have", Lawrence took the cup of coffee, "thankyou."

"Well I know I sound like a broken record, but we both go to therapy. We both receive help through that", Caretaker sat down with a cup of coffee, "it does help."

"You see a therapist even?", Lawrence smirked.

Caretaker nodded, "everyone should see one. At least that's my belief. With everything I see here and my patients. I go to see one because as a caregiver I can easily allow my patients' pain to become mine. If I'm not careful, that could greatly impact my mental and physical health. Therefore, that would impact my patient's care and my job."

Lawrence seemed to understand a little but they seemed to be uncertain still.

"Can I at least show you a picture from that journal? I wouldn't blame you if you don't want to see and read all of it, but just one picture?", Caretaker stood when Lawrence nodded.

Caretaker carried out a book and set it on the table. They opened it to the first page.

"Pictures like these are taken by the police and investigators. These are when Whumpee was first rescued", Caretaker turned one more page.

Lawrence saw it.

"That's not Whumpee?", Lawrence frowned, "please tell me that's not them."

"It is", Caretaker sighed sadly, "that's them."

"How long ago was this?", Lawrence frowned, "I honestly wasn't expecting... that."

"No one really does", Caretaker agreed, "especially with how Whumpee acts. Don't get it wrong. They have hard days. They have days where they show just how much trauma they've gone through. Then they have days when they are happy to be alive."

"I guess I understand that", Lawrence nodded, "okay you talked me into it. Who's the therapist then?"

An appointment was scheduled by the time Whumpee woke up. Caretaker helped and promised to go with Lawrence if they wanted.

After breakfast, Lawrence was ready to go home. Caretaker let them keep the noise canceling headphones as well.

"I'll get more of them soon", Caretaker grinned at Whumpee, "please don't be afraid of calling me. If you need help just ask... I am more than ready to help you."

"Thankyou Caretaker so much for helping me", Lawrence smiled, "thankyou Whumpee for helping me as well."

"You're welcome", Whumpee smiled.

Lawrence's heart hurt for how happy someone could seem after going through what Whumpee had.

"Thankyou again", Lawrence nodded.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

[reid-whump]

How To Punish Two Whumpees:

(Send asks for more prompts)

Chain the weakest/youngest one to a place just out of the stronger/oldest one’s reach and force them to watch as their partner slowly fades away, only to be revived at the last minute. Imagine them going through all stages of grief in five minutes because of how frail the other whumpee is.

Put them in seperate rooms where they can’t see each other at all, and force them to choose every week who gets which necessities (food, warmth, comfort etc). Bring them back together at the end of the month and see who is worse off.

If you can tell one of them is more protective of the other, punish them by carving the other whumpee’s initials into their skin, in a place where you know the other whumpee will notice it. Watch how they react to seeing their partner/friend’s sadness and knowing they caused it.

Force them to watch the whumpee who did nothing wrong get beaten until on the brink of death, and wait for them to finally offer themselves up because they can’t take it anymore. (Oldie but a goodie)

Give one an ice cold bath, and give one a boiling bath. Experiment by tasing then both and seeing how their reactions differ.

[blackrosesandwhump]

March of Pain Day 7: Please

CW: mild lady whump, male whumpee, magic whump

“Please, let him go!” the princess cries, straining desperately at the ropes binding her to the stake.

Held chokingly tight in the enchantress’s grasp, the knight struggles a final time then gives up, his body turning limp. The enchantress's magic blade hovers an inch from his abdomen, ready to impale him through. He can’t fight anymore.

But the princess can.

“Let him go,” she repeats, summoning power from deep inside, power that sends pleasant fire spreading up her arms. The ropes suddenly feel less tight.

“And why would I do that?” the enchantress questions, her voice distorted and inhuman. Her creaturely form, towering and scaly black like a giant serpent’s, looms over the knight and the princess, overshadowing them.

But the princess will not let the shadow overcome her.

She takes a deep breath. The last resort. She might regret what she’s about to do, but she has to save the knight, and all other hope seems lost.

“Because I asked nicely the first time.” She closes her eyes and lets her magic unbind itself inside her.

@marchofpain

[whumpandothercomfort]

Classic two-whumpee prisoner setting where Whumper keeps both in line by punishing the other when they act out. One day Whumpee A makes a desperate bid for escape and gets caught. They're already begging Whumper not to hurt B despite knowing it's fruitless. Whumper drags B over and then presents A with three items: a cattle prod, a whip, and a choke collar on a short chain.

"Choose which two I'm using," Whumper tells A, "or I'll use all three."

[a-whumped-tea]

{Escape attempt(?) and vague mention of damaging Whumpee's legs}

…Was that Whumpee?

I had to double-take, but that definitely looks like Whumpee from across the street. 

Why are they here? They’re supposed to be at home. 

This isn’t home, this is downtown. 

What the hell?

Did they run?

How did they get out of the house?

Whatever. I’m just going to cross the street, follow them to a more secluded place, and then take them back home.

..They’re walking faster.

They’re glancing back at me and putting their hood up. They know I’ve found them. They’re more stupid than I thought if they think they can lose me like this. 

Whumpee, you idiot. That alley is a dead end, but of course, you’d know that wouldn’t you? Is it the guilt of running or is it the panic of getting caught that is getting you all turned around?

Regardless, I'm here now. They're trapped. I hope they had fun on their little walk because they won't be able to walk for some time after this.

Gotcha by the arm now. Pulling them closer to me and taking off that damn hood so I can- 

…Ah. …This isn’t Whumpee. …The differences are more apparent up close.  

…Sigh. 

Can’t let them go now.

What’s your name, sweetheart? Whumpee Two? It’s pretty. Suits you. 

Let’s go home.

No no, don’t try to scream. That won’t end well for you. 

Just be quiet, empty your pockets, and follow me.

 @painsandconfusion Thank you for the inspiration.

[short-form-whump]

It feels as though the world around the Whumpee has slammed on its brakes, giving them tunnel vision as they sit and stare at the scene before them. They feel a tight pressure across their chest as their breath refuses to move either in our out as the sight of what the Whumper has just done to the other Whumpee. Unbound in their chair but no less frozen in place, they stare in abject horror as the Whumper walks away from the other bloodied Whumpee on the ground who had just been sitting beside them just moments ago. The Whumper calmly tucks their shirt back into their pants and examines their knuckles, giving an air of someone who has just helped someone pop their hood on the highway, not someone who very well might have just committed murder. They notice the stricken Whumpee watching them and approaches. Their words sound underwater to the Whumpee at first, only breaching their brain when they come paired with crouching to meet the Whumpee’s eyeline and a hand rested on their shoulder. “You ok?” the Whumper asks again, the words finally hitting the Whumpee’s ears. “Take a breath,” they coach. The Whumpee’s eyes tear away from their peer on the ground to meet the Whumper’s face, and they begin to nod uncontrollably. “I’ll do it,” they suddenly start to say. “I’ll do whatever you want.” The Whumper gives them a squeeze on their shoulder and a comforting couple pats. “I know, kid. It’s alright.”

[courtneygacha]

Whump Prompt 3#!

Two Whumpees that care for each other.

It starts when Whumpee A becomes so stressed out about work/school/whatever, that Whumpee B starts having to be their reminder to eat, drink water, sleep, shower. Because if they weren’t there, Whumpee A would be dead in a matter of days with how little they take care of themselves.

However, because Whumpee B is so focused on making sure Whumpee A’s needs are met, they don’t remember to take care of their own, and it’s only until Whumpee B becomes so weak and malnourished and exhausted that they faint in Whumpee A’s arms when they realize “Hm, maybe I need a reminder too.”

The two work together to keep each other from dying. They’re like Tamogotichis!

[actress4him]

June of Doom 2023

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch

Day 9 - “I should have listened to you.” | Sprain | Defiance | Smoke 

Contains: lady whump with male whumper, captivity, restraints, beating, stress position, mild blood, implied starvation, head trauma, hair pulling, death mention, broken ribs, dislocation mention, brief dog and master imagery

.

.

There isn’t much to see in the basement. Lainey inspects every concrete block, every crack in the foundation, every plank on the steps, every lock on the door, and finds absolutely nothing useful. It still feels better than just sitting around, though. Not that she’s blaming Isa for sitting, she can’t even help it with that chain around her neck. That thing makes Lainey want to punch something every time she thinks of it. But she also has a feeling Isa wouldn’t be helping her look even if she could get up and move. 

It doesn’t take long for the man to return. She’s just come back down the stairs from checking out the door when the locks start to slide open, so she spins around and plants her feet, glaring up at their captor, trying to ignore the way her heart is suddenly threatening to break through her ribcage. 

He’s not much to look at, either. Just an unattractive, scraggly bearded man, like someone you might see loitering outside a gas station and walk quickly past on your way inside. For good reason, apparently. 

“Have you come to let me go?” she demands as he starts down the stairs. “To let us both go?”

He scowls back at her. “I see you haven’t yet learned your lesson about keeping your mouth shut.”

“You think I’m going to listen to you? Some low-life who gets his kicks from kidnapping and chaining up young women?” He’s getting closer, and part of her wants to back away, but her pride and anger won’t let her. “I bet you’ve never had a girlfriend before, have you? Probably never had any friends at all. Is this the only way you can get anyone to hang around you? Locking them in your basement?”

She sees the swinging fist coming, but can’t get out of its path. It smashes into her face with a force that sends her over backwards, head cracking against the wall as she hits the ground. Her vision cuts out, then comes back swirling and spinning. There’s something bitter and metallic pouring over her lips. It takes far too long for her to realize that it’s blood. 

As she sits there, stunned and in pain, the man advances. He grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her up off the floor, dragging her toward the center of the room. Her feet stumble clumsily after him. 

“I told you to shut up. You’ll figure out I mean what I say sooner or later.”

He throws her down, and she just barely keeps her head from smacking concrete again. Her arm isn’t so lucky, unable to move from its restrained position and getting crushed between her body and the floor. 

For an instant, she sees Isa, sitting directly in front of the assault. She has her head turned to the side, staring off at some unknown point, face blank. 

Then a boot is buried in her stomach. Lainey doubles over, coughing and gasping for air that seems to have vanished. The man doesn’t wait for her to catch her breath, though. He keeps kicking, pounding the toe of his boot into her ribs and back and legs over and over and over again. She curls up as best she can, trying instinctively to protect her organs, but all she can do otherwise is lie there and groan and sob.

It seems to last forever. Part of her thinks she actually might die right then and there. But then the kicks stop. He reaches down and grabs her by her bound wrist, pulling her backwards across the floor. She moans again as her shoulders bear the brunt of the pressure and as every sore part of her is jostled. 

He drops her again, and a chain rattles behind her. A moment later her wrists are being pulled upward once more, but this time the chain sounds accompany it, and this time it doesn’t stop. They keep being dragged up toward the ceiling until she’s forced to move, scrambling with leaden limbs to get her feet underneath her and stand. The chain seems to be hooked to the ziptie around her wrists. She can’t straighten her back or lift her head, shoulders wrenched as far backwards as they’ll go and wrists stuck up high. 

And that’s how he leaves her. He doesn’t say another word, just walks off, footsteps echoing through the nearly empty room. She cranes her head to the side to see him pick something up off the stairs before disappearing up them.

She’s never been in this much pain in her life. Before now, the worst pain she could remember was a broken arm from her highschool softball days, but between her throbbing head, her burning shoulders, and the fiery pain that shoots through her ribs every time she breathes, this is way worse. 

“That was my food.”

She tries to look over at Isa but can’t get her head to lift that high. “Wh-...what?”

Isa’s voice grows a little louder, a bit higher pitched. “He was coming down to bring me food and water, and probably unchain me, and you screwed it all up disrespecting him like I warned you not to.”

Lainey scoffs, hardly believing her ears. “Do you…do you realize…you sound like a dog right now? Waiting for your…master to feed and water and unchain you?” She winces at the increased pain in her ribs that talking creates, trying to shift her position. “And…I’m the one who just got…beaten up so…pardon me if I’m not overly concerned about your food.”

“And whose fault is that?” It comes out practically a growl, the most emotion she’s heard out of her so far. “I told you not to make him mad. I told you it would get you hurt. I’ve been here for five years, remember? I’ve tried it all before. I’ve figured out how to survive. But if you don’t want to listen to me, fine. Refuse to save yourself any pain. Learn everything the hard way, like I did. Just…can you at least leave me out of it?” Her voice wavers at the end, going quiet again. “I haven’t eaten in days, because he was gone to get you. And the two bottles of water he left me ran out hours ago.”

Isa sounds like she’s about to cry, and Lainey finds her own throat tightening in sympathy. She hadn’t meant to rob Isa of her first food in days. She wants to help her, not cause her more trouble. But she’s being an idiot, isn’t she? The woman’s right, she’s managed to survive for five years, and it’s stupid for Lainey not to listen to her advice, no matter how much it makes her skin crawl to think of sucking up to that man. 

“I’m sorry.” She tries again to look at her, and manages to catch at least a glimpse of her face. “I should have…I should have listened to you. You’re right, it’s…my own fault that I got hurt. And I didn’t think about…you suffering from it.” She pauses, breathing through the pain and thinking about her response. “I can’t…promise that I’ll do exactly what you want. I’m not good…at holding my tongue. But, uh…I’ll try.”

There’s silence for a long time. It’s a struggle for Lainey not to find some way to fill it, despite her painful position. 

“I don’t want you to have to go through everything I have,” Isa murmurs finally. “And I’m…honestly terrified that you’re gonna make things even worse. Keeping on his good side is so tentative. I just want to keep things as…easy as possible. For both of us.”

“Yeah,” Lainey breathes. “I, um…I get it.” She considers her next words carefully before deciding to take the leap and say them. “Hey, do you…still have the water bottles?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you roll one over to me?”

“They’re empty.”

“I know, just…just do it if you can.” She can hear movement and the slight crackle of thin plastic. A few seconds later an empty bottle rolls to a stop several inches from her foot. “Hey, nice shot. Lemme just…” Very carefully, grimacing with each movement, she steps on the heel of first one sneaker, then the other, removing them and kicking them behind her. Then she strategically uses her toes to pull off one sock, too. Isa mutters warnings about dislocating her shoulders here and there, but Lainey is determined to make this work.

Stretching out the bare foot, she drags the water bottle closer. “It’s still got drops of water left in it, so if I focus, I can…” She lays her foot across the bottle and closes her eyes. This is much easier to do with her hands, but the foot will have to do in a pinch like this. It takes almost a full minute of concentration, but eventually the droplets start to grow, dripping down into the bottle. The process gets faster as it goes, until there’s water swirling all through the bottle, filling it.

“There we go.” Satisfied with her work, Lainey takes careful aim and shoves the bottle back in Isa’s direction. “I can’t make you food, but…I can at least do that.”

“Water magic.” The plastic crinkles in Isa’s hand again.

“Yep. I’m…not very skilled at it, but…expanding water that’s already there…isn’t so hard.”

There’s no answer for a moment, but it sounds like Isa is taking a drink. “Thank you,” she says softly when she’s done.

“Yeah,” Lainey replies, equally as soft. “No problem.”

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League — Another Strike

Masterlist

CW: Late-19th century, explicit language, indentured servitude, starvation/isolation as punishment, beating. Whumper pitting whumpees against each other and being a bully.

August wasn’t very good at waiting out his week-long punishment in the attic. 

By the fourth day, he thought he would go mad from staring at the same walls and eaves. Shivering on the thin mattress, hunger gnawing at his belly and only fistfuls of snow to stave off thirst. Fionn hadn’t so much as glanced at him, let alone spoken to him, since the caning. All his walking-dead-ringer did was sleep. Or at least that’s what he pretended to do while August was awake. 

So, August started pacing. 

The full length of the attic. Making a narrow circle as wide as the steep angle of the roof would allow without having to stoop. Back and forth, back and forth. 

He once saw a lion at the fair down in the village square. The older boys from Elmwood had goaded him to stand nearer and nearer the bars of its cage but the beast had no eyes for him. Focused only on pacing back and forth in its prison where it had already worn a track into the grass, heavy paws treading an endless tight loop. Eventually, he’d wrapped his fingers around the bars to the ill-intentioned approval of his audience but the lion never paused. The rest of the servants peeled off while he lingered, feeling sorry for the poor creature. 

August nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned to find Fionn sitting up, staring at him. 

Colour rose to his cheeks and he felt himself wilt under Fionn’s gaze. “I—I’m sorry,” he said lamely, “‘twasn’t my intention to wake you.” Just another strike to add on top of the previous twenty-four mercilessly beaten into him for August’s mistakes.

Fionn shook his head, eyes already falling. “It’s too late.” His voice was barely a whisper. 

Hopelessness welled up in August’s throat, carrying with it the tide of shame and dejection he’d held at bay until his eyes filmed with tears and there was no way he could open his mouth without crying.  

But Fionn didn’t want his worthless apologies and he hadn’t been speaking of disrupted sleep anyway. Keats burst through the door and within seconds, Fionn was on his knees again and August was gasping for breath because the lackey charged with holding him this time did so with all four thick fingers down the back of his shirt collar. 

As though no time had passed at all. 

Except for some reason, Fionn took off his shoes and stockings this time, and Keats shoved him so he fell onto his hands and stayed there. August’s stomach dropped as Keats pulled off his belt, doubling back the thick leather but when it rained down on Fionn it was not at all where August expected.

Keats drew blood before August could pull himself together to voice any manner of protest, it trickled down Fionn’s bony ankles to disappear into his trousers. Droplets of it sprayed onto the walls and ceiling with each swing of the belt. 

Fionn eventually fell onto his elbows, holding his head. He cried out in time with each lash, sound muffled by his arms, but somehow still managed to keep his feet in the air for Keats to whip. 

Again and again and again. 

August had never even started counting and now he was too afraid to speak. He couldn’t make this worse with more thoughtless, impulsive stupidity. He had already made everything so much worse.  

He flinched when something landed on his cheek and, even though he knew what he’d find when he lifted a hand to his cheek, he was unable to mask his distress when his fingertip came away stained with Fionn’s blood. 

Keats winked. 

Just as quickly as they came, they went. Without a single word.

After a few beats of silence, August made a half-start toward Fionn. If only to fall onto his knees and apologise or help him find a way to lie comfortably. But as if he could sense August’s intentions, Fionn turned to glare up at him, hatred plain as day on his tear-stained face. 

August backed away, biting his lips together and willing himself not to let any of his own undeserved tears fall. He folded himself against the far wall, facing the corner and hugged his knees to his chest. 

Even he could understand what was being left unsaid, by Keats and Fionn alike. 

He was entirely alone here.

@whumpy-writings @writer-reader-24 @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @maracujatangerine @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @briars7 @gala1981 @redwingedwhump @whumpflash @poeticagony @annablogsposts @fleur-alise @magziemakeswhatever @neverthelass

[whumpforthesoul]

Whump Prompt #001

Character A was injured.

Yeah. Yeah, that's what Character B had to do.

Had to find the blood.

So simple, right? Where was the blood coming from? B had to find the wound. Or A would be in danger.

So easy.

Well, it would be if B's vision stopped hazing. If he could see just a little better. If his hands could stop shaking. Blood kept dripping into B's eyes, annoying the absolute shit out of him. He had to find the blood right now, or A could get more hurt.

If only B could differentiate his own blood from A's....

[blackrosesandwhump]

March of Pain Day 25: I'm Sorry

CW: blood, implied death, emotional whump, male/female whumpees

“I’m sorry,” the knight whispers, drawing close to the princess’s bedside. “I failed you.”

The princess’s face is pale, nestled in pillows barely whiter than her skin. With her closed eyes and gently folded hands, he can almost imagine she’s sleeping peacefully. But the vials at her bedside tell a different story. One that, thanks to the knight’s failure to retrieve the water of life, will have only one ending.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, sinking to his knees. Fresh blood blooms through the bandages covering his wounded arm, but he doesn’t notice. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does.

“Pardon me,” comes a voice from behind him. “If I may be of service?”

“Go away. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Nothing?” says the voice. Footsteps cross the floor; the knight glances up. Someone is standing next to him, someone dressed in fabric that ripples like snakeskin. The knight’s gaze travels upward and meets the stranger’s eyes. A chill of fear skitters down his back but quickly turns to a thrill of hope at the man’s next words.

“I can bring her back, make her whole again as she never was before. And I can heal those wounds,” the stranger adds, nodding at the knight’s bandages.

The knight starts to speak, ready to beg for help, but the stranger cuts him off.

“That is, if you make me a deal. Your soul, for the princess’s life.”

@marchofpain

[whumper-whimsy]

Implied past kidnapping, death threat, implied murder

"I get to pick..?" First Whumpee looked around at the array of tools and weapons on the wall and table.

"For Second Whumpee," Whumper reiterated. "I know how much you hate them. You may be as harsh as you like. Kill em, for all I care. Anything you pick, I'll use on them."

First Whumpee considered this, approaching the table slowly. They trailed their fingers gently against the stained baseball bat, pulling away. They looked through the knives, the guns, the axes- even a chainsaw hung on the wall.

Second Whumpee, who was bound and gagged in the corner, let out another muffled cry.

First Whumpee had despised Second Whumpee all their life, even before they both had been taken. They were too weak, too sensitive and Whumper didn't even try to hide their preference for them. Honestly, they wouldn't mind if Second Whumpee died. It'd be better than being bound to them with three inches of chains every night.

"Pick wisely, this'll be your only chance," Whumper warned.

"I think," First Whumpee started, speaking slowly, "I don't want them dead right now..."

I don't wanna be forced to clean that mess, they thought.

They grabbed an axe from the wall, testing its weight in their hands. They handed it to Whumper, avoiding eye contact. "Take a limb off, maybe?"

"An axe, huh? Bold." Whumper nodded approvingly, holding it in one hand.

Second Whumpee screeched behind the gag.

First Whumpee ignored them, reaching onto the table to get a pair of pliers. "These, too."

"Alright." Whumper grinned.

•••

Both Whumpees had been brought back to the main basement, and Second Whumpee had been released of their restraints.

"Alrighty." Whumper turned to First Whumpee, and in one swift movement grabbed them by the collar and slammed them to the wall, hooking on the chains.

"What?" First Whumpee protested, pulling against the chains. "What are you doing?"

Whumper ignored them, kneeling down to Second Whumpee. Their hand caressed the other's cheek with care. "You're okay. Here you go."

To first Whumpee's horror, Whumper handed Second Whumpee the axe and pliers.

"Go crazy, darling."

[cepheusgalaxy]

I am writing a thing and my two characters get captured together by a minor villain

They captured them becase they work for the Big Boss Supervillain and said BBS is trying to do a research about magicians so he sends Sidekick for capturing some lab rats, said lab rats being Totsuka and now Megan who just met her and was just vibing

Totsuka is a powerful witch and they both just met - said witch is also a traveler and she was trying to convince Megan to join her in her adventures because she needed a traveling partner and she is also Social. She was trying to convince him and then they got captured. (start of the story). They then run away after some chapters and the almost-traumatizing experience bonds them together like natural besties, and then totsuka finally convinces megan to join her and the fun starts.

Now the problem

Please, send me ideas or prompts about "captured together" I never wrote short-term captivity, team captivity or any kind of captivity at all

[whumpypepsigal]

Dune: Part Two (2024) “Chani, his body is fighting the poison and he needs your help.”

[whump-galaxy]

A demon hangs around with an angel, constantly tempting them to do things. They’ve been friends for so long now, it’s much more playful than serious.

But one day, the angel rushes to them, begging the demon to help them ‘fall’ in some way. The demon is so shocked, they try to talk the angel out of it.

[actress4him]

June of Doom 2023

I have somehow managed to create an entirely new series with entirely new ocs out of thin air just for this event. My plan is to make all these prompts into one continuous story (some of them will be combined, some out of order), so wish me luck and we’ll see how it goes!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the future pieces of this series!

Day 1 - “You don’t want to do that.” | Collapse | Locked Door | Fear

Day 2 - “Get in.” | Sobbing | Survivor’s Guilt | Salve

Contains: lady whump with male whumper, kidnapping, restraints, blindfold, knife, long-term captivity, fantasy prejudice, death mention

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The first thing Lainey notices when the car trunk opens, letting in the slightest bit of sunlight beneath her blindfold, is that the air smells fresh. There’s no trace of car exhaust or street vendors or anything that she’s used to smelling in the city. It smells like…dirt and leaves. Like the forest when she goes hiking on occasion. And it’s quiet, too, other than a few birds singing. 

If the bumpy roads and route that apparently took them the entire night weren’t enough indication that she’s been taken out into the middle of nowhere, this seals it.

The harsh hands that had first grabbed her by the dumpsters behind her work latch onto her arms again, yanking her up and out of the trunk with frightening strength. She cries out in surprise, struggling to find her footing on cramped legs before he’s prodding her into a walk. The sharp tip of a knife she’d only caught a glimpse of last night pricks at her spine. 

“Look, um…I don’t know what you want from me, but…my family doesn’t have much money or anything. My dad’s in construction and my mom does alterations. And my boyfriend isn’t rich, either, he just works at the coffee shop next door to my store. So if you’re looking for ransom money…”

“Get in there!” His hand slams into her shoulder from behind, and she stumbles forward, toes stubbing against a wooden threshold and nearly sending her sprawling on her face. They’re inside some kind of building now, she can tell even though the rough fabric across her eyes prevents her from seeing anything but darkness. The smell of fresh air fades away, replaced by must and old wood, and the stillness grows to an almost suffocating level. 

“You know, it’s kinda hard to walk through a strange place blindly and with my hands behind my back! If you want this to go more smoothly then maybe you should just take off all this crap and -”

“Shut up, before I add a gag to ‘all that crap’.”

She presses her lips together. Talking too much when she’s anxious has always been a struggle, though this time it’s more like terror than anxiety. Her parents had always warned her about bad guys and talking to strangers and all of that stuff, like all parents do, and that’s extended into her young adulthood as concerns about those prejudiced against magic-users grow. But she never thought she’d get kidnapped. 

“They’re gonna be looking for me, you know,” she blurts, unable to hold it in. The man is steering her with one hand on her shoulder, presumably avoiding furniture and making their way through the building. “My family. They’ll find you. They’ll make you pay for this. The police will find you and throw you in jail for the rest of your li-”

The knife leaves her back only for the hilt to smash into the back of her head. She stumbles again with a gasp, her head spinning and aching. 

“I said to shut up.”

Biting her lip, she does her best to comply. 

They halt their march, and there’s a series of clicking, scraping, and squawking sounds from directly in front of her. Locks, her throbbing head supplies. Quite a few of them. Her heart goes from pounding in her ribs to climbing up her throat. 

“Down the stairs.” 

That’s all the warning she gets before she’s pushed forward again. Her breath catches as her foot is forced to move, feeling tentatively at the darkness in front of her until she finds the first step down. Her second foot joins it, then she feels for the next step.

“You’re too slow.” He grabs onto her arm and begins barreling down the stairs at what seems like a breakneck pace. Her feet somehow mostly keep up even though her brain is screaming about not knowing where the steps are, and anytime she does miss one his hand just yanks her back upright. She’s pretty sure she’ll have a bruise on that arm from how hard he’s holding her. Maybe some on her ankles, too, from banging them around on the steps. 

Her legs are trembling by the time they make it to solid ground again. “Remember,” she huffs, the adrenaline of the trip making her tongue loose again, “that whole thing about it being hard to walk blindfolded?”

To her surprise, he responds by ripping it off her head, tearing out a few strands of hair with it. She winces at the pain and the sudden influx of light, but quickly forces herself to take in her surroundings. 

It’s quite obviously a basement. There are no windows, the only light coming from buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, and the floors and walls are all concrete. One wall is lined with cabinets, the contents of which she’s sure she doesn’t want to know, and the floor is dotted with mysterious stains that she’d also rather remain a mystery.

That’s as far as her observations take her, because it’s at that point that her blue eyes clash with a pair of dark brown and her thoughts screech to a halt. There’s another girl down here. She’s just sitting there, on the floor, curled up against the wall and staring back at her with a blank expression. Her face is streaked with dirt, and there’s blood crusted up in her hairline. Her black hair has been chopped off, short and uneven. She looks small, and frail, and far too thin, and…kind of like she shouldn’t be alive.

Footsteps on the stairs jerk Lainey out of her trance. Spinning away from the woman on the floor, she sees the man - the first good look she’s actually gotten at him, though it’s still just his back - halfway up the staircase. Leaving her down here. Leaving her to turn into a phantom of a person like this other girl. 

“Hey!” She runs after him, awkwardly since her hands are still ziptied behind her back. “You can’t just leave me down here! I’m a human being, okay? I have rights!” She stomps up the stairs, a much easier task now that she can see. “And I told you already, you’re gonna be in so much trouble when the police find you, you’re -” 

He’s walking through the door, about to disappear, and she picks up her pace, heart pounding. “Hey! Stop!” The door slams, the locks all clicking and squeaking back into place. “Get back here! You’re gonna regret taking me, I swear!” She can’t bang on the door with her fists, so she kicks it, instead, slamming the toe of her sneaker into the wood over and over again.

“You don’t want to do that.”

She barely hears the quiet, rasping voice over the ruckus she’s making, but it echoes against the concrete and catches her attention. Pausing her assault on the door, Lainey frowns over her shoulder at the woman down below. “I’m not just gonna sit here and take this! This door isn’t that strong, you know what? I could probably even kick it down if I wanted to…”

“If you keep causing a scene, you’re going to make him mad, and he’ll come back.” The pitch of her voice never changes, and she doesn’t move even her head from her position. 

“Good! If he comes back, that’ll give me a better chance to escape. He didn’t look that big, maybe I could overpower him and get out the door.” Never mind that he’d been strong enough to easily lift her, right now she’s just desperate to get out. Facing the fact that she’s trapped here is too terrifying to even consider.

She can’t stay here. She can’t.

A sliver of emotion finally finds its way into the woman’s next words. “If he comes back, he’ll hurt you. And if he’s mad, it’ll be ten times worse. So if you have any sense, you’ll sit down and shut up and conserve your energy for when he comes back on his own schedule.”

Something about what she says steals any remaining fight from Lainey’s body. She stares at the locked door for a long moment, breaths coming too fast and too shallow. “He’s…he…” She backs down one step, getting the distinct feeling that she doesn’t actually want to be standing here when the door opens. Her gaze is pulled back to the woman on the floor. “What does he…do?” She doesn’t want to know, but she needs to.

“Hurts us.” Her voice has gone back to flat and emotionless. “Well…hurts me. I can only assume that you’ll be the same. Having someone else down here is…new.”

Slowly, she plods back down the stairs, looking over the drab room again until she’s standing directly in front of the other woman. She doesn’t want to sit down. Sitting feels like settling in, and that feels like giving in. 

“Does he…want…?” Her eyes flick up and down the girl’s body almost involuntarily, as if she’ll be able to see the evidence of exactly what’s been done to her. 

Somehow the woman seems to read her mind. “No. Not that. Just anything else he can think of. Should I assume you have magic, too?”

Her stomach flips. She’s not used to being called out like that. “Um…y-yeah?” She said ‘too’, so it’s probably safe.

“Yeah. He’s one of those types. Thinks he’s doing the world a favor by keeping us out of it.”

“Great,” she sighs, shifting back and forth on her feet. A few seconds later, she flops down to the floor. She’s not giving in, she’s just exhausted from not sleeping last night and from all the adrenaline that’s starting to dwindle. 

“How long…have you been here?” Another of those questions she needs to know the answer to but doesn’t want to hear it.

“What year is it?”

“What?” She feels suddenly lightheaded, though her brain is too busy swirling to pinpoint why. “It’s, um…it’s 2023. June first.” Just in case she’d actually meant to ask month or day, instead.

Her previously empty expression shutters, eyes shutting and jaw tightening. It takes a long, anxiety-filled moment for her to respond, and her voice is hoarser than before when she does. “F-...five years. I’ve been here…five years.”

Lainey feels like the floor has dropped out from underneath her. She might say something, she’s not even sure, she’s too busy flailing in midair as she falls, trying to find something solid to stand on. Five years. Five years of being locked in a basement being…tortured. Five years of no one finding her. That’s not going to happen to her, right? It can’t. She has family, she has people who will be looking for her. 

She sucks in a desperate breath. “But…how…? You…didn’t you have…someone to miss you?” She’s heard of the cases where people go missing and are never found, of course. They’re always presumed to be dead, though. Not still surviving in a basement after five years. 

The girl shrugs one shoulder, eyes still shut. “Thought I did. Maybe they tried, and gave up. Maybe they never actually cared to start with.” 

“Maybe they, um…maybe they’re still trying. Me being kidnapped might help give more leads. I mean, my family will definitely be looking for me. My co-workers would have known right away that something happened, I just went out to take the trash and never came back.” She nods firmly. “They’ll find me. Find us. He can’t keep getting away with this for long.”

Opening her eyes slightly, the girl stares at her for a moment before shaking her head and closing them again. 

Lainey isn’t going to let it discourage her, though. She has to keep believing her own words or she’ll spiral. “Hey, what’s your name?”

She swallows. “Isa.” Her eyes open again, though her gaze stays on her knees. “Isabela, technically, but…everyone always called me Isa.”

“Isa,” she repeats, trying to get the Spanish vowels correct. “I’m Lainey. I’d say nice to meet you, but…”

“Yeah.” Isa gives that one-shoulder shrug again. This time, something clinks against the wall behind her, and Lainey becomes suddenly aware that she’s wearing a metal band around her throat.

“Wait, are you…chained to the wall?” She leans forward to see, and Isa flinches before trying to cover the movement by wrapping her arms around her legs. Her arms are dotted with bruises and scars of various kinds that stand out against her brown skin, and her wrists are so small that she’s pretty sure she could wrap her smallest fingers around them. 

“Yeah. He doesn’t do it too often. But he’s been gone for the past…few days, I guess, and he doesn’t like letting me roam while he’s out.”

She says it so matter of factly, like it’s just a part of life that should be expected. “He’s a creep and he can go curl in a hole and die,” Lainey growls, fists clenching behind her back. 

“Sure.” Isa leans her head against the wall. “Just don’t make him mad. He likes to be called ‘sir’, and he doesn’t have a lot of patience for having to repeat himself. We’re both better off if you just do what he says.”

Lainey grits her teeth. “That’s not happening. Look, I know you’ve been here a long time and you’ve had to…do whatever you had to to make it. But there’s two of us now, and only one of him. There’s more of a chance that we can overpower him or outsmart him. We could escape.”

Shaking her head, she stares up at the ceiling. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up like that. It’ll only hurt more when they come crashing down.”

She can’t imagine what Isa has been through. Doesn’t want to think about the fact that she may soon go through some of it, herself. But she can’t understand why she refuses to even consider trying to figure a way out of here, when she now has somebody to help her. 

Unable to sit and do nothing any longer, she levers herself off the floor and begins walking the perimeter of the room, familiarizing herself with every inch of the space. “I’m gonna figure out a way out of here, no matter what you think.”

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