#whumpee and whumper

[honeycollectswhump]

Porcelain Cracks

[masterlist]

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, physical harm

Something is off today. Ashtray can feel it in his bones —not that it’s his purpose to make a judgement about the situation. He is only supposed to please his Mistress. 

Kneeling next to her, his golden collar connected to a leash held loosely in her hand. It’s picturesque, her beautifully manicured fingers tapping against the shining metal in something he can only hope is not annoyance.

There is no visitor today, a surprise given the collar, but he is still on his best behaviour. Mistress is only watching the TV, decorated in a golden antique frame to be hidden at will. Only his beloved Mistress could come up with such a perfect concept, combining her intricate style with the comfort of modern invention. He hopes her servants appreciate the design when they clean it. 

Mistress doesn’t seem to care much for it today though, just instead making a sound he’d never dare compare to a growl. Nevertheless, it makes him shiver. He can’t seem to stop, ever since she marked her own artwork —rightfully so!—, but he does his best to keep them under control. Barely visible to the eye, only noticeable when he is touched. 

And nowadays he rarely is.

Suddenly, she tucks at the chain, beckoning him closer. She blows her smoke into his face, drowning him out in the cloud, his eyes stinging. Finally, something familiar.

Instead of extinguishing her still-lit cigarette, she pushes his chin with a single, slender finger until he leans back, the posture tugging at his many scars.

As gracefully as possible, almost sensually, Ashtray lets his head fall back too, light blond hair spilling over his face, getting caught in his long eyelashes, his eyes closed. 

Suddenly, her nails trace the letters over his heart and they are sharp almost like—

like knives. 

Sharp, honed, new blades, with the single purpose of splitting Ashtray’s flesh with ease. 

Prolonged cutting he doesn’t dare call cruel, white lighting and red rivers. 

He is right there. All over again. 

It’s like his body reacts before he can, caught in a memory he should be grateful for if he wasn’t somehow broken.

The body flinches back, from his Mistress's holy touch.

For a moment, everything is silent. 

Ashtray stares at the ceiling, a horrible feeling of knowing washing over him. Whatever his Mistress did, rightfully, he never flinched. 

In the next second, his head snaps to the side, the loud bang of his Mistress slapping him echoing through the room.

Mistress is screaming at him, for the first time. He has never failed her before, not like this. And he can’t even comprehend her words. 

Whatever she is telling him is lost to his mind that he never quite understood. He only knows he is inferior in a way even an ashtray shouldn’t be, and he can do nothing to remedy that.

Tears pool in his eyes, as the servants drag him away from his still-shouting Mistress. When did he get so useless? 

When did his beautiful porcelain conditioning crack?

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox,

@sowhumpshaped, @clickerflight, @itsawhumpsideblog, @piniatafullofblood, @katwriteswhump

@opaldream16, @whumped-by-glitter, @whump-queen, @electrons2006, @vampirewhump

@saffitaffi let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

[justwhumptypethings]

tw: ableist language, dehumanization, manipulation

whumper convincing whumpee that they’re completely dependent on them outside of the classic kidnapping/captive situation. Whumper as someone whumpee has known their their life- an older sibling or a friend.

whumper convincing whumpee they’re too weak/fragile/stupid to be on their own, that they need to always be around whumper so they can stop whumpee from hurting themselves or others.

whumpee believing them because they have years of trust to build off of, and it’s just a given fact that whumper has their best interests at heart. and they’re always saying it in such a gentle, non judgemental way- that’s just how they are- that whumpee can’t even consider disagreeing with them. whumpee needs whumper to be safe. whumpee is lucky that whumper is willing to take care of them when they’re so stupid.

[whumpluv]

whumper promising whumpee that they'll stop hurting them if they beg. "you follow caregiver like a lost dog, shouldn't be hard for you to beg like one."

they kneel down next to the beaten, battered and sobbing whumpee. their voice is mocking and condescending. "c'mon, doggy. beg."

[3-2-whump]

Khaled’s First Halloween

Well, okay, more like ‘Khaled’s First Pumpkin Carving’

Inspired by my parents’ exchange students they hosted over the years, and their exact reactions to sticking their bare hands into cold, clammy pumpkin guts for the first time 🫠

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz

@bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whump Prompt 125

Write something inspired by this scene:

Monster whumpee transforms back into his human form and regains control of his mind, only to find the bloodied body of caretaker lying at his feet.

Overcome by horror and grief, whumpee falls to his knees.

"You see what you are, whumpee?" comes whumper's voice from behind him. "You're a monster. And the only safe place for you is with me."

[gotta-whump-them-all]

I've been making whump memes for the past couple of hours! Someone help me!!

[pigeonwhumps]

Rules

Pets of the Silver Screen masterlist

Taglist: @maracujatangerine @clairelsonao3 @whumplr-reader @whumpinggrounds @bbu-on-the-side

Multiple times over the years, Agatha learns the rules.

2.1k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, kidnapping, collar, beating, stress positions, dehumanisation, non-con nudity (non sexual)

Agatha juts her chin out, poise perfect despite the tip-toe position she's been forced into.

"My name is Miss Agatha Stanbury, daughter of Lord Kenneth Stanbury. Let me go and you may get out of this alive."

Foster Montgomery smirks, pressing his knife into her neck, blood beading along its edge.

"I think I'd rather keep you. Nobody's going to find you, certainly not after I'm finished with you." He drags his knife down her front, slitting her clothes. They mostly stay on, but it must be a very sharp knife to manage that. "Take them off."

"No."

He holds up the knife, reminding her. "What did you say?"

Agatha swallows but keeps her poise. She's going to be an actress, she can pretend she has nothing to fear.

"I said no. You have given me nothing to wear afterwards and I will not follow your disgusting commands."

"I have more suitable clothing for you later, if you earn it. But if you won't obey willingly I'll have to do it for you."

Agatha's barely had a chance to process the statement when she's slammed to the ground. All her bones are jarred and her nose explodes with agony. A boot seems to grind her into the floor as Montgomery removes her clothing piece by piece.

She hates herself for thinking it, but at least he lets her keep her knickers.

He grunts in satisfaction, and hauls her to her knees. She shoves his hands away and stands, but is back on her knees in less than a second.

"Stay." He reaches behind him and picks up a leather collar complete with tag.

Agatha doesn't move when he reaches out and buckles the suffocating leather around her throat, but not out of obedience. She just doesn't think she can.

She reaches up to touch it, but Montgomery smacks away her hand before she can.

"Don't even think about it. I'll only ever remove it if you need a punishment that might interfere with the collar somehow, so if you do so yourself I'll assume that's what you're after. But you do still deserve a punishment. Bend over."

Agatha swallows hard, the soft leather and cold metal buckle pressing against her throat. She doesn't move. She only came down for the season, she's not going to obey a kidnapper who's apparently obsessed with turning her into a pet.

He couldn't find a volunteer? There's enough of them.

She pitches forward onto her hands and knees as he pushes her over, pulling her knickers down.

"Bare flesh is best for this. Pets obey. They don't say no. They don't talk back. You need to learn this."

Agatha has never had such a thrashing in her life as she receives then. No-one's ever drawn blood before. She's not passed out enough by the end to receive a reprieve though – he orders her to clean the house, and woe betide her if he finds a speck of dust or blood.

She experiences it all as if from miles away. As if from the gathering she's supposed to be at right now, with entirely different rules. She's not in her body, most of the time, and that's probably for the best.

That day and the next, she learns the rules of being Foster Montgomery's captive.

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address other people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

She adds an extra one from herself, too, which she knows is true. Montgomery giving her a collar is not just him being a sick bastard, it's theatre, another part of the pretense. Because even if he were to parade her in front of those she loves, everyone knows that only pets wear collars.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

Over the next few months, the rules don't change. The chores are hard, and the punishments harsh, and a lot more of her is scarred now. Very little of what Montgomery does has any logic to it.

But she still can't find an escape. She fears she's sinking into it.

_

When she's hired by Hayes Fletcher, more rules are added to the list.

9) Don't talk to the other pet.

10) If you disobey, it won't just be you who's punished.

Eloise won't receive whippings, of course, and no canings during the shoot, but she can be put in stress positions, or starved, or have a bucket of water dumped over her head before being left in the unheated studio overnight. And Agatha has absolutely no desire to subject her to anything other than a good hot meal and somewhere better to sleep.

_

Rule 7 is underlined dramatically by the inspector's visit. In the aftermath, Agatha's arm and back throbbing, blood pooling on the frozen stone floor that her toes are just able to touch, Eloise whimpering from her own position, Agatha makes sure to add another two rules to herself (though the second is altered after Eloise's angry objections).

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Even Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

_

Agatha could possibly escape during the transatlantic crossing. She thinks about it. Even jumping overboard might be better. But she needs to see Eloise again. Be sure that she's alive and physically unhurt (from the sinking at least, Agatha has no doubt she'll have been hurt since). Tell her that she's brave, and a hero, because if it had been anyone but fellow pets she'd saved, if she was anyone but a pet herself, her actions would've been lauded, but instead it's Hayes Fletcher who's being praised for having such a good pet. Which isn't right, it isn't fair, and Agatha can't leave Eloise on her own.

That's when Agatha solidifies the last rule for herself, that's been brewing since she first met Eloise but she's never stopped to think about it before.

13) Her and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

_

Then the Great War comes.

Foster Montgomery signs up to fight. He leaves Agatha in Hayes Fletcher's care, who lends her to the munitions factory, for good publicity and probably money (money for Fletcher? Money for Montgomery? She doesn't know. But neither man is big into philanthropy). Eloise isn't there. Agatha follows the rules Montgomery has already given her, hating the fact that they keep her alive.

Another few rules are added.

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

That last is... profoundly obvious, at times. When the rest of the workers get to go home at the end of their shifts and she is kept working, or if there's no-one else at all, locked in the breakroom until morning. When she's fed less than the others, or when she's beaten, or–

It's so obvious, even more so than when she was hired by Hayes Fletcher. She hates it. And she's so alone here.

The war will be over by Christmas, right?

_

1915. Foster Montgomery is dead, and Agatha desperately wishes she could thank his killer, if anybody even knows. She gets a new tattoo, signifying her ownership by Hayes Fletcher (luckily, she knows his rules, there's no new ones to learn there). The Munitions Act comes into force, and the regular bombing raids start.

Monkey's paw. She's not alone anymore, but it means that Eloise, and several other pets, have joined her in the munitions factory.

She teaches Eloise what she's learned about staying out of trouble where possible. They have a dedicated bunkroom now, pets crammed in on old bedding on the floors of the worst-maintained rooms. They learn that only a few owners have paid for their pets to be taken to air raid shelters.

Hayes Fletcher hasn't.

Night after night they spend, trying to stay calm as bombs rain down around them. Occasionally they're still chained or tied up at night, for punishments, and when that happens Agatha worries the most.

She learns one more rule.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

The war ends. By a miracle, her and Eloise are both still alive. Hayes Fletcher goes back to producing films, albeit with less success. Agatha watches as pet liberation campaigns grow, and the next decade approaches with force. The world seems a little more hopeful, things seem to be changing.

Except for her and Eloise. Stuck with the horrible, spiteful little man, punishments getting worse as he gets more frustrated and blames them for it (or maybe he simply has nowhere else to put his anger). The world's moving on, votes for women are coming, and she can't help but think of what her life might be like if she hadn't been kidnapped all those years ago.

She remembers rule 7. And the last time was dreadful, and another attempt could get them both killed, but she mentions her rule to Eloise one night and Eloise agrees. They have to try, don't they? Sometimes, it's the only thing you can do.

A week later, the film studio burns down in the middle of the night. Arson, probably. By the time the fire brigade arrive to the burnt out husk Agatha and Eloise are already sneaking onto a train to London.

_

"If the both of you want rules, I can give you some," says Ira, clearly reluctant, "as long as we can go through the ones you already have first. Is that all right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ira nods. "Why don't you write me a list then? We can go through them while Eloise is busy."

Agatha takes the paper and pen she offers, wincing as she sits down, heart skipping a beat. She's still not used to it.

At the end of the session, her list reads:

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

9) Don't talk to the other pets.

10) If you disobey, it won't be just you who's punished.

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

13) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other. (Ira says she can get rid of this one partially too, but she's not so sure. Not yet)

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

The new rules are easy, and straightforward, and Agatha doesn't entirely trust them. The list now reads:

1) You belong to yourself.

2) You will never be punished, no matter what you do.

3) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

4) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

Agatha kneels on the floorboards, trembling. It's her turn today, Ira asked her to clean and she said yes, she's not sure why except she's so used to not being allowed to say no.

She hopes she's done well. She hopes she's done well. She hopes she won't be punished.

Ira doesn't do punishments. But all the same, she hopes she won't be punished.

There's footsteps, then they stop.

"Agatha?"

"I've finished cleaning, ma'am."

A hand on her shoulder. "Agatha, please look at me. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Come on, look up."

Agatha obeys hesitantly. And gasps. Ira's eyes are dark and warm and how could Agatha ever have thought otherwise? Ira gets down to her level as Agatha grasps her hands tightly, pulling her into a rare hug.

"Rules one and two, Agatha."

"I belong to myself," whispers Agatha, still clutching Ira tightly, "and I will not be punished."

Ira's two rules. The only two she'll ever make.

1) I belong to myself.

2) I will never be punished, no matter what I do.

And there's a third, that Agatha has added herself, that she thinks she probably can after so long. Rule number 5, now Ira has been proven correct and number 3 has been partially removed (Agatha does not only have Eloise now).

5) Ira keeps her promises.

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 4 Hiding an injury, Betrayal, Lying

TW/CW: Recapture, betrayal, bad caretaker, sadistic caretaker, intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, angst! Words: 853 words

The seasonal bouquet filled with early spring colours instantly caught Whumpee’s eyes. Caretaker will love this they thought. She bought it and got it wrapped pretty before returning home. For a spring day it was still surprisingly cold, so Whumpee wrapped their fluffy scarf tightly around them. That also had the advantage that nobody could really see her face. That calmed down the anxiety that Whumper would find them. And as soon as they were back in the apartment they share with Caretaker they would cook up a nice meal. Whumpee stepped into the tram and drove all the way to the last stop. Once there it was only a short walk. In the tram they had seen an advertisement for a new movie coming to the cinemas soon. Caretaker would probably like it, they should tell her about it. When they unlocked the door something felt weird. Caretaker didn’t as usual call out to them when the sound of the lock rose up. “Caretaker!”, Whumpee called out to them as they slipped out of their boots and gathered them in their left hand, opening the door with their right one. “Is everything okay?!”, they called out again.

This time Caretaker answered and Whumpee’s muscles relaxed at the sound. “Yes, everything’s okay! Sorry just tired, come in!”

“Alright,”, Whumpee said now in a normal volume and closed the door behind themselves. The boots got dropped off on the shoe carpet and they entered the living room area. Caretaker was sitting on the couch but looked way too tense.

“Tough day at work?”, Whumpee asked, hiding the bouquet behind their back.

“Yeah, something like that.”, Caretaker replied.

Then another sound came from the kitchen next to them both and Whumpee’s blood froze in their veins: “Hello, Whumpee.”

That voice. That horrific voice. The voice they never wanted to hear again, they hoped so much, they promised themselves. They kept their eyes locked onto Caretaker’s, hoping for them to tell her that it was just a hallucination. But then the shape of a person entered their peripheral vision and Whumpee’s heart sank.

“It’s been so long.”

“No-no-no-no.” Whumpee’s hands cramped around the bottom of the bouquet. “How did you find me, you-you weren’t supposed to find me. I-Caretaker and me-we made sure you wouldn’t find us!”

“Caretaker? Oh honey Caretaker’s the only reason I found you.”

“No…”, Whumpee gasped. Their eyes finding Caretaker’s, hoping for some sign of a lie. But finding only coolness and apathy. Worse even, amusement. The bouquet slid out of their fingers and onto the floor. “Why…Why…?”

“Oh Whumpee it’s nothing personal, Whumper offered me good money. But then again, maybe it is. How could I just watch whumper’s hard work go down the drain? And even in the short time I spent with you, I got convinced that you break beautifully. I just had to see it for myself, and…everybody deserves a little fun. Am I right?”

Whumpee felt bile rising in their throat. Caretaker was using their own words against them. They sold her out. They-they enjoyed it.

“Oh dearest you look a little green, come here.”, Whumper said and quickly closed the distance to Whumpee, capturing them in an embrace. That’s when they saw the bouquet on the floor, a sadistic smile tugging at their lips. “Oh, Caretaker, I think Whumpee had something for you.”, they say, grab the bouquet and go to give it to Caretaker.

A mocking grin breaks through the cool cruelty on Caretaker’s face. “Aww, were those for me, Whumpee? They’re beautiful, thank you so much.”

Whumpee just wanted to cry. “Please…”

“Please what Whumpee?”, Whumper asked, “If you’re going to ask for mercy you might as well save your breath.”

“Please just…get me out of here.”

Whumper’s brows raised but they hugged Whumpee and guided their head against their shoulder. “Of course Whumpee, we just have to pack some stuff for you and then we can leave.”

So they did and Whumpee even got to take some of their comfort items, even though deep down they knew they would only be used against them. When they were done Whumper led them through the hallways of the apartment that used to be their home. Or so they thought. As they passed by the living room she couldn’t even look at Caretaker. The feeling of betrayal still burning in their throat.

“Are you not going to say goodbye to Caretaker whumpee?”, Whumper asked.

In response Whumpee just buried their head in Whumper’s jacket. Whumper grinned, guess that means no. They looked over to Caretaker in faux apologeticness. “We will be on our way then.”

“Oh by all means don’t let me hold you, have fun.”, Caretaker replied, holding up their hand in a lazy gesture.

Whumpee followed Whumper down the stairs and outside the building to their car. Right before they got into the car they saw it. The first crocus they’ve seen this year, the first dot of hope in the grey. And they see it right now, with their trust broken and their freedom slipping away once again.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11

lemme know if you wanna be added

[adamsloverboy]

cw a smidge of blood and knife

“I've been lonely,” a sigh, “for so long.”

Villain jumped at the voice behind them, quickly turning around. But the darkness engulfed the other, the pupils of their eyes shining bright.

Fucking creep.

They stepped back as the stranger stalked towards them, eyes unwavering.

“What do you want?” The villain snarled, hands hovering over their belt.

“I just think it's time I put an end to my solitude, don't you think?”

The hero revealed themselves, coming into the light. Villain gripped the hilt of his dagger and stepped back, tense.

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

Hero smiled at that and eyed the other's belt, staring.

“That won't work.” They said.

Villain's jaw stiffened.

“Fuck off,” they started, “and you won't get hurt.”

“Aren't you bold!” Hero beamed strolling over to Villain, whom took a fighting stance and pounced.

Hero tucked and slid under them as Villain fell and rolled, quickly shifting to a crouchinf position. Hero turned and threw themselved at Villain, as the latter shielded themselves with their arms.

Villain pushed and stabbed the Hero's torso, quickly jumping backwards to avoid any counter attack.

Hero smirked, fucking hell, and walked over like they hadn't been stabbed.

Villain wasted no time and swung their leg under Hero's, striking them across the floor.

Hero rolled to the side and then grabbed Villain's neck, pushing them under and straddling them.

Hero retrieved the dagger from Villain's hands. Villain spat in their face and clawed at their hands, “Fuck!”

Hero winked,

“Stay calm, won't you?”

Then they cut their own arm.

And forced their blood into the villain's mouth, earning a horrified expression.

“What are you doi—”

Hero's face falls,

“Come home.”

Hi! English is not my first language and I'm a noobie. Critique and opinions are appreciated :-)

[luigis-favorite-cookies]

Whump and Tickling

I remember coming across the whole whump community, and I still feel like I'm getting mixed signals from it. On one hand, I don't really like the fact that it goes as far as it does towards the hurt side, but once you actually learn what it is, it's kinda to be expected, however unpleasant.

On the other side though, I feel like I get somewhat similar vibes to the tickle community from it. They both like to explain things in -ee and -er dynamics (Ticklee/Whumpee vs Tickler/Whumper) and can both serve as ways to display characters loving connections when pushed into extreme circumstances.

Honestly it just inspires the mind for all kinds of tickle scenarios. Tickle the Whumpee. Is it the Whumper? Are they trying to break the whumpee, and bring their dignity crashing down? Is it a caretaker? Are they trying to help the Whumpee open up again, and let themselves be vulnerable to the people who will still love them?

The issue I really take with it is the fact that the Whump community actually has the generalized tropes I enjoy, while the hurt/comfort community (at least based on the cursory glance I've gotten of it) doesn't, and instead just seems to focus on specific preexisting fandom characters.

What if I want to see the contents of hurt/comfort, but presented with generalized terms like the Whump community? What do I do?

Does anyone know any blogs that have hurt/comfort without focusing on specific characters that require prerequisite knowledge?

[cluelesscameraman]

Whumper: *trips*

Whumpee: *wheezing*

[honeycollectswhump]

whumpee being yanked abruptly by their collar from behind. they don’t know what’s going on and can’t even see their assailant. maybe they are so shocked they just go along with wherever they are pulled.

[whump-blob]

Whumper hates someone but that person is out of reach. They're dead or missing or just someplace really far away

So

They use a shapeshift spell on an innocent whumpee and take out all their anger and revenge on them.

Imagine whumpee's frustration. They haven't even done anything and they're forced to look like someone else and tortured in their place.

No amount of begging would persuade whumper because they really despise this particular individual.

Maybe the person whumper wanted to take their revenge on was caretaker. So now whumpee hates and fears caretaker. Seeing caretaker makes them feel like they're looking in a mirror. They don't want to look like them because they fear that they'll get punished. Whumpee is also curious about what caretaker did to incur whumper's hatred...

[pigeonwhumps]

Kara and Edith medieval fantasy reverse au. Bc werewolves are kind of like creatures, right? I can't get this out of my head so they are now

CWs: non-human whumpee, pet whump, past amputation, dehumanisation, blood, burns

Edith sighs and fidgets as the family exits the throne room. So many people have come to congratulate her on her accession to the throne, and while she appreciates them, it's been a long night. Her fangs ache and the crown's weighing her down.

And she can hear more behind the doors.

"You can take a break, Your Majesty," suggests Sam, her advisor and bodyguard, quietly. "You've been at this for hours."

Edith shakes her head. "Edith will take some more. This vampire can work for longer."

"All right." They motion, and the guards open the double doors, ushering in the next group, a man and woman dragging a wheeled cage between them. It's draped with dark blue fabric but Edith can smell silver and werewolf. She feels a deep sense of foreboding, although she tries to brush it aside – after... what happened, feelings like this haven't been uncommon, and they're often irrational.

Still, though. She nods at Sam as surreptitiously as possible, signalling for them to keep an eye out. Just in case something really is wrong.

The man and woman both bow.

"Thank you for seeing us, Your Majesty. We would like to congratulate you on your recent succession to the throne. As a gift, we present to you our most recent catch. We have trained it, and it will make the perfect pet."

Edith mentally kicks herself. They're hunters. Of course they are, look at their dress, their gear. The silver's been taken off them at the entrance but even so... the loop of rope at the man's waist takes on a more sinister appearance now, now she knows its likely use.

She strides forward and yanks the blanket off the cage. There's a werewolf inside, and they whimper behind their silver muzzle as the light hits them.

"Shh." Her hands are gloved, as they always are for audiences, and she growls slightly as she rips the gate to the cage off its hinges. "Shh, come out, this vampire will not hurt you."

The werewolf slinks out slowly, tail between their legs, ears flat against their head, whining with every step. They're basically skin and bone, and they're injured, Edith can smell the blood. Their gait is... off, too.

As soon as the werewolf is close enough, Edith bends down, removing their muzzle, casting it aside. Their burns are horrendous, and the smell... unsmothered by the silver, it's terrible.

"Elis, fetch a physician, whoever is available and able to treat werewolves. And you." She stands, glaring at the two hunters, who both take a step back, intimidated by her bright red eyes. The werewolf crouches behind her. "What are your names, and how exactly did you acquire this werewolf?"

The man swallows. "Mark and Lilah, Your Majesty. We captured it two moon cycles ago just outside of this kingdom, trying to invade your territory. Once we discovered that you had ascended to the throne, we thought that this would be the perfect gift to prove our loyalty."

Edith clenches her fists, anger simmering just below the surface. She can smell the hunters' blood, see their jugulars pulsing, bright red and healthy. Not yet. "Do you know the laws of this kingdom?"

"We have made the creature safe, Your Majesty."

"Then it is clear you do not. This kingdom is a sanctuary for non-humans, and we do not accept gifts of them. Is this ruler correct in thinking you have held them for two months, and are holding other creatures?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," replies Mark. "After all, we can't let them leave. Creatures are a danger to society."

"You did not have to torture them," Edith snarls, and leaps on Mark, tearing his neck open. The blood is bitter but she's oh so hungry, and so angry, and she drinks deeply. When she pulls away, wiping her chin, his pulse is slow, breathing shallow. Lilah's sobbing, a guard holding her arm.

"Your partner is not dead, and he will not die, provided you tell us the location of your holding camp."

"Just– just over the border," Lilah sniffles, "a few miles from the village of Wealdstone."

Edith nods stiffly. "Guards, take them to the dungeons, and get someone to tend to him. There is no need for them to be gentle."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

As the hunters are dragged out, Edith crouches down beside the werewolf, reaching out a hand. They don't resist as she strokes their head, but she's not sure they want it either.

"No-one is going to hurt you here. You were heading for sanctuary, weren't you? Well you have it here. Let us examine your injuries, this vampire will not do anything to you." She looks up at Sam. "We need to send some people to the hunters' camp. Col, Sæwin and Elis?"

"A knight, a healer and Elis. Sounds like a good combination."

Just then, there's a knock on the door and Amanda enters. She has her citole on her back and an armful of medical supplies. Edith smiles. Out of all the physicians here, Amanda's the one she trusts the most with an injured werewolf. She just didn't know if they were working tonight.

"I've come to tend to the werewolf, Your Majesty."

Edith moves aside, watching anxiously as Amanda approaches. A cornered animal is strong. But the werewolf doesn't try to get away, simply hunching down and whimpering.

"I'm Amanda, I'm a physician. I just want to have a look at your injuries. Will you let me? We can stop whenever you like."

The werewolf whines, bowing their head submissively.

"Thank you. Let's have a look at you then."

As Amanda begins to examine them, Edith beckons to a servant.

"Have a set of suitable chambers prepared for them, and a meal sent up. Lucan will know what to make. And send Col, Sæwin and Elis to this vampire as soon as they are free."

The servant bows and hurries off. Edith turns to Amanda, who's examining the werewolf's teeth. "How bad are they?"

Amanda lets go of their jaw gently. "Declawed entirely, teeth filed down. Beating marks and burns everywhere. Extremely malnourished. Bastards."

Edith swallows hard, swinging her cloak off and draping it over the trembling werewolf. "We will help you now. And those bastards are going to get exactly what they deserve."

Taglist: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @onlybadendings @whumpofdory @haro-whumps @flowersarefreetherapy @enigmawritesstuff @quietly-by-myself

recently-coronated noble!caretaker being gifted creature!whumpee as a 'pet' and losing their SHIT on the gifter

[3-2-whump]

Of Painkillers and Promises

<prev next>

Set about eight hours after the hit

TW/CW: whumper turned whumpee (sorta) medical whump (gunshot wound), emotional angst, but that's about it, really. Enjoy.

Thomas woke up to harsh artificial light and monotone beeping. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust, and realized he was in a hospital, lying on a bed, with several machines hooked up to him. His mind felt groggy with the feeling of being drugged. There was an unexplained weight on his lower extremities.  He tried to sit up from the bed to see what it was, hissing as a sharp pain lanced through his chest.

 There at the foot of his bed lay Khaled, his upper body bent over his legs with his head tucked into folded arms. His lower body was seated in chair pulled next to the bed, bending his back into a nearly right angle. Judging by his even breathing and his stillness, the young man had fallen asleep in that uncomfortable position.

“He hasn’t left your side for even a minute,” an unfamiliar voice said. Thomas turned his attention to a matronly nurse who was replacing the drip bag for one of his many IVs. She smiled down at him benevolently. “How are you feeling, dear?”

The mob boss leveled her a flat, unimpressed stare. What was this woman thinking, treating him like he was a child? “I’d rather not be in the hospital, obviously,” he answered, gesturing around the room as far as the IV in his hand would allow, “but other than that, I guess I’m alright.”

“I’ll let Dr. Kimura know you’re awake,” she promised. “In the meantime, can I get you or your partner anything?”

If there was any saliva in Thomas’ mouth, he would’ve choked on it. “I-um, just some water, thanks…”

“Of course, dear.” The nurse exited the recovery room as quietly as she had arrived, but not before pausing on the way out the door. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Costa,” she commented, “your partner’s quick thinking in the time of a crisis may well have saved your life.”

And just like that, they were alone again. Thomas glanced down at Khaled’s hunched-over form, mind replaying what had happened. I don’t remember much, but… I was shot, I fell, Khaled came, he hesitated. That’s right, he could’ve watched me bleed out and die –and I seriously thought he was going to for a moment there. Which would’ve been fair, I guess. But then… he didn’t…

The nurse’s words replayed his head. Khaled saved my life, he realized. There wasn’t any reason the man could think of for why he didn’t just let him die, especially considering the events that landed them in the hospital last time. Why did he save me? What did I do to deserve that?

Absolutely nothing, he concluded. The opposite, in fact, if he considered the past seven and a half years he’d owned the young man. The cold, slimy feeling of guilt numbed the physical discomfort in his chest, or rather competed with it. I have been awful to this poor little impulse-buy at my feet, yet he eventually decided to save my life. A feeling he so rarely felt it was hard to recognize soon followed this awful revelation.

He reflexively blanched; Thomas didn’t like feeling beholden to anybody, much less someone he felt was lesser than himself. But he couldn’t just let this show of loyalty go unrewarded. The doctor came by to check on him and evaluate his healing progress, startling Khaled awake in the process. Thomas answered Dr. Kimura’s questions succinctly while internally wracking his brain for any and every way he could possibly make it up to Khaled. Every gesture seemed hollow in comparison to the slave literally saving his life.

A life for a life, then? It was the most satisfying solution Tom could come up with, yet he still hesitated. It wasn’t that freeing Khaled would be difficult; it was that living without him would be.

Sue him, he got used to having a young, lively presence around the cold, spacious penthouse. He got used to portioning meals for two, and to coming home to someone to talk to. He got used to Khaled’s warmth, Khaled’s rare smile, Khaled’s songs that he’d hum under his breath when he thought he couldn’t hear him. After seven years of living with Khaled, the prospect of living without him seemed… empty. Lonely.

“Master?” Khaled’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The young man he had grown so fond of crouched over the bed, leaning close to him, lips downturned in a frown. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

I don’t have to free him right away, do I?

“Khaled,” he began, “do you miss being free?”

Khaled’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “I-uh, I…” He pursed his lips thoughtfully.

Thomas felt something light and warm in his chest as he watched Khaled think his answer through. The boy always made the best thinking face. “It’s not a test, I promise,” he reassured.

The tension in the young man’s face relaxed just a fraction. “Well, yeah, of course I do,” he thoughtfully answered, “but it’s been so long, I don’t know what I would even do if I were free.” He raised and repositioned himself to sit on the side of the hospital bed, twisting his body to the side to maintain eye contact with his master. “I don’t have a real job, I don’t have any money, no papers, no skills –if you were to free me tomorrow, I would be completely helpless. I wouldn’t last a week out in the real world,” he admitted.

All the more reason to delay the inevitable, Thomas justified. “What if I changed that?”

Khaled cocked his head to the side, squinting at the IV bag. “The fuck kind of drugs did they put in these things?” he wondered aloud.

Thomas redirected the boy’s attention. “What I’m trying to say is-” he cleared his throat, then continued. “What if I started paying you for your work at the office? What if I taught you what to do with that money, how to spend it, how to invest it, how to save it? And what if you saved up enough of that money to buy yourself from me?” He leaned in closer, as much as his gunshot wound would comfortably allow. “You were worth $30,000 when you were fifteen, and your current market value places you around $150,000. It won’t be instant, but it would be possible, if you work hard enough.” He reached for Khaled’s hands, holding them in his own as he whispered, “You could be free, Khaled.”

Honestly, of all the responses he could reasonably expect out of Khaled, Thomas did not expect him to disentangle their hands and rise from the bed, back turned. “We can talk about it more when you’re out of the hospital,” the young man replied coldly, trudging determinedly towards the door. “That is, if you even remember,” he murmured bitterly.

“Wait, where are you-”

“I need a minute!” Without any further explanation, Khaled left. Thomas wasn’t left alone for long, though, as the same nurse who initially checked on him returned with a sympathetic half-smile and wise-sounding words about dating someone young enough to be his son. Thomas didn’t have the heart to correct her mistake.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

[gotta-whump-them-all]

Whumper Needs 'Punishment' Ideas

Here are some torture ideas for your whumpers <3

If your whumper smokes let's have them light their cigarette out on whumpee

Whumper forcing whumpee to hurt themself

Also we can have whumper act like they're going to hurt whumpee, but they're only doing it to scare them

Whumper forcing whumpee to face a fear. Whether it be the dark, spiders, etc it's up to you and whumper

Whumpee who has sensory issues and is forced to wear something that is extremely uncomfortable on their skin

Good ol' spanking

A ruler to the wrist until whumpee physically can'r stop his hands from shaking out of pain

Leave whumpee in silence and locked for hours to days on end. No food no nothing, they don't deserve it

No food, water, or sleep for a misbehaving whumpee. Whumper will even punish whumpee if they ask for them

Whumper removing one of whumpee's senses. Sight, touch, hearing, etc anything works really

Treat them like a dog. Maybe whumper thinks that whumpee is acting like a dog, so they should be treated as such

Simple things even like time out. Have whumper place whumper in the corner for a certain amount of minutes

Simple, writing lines. Whumper will make whumpee write 100 lines of words of "I will not......" and if they mess up a word, redo that line

going to bed without dinner is always a good one

If whumper has a whumpee who mouths off, give whumpee the silent treatment. Whumpee chooses to be ignored, or stop

On the other hand take away whumpee's speaking privileges. They can't speak unless it's a whole hearted genuine apology

Completely ignoring whumpee is good too

And if whumper is feeling up to it, have whumpee sit in a corner for some amount of minutes and then ask if they'll apologize now

Here's a semi-oddo one, have whumpee eat stuff like hot pepers until their mouth is burning and then not give them milk

And to end this list off we have just simply washing whumpee's mouth out with soup

(give me any more ideas if you have some)