#whumpee is clearly terrified of caretaker

[whump-blog]

Whump Art 10

Caretaker feeding pieces of apple to an injured tiny Whumpee.

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim x Catharsis - Kane & Luan

K&J chronological masterlist / K&J writing order masterlist

Catharsis masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, escape, begging, starvation, caretaking, dubious caretaker, whumpee turned caretaker, death wish, suicide attempt, recapture, torture, gore, burns, rescue, brief self-harm for vampire feeding purposes, side robot whumpee

Whumpmas in July Day 15: A Soft Reprieve

the first time i've ever done a crossover between two different series of mine! this one's been living in my brain rent-free. massive props to @sowhumpshaped for inspiration!

-

Luan’s heart practically stopped when he looked through the doorbell camera to find a vampire.

The camera  wouldn’t matter if it was a vampire. The door wouldn’t matter if it was a vampire. He would be taken, again, this time manhandled from his own apartment. The fact that he couldn’t sleep all night was the only reason he had this last moment of freedom.

“Stay back,” he said through the speaker, trying not to let his voice shake like his hands as he clumsily looked up the number for the local hunters. There was no way they’d get here in time, not even with their base just down the road. Not with a vampire’s speed.

“Please,” the vampire whimpered, kneeling on his doormat. “Please help me, I beg of you. I’m not a threat, I promise, please don’t call the hunters, I’ll do anything!”

Now that Luan really looked, he could see beyond the bright-red of his eyes and the intimidating fangs: the figure at his door was… not well. Clearly emaciated, a feeling Luan knew all too well. He could see what looked like burns, and what were definitely cuts. Tears tracked from terrified, desperate eyes.

“What do you want?” Luan snapped, thumb hovering over the dial button.

“Please, please, sir, I can’t find anything to end myself, the sun is coming, they’re going to find me, please, mercy, I can’t go back, please help me!” the vampire begged, weeping into his hands. “I can’t use persuasion, I promise, I wouldn’t even if I could!”

It was objectively stupid. It was going to get him killed or worse. If Luan opened this door, that would be the end of it. The vampire would take one look at him, use persuasion, and his freedom would be gone again, just like that.

There was no faking the way his stomach turned inward like that, worse than Luan had ever been. If Luan had ever starved that badly, he suspected he would have died.

Would there be any point to a vampire going to these lengths just to trick him, when he could have just used persuasion from the first moment?

“One minute. Stay there.” He dashed to find something, ending up with a ruler he hasn’t dug out in years. Sawing at it with a kitchen knife made something resembling a stake, though he knew in his heart that it likely wasn’t strong enough to get through flesh. He just had to hope it would be intimidating enough.

Luan hesitated. Was he really going to do this? Let a starving vampire into his home?

He looked through the camera again, at the pitiful man collapsed on his porch.

He opened the door, makeshift stake in hand. “Get inside.”

The vampire scrambled in, crouching like a cornered animal on his floor, panting hard. “Th-thank you, sir. Thank you so much. Please don’t call them, please, I just–”

“You can stay the daytime and that’s it.” It wouldn’t be the first time Luan had stayed awake a full 24 hours. He could do it again. “At sunset, you leave, and you don’t come back. You never take a human. Agreed?” He pointed the stake at the vampire with both hands. “Try anything and it’s the stake.”

What Luan wasn’t expecting was for the vampire to look up at him with utter adoration. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I’ll be good, I promise, thank you so much! You can kill me if you’d like, I don’t mind, I won’t resist. Whatever you want.”

Luan slowly lowered the stake. “That’s… probably not necessary.” A look around the room. The sun would start rising in a few minutes, he had to act fast if he was really offering this vampire refuge. “Go wait in the bathroom,” he pointed, “There’s no windows in there.”

“Yes, sir!” The vampire started to run, but tumbled over himself, collapsing to the floor. Before Luan could react, he picked himself up to his hands and knees, crawling quickly to the bathroom and closing the door.

“Jesus,” Luan muttered. The blinds were already closed, always closed, but he knew some light could trickle in through the gaps.

What to do next? He knew what he wanted next when he was rescued. To feel safe, to feel free, to feel in control, to know Cyrus couldn’t hurt him anymore. Food, water, blankets, a fucking warm shower. Home.

What had even happened to the vampire to make him like this?

In the end, he gathered up some sweats and sneakers he wouldn’t miss–he wasn’t going to make the vampire run home half-naked and barefoot when sunset came–and a blanket, then knocked on the door, stake stowed in his pocket. “Hey.”

“Yes?” the vampire called back.

Luan opened the door, finding the vampire huddled in the bathtub. “Brought you some stuff. You can use the bath and whatever too if you want, you know.”

The vampire’s eyes widened as Luan set the bundle down on the edge of the sink. “Thank you, sir! That’s so kind of you! Thank you so much!”

“Mm-hm.” It felt good to be the one in control. Safe, somehow, even with a vampire.

He wanted to ask what happened to him, but he hated when people asked for details. Those fucking true crime junkies. If the vampire wanted to talk, he would talk.

“I’m Luan,” he offered. “You?”

“M-my name is Kane. No one’s asked me that in a very long time.” The vampire stared at him like some kind of divine being.

“Alright, Kane. Glad this isn’t going to shit immediately. I’ll be… out there. Knock if you need anything, I guess.”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, Luan let him be. The vampire did not return, staying locked in there well after his shower ended. As the hours ticked by, he couldn’t keep his mind off the vampire in the bathroom. How could he?

Food. He was probably hungry. Starving, if his appearance was anything to go by. Luan knew that feeling, the never-satisfied clawing in his gut.

He pinched at his skin. He had blood to go around, didn’t he? Just once.

Luan knocked at the door. “Kane? You doing okay in there?”

“Yes, sir,” came the vampire’s muffled voice, “Do you need something?”

“You need something,” Luan corrected. “I’m gonna feed you some blood. Open up.”

The door opened fast, Kane’s wide, red eyes greeting him. “You would give me blood?” he asked in a hushed whisper, the blanket still wrapped around him.

“Yeah. Here.” Luan held out his arm. That’s where they did blood draws at the doctor’s, right? “I know you’re hungry. Go ahead.”

Kane burst into a huge, fanged grin. “Thank you, sir!” He took Luan’s arm gingerly, with a gentleness he wouldn’t have expected from a monster of the night. Deciding on the wrist, he bit in slowly, carefully at first.

As soon as he broke the skin, all that gentleness disappeared.

The vampire bit in hard, making Luan wince at the pain of it. But he’d expected pain. It was a goddamn vampire bite, of course it was gonna hurt. He grit his teeth and bore it. He’d had worse.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he announced as he started to feel woozy. “I get you’re hungry, I wanna help, but I’m not a buffet.”

Kane paid him no mind, continuing to gulp down mouthfuls of blood, eyes wild.

Luan’s heart began to race, either from the depleting blood or the sudden terror or both. Suddenly, he wasn’t in control anymore, and that meant the vampire could do anything to him. It wasn’t like with the robot, who had to follow his orders. This was a vampire. What was he in comparison to that? He was powerless. He was–

No. Not again. He would not be that helpless thing again.

Luan hit the vampire as hard as he could, bringing his fist down on the back of his head. “I said stop!”

Kane reeled back, his bloody fangs tearing from skin, the blow jerking him back to reality. Landing clumsily on the floor, he looked up in horror as he realized what he had just done.

“I’m sorry!” he cried. “I’m s-so sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to, I swear, I was just so hungry I couldn’t control myself, I’m sorry!”

His eyes grew watery, his breaths quick and panicked. Kane backed away on the floor, cowering against the tub. “Please just k-kill me, please kill me, I’ll be good, I won’t resist, please, please, I’m sorry, I can’t, please kill me!”

Luan clutched his bleeding arm, staring at the pathetic creature before him. Was that what he’d looked like?

“You’re fine. Just don’t do it again or it’s the stake,” he said firmly. He was in control again. He got to make the rules.

“Please don’t call them,” Kane begged. “I’ll do anything, sir.”

“You’re fine,” Luan repeated. He picked the blanket up off the floor, having fallen in the chaos, and draped it back over the vampire. He instantly clung to it, his shaky hands curling tight in the fabric.

“Th-thank you, sir.” Kane gasped. “Thank you, thank you, I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Luan grabbed a box of bandages out of the cabinet and left, closing the door behind him. He was sure the both of them would feel better that way.

-

Luan woke up to insistent knocking at his door.

He wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. There was a fucking vampire in his apartment. As soon as his head was clear enough to realize, he bolted upright, looking to the still-closed bathroom door, then to the window.

The evening sun still filtered through the blinds: it was still daylight, at least for a few hours more.

“Who is it?” he asked, unlocking his phone. An emergency alert from hours ago plastered the screen before he could check his doorbell camera: VAMPIRE IN AREA.

“I’m with the local vampire hunters. We just wanted to ask some questions,” the man at the door said.

Not a sound came from the bathroom.

It would be more suspicious if he didn’t answer the door, right? Luan opened it. “What questions?”

“We were holding a vampire in the base a few streets down when it escaped last night. This one can’t hypnotize you, and we had it pretty weakened, but it’s still dangerous–caught it before it could take anyone, thankfully. We know it couldn’t have gotten far, already combed outside. It has to have snuck into someone’s home, so we’ve been making the rounds before it can escape come nightfall. Have you seen anything suspicious?”

“...Take anyone?” Luan asked, the floor falling out from under him.

“Yep,” the hunter nodded, “When we caught it, it already had someone. Almost got away with her, too. If that thing managed to get her over the border, that’d be it. Last thing we want is for that to happen again. Luckily, we’ve got the sun on our side.”

How could he have been so stupid? Of course a vampire wouldn’t be in human territory for any good reason. Kane had already gotten a taste for his blood. He was just a few hours away from being lured into captivity again, and this time, there’d be no one to save him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Luan grit his teeth, chest tight. Cyrus would never let him hear the end of it if he knew. “He–he tricked me,” he mumbled. “He��s in the bathroom.”

“Fuck. Least we caught it before sundown. Read up some on vampire safety,” the hunter instructed him, strolling inside.

The bathroom was no longer silent.

A sob accompanied the frantic scratching of nails against wood for only a moment before the hunter yanked the door open, the shitty lock giving way on only the third try.

“No! No, please, I was out!” Kane screamed, clawing at the sink cabinet ever-harder. “Please, please, mercy! I can’t! I was out!”

“Behave yourself,” the hunter spat, and Kane and Luan both flinched. He grabbed the vampire by the hair. “Come quietly and you get a tarp, not that you deserve that much after the stunt you fucking pulled today. Make a fuss and it’s the sun.”

Kane wailed, a cry of anguish so long and deep Luan thought it might never end. When it did, a shaking Kane wrapped his arms around himself. “I’ll be good, sir,” he whispered, eyes distant.

He offered no resistance as the hunter dragged him away, only tears.

Alone once more, Luan knew he’d made the only choice he could to protect himself, but the tightness in his chest didn’t go away.

-

In the coming weeks, Luan couldn’t get the vampire out of his mind.

Even taking it out on the robot didn’t help, not that it ever really did. He found himself turning it on less and less, leaving it in the closet. Seeing Cyrus’s face just made him feel worse.

The hunters had to have killed Kane, right? That would be fine. Humanity would be safe from him if they did that, and Kane had been begging for it, anyway. What reason would they have to keep him alive?

Luan knew the answer to that better than most.

One call to the hunters confirmed it: the vampire was alive, though they promised ‘improved security’.

“Can I see him?” he blurted out.

It took some convincing, but Luan was able to secure himself an appointment.

-

“Keep away from the bars,” the hunter leading him downstairs instructed. Down, down, down. Concrete walls, concrete floor. Luan fought the urge to run. “You can talk with it for five minutes. Get some closure on whatever it was doing in your place. I’ll escort you back up later.”

“Mm-hm,” Luan agreed.

At the bottom of the stairs was a cell, and in the cell was a metal trunk. Luan dug his nails into his palm.

“It might look a little gnarly, but remember, these things aren’t human. They heal like that.” The hunter snapped his fingers. “Wait here.”

The hunter unlocked the cell, then the trunk. “Out.”

The lid flung open, a skinny, burnt hand retracting as soon as it appeared. Kane climbed out of the trunk, landing in a mess on the floor.

He was much worse-off than Luan remembered him. In only six weeks, the clothes he’d given him had become so torn and bloodstained as to be practically unrecognizable. Nearly all the skin he could see was burnt, his face a mess of severe welts. He looked to Luan with utter terror in his eyes, far more than the robot could ever hope to mimic.

“H-hello, sir,” Kane stammered.

Luan had to run. He knew he was safe, he wasn’t a vampire, but the danger emanating from every crack of this place was far greater than any he’d felt with a vampire cowering in his bathtub.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

“I’m s-sorry,” Kane continued, clutching at his shirt. “Please, please, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Luan asked. “Why are–”

“Please don’t take the clothes away! I’ll do anything!” Kane bowed his head, trembling. “Anything, anything, p-please, I need them, I’m so sorry, please! They’re the only thing protecting me from the silver!”

He picked his head up to look back at the trunk and then Luan with a sob. “Please, I know I don’t d-deserve it, I’m sorry, but please, please, I’m trying. I won’t run again, I’m sorry!”

“They’re yours,” Luan assured him quickly. “I’m not… taking them. That’s not why I’m here.”

Kane let out a massive, shaky exhale, the grip on his shirt still tight. “Thank you for your m-mercy, sir. Thank you for letting me keep them. Thank you for giving me one good day. I treasure it, sir. It–it was the best day I ever had. What can I do for you?” He looked up, eyes shining and watery.

Luan turned and ran.

-

He brought the robot out that night. No one else had the guts to tell him what a piece of shit he was. No one else who wasn’t in prison.

Luan didn’t tell Russ what happened. He didn’t need to. The robot did its job, and by the time he was done, his knuckles hurt. The robot winced as Luan reached down to switch it off, then fell limp.

He called the cops. They didn’t care. It wasn’t a crime to hurt a vampire.

Luan thought about moving, but he didn’t. Instead, he did the opposite, took long walks out to the hunters’ base with his hand on the unused pepper spray in his pocket. It was just a building, as far as he could see, but he knew Kane was in there. Someone had to know.

Until one day, Kane was outside.

He was strapped to a propped-up metal board, baking in the sun, the clothes Luan had given him gone. It was the least human he’d ever looked: his skin boiled like sugar syrup on a stovetop in some places, crisped like burnt marshmallow in others.

There was no one else out there.

He ran home, came back even quicker with his car, and hopped the fence. Barbed wire tore at his skin, but didn’t slow him down. Kane writhed, pulling at his bound wrists.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Luan whispered, taking bolt cutters to his shackles. Kane fell to the ground, letting out a muffled shriek as his yet-untouched back set ablaze.

He didn’t have time to be careful. He hauled Kane up–he hardly weighed anything–and threw him over the fence, following quickly.

Tossing the vampire into his trunk, he added, “Don’t say you’re sorry if you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. You’re going home.”

Kane’s mangled face was unreadable, but Luan could have swore he saw him relax just a little amid the pain.

-

Luan drove. He couldn’t go home yet, that much he knew. They’d find him in a heartbeat. He drove as far away from that place as he could get, the cargo in his trunk surprisingly quiet.

When he’d gotten a few hours away, he found a secluded corner of a parking garage and popped the trunk.

“Easy, it’s me,” Luan shushed when Kane started to cower. “We’re far away. Here.”

Kane’s mouth was sealed shut, his lips fused together by the heat of the sun. It took some prying, but he managed to get them unfused. Kane didn’t seem to mind, not even when his skin tore and bled.

There were no fangs in his mouth.

Whatever. That wouldn’t stop him. He grabbed his pocketknife from the glove compartment and slashed his palm open. Kane writhed again, a desperate whine dragged from his throat, but stopped when Luan made a fist over his waiting mouth and squeezed.

“Drink up,” he encouraged. He kept going for a while, eventually bringing his hand to Kane’s mouth to let him lick the excess blood from it. His hand left scabbed over, as if it had been healing for hours rather than minutes.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Kane rasped, his voice hoarse. “Thank you, I’ll b-be good this time. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

Oh, he’d screwed this guy up bad. Another achievement in his worthless fucking life.

“Who should I contact about getting you home?” he asked. Time to get straight to the point. “Any vampire who could come here when it’s night and get you?”

Kane was silent for a moment. “Bellamy Verta,” he said eventually. “S-safe. Safe for humans.”

The guy wasn’t hard to find, and from what his profile said, he sure seemed to live up to safe for humans. His profile linked to a website that looked like PETA for vampires.

“I’m sending a DM. He’s probably asleep right now, but he’ll probably see it when he wakes up,” Luan reported.

Kane wept, blubbering gratitudes.

-

Luan cleared the area an hour before Verta was set to arrive. No matter how innocent his page looked, he wasn’t taking any chances. He left the trunk closed so no one would find Kane besides the one who was supposed to, not that he expected vampire hunters to be prowling an unpopulated parking garage in the middle of the night. Not exactly prime vampire ground. He was sure Verta would be able to figure out opening it.

He didn’t go back to the car until he got an emoji-filled DM back from Verta with a picture of what looked like Kane’s attempt at a smile.

His trunk had a hand-shaped dent in it, not that he really gave a shit. By the time he got home, it was almost sunrise. He really had to do something about his sleeping before Monday.

Luan stared blearily at the closet.

He opened it, turned on the robot. Russ flinched back at his touch, looking up at him with a harsh glare. “What?” he spat.

Luan unplugged the charger and shoved it into Russ’s hands before backing away. “You can go.”

Russ opened his mouth, then closed it, the glare melting from his face. He turned and ran through the door without a word, off into the sunrise.

It felt better than any time Luan had hit him.

taglist in reblogs

event: @whumpmasinjuly

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

❀ whumpee x caretaker tropes where whumpee and caretaker are enemies ༊*· ┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ ˘͈

tw: force feeding, mention of vomit

✘ caretaker has whumpee locked in a room (or chained down to a bed) so that whumpee can’t escape, except that — instead of whumpee’s completely being a prisoner — caretaker’s having to hold whumpee captive is genuinely for whumpee’s own safety, too.

✘ whumpee constantly expects caretaker to hurt them.

✘ whumpee may be injured, but they’re not submissive. they always hiss and snarl at caretaker like a caged animal; clearly scared and terrified, yes, but they refuse to surrender.

✘ whumpee tries to attack caretaker, but with them being hurt, caretaker can easily overpower them by placing a firm hand on the back of whumpee’s neck and holding them down to the bed, keeping them still. (keep in mind that caretaker is not hurting whumpee, they’re in fact keeping whumpee from hurting them and themself in the process.)

✘ feeding time is a nightmare when whumpee constantly tries to literally bite caretaker’s hand.

✘ whumpee thrashes around when caretaker holds their jaw open with one hand, feeding them with the other, forcing the food down their throat.

✘ neither whumpee nor caretaker is having a good time.

✘ whumpee always challenges caretaker to kill them and just get it over with. but even though whumpee tries to hide it, caretaker can still see genuine fear in whumpee’s eyes.

✘ caretaker isn’t going to “comfort” whumpee (they’re enemies, duhhh), but caretaker does tell whumpee that they’re not going to hurt them. that whumpee doesn’t believe caretaker is… none of caretaker’s problem.

✘ whumpee gets sick and throws up on their bed / on the floor (the choice is yours), they are less embarrassed than they are surprised by how gentle caretaker is being, as caretaker helps clean them up.

✘ or how mindful caretaker is when they’re changing whumpee’s bandages.

✘ caretaker gives whumpee a bath and when whumpee reflexively tries to cover their wounds and their scars even if they know caretaker has already seen them all (because they don’t want caretaker to see what they consider a sign of weakness), caretaker says, “you don’t have to feel like you have to hide your injuries from me. I’m not them. I’m not going to take advantage of your wounded stage. I’m not going to hurt you.” — “what do you want then?” whumpee asks. — “I just want to take care of you and make sure you’re okay,” caretaker replies, firmly but softly with no hint of mockery in their voice.

✘ caretaker hears whumpee cry at night. though whumpee stops and pretends to be asleep when they hear the door open.

✘ caretaker knows whumpee is awake, but caretaker chooses not to say anything.

✘ or, one night, whumpee is awake but pretends to be asleep. this time, however, caretaker doesn’t know whumpee is actually awake when they walk over to whumpee’s bed to adjust the blanket properly around whumpee’s shoulders. whumpee keeps still and continues pretending to be asleep. they only open their eyes when they’re certain caretaker has already left the room, but they don’t push the blanket away, for some reason.

[gh0sthands]

caretaker rescuing whumpee who is in bad shape but at least conscious, and clearly absolutely terrified.

maybe the only words whumpee can get out are "i don-n't-- w-wanna die," and caretaker promises "i am going to do everything in my power to keep that from happening," and whumpee just chokes on a sob.

whumpee just continues to whimper as the world blurs around them, and as their consciousness starts to fade they wonder if this is it. if this is how theyre going to die.

caretaker is terrified when they realize whumpee's eyes have closed, and they've gone quiet.

whumpee wakes up days later, somewhere safe, with caretaker clearly having been at their side this whole time. caretaker's gentle smile doesn't stop all the fear whumpee feels, caretaker promises to help them through all the fears, the questions, the changes, and the messy healing process. and whumpee knows they mean it.

[whumpsoda]

Rate the name "Peepeepoopoo"

JUST KIDDING HAHAHAHAHA

Joke's aside... how about a whump prompt?

Caretaker finds Whumpee months after they had a fight. Caretaker hugs Whumpee, relieved that they finally found them and apologized to them for saying all the nasty stuff to them.

Whumpee just looks at them, confusion etched on their face.

"Who are you...?"

-- @whumperofworlds

10/10 name, would name my kid that!

Here’s a drabble!!! Trying to actually work on my inbox… I hope you like it! Sorry it took so long :3

cw: amnesia/memory loss, implication of past abuse

———————————————————————

“Who are you?!”

Caretaker recoiled, hands flying off of her once closest friend. At least, that was a good amount of months ago, anyway. Now he was shouting at her in the street as soon as she had tried to embrace him. For a second, like a fool, she had thought it could’ve been just like old times. For a moment.

“Whumpee, it’s…” Was he still angry? Did he not recognize her? Nervously, she chuckled. “Oh! I guess I did change my hair, and we haven’t seen each other in forever, but-!”

Baring his teeth and taking an offensive position, he growled. “Who? Are. You.”

Brows furrowed, she reached out to place a hand to his shoulder. It was only her. Why was he being so hostile? There was no reason for him to be so terrified of her. “Whumpee, hey. It’s me, it’s just Caretaker.”

“Hey! Off!” He hollered, swiftly and harshly slapping away her arm. For a moment, Caretaker just watched him jump back with a stunned expression.

Seemingly, he surely was still upset with her. And she was just an idiot for even thinking things could’ve just gone back to normal.

“S- sorry.” She whispered, taking a step away.

Whumpee’s face was flushed red with a sour concoction of anger, confusion, and embarrassment. “I don’t…” he stood almost hunched over, hiding himself inside of a hoodie five times too big, when she clearly remembered always seen him stand so tall. So bright. Like now he didn’t want to be seen. “How do you know me?”

Something was off. Something was very off.

Her mind was spinning in circles with puzzlement, desperate to get a grasp on the situation. “Whumpee… what’s wrong? Is something wrong…? I don’t understand-” Yet again she had made the mistake of unconsciously moving closer, an action he obviously didn’t take kindly to.

“Don’t come any closer! Stay back!” Whumpee sloppily swiped something from his pocket, holding it out as a means of a weapon. Unfortunately for him it was a mere credit card, but Caretaker positioned her hands above her head, anyway. Anything to make him feel a bit safer, maybe even trust her more. 

“Okay, okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, y’know. It’s Caretaker.” She chose her words carefully, ever so slowly speaking. Not taking a single movement that may put him more on edge.

“Are you…” Eyes wide and limbs jittery, distressfully trying to keep up his aggressive facade, Whumpee’s voice dropped to no more than a murmur. “Are you one of… one of Master’s friends?”

Master? 

Caretaker’s stomach churned as soon as he spoke such a title, overcome with shock and disgust. 

For a moment, as her expression twisted with horror, Caretaker took the time to look at him. To really look at him. To take notice of his bundled up frame on a humid day, to note his greasy, sweat dripping hair that contradicted his usually strict ideology against allowing himself to go unwashed, and the rich, raw marks of cracking red that circled his throat. She’d never seen him so disheveled. 

“Master? Whumpee, what are you talking about-”

“Who is Whumpee?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He was howling again, still pointing the useless object toward her with an iron grip, and most passersby were watching with unease and fascination. 

Whumpee’s passion was only getting his former friend riled up as well. “You-!” 

“Stay. Back.” He snarled, fiery rage flashing in his eye. From that alone she could just tell that he’d been through something Caretaker would never know the severity of. Something that broke the gates of his soft kindness, shriveling him into the trembling, vicious man she was faced with. 

“What… happened to you?”

He swallowed, and for a beat his face softened. “I…”

“I mean… Whumpee,” she huffed a bitter chuckle, carefully and slowly outstretching her hand. This time, he didn’t reject it. “Where have you been, all this time?”

[whumps-and-bumps]

I know Valentines Day was last week but I was thinking about a sad little Whumpee feeling invisible anyway :)

(Emotional whump, mention of potential SA, platonic-OR-romantic Caretaker (take your pick), depression/self-hate vibes)

A Whumpee who dreads Valentines Day every year not because it's the anniversary of specific trauma, but because nothing ever happened to them.

They've spent their entire life watching their friends and family all get cards and presents, go on cute dates, have fun - even all their other friends seem to do something with each other, like a galentines day party or gifting each other joke cards, but year after year they themselves are totally forgotten. They try to get involved and give silly cards of their own; they give and give and give but nobody ever thinks to give them anything in return. It feels silly on the surface, but it still strikes a chord. There's nothing wrong with them, right? It's just bad luck? Maybe they just need better friends.

Then the main whump happens, they get held captive and are abused and beaten and broken and defiled, whatever the story is - and then finally they're rescued, or maybe they escape all on their own, and eventually life goes back to 'normal' again. Or as normal as it ever will be.

They wish they could say they didn't notice Valentines coming up the first year after they're free of Whumper, but it stays in the back of their mind, lingering. There's zero chance of anyone caring about them now. They have their new Caretaker, of course, but that's different - they're a burden to them. Caretaker is too kind to not look after them after everything they went through, and at the end of the day they deserve better than Whumpee. Caretaker deserves someone still whole.

Whumpee prepares silently for the day, they brace themselves for the depression and self-hatred they know will consume them, but for the sake of Caretaker they bottle it all up. It's just a normal day. It's stupid and silly. A commercial holiday that means nothing. Everything is fine. It's fucking Tuesday, nothing special.

Hope is so fucking hard to destroy, though, and they wake up still hoping there will be a card in the post. From anyone, their mum, an old friend - even spam would make them feel like they existed still - but there's nothing. Not even a pamphlet.

They spend the whole day shut away in their room, trying to distract themselves, and at least that's not unusual after what Whumper did to them so Caretaker won't notice. They tell themselves they shouldn't need outside validation to know they're worthy of love and affection. It's just so hard to believe, though. The first and only person that has ever loved them was Whumper, and look how that turned out. Clearly there is something wrong and unlovable about Whumpee. If only someone could have told them what was is so they could fix before they were taken and broken irrepairably.

That evening, Caretaker calls them downstairs for dinner as normal. Whumpee makes the effort because if they don't, Caretaker will definitely know something is wrong, and they really don't want to talk about it. The kitchen is well-lit, the food in the oven is nothing special, this isn't romantic - but then they see a little red envelope resting on their empty placemat, and a silly fake rose sat beside it.

Caretaker is nervous, almost afraid of Whumpee's reaction - they just wanted to do something nice for their friend, especially after what Whumper did to them. It's a silly little thing meant to make them smile on a day they know can be hard.

But Whumpee is just standing and staring at the envelope, terrified of it. Caretaker goes to say something but before they can, Whumpee starts to cry. They completely break down, months and months and years of bottled up feelings bubbling up and spilling over in an ugly mess.

Their legs give out and they kneel on the floor as they sob, trying to catch their breath. Caretaker thought of them. They remembered them. They're Whumpee's best friend, their greatest, closest, most wonderful friend they could ever have dreamed of and they love them so much it hurts to breathe.

How dare they, though? How dare they come into their life now, when they're all broken and used and ruined? Where were they before everything went wrong? Why couldn't they be loved like this when they still felt like they were allowed to be?

[whumped-by-glitter]

Day 8: Stranded / Team whump / “Is anyone there?!”  Bonus Alt Prompt: Poison

⚠️CW: Gore, Body Horror, Poisoning, Blood, Creepy Whumper, Mention of Skulls/Skeletons, Mouth Whump Mention. (If i missed anything please let me know.)

This wasn't quite as bad as i thought it was going to be, Day 9 will be pretty graphic though. If you cant do either of these, please skip them, I'll do a short recap on Day 10.

Day 7 Here <

Story under the cut:

Whumpee groaned awake. It was hard to know how long they had been hanging. The only small consolation they had in this was that they could see days come and go, but they had lost count after 2 or 3 days. Being underfed and dehydrated, hot from what they could only assume was an infection, along with the horror and exhaustion of the situation made it impossible to think clearly or coherently.

Waking up that first day was terrifying. They felt a floating sensation only to quickly feel the pain from the hooks. Their skin felt tight and uncomfortable. They moved their head only to discover they were surrounded by mirrors on 3 sides. They had blanched at the sight of their skin creating little tents down their body. Their sewn lips had dried blood cracking around each of the needle points. The whole experience felt surreal. Their head spun from it all. h

Since then, Whumpee had adjusted, at least as much as you could when hanging by hooks through your skin. They barely noticed the needle wings anymore. Their entire body felt kind of numb now. they didn’t even have the energy to be scared or to feel much of any one way about the situation anymore. They just wanted to go home. They were exhausted, mentally and physically.

Soon Whumper brought them out of their thoughts. He would check on them at least 2 to 3 times a day.

“I have your breakfast dearest masterpiece,” Whumper sung, bringing out a cup.

This was the only part of the day they had to look forward to. Whumper would make them a smoothie every morning. He would push a straw between the stitching and hold the cup so they could drink. they tried to live smoothie to smoothie, trying to block out the rest of the bad. The smoothies were at least a change in sensation. It was welcome to taste something other than blood for a little while. The cool drink also felt good to their parched mouth and still shot throat.

“That’s my beautiful art piece, good canvas, drink up,” Whumper stroked their hair while they sipped. Whumpee tried to fight it at first, but it was no use and moving around only made their suspended state more uncomfortable. A tear streaked down the side of their face. They were crushed by the complete hopelessness of the situation. At this rate they would die before the team ever found them.

~*~

The ferry pulled up to a surprisingly busy port. There was a small town on the island, but Caretaker did not anticipate there being this many people. They walked down the town streets until they got to the address.

They found themselves at a storefront with the windows too tinted to see inside. Caretaker knocked, somewhat timidly at first. When no one answered they knocked harder. Still, no one answered. There were no markings on building or door to even indicate they were in the right place.

“Maybe there’s a backdoor we’re supposed to try?” Caretaker suggested.

Before anyone could respond to the suggestion someone came to the door. “are you the special guests?” they questioned.

Leader provided the tickets, “yes. Where is Whumpee?”

“in good time,” the man held his hand up to dismiss the question. “Now if you would please follow me, I’ll take you to the artist.”

Leader’s eyes darkened and Caretaker put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The inside was dark, coming in from daylight made it hard to see anything. There were partitions forming a narrow path, leading them towards the back of the building. The worn wood floors creaked under them as they walked, furthering Caretaker’s growing sense of unease.

“welcome!!” Whumper exclaimed, stepping to the side, and ushering them into what appeared to be a dining area. The man looked vaguely familiar to Caretaker, but they couldn’t place their finger on it. “I must say, I’m disappointed to see only 3 of you. No matter though, you lovely folks must be famished from your journey.”

Whumper clapped and the assistant that led them in brought out food and beverages. They all three looked to one another, no one intended to eat any of that.

“we’ll just take bottled water,” Leader said, trying to decline the food as politely as possible.

Whumper’s smile faded a little but nodded to their assistant to provide the request. The assistant returned quickly, passing out the bottles.

“If you insist on skipping the food, shall we get on with the show?” Whumper chirped gleefully.

The three teammates looked to one another, and almost in unison nodded.

Anxiety clawed its way into Caretaker’s chest as they were led out to another room through a different room. They had a gnawing bad feeling they couldn’t put their fingers on it exactly, that is until the light went on.

The room was full of scattered macabre displays, displays Caretaker would hardly deem as art. This collection made them tremble, absolutely terrified for Whumpee. There were human skulls mounted to industrial rebar, a base of cement held it upright, stained with what appeared to be blood. Another display was what Caretaker assumed was a human skeleton but is was reassembled wrong, held together by wire. Each display was gorier than the next as they walked through the room. Some pieces looked as if they were made from human skin as well, such as the painting on the far wall.

Caretaker took a swig of their water to try to calm themselves. The trembling was so bad they almost dumped the bottle.

Whumper walked them to another doorway, “ahead is my masterpiece work, ‘Falling Angel’. Some of the other displays in this room so I’ll have to ask you to finish your water now.”

Caretaker downed theirs, but Jace and Leader, both threw theirs out. Whumper then opened the door to the next area. Caretaker wanted to rush in, they knew Whumpee was in there. They also knew Whumpee needed them. They resisted the urge though and followed their two companions in.

there was a glass case lit up in the center of the room, inside it was Whumpee. They all were in utter shock. They were pale, sickly looking, there was dried blood all over them. It was hard to even say what was worse, the fact that they were suspended by what looked like giant fishhooks, or that their mouth was sewn shut like one of those shrunken heads. They were blindfolded as well.

Caretaker walked up to the case in almost a trance like state, too in shock to process what they were seeing. “Whumpee, oh no, Whumpee,” they murmured.

The sound made Whumpee move a little. Caretaker was relieved to see they were still alive. A weak, muffled voice came through the glass, “I-is sommone mare?” Whumpee’s voice sounded so confused and out of it.

“yes, yes, we’re here Whumpee. We’re going to get you out of here, I Promise,” Caretaker assured barely above a whisper. Their eyes darted around, Whumper was across the room. They began to try to pry the glass, but suddenly the room began to spin, and their muscles went weak. The Last thing Caretaker saw was Leader and Jace rush over to them.

“What did you do?!” Leader growled as Whumper stood laughing. They held up a small vial. “your friend is poisoned and if you want the antidote, you two have to cooperate and help my exhibit.”

“Damn you! What’s to stop us from just killing you and stealing the antidote?” Jace snarled.

“Only I know how to open the case with your friend,” Whumper replied coolly, “unless you want to end up like your other teammate, you’ll do as I say.”

“What do you want?” Leader asked, slowly standing up from Caretaker’s unconscious body.

“one of you is going to torture the other tomorrow for our guests, as preforming art. I’ll call it ‘Fell To Hell’. Now you guys will go in here,” Whumper pulled back a velvet curtain to reveal a large glass display recessed into the wall. The rest of it presumably hung into another room but the back and sides were mirrored. It was about 8 feet long and probably about 6 feet deep. “I’m feeling generous, I’ll even give you guys the night to decide who’s going to give it and who’s going to take it.” Whumper grinned horribly as he opened the panel. “Now get in.”

Leader and Jace looked at each other, faces grim. Neither of them saw a way around playing along for now. Even if they could escape, the ferry’s stopped running by early evening and it was doubtful the small hospital here had a poison antidote on hand. They were essentially stranded for now.

Leader sighed acknowledging defeat for now and stepped into the glass cage with a look of resignation. Jace glanced at Caretaker and Whumpee and followed.

Whumper locked the pane behind them and went to take Caretaker to the basement where Whumpee had been.

Once Whumper was gone, Leader turned to Jace, “you’re going to do the whipping tomorrow.”

Jace wanted to argue but he had known Leader for too long. They had been together since they started training at the agency.

Day 9 Here >

Event Prompt List Here

My Event Masterlist

@whumperofworlds, @3-2-whump, @pigeonwhumps, @whumpsandbumps

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Whumptember day 28

“I never should have let it come this far” Failed hero | Hospital stay | Begging for help

Content warning: Some of Whumpee’s dialogue could sound like suicidal ideation. Self-harm in the form of overworking. 

Whumpee couldn’t sleep. They rarely could, but it was especially bad when they were stuck in the hospital. They felt useless, desperate to claw their way from underneath the covers and get something done. More than that however, Whumpee was being kept awake by an overwhelming feeling of dread. Though they knew it was childish, they felt like a little kid waiting for a scolding.

They tried not to flinch when Caretaker walked in.

“Oh thank god–,” Caretaker rushed to their side, falling into the bedside chair and grabbing their hand. They were panting slightly, as if they’d run all the way to the hospital. “I came as soon as I could; I was so worried when they said you collapsed. What happened?!”

It was the question Whumpee had dreaded hearing. Not that it mattered, because Caretaker already knew the answer. As soon as their brain caught up, as soon as they noticed the bags under Whumpee’s eyes and the ink stains on their fingers, they’d realize. Whumpee averted their gaze.

Sure enough, Caretaker’s expression fell. “Whumpee–,”

“I know, alright? I overdid it. We don’t need to have this argument again,” Whumpee cut them off, pulling their arm away.

Caretaker didn’t look convinced. “We clearly do. You’re supposed to be in recovery Whumpee, not spending all day running yourself ragged. When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep? The last time you ate an actual meal?”

“I’m fine. I can do all that once this is over, and it won’t be until Whumper is caught.”

Caretaker sighed, some of the frustration in their expression fading. “We all want to see them caught, but we don’t know when that’s going to happen. You can’t put your recovery on hold for something that could take years.”

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut, cursing themselves were the spike of terror that ran through them at the thought. Years. It could take years to find Whumper. What if Whumper found them first?

The beeping of Whumpee’s heart monitor sped up. Caretaker was kind enough not to mention it.

“You’re hurting yourself, and I can’t just watch you do it.” Caretaker’s voice wavered. “Do you know how scared I was when the hospital called me? Terrified. I thought,–I was so scared that something horrible had happened to you. You have to understand how much it hurts me to see you like this.”

Whumpee did understand, and they hated it. They hated making Caretaker worry, hated being the reason for their tears. It gnawed at Whumpee, making them feel guilt for something they had to do. They had to find Whumper.

Whumpee’s eyes stung, a shiver running down their spine. They bit their lip. “I should have never let it come this far. The reason I have to do this is because–,” because they’d been a coward. They’d been so terrified of Whumper, so terrified of everything, that they couldn’t bring themselves to leave the comfort of their bed. They’d wasted so much time. “--because I was being lazy. If I’d acted sooner, Whumper wouldn’t have had the chance to get so far. Now I have to catch up.”

“Lazy? Whumpee, you were recovering! You should still be recovering. You went through something horrible; nobody expects you to just be fine afterwards,” They could hear the tears in Caretaker’s voice. Caretaker grabbed their hand again, and this time Whumpee didn’t pull away. “Just–look at me.”

Whumpee did. Tears dripped down Caretaker’s face, their expression pleading. Whumpee could feel them shaking. “You’re killing yourself Whumpee, and I can’t watch it happen!” Caretaker shouted, choking back tears. “I can’t lose you again, not after everything that’s happened!”

Whumpee couldn’t stand to see them like this. “I’m right here, you’re not losing anything.

Caretaker shook their head. They held Whumpee tighter, as if terrified that they’d vanish right before them. “Please Whumpee, you have to stop this.”

But Whumpee knew they couldn’t stop. Not yet, maybe not ever.

At least if they were dead, Whumpee thought as Caretaker sobbed, they wouldn’t have to be so afraid of Whumper anymore.

[livelaughwhump]

Hii!

Could you write something about Whumpee having a nightmare and shaking, mumbling and kicking in their sleep. But. Caretaker is an empath and they send out waves of calm emotions, feelings of love, care and peace, until Whumpee has fallen into a deep peaceful sleep a faint smile on their face.

Thank youu

Hi!! Thanks for the request!! Sorry this took so long. I haven't written a general whump fic in a while, so please bear with me!

I hope you enjoy!

Content: nightmare, insomnia mention, brief mention of past captivity, implied past torture, mostly comfort

-

Whumpee hadn't slept in weeks. Caretaker had tried everything, from calming tea to white noise, but nothing had worked. They'd even suggested a sleep clinic, but Whumpee had nearly had a panic attack at the very mention. At this point, they didn't know what else to do. Whumpee was clearly exhausted, so Caretaker tried the last thing they could think of.

Whumpee sniffled as Caretaker climbed into their bed with them, wiping away their tears and offering Caretaker more space than was necessary.

"I-I'm so sorry, Caretaker," they mumbled as Caretaker settled beside them in bed. "You shouldn't have to do this for me. I know you don't like sleeping around other people-"

Caretaker gently shushed them and brushed away their tears. "Don't be sorry, dove. I'll sleep better knowing that you're not alone. I offered to do this for you, remember?"

Whumpee sniffled again and nodded. "But I don't want you to sacrifice your comfort for my sake. You already do so much for me."

Caretaker smiled and brushed Whumpee's hair out of their face. "Now's not the time for guilt, dove. All you need to worry about is sleep."

Whumpee's eyes wandered. "But...what if I can't?"

"Then, I'll be right beside you. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

Whumpee's lower lip was wobbling. "But, what if-"

Caretaker shushed them again, wrapping their arms around their frightened companion. "There's nothing to be worried about, dove. Just relax and close your eyes. I'll watch over you."

. . .

Caretaker was beyond relieved when they heard the evening out of Whumpee's breath. They couldn't remember the last time Whumpee had slept through the night, and they prayed to whatever god was listening that Whumpee would make it even half that.

It had only taken a little over an hour, which wasn't as long as Caretaker had expected. They were so proud of Whumpee. They had been put through hell by a despicable human being. It was no wonder they couldn't sleep. They were probably terrified of being plucked from their bed and taken right back to that awful place without so much as a cry for help.

Caretaker snuggled closer to Whumpee, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of their head. With their incredible relief came overwhelming exhaustion, and Caretaker's eyelids fluttered. Their body sagged against Whumpee's, and with a soft breath that ruffled Whumpee's tangled hair, Caretaker closed their eyes and drifted off to sleep.

. . .

Caretaker awoke a few hours later to the sound of soft whimpering. At first, they assumed it was their dog begging for attention, until they heard spoken words.

"N-No, Wh-Whumper, p-please."

Caretaker's eyes snapped open. They quickly pushed themself into a sitting position and flicked on the lamp to their right. Their eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of the person Whumpee was begging to. As their eyes adjusted to the sudden light, they recognized the emptiness of Whumpee's room.

"Please, no. I-I don't want it, please..."

Caretaker shifted their gaze down to Whumpee's small, quivering form. Their light curls stuck to their sweat-slick forehead and tears were oozing out of the corners of their tightly-clamped eyes. A quiet yelp escaped their throat, followed by more soft begging.

Caretaker absolutely deflated. They knew all about how awful Whumpee's nightmares could be. Whumpee told them about each one in detail, and they were all worse than the one before.

Caretaker hated seeing them like this. It broke their heart to see the brilliant, joyful, funny person they once knew reduced to something so pitiful and broken.

Caretaker forced a sad smile to their face. They'd always been told that they had a gift for making people feel safe, without even saying a word. They just hoped they'd be able to reach Whumpee through the horrors they were surely reliving.

Caretaker gently ran their hand through Whumpee's hair, softly caressing their tear-stained cheeks. They wanted Whumpee to know that they were safe, that Caretaker was never going to let anything bad happen to them again. They wanted Whumpee to feel loved and accepted and heard, despite the pain and the loss they'd experienced.

Sure enough, Whumpee's trembling seemed to slow, their whimpers quieted, and the wrinkles on their face smoothed out. Their tense body relaxed and they shivered beneath Caretaker's cool touch. Even once they'd calmed down a bit, Caretaker didn't stop caressing Whumpee and wiping away their tears and sweat.

As much as they knew Whumpee would feel guilty for it, Caretaker was beyond grateful that Whumpee had woken them up. They much preferred that to Whumpee waking themself up. If they were given the option, Caretaker would never sleep again if it meant Whumpee never had another nightmare. They didn't deserve to live in such fear and turmoil, and Caretaker vowed that they would do whatever it took to take that pain away from them.

Even if it meant hunting Whumper down themself.

-

I hope this was okay!! I'm not used to writing regular whump fics, so I'm not sure how I feel about this. It's a little shorter than I intended, but I hope you enjoyed it!

If anyone else has any requests, suggestions, or questions for me or my characters, please feel free to send them to me!

[whumpdrivethru]

Can I get a uhhh… Defiant Whumpee with high-pain tolerance and a Caretaker who worries sick about them while Whumpee laughs at their own injuries??? Thank you!

Heyyy! Thank you for choosing the whump drive-thru! Enjoyyyyyyy < 3

Where Even Diamonds Shatter

TW: Blood, slightly graphic description of injuries, implied past captivity, implied past torture, bruises, angsty

It wasn't the rumbling thunder or the honking of cars speeding down the highway that roused Caretaker from their already fitful sleep. It was the frantic rapping at the door, that awfully distinct knock that tore them away from their sheets and cracked their eyes wide open.

"Ah, took you long enough," Whumpee quipped, smiling brightly at Caretaker, but there was nothing behind the eyes. Their whole body trembled, soaked to the bone in rainwater.

"Y-you look like hell," Caretaker rasped out, the concern still clear in their tone, even through their sleep-hoarse voice.

"I didn't imagine hell to be so wet." Whumpee let their lip curl upwards into a lopsided smirk as Caretaker frantically pulled them inside, unable to find Whumpee's jokes amusing the way they usually did.

Out of a force of habit more than anything else, Whumpee threw themselves on the couch, shrugging their boots off and tossing one leg over the other, the almost sarcastic groan too stoic of a reaction for the horrible state they were in right now. Their cheeks were hollow, and the bags under their eyes were dark and heavy, and they looked significantly older, even though Whumpee was barely an adult, much like Caretaker was. A patchwork of bruises in sickly shades of purple and brown marred their face, and scratches of various sizes littered their visage.

All of it made Caretaker terrified of what was concealed underneath the flimsy fabric of Whumpee's shirt as they mentally steeled themselves for the result.

"Spoiler alert, it isn't pretty," Whumpee quipped, their eyes full of mirth and amusement, and yet so unbearably empty as Caretaker lifted it up.

Ghastly. Horrifying. Gruesome. It didn't matter how many terrible words Caretaker used to describe the state Whumpee's abdomen was in, it would still be a sight burned into their eyes, engraved into their memory. Lacerations snaked across their body in various degrees of healing, the blood still fresh on some of them. The wounds were dull and ugly, clearly produced by a blunt tool, definitely not deadly, but fashioned to produce as much pain as possible. They looked more like the result of a vicious beast dragging its fangs through Whumpee's vulnerable flesh, slow and tormenting.

It wasn't that the wounds were simply unsightly; they were a reminder of all the torture Whumpee had been subjected to, of the extent of its brutality, and yet here they were, scoffing and laughing and making a show of rolling their eyes at every grimace and soft gasp that Caretaker gave. It amazed them, how they still managed to remain composed with injuries as deep as these.

"W-what did they do to you?" Caretaker breathed out softly, worrying their bottom lip in between their teeth, still unable to register what they were looking at, their eyes unfocused and glazed over.

"Ah this? Just a minor disagreement between civilised people, ya know. They say they want me to beg, and I say screw you. I'm not sure, but I don't really think they liked that," Whumpee replied offhandedly, laughing softly.

If it was anyone but Caretaker, they would've believed that laughter was genuine. They could see the hollow, lifeless look in their eyes, the way their muscles tensed, the subtle manner in which they clenched their jaw, all indicators of the severe pain they were in. They wished more than anything to scream at them to stop making a mockery of their injuries.

Instead, they went over to the bathroom, gathering medical supplies into their arms, only for Whumpee to raise an eyebrow at them sceptically. And just before they could let another snarky, ill-fitting joke fall from their lips, Caretaker tossed the supplies onto the coffee table, and their gaze turned steely.

"For the love of God, stop it! None of this crap is funny!" Caretaker thundered, their nostrils flaring as they picked up a few alcohol wipes and pressed them to Whumpee's many wounds.

"Oh come on, Caretaker," Whumpee drawled between hisses of pain as the antiseptic burned across their skin, the alcohol wipes turning crimson ridiculously fast, "would you rather I cry?"

"No," Caretaker bit out tersely, "but you shouldn't be making fun of it either."

"I shouldn't?" Whumpee hissed, voice dropping dangerously low, "Do you know how hard I bit down on my lips to stop myself from screaming, but I still did anyway? Do you know what it was like living a life where every goddamn moment is agony?!"

All their composure had disappeared into nothing, their walls broken down, the cold indifference replaced by a quivering lip and furious, shameful tears streaming down their face. Whumpee hurriedly wiped at them, as though acid was flowing down their face.

Caretaker's gaze softened as they crouched down a little lower, using the alcohol wipe in their hand to wipe the blood off their hands. They wiped the new tears off Whumpee's face with their fingers, blissfully cool against their burning skin. "I'm sorry, love," they whispered, carding their fingers through Whumpee's hair.

"You've been through a lot, I know. But it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay, I swear. It doesn't make you weak or whatever crap they told you. You don't have to laugh when you don't really want to," they continued with the same gentle tone, cupping their jaw and giving them a fond smile that still carried a forlorn air to it.

"I just don't want any pity," Whumpee attested, gaze downcast and full of uncertainty.

"And I understand that. You are strong for managing to make it through all this. I want to offer you care and not pity, love," they added, ruffling their hair affectionately.

Whumpee tried for a few false starts, but they ultimately decided on a nod and sucking in a shaky breath.

Their breathing began to slow a little as Caretaker resumed patching up their wounds, and while they still tried to keep their pain well-concealed beneath a clenched jaw as a force of habit, something a bit of time could heal, they weren't completely averse to displaying vulnerability, feeling a lot safer than they ever had in their life under Caretaker's gentle vigilance.

Vulnerability is not an indication of a lack of courage. And, while it may be difficult to process, all one needs is a steadfast companion; someone to lean on when they have been holding their own weight up for so long the way a mountain does. People are not broken objects in need of rigid fixing to return to what they once were, rather, the steps they take to heal, no matter how undesirable, are all that they need, vital to even the most resilient of minds.

Today's server is Natalia! If you enjoyed this meal, we'd all be honoured if you come again <3 <3 <3

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumpee heard yelling coming from Caretaker's office. They were on the phone, and clearly something was not going the way they intended with Whumpee's care.

Whumpee started to feel a panic attack coming on. They put their knees to their chest, and started to rock.

"They are not mad at me, just something is going on", they tried to self sooth, "although I am the reason they... not helping Whumpee", they sighed.

Their flight response took over, causing them to run for their nearest hiding spot, a closet. Caretaker discovered them one time hiding in there and cleaned it up a little for them. They even prepared a comfort basket to keep in there: a blanket, lantern for light, snacks, and water.

They remembered Caretaker smiling as they explained that- "If you ever feel scared or you just want to hide, this space is for you."

Whumpee wrapped the blanket around them and cuddled into the corner. When they were comfortable, they started to doze off.

Caretaker had gotten off of the phone and realized they had definitely been yelling, "Fuc-dge(fudge)", they stopped themselves from swearing, "where's Whumpee?"

Caretaker panicked. They did a quick run through the house to see if Whumpee managed to be far away from the office and didn't hear a thing.

"Of course they heard you, you bastard", Caretaker told themself, "you were clearly yelling, and using their name. They probably were terrified."

Caretaker made their way to the closet. They crossed their fingers and held their breath as they gently opened the door to peak in.

"Oh thank goodness', Caretaker sighed as they saw Whumpee asleep wrapped in the blanket.

Caretaker went to grab some apology cookies and then sat on the floor right in front of the doorway.

Whumpee squinted one eye open at the light spilling into the closet, they turned and was startled to see Caretaker sitting outside of the closet.

"Sir I", Whumpee stopped themself.

"No, please tell me what happened", Caretaker encouraged. They wanted Whumpee to learn to express themself and be able to talk. Whumper hadn't let them do that, often times Whumpee's opinions were kicked out of them. Caretaker prepared themself to feel even worse because they were the reason Whumpee was hiding in the first place.

"Y-you were yelling a-at the person on the ph-phone, I tried to-to", Whumpee started to have tears, and their voice was cracked.

Caretaker felt like slapping themself, "please go on, it's okay, you are not in trouble."

"I tried to self sooth my-myself, but my ner-ves took over and I hid", Whumpee looked at the cookies.

Caretaker happily offered them the cookies. 'Always have cookies on hand for Whumpee' was written in the grocery list.

Caretaker sighed, "I am so sorry for yelling and making you scared. Something happened with your medical labs, so unfortunately, they need more blood work. The other samples did not get processed correctly, so they were unuseful. I did apologize to them for the yelling as well, but I was frustrated as now you need another poke."

Whumpee looked at them sadly, they did not like needles because Whumper liked needles.

"I know", Caretaker sighed, "they weren't getting it at first that this is a big issue, and that you are a trauma survivor", Caretaker reached for a bottle of water and handed it to Whumpee, "I was able to talk to the office lead, everything should be straightened out... I hope."

Whumpee tried to form the right words.

Caretaker waited patiently.

"Do, do I need to have this done?", Whumpee finally asked.

"Yes, your blood will tell us a lot of what's going on with your health", Caretaker gave Whumpee a wink, "I will make it up to you tomorrow though. After blood work, we can go get some food, and do a few things together. We can have a Whumpee day."

"A Whumpee day?", Whumpee looked in bewilderment, "what's that?"

"It will be a day where we do what you would like to do", Caretaker smiled, "throughout the day, I can give you options of what we could do, and you can choose."

"Really sir", Whumpee crawled out of the closet wanting to get a clear look at their face.

"Really, really", Caretaker promised. "Nonetheless, me yelling was uncalled for. It was not nice to the people on the phone, and it was not nice to do that to you."

Whumpee smiled eagerly, "thankyou sir, I'm so excited. Your apology means so much, sir."

[oddsconvert]

Shattered Shadow - Chapter 2

Shattered Shadow Masterlist | Shattered Masterlist | Shadow By My Fireplace Masterlist

This is a long-in-the-making AU collab with the amazing @quietly-by-myself! Including my 'Shattered' boys and Vamp!Cyril and Bloodbag!Sacha AU from 'Shadow By My Fireplace'.

If you do not want to be tagged in this (or would like to be but are not), send either of us an ask or message!

CW: Whumpee turned caretaker, wounded caretaker, vampire caretakers, human caretaker, multiple caretakers, bloodbag whumpee, multiple whumpees, references to previous abuse, brief allusion to noncon, wound cleaning, attempted murder

-

Cyril allows himself a moment of relief. They’ll be safe, at least for now. One night is not a lot of time, but it’s more time than he had before he met the pureblood. Hopefully, Cyril can get his bearings together enough to find them somewhere safer to go after the pureblood kicks them out.

“Thank you,” Cyril says with a deep bow that makes him wince, before motioning for Shadow to follow him. “I’m Cyril. The human… he hasn’t told me his name yet. I’m calling him Shadow.”

Cyril stumbled into the house, still grasping his side. Shadow is hardly standing with tiredness. “Is there somewhere he can sleep? I’ll treat him in the morning.”

Despite his hatred for the pureblood, Cyril is relieved that he passed the pureblood’s test. The pureblood is as arrogant as he remembers them being, but he is thankful nonetheless. It doesn’t stop him from showing his thinly veiled hostility, though.

“Shadow can rest in my bedroom for the night, he can settle into bed whilst I attend to your injury”, August suggests, he really doesn’t mind. The pair needed the rest more than he ever would. He watches Shadow sway slightly from exhaustion, the dark bags underlining Cyrils’ eyes. His bedroom would be the only free bed in the house now, with Declan occupying and recovering in the spare room, and it would be unfair to kick Lucas out of his own bed in exchange for the sofa.

“Would you rather I show you the way or give you direction?” August offers genuinely, although hoping his guest would choose the former over the latter so he could keep a watchful eye over the pair.

Sacha freezes when he hears the room “bedroom.” Suddenly, the whole conversation comes into focus. That was the price of getting care here, wasn’t it? He’d have to give himself up to the pureblood. Tears were forming in Sacha’s eyes, but he had to be strong. He needed to help Cyril. Cyril who’d saved his life when the attacker came. Cyril who’d saved him from Master. Cyril who was now his Master. It was his duty to serve.

“Just the direction, please.” Sacha hears Cyril say. He knows he won’t have to service someone as long as Cyril’s there - they’d had that conversation - but doesn’t know if that’s what the pureblood wants.

“Top of the stairs. First door on the right. If… if you wouldn’t mind making your way up quietly? I have a uhm…similar situation-” August awkwardly fumbles, gesturing to Shadow before quickly pulling his hand back, “there’s an ill and terrified human upstairs that I pray is fast asleep by now. I’d hate for him to wake.”

Cyril nods. “Do you have all that, Shadow?” Shadows nods, so Cyril nods in return and motions for him to go up the stairs. “I don’t think I can help you up.” He gives Shadow a reassuring glance that tells him everything is going to be alright. Shadow’s look tells Cyril that he doesn’t believe him, not one little bit.

Sacha hopes that Cyril knows what’s going to happen, that he’ll save him before the pureblood has a chance. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. It’s always an ill omen for a human to be invited into a vampire’s bedroom and Sacha is surprised that Cyril doesn’t realise what the pureblood is asking by not asking.

Once Shadow is clearly out of sight and in the bedroom, Cyril glares at the pureblood. “So, you have a similar situation, eh?”

His hostility is thinly veiled now, even more so than before. 

“From what I can gather, if I can trust your word - Shadow does not appear a prisoner of yours. I’m correct in assuming that you care for the boy?” August queries, a nauseous feeling twisting in his gut dreading the response. Expecting the fellow vampire to scoff in his face, drop the limp and go grab his blood bag from his warm bed. 

“You could say he is dear to me in many ways, yes.” Cyril tries to keep it vague and nonchalant. He hopes that he still comes across as caring, but not in the self-sacrificial, desperate way he really does.

Slowly but surely, August is getting the answers he wants. “The human I mentioned; Declan - he was knocking at death’s door when I found him.”

That’s putting it lightly. Declan seemed one last breath away from fading away forever. And even with helping him back to awareness, the journey is far from over. 

“It’s my intention to nurse him back to health and return him home to human territory when he’s recovered. I - I hope you can see I have no ill will. No harm will come to you or Shadow, I will help as best I can.”

“Shadow was a minute away from septic shock,” Cyril says bluntly, before he remembers the story he’s telling. “As I said, my Maker is not kind, but it is not something I can expect a pureblood to understand.” There’s some sort of anger in Cyril’s eyes when he says that - something he’s letting out just a little. 

“I will not be perfectly obedient if that’s what you expect of me. But I will offer my services if you need them.”

August can’t help but be taken aback, his mouth blubbering open like a fish out of water - croaking as he scrambles for words.

“O-Obedient? Cyril, I would never -” August chokes, shaking his head, “I don’t know what, or who you think I am but, that’s not me. I may not understand or know the complexities of turned vampires and their makers but, I can sympathise. Whatever has happened to Shadow-” August’s eyes flash down to Cyril’s wound on his side, noticing how this whole time his posture has been crooked and nearly bent over in discomfort and pain, “Whatever has happened to you… It shouldn’t have. Let me help?”

There’s an awkward beat of silence, “Let me try, and if you decide you can’t stand my guts long enough to be in my presence then you’re more than welcome to leave. I’ll help find you and Shadow some shelter for the night.”

Cyril feels some strange emotion as the pureblood, whose name he didn’t even know, told him that everything that happened - all the memories that flash through his head in that moment - shouldn’t have happened. All the awful things that happened between his Maker and him - the one who’s dead now, at his hands. 

“I have no choice but to stay. Anyway, Shadow should be fast asleep by this point. His body is still weak, as you can see.” Cyril groans as the pain radiates in an excruciating way. He doesn’t elaborate on why he needs to stay or what his situation is beyond that, but he is happy that at least, at the very least, the pureblood is sympathetic.

August nods in agreement, oddly relieved yet worried for Cyril with the way that he stresses over Shadow’s health as his own declines.

“My surgery is just in the next room over. If you’ll follow me, we can take a look at that gnarly wound and see what we can do?”

Cyril nods and takes a deep, painful breath, forced into his undead lungs, holding his side as he hobbles over to the next room. He sits himself down on the patient’s bed and begins to take off his shirt. The wound is from a wooden stake and there’s splinters everywhere in his skin. The wound begs questions, none of which Cyril was going to answer. The person who’d attacked him was intent on killing him.

With his back turned to him, Cyril can only hear the clattering of instruments, bottles and tools being picked up. August sloshes the alcohol onto a cloth and turns around with an apologetic expression.

“This is going to sting a little, I need to clean it up before I can take a proper look. Is that okay?”

“I was a doctor. I understand.” Cyril was a little annoyed that the pureblood didn’t seem to remember a thing he’d said, but he tried not to think about it. This was about Shadow, not him. “Just get it done quickly.”

The swab of alcohol swipes across the bloody, inflamed wound and August doesn’t miss the way Cyril slightly hisses through his teeth at contact. August works at cleaning away all the fresh and hardened blood caking the wound. But it doesn’t make sense - it’s as raw and brutal as the second it was inflicted. There isn’t a speck of evidence of any healing, or any sign of it beginning.

“This should be healing. If not healed by now. There’s dried and hard blood but the wound is still open? So, what’s going on with your healing factor?” It shouldn’t sound accusatory, but there’s an edge to his tone and an element of curiosity.

Cyril shifts in discomfort. He doesn’t want to answer the question, but knows that it is expected of him. Regardless of the kind words the pureblood had said before, something in his tone now indicates that Cyril must respond.

Does he admit to not feeding? Or try to make a story about how his still-alive Maker made him starve? He’s not a good liar. He knows he isn't. But the pureblood seems easily fooled. 

“Starvation,” he states simply, hoping it will be enough for the pureblood.

“By choice or force?” August quickly retorts, assessing how best to approach the situation.

Cyril looks at August suspiciously. “Why do you need to know? Starvation is starvation.”

August huffs out a sigh, taking a step back and staring down at Cyril like a frustrated parent of a toddler.

“I need to know, because if you need blood and want some blood - I have some bags stored in the fridge ready to go and before you even think it… willingly donated by a friend”, August chastises before Cyril can ever think about airing any judgement, “But if you don’t drink blood - I’ll see what else I can do. Asking for your benefit, not mine.”

“I would prefer not to drink it, then.” Cyril hopes that it doesn’t give too much about him away or that it would make August suspicious of his claim that Shadow was, in essence, his bloodbag. Why would he care if it was willingly donated or not? For all he knew, August was lying to gain his trust. That’s what this all seemed like, lies to gain his trust.

“No blood,” August holds his hands in the air surrender style, “I can work with that. It might take a bit more work but it’s doable.”

Cyril growls a bit. “Of course it’s doable. You’ve treated humans with worse wounds.” Underneath it all though, is a sense of hostility at the idea of drinking blood. He tries to hide it, but it leaks out like venom.

It’s all August can do to bite his tongue, disregard the iciness and get to work on the task at hand. If he gave it another second thought, he might feel the rage bubble inside him but he can’t let himself do that.

“Let’s just get this over and done with” August grumbles, brushing his fingers just around the wound and eyeing up all the splinters punctured within. A wooden stake, August guesses. Someone had made an attempt on his life.

“Care to elaborate on this?” August picks up a pair of tweezers, pinching them and pointing them at the wound, “Who did this to you? You’re very lucky to be here right now.”

Cyril glares a little, but he knows better than to piss off the person that’s treating him. “It’s an old spat. Nothing that should concern anyone.”

It isn’t entirely a lie. However, it isn’t entirely the truth, either. The spat is hardly a spat and it isn’t old by any means. He’s truthful, though. The vampires coming after him would not harm August or anyone in his household. They only had their eyes on two people: Cyril and Sacha.

“I truly hope you���re not bringing trouble to my doorstep. I made a vow that I’d protect the two humans residing in my home, and I won’t hesitate to kick you out for their safety”, August stresses, almost as though he can read Cyril’s thoughts.

Cyril thinks about how to answer the pureblood a little. “Those are bold questions and statements from someone who’s name I don’t even know. You’re no faerie. Vampire names aren’t sacred.” He goes quiet for a little while longer. “I promise you, there is no trouble coming to you. It’s a personal feud.”

“You done?” August raises his brows and scoffs a cheap laugh, “Got that off your chest?”

The tweezers dig inside and pluck each splinter of wood out, Cyril continues to wince and groan but seemingly puts up with it for the end result.

“August. My name is August. I apologise for not introducing myself sooner but to be honest… I didn’t imagine you’d actually be sitting here in my surgery tonight. I thought I’d send you packing.”

Cyril waves his hand a bit. “It’s not a problem.” He takes a moment of silence. “Thank you, truly.” 

The gesture is sincere and without hostility. He knows it comes off poorly for the first kind thing he says to be after August helps him, but he really is thankful. Not many would treat someone who came in after an attempt on their life. 

A genuine smile erupts on August’s face. For the first time tonight, he feels he can actually see the man sitting before him. Facade melting away.

“You’re welcome. I admit I may have judged too quickly this evening.” Way too quickly. The creature he thought he’d opened the door to and the troubled man sat before him now are worlds apart. He can feel the care and concern exuding from him, “You’re very courageous, it’s very admirable how much you care for Shadow.”

Cyril nods a bit, looking down at his wound. It makes him a little sad, to look at it and remember what he has put Shadow through. He quickly shakes the thought away. Whatever he puts Shadow through would not be worse than what Emery was doing to him. Even just thinking of Emery’s name makes Cyril’s blood boil. He cannot believe that such an evil vampire was his Maker.

“Thank you. It’s appreciated,” is all Cyril can say, sitting there quietly, pensively, lost in horrible memories of times he’d rather forget. It occurs to him that August, though a pureblood, might have a similar story. “I may have been the same.”

With August’s treatment finished for the time being, he leads Cyril towards the sofa to turn in for the night, chucking pillows and blankets to him. It’s not much, it’s all he can offer - but Cyril is grateful nonetheless. He’s quick to pass out into troubled sleep, between the effects of starvation and blood loss.

-

Shattered Tags:

@octopus-reactivated, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @ramadiiiisme @darkthingshappen @whumpsday @thecyrulik @t0rture-me, @redwhump, @the-crypid-magpie, @snowstuffscuff, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @wolfeyedwitch, @interdimensional-chaos, @termsnconditions-apply, @whump-blog, @leyswhumpdump, @not-a-space-alien, @onlybadendings @darlingwhump @sparrowsage @flynnswhumpprompts @whumpcereal @wolves-and-winters @ashh-ed @idkmansomeusername @whuarri @33-sdtr-45 @pigeonwhumps @canislycaon24 @the-whumpers-grimm, @damienxozmoze, @predacon-skydrift @morning-star-whump @neverthelass @espresso-depresso-system @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are

Shadow By My Fireplace Tags (not already tagged above):

@i-can-even-burn-salad @pumpkin-spice-whump @maracujatangerine @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @flowersarefreetherapy @quietshae @inkkswhumpandstuff @whumpycries @whumpkinz @roblingoblin285

[whumpinthepot]

Those moments when whumpee has a gun, for one reason or another. Caretaker tries to wrestle it from them (for both of their safeties), but a shot wrings out in the fumble. The bullet may even ricochet a few times, causing further confusion.

Those moments where there’s an eerie silence in those following seconds. They don’t check themselves, perhaps out of fear. Or maybe they’re waiting for the gun smoke to clear away.

Those moments when whumpee pats themselves down and is fine, only to see a growing dark spot on Caretaker’s torso. Caretaker has to put on a brave face though. Whumpee has been through too much to see them falter.

“S’okay… Everything’s gonna be okay…”, they say shakily.

Those moments where, despite the brave act, Caretaker is clearly terrified and getting weaker by the second. They collapse near Whumpee, being cradled by them. Whumpee is filled with grief and regret.

Those moments where Caretaker makes Whumpee promise to be strong. To be brave. But in a way that says “Just until I wake up”. Because it’s not a goodbye. Because they aren’t *really* about to go away forever… right?

Beautiful story anon

[echo-goes-mmm]

I'm rotating a concept in my mind

Okay so I have a Thing for whumpees who don't really grow out of the servant role, even in caretaker's home. They just perpetually see themselves that way

SO CONSIDER

Incredibly timid whumpee who runs and hides at a knock on the front door

Whumpee who doesn't say anything be seen and not heard when caretaker has a guest

Whumpee who apologizes when they perceive caretaker is irritated

Whumpee who could give a cat a run for their money at skittishness

Caretaker who constantly has to make a "they're shy" excuse to their friends

Whumpee who squeaks or yelps at any unexpected sound

Whumpee who's incredibly ashamed that they react to EVERYTHING

Whumpee to is clearly TERRIFIED but still waits for permission to hide in their room

Maybe if they could just be perfect then they wouldn't be scared

And maybe if they weren't such a stupid slave/servant/pet then they wouldn't embarrass master so much

When will master get fed up with their disobedient fear and finally beat it out of them?

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Eyes in Whump

- Whumpee who only looks at things out of their peripheral vision as a defense mechanism developed over years and years of getting interrogated with the phrase “What are you looking at?” or “Something catch your attention?”

- Pupils not reacting to light or movement because of a severe concussion (or other brain issues)

- Whumper who looks at Whumpee in such a terrifying a way that it communicates everything they want to do to them

- Caretakers who don’t break their gaze for anything when they ask “Who did this to you?” and end up scaring Whumpee because of it

- Eye contact between Whumpee and Caretaker being so intensely caring that both of them end up in tears because of it

- Whumpers who can control Whumpee with a single look

- Dilated or constricted pupils due to outside factors (ie; lack of sleep, light sensitivity, pain, fear, being drugged, etc.)

- Crusty eyes from crying and sleeping for a long time

- Whumpers who look at Whumpee’s eyes during a fist-fight and/or shootout to see what they’re going to do next

- Whumpee’s vision blurring so much that they can’t read, because of a sensory over/load the night before this happened to me once and I was convinced I was losing my eyesight for a hot second… which was fun /s

- Whumper is able to clearly see a light-eyed Whumpee’s pupils and uses it to tell if they’re lying or not

- That thing where the Whumpee stares down and out the corner of their eye at the ground (with their chin up) to keep themselves from crying or looking at people

- Eyes swollen shut from an allergic reaction or bruising

[montammil]

CW: Suicidal Whumpee (kinda, it’s mentioned), conditioned Whumpee, intimate Caretaker

...

Whumpee hated hearing Caretaker say those three words almost every single day. Their line of thought is, they want something out of me, but they won’t tell me what it is. 

So they’ve been trying to guess it. They did more chores, only for Caretaker to gently scold them and tell them to, “take it easy.” They started being more quiet, thinking Caretaker maybe didn’t want them to speak, but then Caretaker didn’t even seem pleased with that.

“What do you want from me?”

Caretaker abruptly stops doing the dishes, putting the sponge down and turning to look at Whumpee, their eyes nothing but worried, like they always have been. 

Whumpee thinks it’s because they’re trying to give them a sense of false security.

“What do you mean, Whumpee?”

“What do you want from me? You clearly want something. Just tell me what it is already.” They break eye contact. “Please.”

Caretaker turns the sink off and leans against it. “The only thing I want from you is to be happy and safe. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“Bullshit! Just tell me what you want!”

“Whumpee...”

“Please!” Whumpee sobs. “I’m tired of playing guessing games, just tell me and I’ll do it! Do you want me to leave?! Do you want me to die!?”

Just like that, Caretaker’s heart drops to their stomach. It’s the first time since they returned that Whumpee sees Caretaker cry. They watch with wide eyes, not sure what to do at the unexpected reaction.

“No, no, I could never want you dead, honey, never. When you were gone, I was terrified. You being gone was the most awful thing I ever went through, and you think I’d want you to leave, let alone be dead, now that I finally have you back?”

They go silent and try to comprehend their words.

“Can I please hug you?”

Whumpee looks up at Caretaker again, who still has tears in their eyes. Slowly, they nod, and when Caretaker wraps their arms around Whumpee, the familiarity overwhelms them. 

For the first time in a long time, they both cry into each other’s arms.