#whumpee isn’t believed

[ladyinsertnamehere]

Roses and Thorns part 4

I know it’s no longer Halloween but it was already after Halloween when I thought of this idea and it’s a Halloween fic here you go

Fair warning: mentions of fake blood, dehumanizing use of the word ‘it’, Ardie used as a prop, Ardie is subsequently ignored by people who think he’s just an actor in makeup, typical Damion-is-an-asshole

And special thanks once again to @magziemakeswhatever . If you, too, wanna be tagged, feel free to ask

A knock at the door. Darius opened the door, a sweet smile on his face. He bent down to the eye level of the trick-or-treaters, delightedly commenting on their costumes.

“Look at you!” he cooed, “Aw, you’re the scariest vampire I’ve seen tonight!”

Beatrice slipped behind him to see if she could have a look at the little ones. Sure enough, there was a little vampire staring up at him, orange pumpkin bucket in hand. His lips were painted with fake blood, dripping down his chin for effect. She knew this because Darius told her after the first trick-or-treater, sensing her concern.

Beatrice, with her cat ear headband and her nose and cheeks painted to look like a cat face, squealed with delight. The kids looked so cute in their costumes; the vampire was flanked by a clown in a rainbow Afro and red nose, and a fairy princess dressed in a white puffy dress and carrying a plastic wand.

Darius held out the bowl full of candy he’d arranged by the door, picking up a handful to put in the vampire’s bucket. Beatrice did the same for the other children, wanting to help.

The fairy princess caught a glimpse of Ardal, most definitely not dressed up and instead curled up and sinking into the couch. She smiled and waved at him. In response, Ardal gave the most guttural growl he could muster, staring deep into her eyes. She giggled at his stone-cold expression and ‘scary’ growling, thanked Darius, and trotted off with the rest of her trio.

________________________

Ardie thrashed around in its cage, shaking the bars. Every time a group would come by, the pet would beg for help. It would sob and scream from within the tiny metal cage, he’d try to get them to understand. And every time, the group commented on how realistic these haunted house decorations felt. They praised the pet’s acting skills, the makeup they used to paint the scars on its back, the way it was able to cry on command. Many sped right through. A few kicked Ardie’s cage to show their friends how “tough” they were.

In a quiet moment, Ardie had resigned himself to laying, curled up, at the bottom of the cage. The pet’s throat was sore and scratchy from yelling, though its ears perked up upon hearing footsteps come around the corner. To the pet’s dismay, the sound only belonged to the one who had imprisoned it here.

“Alright, Ardie?” Damion asked, almost teasingly. “How ya holdin’ up?”

“You’re a monster,” was the only thing Ardie’s shot voice could manage. Damion laughed, “Yeah, I know. Fitting, isn’t it? Kept in a cage…by a monster…on Halloween…”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, listen, Tris’s been especially good tonight, so would it be okay for me to let her man the payments for the rest of the night?”

Ardie shot up, darting to its hands and knees. “WHAT?” the pet protested, “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Damion teased, turning on his heel and sauntering back down the hall. “Thanks, Ardie.”

Ardie became furious, rattling the bars of the cage once more. “YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME HERE, ASSHOLE! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME HERE!! PLEASE! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME, YOU CAN’T!”

The next batch of haunted house guests were greeted by the pet in the cage, screaming and sobbing once more.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Tw: SA

Do you have any prompts of someone who experienced SA coming to?

I’ve done some research of what it may be like and I’m trying to handle it as respectfully as possible without it being too detailed (in a way that may exaggerate, downplay, or horribly triggering) but I haven’t really found many resources. I wouldn’t want to seem disrespectful by just bluntly asking survivors about it but from what I *have* found isn’t enough to have a general writing idea for it.

Any help is greatly appreciated, and any thoughts is also understandable! Make sure to take breaks and take care of yourself!!

trigger warning: mentions of sexual assault

flinching. lots of flinching. whumpee flinched away when caretaker gently tapped them on the shoulder from behind. caretaker didn’t mean to startle them, they (caretaker) were still learning to adapt to whumpee’s PTSD, but sometimes they felt like they kept messing up and harming whumpee more as a result.

miscommunication and misunderstanding; whumpee believing caretaker was angry at them for being “weak and jumpy”.

if whumpee and caretaker were lovers, the assault could affect them in terms of their being intimate with each other. the thought process whumpee went through may be these;

whumpee being scared of having sex, even if it was with their lover, after what happened.

whumpee feeling ‘guilty’ (though it wasn’t their fault at all) when their partner told them it was okay if they weren’t ready, because they felt like they were keeping their partner waiting, and eventually their partner would expect them to be ready. but what if they could never be ready again? would their lover force them or would they leave them for someone else then? or would they be disappointed in them? — and whumpee didn’t even know if they wanted their partner to find someone else who’d be ready, because while they felt guilty for not being able to give their partner what they wanted (sex), they didn’t want to lose their partner either. *this didn’t mean their partner wanted only sex, but whumpee’s own mind was their biggest enemy right now and therefore they believed their partner prioritized sex over their recovery and mental health, which didn’t always have to be true.

self hate. whumpee could be disgusted with themself, especially their own body, for what happened. maybe they believed they were dirty and unworthy of being loved now. (again, this couldn’t be further from the truth, but whumpee’s mind kept telling them all these thoughts, and for someone who went through that, it was hard not to be convinced by these thoughts).

when whumpee looked at caretaker or anyone else, all they saw was pity. and that only made things worse.

whumpee believing all they were now was a piece of rotting meat, and that was all they’d ever be. this was their own mind poisoning them with untrue thinking, but the struggle was very much real nonetheless.

maybe caretaker was as struggling as whumpee was, trying to help whumpee recover and help whumpee learn to love themself again.

maybe caretaker blamed themself for not being able to protect whumpee when the assault happened. caretaker kept replaying in their head all the things they could have done differently that would have prevented the assault from happening; maybe if they had been there with whumpee, if they had picked up the phone, etc.

to sum up, everything would be a struggle. not just for whumpee but also for whumpee’s friends and family and everyone who loved and cared about them.

[whumpshaped]

UR REBLOG INSPIRED ME

Winged pet whumpee, right? Except the whumper knows how birds work, as they have many exotic ones from their travels. Whumper isn’t cruel per se, they’d never hurt their pets. Just clip their wings.

Thing is, pet bird etiquette is to never pet their wings. Petting down the back or under the wings can lead to a sexually frustrated bird or a bird who perceives you as a mate rather than a companion. A mated bonded bird can be hostile to others in your home, becoming jealous or possessive of you

So. Whumpee gets their wings pet and has to deal with the strong innate instincts that come with it.

tw noncon touching, captivity, nonhuman whumpee, winged whumpee, intimate whumper

It was embarrassing. Whumpee couldn’t believe that with all this experience and knowledge on winged creatures, this was the one thing Whumper… forgot, or was misinformed on. They sat rigidly still as their owner petted their wings, mind reeling with all the emotions that came with it. 

There was no way Whumper didn’t know. There was no way. This had to be intentional, and if it was, it was either to humiliate them or—

No. It was definitely to humiliate them. There was no fucking way Whumper wanted anything from them, or if they did, well, Whumpee definitely wanted nothing from their captor. They didn’t. They really didn’t, even as heat rose to their face and their heart began to beat a little faster.

“My pretty little bird,” Whumper cooed, seemingly lost in the sensation of running their fingers along Whumpee’s soft feathers. “My perfect little dove. Aren’t you so lucky that I decided to take you in?”

Whumpee took a shuddering breath, unable to answer without risking some unwanted sounds to escape as well. They didn’t want anything to do with Whumper. They didn’t.

“I’m so happy I found you. There’s truly no greater joy than waking up to this sight every morning.”

They gasped as Whumper made another pass, dragging their hand down their wing while putting a bit more pressure on it. It felt so good, it felt just right, and Whumpee couldn’t help but wonder how this human was so skillful with every one of their movements. They weren’t Whumper’s first pet harpy, were they? Oh, the thought was absolutely revolting. And annoying. They wished they’d been the first.

No, what were they thinking?

“Stop,” they whimpered, closing their eyes in shame at how their voice sounded. It was weak and breathy, not at all firm and demanding like they had been going for.

“Stop?” Whumper leaned a little closer, that sickening grin still plastered on their face. “Why would I, when you’re enjoying yourself so much?”

[oddsconvert]

Whumper is a shapeshifter. Throughout Whumpee’s captivity, they morph into Caretaker’s form to trigger, manipulate and test Whumpee. It breaks Whumpee down and crushes their spirits - but at least they don’t fall for Whumper’s games anymore.

Until one day, it IS Caretaker that rushes to their rescue. When Caretaker bursts through the cell door, Whumpee refuses to believe it’s real. Whumpee even tries to go back to sleep and ignore them.

“N-No... please... not - just not today, Whumper. I’m too tired.”

“Whumpee-” Caretaker’s voice wobbles, their hands shaking as they reach out, “It’s me- I’m here to save you-”

“I-I’m not stupid. I won’t try to escape anymore - promise...please don’t hurt me.”

“Whumpee, just look at me, please. It’s caretaker. We’re going home-”

“You’re not caretaker... It’s never caretaker... It’s always you.”

Whumpee fights and thrashes as Caretaker releases them from their restraints and tries to carry them to safety. When they’re home, they’re resistant to the care and attention they need. Pushing helping hands away, screaming and kicking. Whumpee is hysterical, crying out in anguish. Rambling promises to be good and swearing they’re not disobeying Whumper, they still think it’s all a test. They won’t look at Caretaker, they won’t stop begging to go back to their cell.

Whumpee truly believes that caretaker isn’t themself, that it’s Whumper disguised. What will it take to snap them into reality?

[goforro]

we’ve all heard of kidnapper whumpers that hide their face, right?

I raise you: kidnapper whumpers who don’t.

- whumpee who knows whumper isn’t planning to let them go once they see whumper’s face, so they close their eyes through all of it

- intimate whumper who forces whumpee to make eye contact, and whispers a very thinly veiled threat.

- “you’re never getting out of here, my love.”

- rescued/escaped whumpee who can’t pick whumper out of a lineup, and has to go off of voice alone

- whumpers who don’t make whumpee stare at the ground. quite the opposite, actually. whumpee is severely punished for even breaking eye contact with whumper, let alone looking away

- whumpers who are incredibly cocky and proudly show whumpee their face, believing whumpee’s never going to escape

- whumpers who are going to kill whumpee anyways and feel no need to hide their face.

- ^ said whumpees escaping and getting whumper arrested

- ^ said whumpees not escaping. whumper comforting caretaker after the death of their friend knowing they were the one who did it

[ashintheairlikesnow]

She Wasn't Sure She Believed Herself

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four |

CW: Werewolf whumpee, escaped whumpee with caretakers, referenced abuse, dehumanization by captors, and captivity

-

Anaya swayed lightly as she made her way up the steps. The front door to Vanessa’s house was painted the same deep shade of blue as the underside of the porch ceiling.

Between that and the fact that the porch was painted a flat and blinding white, Anaya felt a little like she was standing upside down in the ocean, a wave breaking beneath her and the depths of the ocean over her head. 

It was deeply disorienting.

Then again, maybe that was the sleep deprivation talking.

Every other house on the block was the same basic set of shades - gray house with black shutters, white house with gray shutters, pale yellow house with black shutters, another gray, a different white, light brown that was nearly beige, actual beige… Vanessa’s house, with all its dancing blues, had stood out like a beacon as soon as they turned onto the street. 

Eden was right behind her, one arm supporting Misae and his own eyes moving over the porch swing that moved gently in the wind. A small black cat sat on the swing, watching them with intense curiosity. Its tail flicked as it took in the sight of Misae. They’d managed to find an old hoodie of Eden’s and some of Anaya’s sweatpants for Misae to wear, and the boy looked absolutely swamped in the hoodie, hood pulled up to cover his face as much as he could and sleeves long enough to completely hide his hands. They couldn’t help his lack of shoes, but Anaya had managed to get some white socks on him and had decided to just hope for the best. He could limp, with support, and Eden had kept an arm around him, taking most of his weight as he slowly struggled up the steps. 

The boy’s face was white with pain, and his eyes kept dancing wildly trying to take in everything at once, but he stayed upright and he didn’t pass out again, so… Anaya called it a win.

“Why don’t you knock?” Anaya asked, nervously picking at her fingernails with her other hand, trying to calm her nerves. “You’re better at talking to people.”

“First off, that’s a gigantic lie. Secondly, she isn’t my friend,” Eden answered easily. This wasn’t the first time they’d had some version of a conversation like this one. She had the distinct sense that if he could, he would have shrugged. As it was, he was holding nearly all of Misae’s weight by now. “She’s your friend. You should knock.”

“I mean, I may have… I may have exaggerated how well I know her, a little bit?” Anaya found a bit of skin sticking out near her cuticle on her thumb and absently picked at it, staring down. “We just talk on the internet. I don’t even know exactly how old she is. I’ve never seen her face, and now I’m showing up with my boyfriend and a werewolf.”

“Hey. Look at me, baby.” She raised her eyes and found Eden smiling at her, weary but warm. She couldn’t help but smile back. “You’ve got a good sense for people, you always have. And you said she agreed to let us crash, right?”

“Yeah, she did. She said no problem, just…” Anaya looked over at Misae. “I might have not mentioned… him.”

The boy was staring at the cat now. The cat met his gaze with slitted pupils, ears slightly back, fur slightly raised. There was a flash of what might have been sharp teeth, the subtle whisper of a warning hiss.

Misae’s lips pulled back from his own teeth in tandem. 

Anaya stared with wide eyes as she realized his canine teeth were longer than they should be. When she looked down at his hands, she saw fingernails that stretched even as she looked at them, hardening into obvious claws even as his fingers started to thicken and turn blunt.

Was he... growing paws?

The cat turned and leaped gracefully up onto the railing and then down to the ground on the other side, disappearing in a flash around the side of the house. 

Anaya's eyes jumped back to Misae's face.

His lips were closed, and his hands had gone back to normal. Maybe she was imagining it?

“Maybe,” Eden suggested, tone irritatingly mild, “Maybe we all just stay calm and don’t bring the werewolf thing right off the bat.”

"... but did you just see-"

"Mmhmm. I know what I think I saw, anyway."

"You cannot possibly still not believe-"

“I didn’t say that I don’t believe it. Just, let’s not like fling that info around willy-nilly, Naya, yeah? And you, Misae, keep a hold on those teeth. We'll keep the wolf thing to ourselves for at least a little while. Besides, I flat out cannot drive anymore until we get some sleep. So…” Eden shifted a little and then gestured at the door. “Knock.”

Anaya took a deep breath, and turned around, stepping up to the door. Beneath her feet, a pale doormat read Welcome, witches and there was a sign hanging right at Anaya’s eye level: Live laugh lobotomize.

Right.

This was Vanessa. She had nothing to worry about.

Not that having nothing to worry about had ever once stopped Anaya from worrying. Camping had always been the only time she ever felt totally calm, and even that was a little ruined now. How many secret homes with hidden people kept like animals were there in the world, and she just didn't know about them?

The thought kept spinning circles when she tried not to think at all.

The door swung open just as Anaya's knuckles touched the door and she jerked her hand back in surprise. Behind her, Misae straightened a little, leaning against Eden while trying to look like he wasn’t hurt. His eyes kept shifting, as if he was trying to look everywhere all at once. 

God, they looked like such a mess. 

The wooden sign clacked as it swung forward and back, and Anaya’s first impression was of a pair of sparkling brown eyes. “I thought I heard voices,” Vanessa smiled. She was a tall, broad woman with a deep, melodic voice, totally unlike Anaya’s mental image of her. Her eyes matched her ponytail and she looked very much like every high school art teacher Anaya had ever imagined. Right down to the paint-splattered tunic and leggings. 

She took in the three of them in a moment, and then her smile widened and she stepped back and to the side. “Well, you’re clearly Anaya,” She continued. “It’s nice to see you in person for the first time. So, if you’re Anaya, then this must be the hottie boyfriend… Evan?”

“Eden,” Anaya corrected absently, still trying to connect this warm and soft woman standing before her with the acerbic, dryly sarcastic online voice she’d been chatting with for years. 

“Oh, right. Sorry, Eden.”

“That’s okay.” Eden shrugged, a shy smile playing around his lips, flushed a little still from hearing hottie probably. He was always weak to compliments. “Evan actually was on my shortlist for names, anyway, actually.”

“Oh, was it?” Vanessa’s eyebrow quirked up. “You’re not just saying that so I feel less like I just face planted into a mud puddle in public, are you?”

Oh, okay. Now that was the Vanessa that Anaya knew so well.

“Ha, no, it really was. But then I thought of Eden, and, well, I just… liked it better than all the others.”

“Well, I like Eden better, too. It fits - you’re clearly paradise on two legs.” Vanessa winked, and Eden turned tomato-red. Anaya felt herself nearly knocked over by a wave of something between her usual full-throated adoration of her awkward boyfriend's struggle to take a compliment and relief that things were going so well when she’d been so scared they wouldn’t. Vanessa laughed, her laugh as mellow as everything else about her appearance. “Seriously, though… come, come on in, all of you.”

Anaya’s pulse jackhammered in her throat and at her wrists as she stepped forward, moving from the sunset light outdoors into the darker house. The first thing she saw was a wall painted a beautiful deep evergreen, a wall of a dozen or so pieces of framed artwork that had every rainbow shade and probably a few colors Anaya had never even heard of. Side lamps were lit everywhere, and a ceiling fan turned lazily overhead. This looked like somebody's perfect cozy escape from the world.

Anaya wondered how it would feel, to have a home like this. Somewhere that you owned outright. She and Eden had always been renters, and half the time these days they lived out of Eden's car.

“So… there’s you two, and there’s also… who is this you have with you?” Vanessa asked, voice lilting just a little in curiosity. “A brother? Cousin? What’s your name, honey?”

Misae didn’t answer. His chin had lowered, even though his eyes were locked on Vanessa now, watching her every movement. 

Anaya cleared her throat. “This is… um, this is Misae. We… met him on the trip.”

“Oh, okay. I knew you were camping this weekend in Idaho, so… oh, that’s why you texted me for somewhere to stay? Because of meeting him?” 

“Yeah.” Anaya tried to keep her voice casual, unruffled. “He just needs a safe place, he, uh… He r-ran away from home.” It was close enough to true. Really it was true, she just… left out a few minor details. He was being hunted by a man with a gun and oh, hey, he also turns into a wolf. That’s not a problem, right? “I know I didn’t mention he was with us, and I'm so sorry. We will completely understand if you don’t want to deal with-”

“Hey, I didn’t say that.” Vanessa raised her hands, as though showing she was harmless. Or thought they were. “It’s definitely not a problem. I just wasn’t thinking about you needing more than bed. Seriously, it is no problem, I can blow up the air mattress for an extra bed.” 

“Okay, okay, thank you so much, Vanessa. We’ll just get settled, and if you could tell us where the shower is-“

“Oh, honey,” Vanessa interrupted. “Are you hurt?”

Anaya opened her mouth to reply, but realized Vanessa wasn't looking at her at all. Vanessa moved towards Misae, hands out.

To Anaya's horror, Misae recoiled, snarling with lips pulled back from his teeth, before he lost his balance, trying to catch himself and accidentally putting too much weight on his injured leg.

His knee buckled, and he went down hard, losing his balance with a high-pitched cry, somehow ending up turned around and falling right off the steps onto the stone path that led up to the porch.

He desperately grabbed at Eden's arm to try and catch himself and instead pulled Eden down with him.

Eden grunted when he landed hard on his left elbow, but he had the good luck of falling a little to the side and landing in the grass. Misae smacked down into concrete, catching himself with his hands but Anaya watched his ankle twist in the process.

His whine turned to whimpers, deeply canine. He hunched his shoulders and curled up, still snarling and making a sound somewhere between whimper and growl, and Anaya wondered if everything she hadn’t said about this strange boy was about to spill out anyway, whether she liked it or not.

When Vanessa took one more step forward, Misae snapped at her from where he lay, teeth clicking together sharply. His canines were growing again.

Anaya tried to think of an explanation - something logical that didn't involve breaking the news that at least one totally mythological creature had turned out to be absolutely real - but nothing came.

She only stared with her eyes and mouth both wide.

“Oh, shit,” Vanessa whispered. She didn't seem to have noticed Misae's teeth changing, and Anaya was hit with relief that cut as sharp as any knife. “Oh. I am so fucking sorry, I didn’t-... I didn’t mean-” She moved again, and Anaya caught her by one arm. Tears welled up in her eyes as she turned. “I swear, Anaya, I didn’t mean to scare him!”

“No, I know, he’s just… really jumpy about people who move too fast,” Anaya soothed, watching as Eden moved to Misae and murmured to him. The boy's expression gradually changed and he shook his head, eyes down and hair covering as much of his face as he could manage. At least he stopped making that face. Eden nodded, murmured something not quite audible in reply, and very slowly reached out. 

Misae sat back, holding his hands palms-up, letting Eden take them in his own hands to look them over. Blood welled where skin had been scraped away by catching himself when he fell. 

Misae looked up through the curtain of his messy hair, watching Eden's face. Anaya swallowed hard as she saw a spot of red where she knew the bandage was on Misae’s leg. Was that damn wound ever going to stop bleeding?

“He got used to getting hurt where he lived before,” Anaya said in a low voice, keeping her hand on Vanessa to keep her from potentially scaring the poor kid all over again. She told herself she wasn’t lying - those scars Misae was covered with, hidden thanks to Eden’s shirt and Anaya’s sweatpants, proved that pain had definitely been something Misae understood very well indeed. Maybe the only thing he seemed to understand. “It’s made him jumpy. Let’s, um, let’s go inside and then Eden and Misae can come in after us?”

Vanessa slowly nodded, reluctantly turning away. “Okay. I really am so sorry.”

“It’s totally fine,” Anaya said. She had no idea if it was fine or not. The words just came out automatically, an instinctive reply to try and soothe the unsettled air around them. “He’ll be okay. We’re just trying to get him far enough away that he feels safer.”

“Yeah. I can… I can see why.” Vanessa seemed to remember this was her house and straightened up a little. She shot one more hesitant glance over her shoulder, and then led Anaya through a small living room stuffed with too many hand-me-down couches draped in deep brick-red covers and throw pillows and blankets, into a small hallway with four doors. “So, we have… a linen closet, towels are in there-” She pointed at the first door. Then, across the hall, the bathroom with a tiny shower-bathtub, a toilet, and a sink and mirror. “My water heater isn’t great, but if your showers are fast they can be hot. Otherwise, you might have to settle for more or less warm. And here, right here-” She opened the last door on the left. “This is the guest bed. I’m sorry there isn’t more space-”

“It’s perfect,” Anaya said, forcing her voice to brighten up. Her mind wandered back to the boys outside. “We’ll get settled and get clean and then, if you don’t mind, we might just want to like… nap for a while.”

“Not a problem. I have some work to finish up, anyway.” Vanessa smiled, even as she still looked a little worried and guilty. “Any requests for supper? I’m afraid delivery in this neighborhood isn’t happening, but I’ve got some frozen pizzas and garlic bread, or I could make pasta and sauce, or… if anybody’s low carb, uh, I could run to the store for steak or something…”

Anaya thought of Misae’s thin face, wiry arms, knobby knees, the way his stomach pulled in too much, how he swam in clothes that shouldn't have been oversized. The way his eyes seemed to sink a little into his face. “Um… No, carbs are definitely a good idea. Pizzas?”

“Okay. I’ll get the oven preheating. You three just… you get settled. Let me know if there's anything you need or you can't find.” Vanessa disappeared back out the door and Anaya stepped further into the little room.

There was a side table with a little lamp and she switched it on, absently. It gave the little room, walls painted blue, a cozy glow. She dropped her backpack onto the fluffy oversized comforter - clearly made for a king-sized mattress but laid out over the queen-sized bed - and sat down, slowly leaning over with her hands over her face.

She was so tired.

At least Vanessa had been a lot less bothered by the sudden appearance of two disheveled adults and one teenager than Anaya had expected, but the last bit had clearly thrown that initial lack of bother away. Now they not only had a teenage runaway with them, he was visibly injured and he’d reacted to Vanessa attempting to touch him in a way that made it equally clear he hadn’t come from anywhere good. Plus, the noises he'd made, the way he snarled and snapped like an animal... If Vanessa got too curious, or decided to call the fucking cops... Anaya didn't know why exactly, but she knew that would end badly.

A throat cleared in the doorway and Anaya looked up. Eden stood there, smiling a little, Misae leaning against him again. The boy’s eyes darted around, never landing on any one place for long. He’d been limping before - now he was flat out hopping on one leg, using Eden to keep himself upright. His injured leg was pulled slightly up. 

“He’s okay,” Eden said, in a tone that said he was soothing them both. “Just a little scrape on the hands. I’ll get my kit from the car, we’ll get him a good shower and then I can bandage him up again.”

“Good.” Anaya breathed the word out. Even that felt like it took more energy than she really had left. She hadn’t realized how hard she was working to hold herself together until she didn’t really have to any longer. 

She wanted to sleep for a week.

Maybe a month.

But she’d settle for patting the bed next to her. “Misae, why don’t you just come over here and lay down for a minute with me, okay?”

Misae’s eyebrows briefly furrowed. He licked at his lips - something Anaya was realizing he did almost compulsively when nervous - and then slowly shook his head. “Not allowed,” He said, voice low. He sounded a little confused.

“What? Why? Because you’re bleeding?” 

Misae stared at her for a few long seconds, then shook his head again. “No. We're... not allowed on the furniture.”

Eden’s eyes closed, tightly, for just a second. Anaya watched a vague flush of anger move over his face and be just as quickly pressed down and done away with. She knew what she was seeing, though, and knew Eden would smile soft and sweet even as he turned that over and over in his mind all night long. The same way Anaya would.

Not allowed on the furniture because he's been treated like he’s a dog.

“Well, here you are allowed on the furniture, and I’m saying you should lay down on the bed and get the weight off that leg. Okay?” She patted the bed again. This time, Misae hesitantly nodded and let Eden support his slightly absurd little bunny-hops forward until they made it close enough for him to more collapse than lay down. Misae curled himself up as tightly as he could, arms tucked against his body and only his injured leg out straight, the other one curled with his knee nearly to his chest.

"Oh," He whispered, eyes wide.

Anaya blinked at the look of surprise on his face, and tilted her own head as she looked down at him, slipping a firm pillow beneath his head only for his eyes to widen even further. She fought back a faint smile, worried he might think she was mocking him. “What’s that look for?”

Misae swallowed, those strange golden-brown eyes shifting to meet hers. He returned her smile. “I didn’t know beds were so soft,” He explained. “I’ve never been in one.”

Anaya couldn’t think of a single thing she could possibly say to that.

Eden backed away from them. “I’ll go get our things from the car and then I’m just going to get right into the shower,” He said, voice tight and hard, and turned away, closing the door a little too hard behind him as he went. 

Misae winced when the door shut with a loud thunk, shifting until the top of his head just brushed against the side of Anaya’s leg. She let her hand drift down to run fingers through his hair like she had while Eden stitched him up in the car - oh god, that was less than twelve hours ago, somehow it felt like so much more time had passed than that - and the boy breathed out in something that seemed like pure pleasure, eyes fluttering shut. 

“He’s angry,” Misae said, voice low. Just above a whisper, a little hoarse. "At me."

“He's angry, but not at you," Anaya replied, shifting until her back was against the headboard, keeping her fingers sifting through soft strands. Her own eyes closed and she could feel her exhaustion weighing down every corner of her mind. “Definitely not at you. Just at… what it seems like life has been for you. It’s not going to be like that for you anymore, okay? We’ll figure out how to find some place better for you.”

Misae didn’t reply.

Anaya knew that he was silent, this time, not because he had nothing to say in response, but because he didn’t believe her. 

She wasn’t sure she believed herself.

-

@finder-of-rings @burtlederp @deluxewhump @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings @yassifiedinformation @wildfaewhump @whatwhump @honeycollectswhump @tundra-tiger @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @there-will-always-be-blood

[snakebites-and-ink]

Augusnippets Day 1: Gaslighting/Hypnosis/Brainwashing

CW: Brainwashed whumpee, referenced captivity, slavery/trafficking, dehumanization, emotional whump

Caretaker had found Whumpee. 

They'd been co-captives before. For a while, they’d only had each other. Whumpee was always the more actively resistant of the two, struggling and spitting vitriol at their captors.

Yet Caretaker had been the one to make it out first. Their captors had always seemed to have more of an interest in Whumpee.

Whumpee was being sold now, advertised as a weapon of some sort. Caretaker’s heart ached for them at that. But they’d rounded up enough money and were going to get Whumpee out of there at last.

When Caretaker was closer, their gazes met. Whumpee’s eyes lit in recognition, but…not much else. Not hope, not fondness. Maybe they just didn’t dare get their hopes up.

Caretaker was as tense as they could be, but successfully bought Whumpee.

They kept up their role as a normal buyer as they left, and Whumpee seemed to play along. When they were far from prying eyes, Caretaker dropped the ruse. “I got you out, like I always promised I would. You can go, and be free now, at last!” Caretaker smiled.

“I don’t need freedom, sir,” Whumpee said, still acting as they had when they were sold. Suddenly Caretaker doubted they’d just been faking to get out.

Caretaker’s smile faded. “You always used to fight so hard. Don’t you want to go free?”

"The malfunction has been resolved. I won't resist anymore, sir."

Caretaker swallowed. They studied Whumpee searchingly, worried. “Do you really believe that? The whole ‘weapon’ thing?”

“Of course, sir. That’s what you bought me as, isn’t it?”

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee had been captured by their enemy, and the whumpee was doing everything to escape- but they’re confused about the fact that the team isn’t torturing them for information. The whumper had conditioned them to believe that not only were they just a tool for the whumper, but the whumpee was only safe with them, so the fact that everyone was being so nice was off-putting.

[3-2-whump]

Relapse: Crumbling Promises

<prev next>

Please heed the TW/CWs on this chapter. Also, thanks @generic-whumperz and @whumped-by-glitter for your input into the ending of this chapter, your feedback has been applied

TW/CW: dubcon (lots of dubcon), allusions to previous dubcon, prostitution, slave whump, degrading language, degraded whumpee (in that whumpee has to haggle their own value -idk what that’s called, but it’s pretty degrading), intimate whumper, possessive whumper, asphyxiation, emotional whump, unhealthy relationship dynamics, possessive relationship dynamics, whumper x whumpee (although pretty unbalanced)

The frenetic stimulation of his cock and the wild fragility in Khaled’s eyes continued to haunt the mob boss long after their reunion of the flesh in the parking lot a month ago. He thought about it from when he couldn’t sleep at night to the first waking moments of consciousness in the morning. He thought about it in the shower, at the gym, during meetings, and in the middle of intercourse at the brothels. It was just as Khaled had said; those girls (and occasional boys) in the whorehouses could only satisfy him for so long, and he believed he had finally run his course after his fourth threesome in a month. Now here he sat, in his desk chair, trying to compose an email he’d rather not send, with his mind far away from the zoom conference he was supposed to be a part of.

He looked over his shoulder at Khaled, who had broken away from his usual positon right behind his chair to water the potted fig tree by the window. Nothing in his composure betrayed his lapse in decorum on that fateful night, though he was moving a lot slower than usual, and his eye-bags seemed darker than his foundation could cover up. Tom studied him closely, noting Khaled had been like this for months now. Was he still sneaking out at night to see that damn cholo? He’d been meaning to do something about his slave’s newfound promiscuity, but something more important always came up, and ever since their near-death experiences, Thomas had been trying to turn over a new leaf and give Khaled a longer leash, metaphorically speaking. Although, if the boy kept dragging his feet, he might tie him onto a literal leash, too.

Some static-y goodbyes and well-wishings sounded from his monitor, signaling the end of the conference call. Tom cleared his throat and jumped in with his own farewells. “Yes, you too, happy holidays, buon natale –yeah, yeah, I’ll see you next year, Matteo. You too, Gio, happy new year! Okay, okay, bye!” He exited out of the call, minimized the screen, and swiveled his desk chair to face the young man by the windowsill. “Khaled, come here,” he called.

As soon as Khaled was within reaching distance, the boss grabbed him by the waist and slung him over his lap, trapping him between the hard edge of the desk at his back and his own body in the front.

“What are you doing?” Khaled neither squirmed or struggled in his grasp, instead opting to stare at him quizzically. “Let me off, I don’t want this-”

“Like you didn’t want it in the parking lot on the night of your birthday last month?” He grinned in triumph as his slave’s face blushed bright red from the tops of his ears down to the black band of his collar. “You do,” Tom whispered, voice low and sultry. “You want this, and you need this, Khaled.” He ran his hands from the young man’s waist up his sides, slightly untucking his shirt in the process. “I’ve seen you work yourself to the bone trying to be my executive assistant. Isn’t it exhausting, working so hard?” Khaled sat as still as a statue as his fingers raked over the front of his body. “Isn’t it tiresome, doing what free people do?” He snaked his hands down Khaled’s sides to dip under his shirt hem, feeling a familiar rush of heat below as he touched the warm skin underneath. “Don’t you just want to relax?”

The way Khaled’s body responded under his hands as he laid him over the desk was nothing like any of the whores the brothels could give him. Here, splayed back-first onto the hardwood, was his own personal fuck hole, who pleasured him exactly how he wanted. “But, this isn’t- I don’t want this,” his slave protested, lightly pushing back, “and this isn’t even what I’m being paid to do anyway-”

“Well, if it’s pay you’re after, I can pay you for this,” he snickered. “It’s called prostitution, Khaled, and if that’s how you want to earn your money, I certainly won’t get in your way.”

“But I don’t want this!”

“Not even for $100?”

Khaled’s mouth snapped shut. Thomas laughed.

“$500.” Thomas stopped laughing.

Khaled stuck his lower lip out and shot him the most pathetic pout he could give. “Am I, your own personal fuck slave, not even worth what you pay your high-class call girls?”

He scoffed incredulously. So, that’s how it’s gonna be? Alright then! “$200,” he countered, “you’re out of practice, and a little too assertive for my tastes lately.”

In an unprecedented turn of events, Khaled wrapped his legs around Thomas’ lower back and pulled him in closer by the front of his shirt. “$450,” he whispered, his soft, sweet lips mere inches from his own. “I’m not as out of practice as you may think, and I can be as meek as a lamb when I need to be.”

The mob boss did not expect this to turn him on as much as it did, and yet the ignition of arousal in his core and the hardening member in his slacks spoke for themselves. He emitted something akin to a purr or a growl. “$250,” he murmured sultrily, “take it or leave it, boy.”

“$300, and I’ll do that thing with your balls that you like.”

“You’ve got a deal!” He leaned in to kiss Khaled’s lips, pinning him further onto the desk as he unfastened the belt and pants around Khaled’s waist and peeled them off. He smiled into the kiss as Khaled yielded to him, opening his mouth so the older man could penetrate his mouth with his tongue and claim every inch inside him. He reluctantly broke off from the kiss to undo his own belt and pants. Once he had gotten himself out, he noted with satisfaction that Khaled’s knees were already hitched up to his shoulders, displaying that perfect set of three and that lovely little hole, all for Thomas J Costa. “And a merry fucking Christmas to me!” he murmured, completely satisfied. He opened the top drawer of his desk, where hiding among the paperclips and stapler refills was an innocuous little bottle of lubricant, with just enough fluid to get them through this session. “I never thought you’d be such a whore,” he teased. “Where is your self-respect?”

“Just hurry up, please,” Khaled whined, cheeks flaming red in –arousal? Shame? Not like Thomas could tell, or care.

“Oh no, whore, I’m gonna make you work for your $300 and ensure you earn every cent!”

He emptied what was left of the lube onto his hardened shaft and threw the bottle away. He gave himself a few quick pumps to spread the slippery substance from base to tip, then aligned himself between Khaled’s spread legs, pushing in without any sort of prelude or preparation. The boy groaned at the sudden intrusion. His nails bit into the wood of the desk as Thomas bottomed out inside of his tight little hole. “Oh my god, how do you still feel like you’re a virgin down there?” he grunted. He began to thrust his hips, slowly at first, then building up a nice rhythm as the lithe body underneath him slowly relaxed and opened for him. “There, that’s it,” he murmured as he leaned over Khaled. “You know how this works…” He nuzzled into the crook of Khaled’s neck, murmuring against the curve of the boy’s neck and shoulder. “Your body knows exactly what to do...” God, even the smell of Khaled’s skin was enough to stoke his arousal into a full inferno. The boss kissed hungrily against Khaled’s neck, breathing in the boy’s scent like it was air and he’d been holding his breath. The whimpers he got out of the boy as he began to use his teeth were some of the best noises he’d ever heard him make. Why on earth would he, Thomas Costa, want to give this up? Why did he ever think he could go one more day in his life without being inside this amazing little being? He sucked what he hoped would be a nice, dark hickey right over the strip of black ink across Khaled’s throat. A collar is not complete without its gemstones, right? he thought. He tongued the tattooed line thoughtfully. He licked at it as if he was trying to wipe it away with his tongue, even though he knew he couldn’t. Those permanent black bands were just another part of Khaled’s near-infinite sex appeal.

“You’re mine forever,” he whispered, lips brushing against that graceful neck with every word. “Doesn’t matter if you’re free one day, because you will always be mine.” And honestly, why would he ever have thought of freeing Khaled, when the boy made him feel this good?

“Please…” Khaled whined beneath him.

He pushed up from the crook of Khaled’s neck, placing the palms of his hands on the desk as he propped himself up. “Please what, my little slut?” he teased. “Please go faster?” Khaled screamed and moaned as Thomas picked up an enthusiastic pace inside of him. He pressed the boy between the hard desk and the weight of his heavier body as he pistoned in and out of his ass with only his own pleasure on his mind.

“What is it you want?” Khaled stared up at him, his dark brown eyes shimmering like pools of liquid ink. “Please what?” he panted huskily. “Please choke me?”

Dark brown eyes widened and his lips formed the beginnings of the word ‘no’ before Thomas wrapped both hands around Khaled’s slender neck. Instinctively, Khaled released his grip on the desk to futilely scratch and tug at his hands as he increased the pressure on his neck. Thomas released one of his hands just to slap him across the face. “Hands on the table,” he growled. A squeaky wheeze left Khaled’s lips as he still tried to pull the remaining hand away from his throat. Thomas slapped him again as he held the boy’s neck in a crushing grip. “Now!”

Khaled dropped his hands to his sides. His tears flowed over his reddening cheeks. His pulse quickened under Tom’s fingers as his trembling lips formed breathy words. “Please… please… no more… I’ve been… good... please…” he whispered hoarsely. His fingers clawed at the desk, carving long furrows into its surface as he struggled to dutifully keep his hands on it. “Mas…ter… please…” he begged.

I have your literal life in my hands, he thought, smiling down with a sadistic awe. No escorts of any economic bracket would ever let the man take it this far. Nothing could ever come close to this feeling of absolute power and control, and only his slave could make him feel this powerful. Only you, Khaled, only you, he repeated in his head as he fucked his way to climax. As Thomas emptied his balls inside Khaled’s hole, he knew he would never feel this way with anybody else. What was this feeling exactly?  he wondered, finally letting go of the boy’s bruised neck. He stayed sheathed inside of Khaled’s warm, tight hole, listening to nothing but Khaled’s desperate breaths for air over the sound of his own heavy breathing. It isn’t possessiveness, it isn’t just lust. He pulled his softening length out of the boy’s fluttering hole, watching his own seed seep out with fascination and pride. So, what was that feeling, where you know nobody else can make you feel this way, and you wouldn’t want anybody else to, anyway?

Khaled turned over, leaning over the desk by bracing himself on his hands as he coughed and sputtered. Once the hacking and coughing sounds had subsided, and Khaled was nothing more than a trembling body barely keeping itself propped up against the desk, Thomas gently turned him around to face him. “You good?” he asked.

Khaled nodded. He had crushed the boy’s throat, making it difficult for him to respond in any verbal capacity. His reddened eyes blinked up at him, shining anxiously under their tear-dampened eyelashes. “Alright, down you go,” he replied softly. He pushed Khaled down to his knees, putting him face-to-face with the cock that had just been inside him. “Clean me off, and don’t forget my balls,” he ordered, murmuring a quiet “you know what I like,” at the end. He brushed a hand through Khaled’s disheveled hair, thinking about what to call that feeling he held for his dear slave. He tipped his head back and groaned as Khaled’s skilled little tongue set to work.

If it isn’t possessiveness, and it isn’t lust, his thoughts began, before he lost himself in the sensation of Khaled’s mouth.

Is it…love?

“Why didn’t you love me?!” Khaled screamed in the parking lot that night.

Love. That was a sensitive subject for Thomas. What was love, even? Between his long-absent stepfather, his sperm donor of a biological father, his neglectful mother who pissed away her inheritance into casinos, and his hard-ass grandfather who demanded nothing but perfection as he pitted brother against brother, the man was painfully aware of the lack of love in his and his brother’s childhoods. The closest thing they had to a loving adult in their formative years was Val, the nanny, but she left them too, once they were old enough.

It was no wonder his honest attempts at dating had failed so spectacularly. It culminated in self-sabotaging his wedding with Lenore on the day of, making sure that she could never break his heart like everyone else by leaving him. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It was not.

The pleasurable oral sensations had stopped down there, and Khaled now stared up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Satisfied?” he croaked. His voice was wrecked. He looked angelic.

“Yes.” Always. Forever.

Whoever said ‘if you love them, let them go’ obviously didn’t understand the pain of watching those loved ones abandon you one by one. Yet here, at Thomas’ feet, was someone who made him feel like the luckiest, most powerful man alive, who outshone everyone else as he pleasured him like no one else could, and who –if he reneged on their deal– would never leave him.

I love you, Khaled, he said in his mind, even if he wasn’t ready to say it aloud.

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

[thewhumpcaretaker]

💚 Cosmic Horror Whump 💚

The crushing fear of facing something larger and older than the Earth, the sun, or any familiar form of life.

Mysterious nightmares

Mysterious hallucinations - or are they??

Whumpee knows what they saw, but no one will believe them.

Whumpee saw too much and can’t live with the memories. The human mind isn’t meant to contain this and they begin to go mad.

Some knowledge is so arcane that it begins to literally destroy the brain - headaches, memory loss, blacking out, etc.

Whumpee struggles with their faith (or their atheism) after learning something unexpected about the origins of life, the afterlife, etc.

Whumpee is exposed to a previously undiscovered substance. What will it do to them?

Whumpee’s body is changing in unexpected ways. Is this a parasite? A disease? …Is this the creature they’ve always been?

Whumpee becomes aware that the universe is doomed, and suffers despair.

Just as there are colors that the human eye can’t normally see, there are sensations of pain that we can’t normally feel. Whumpee is about to feel them.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Whumpee is rescued but can't believe it.

A storm rages outside the old farm, thunder rattling the narrow windows in their frames. Fat raindrops hit the roof, sounding like an army of ghosts marches on overhead. 

It almost drowns out the ragged breathing of whimper, tugged in a corner between bedframe and clay wall. 

 Caretaker watches helplessly as whumpee hits their head over and over again, their fist banging against their skull. Pale fingers twist in blond hair as they mutter:

“This is a dream. A dream. Nothing but a dream. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!” 

Caretakers' heart twists at the sight. 

“Its okay. You’re not dreaming.” Crouching down in front of them, Caretaker reaches into the empty space between them. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“No!” Whumpees' back hits the wall. Their arms shoot up on impulse, shielding their tear smudged face.  “This isn’t real. You aren’t real!” 

Slap. 

The hit echos through the small room. Caretakers cheek stings. 

Terror filled, brown eyes land on his quiet blue. 

“I- I-”, sucking in a breath through their teeth, Whumpee presses out. “I didn’t mean to-”

Whumpees hand still hangs in the air between them, trembling. Steady, warm fingers wrap around theirs.

“See.” Caretaker smiles. “I am real. And so are you. Whatever happened to you, it's over.” 

He swipes a tear from their cheek. His rough thumb feels almost cool against their flushed skin.

“It’s going to be alright.”

[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.

[whumpshaped]

Whumpee going into a toy shop and being turned into a doll by the sinister proprietor!

-- @oliversrarebooks

tw doll whump, magic whump, kidnapping, captivity, multiple whumpees, noncon drugging, dehumanisation, lady whump

“Your dolls are beautiful,” Whumpee said in complete awe, trying to take in the entirety of the shop at once. “They’re so… realistic. They’re gorgeous.”

The shopkeeper smiled and stood up from their chair, placing their current sewing project on the desk before circling around to stand beside Whumpee. “Thank you. I can give you a little tour, if you like. Or you can just point at any doll and ask whatever you wish to know about them.”

Whumpee’s face lit up. “Oh, I have so many questions. Are you sure it’s okay? I’m pretty sure I don’t have the funds to buy such fine art…”

“It’s a slow day,” they said pleasantly. “Every day is slow when you sell dolls, honestly. Especially ones like these. People are either scared to approach them, or don’t even want to come in if they can’t purchase anything. I rarely get to ramble.”

“It’s a crime, really. There must be so much to say about them.” Whumpee walked over to one close to their own size, staring into its brutally realistic eyes. It felt like they had life behind them. “How did you come up with the idea?”

“I’ve always liked dolls. It was only natural that eventually, I would figure out a way to make them. And here I am.”

“How long does it take to make a doll like this?”

“Oh, months, dearest.”

Whumpee nodded, not surprised in the least. The doll was a real work of art — all of them were. “And you make them all on your own?”

“For the most part, yes. But the dolls themselves do the heavy-lifting. They have so much personality… All I have to do is accentuate it.”

Whumpee looked at the tag that had been adorably tied to the doll’s hairband, reading the name and the price off of it. They could never even dream of purchasing something like this. “Belladonna…”

“I just call her Bella,” the shopkeeper said with the sort of fondness in their voice that made Whumpee feel like the doll had been created a long time ago, sitting in the store without any potential buyers for a while now. “I made her five years ago, I believe. One of my first dolls.”

“Five years… It looks– well, new. I would’ve never guessed.”

“Yes, dear Bella holds up very well under my care.” They stepped up to the doll and ran their fingers through its long, silky hair affectionately, fixing some frizz in the process. “Patiently awaiting her knight in shining armour. Isn’t that right, sweet?”

The doll was so realistic, Whumpee half-expected it to respond; it didn’t, of course. That might’ve put Whumpee off doll-shopping too. “I’m sure the knight is on their way,” they said warmly.

-

“Good afternoon!” Whumpee said with a wide grin as they walked into the shop, breathing in the scent of flowers and beeswax.

“Good afternoon.” Whumper had the usual serene smile on their face, and a half-finished garment in their hands.

“Has there been a purchase?” they asked, looking around. “It feels so empty for some reason. Someone’s missing.”

“Oleander, but she’s merely in the backroom.”

Over the past few weeks, Whumpee had gotten used to all the dolls being named after flowers and plants; poisonous ones at that. When asked, Whumper simply said they liked the ring of them, and well, they were their dolls, after all. They could name them whatever they wanted.

“How come?” They walked up to the desk and started poking around in the bowl of decorative candy, picking out their favourite flavour and popping it into their mouth. “Did something happen?”

“Her hair wasn’t doing very well in this humid weather. She needed a more controlled environment.”

Whumpee nodded, eyes glued to the fabric in Whumper’s lap. “That’s a very pretty purple. Very… royal, I guess. Noble.”

The shopkeeper glanced up at them, noting the candy in their mouth with a soft smile. “Yes, we could say that. It feels expensive, too.” They chuckled. “And it was. But only the best for my dolls.”

“Can I touch it?”

“Be my guest.”

Whumpee walked around the desk and gently ran the back of their hand over the fabric, humming in agreement. “It does feel very luxurious. Is it for a new doll?”

“It is, actually. I have been working on the doll themself for a few weeks now, and I think they’ll turn out to be quite spectacular. I wanted a dress to match that.”

“Do you have a name in mind, yet?”

“Lantana, I think. Tana. Or maybe Hydrangea,” they mused. “Angie.”

“Tough choice.” Whumpee wandered out into the open area again, checking on the dolls one by one. They had almost become friends in this short time. “I think I like Lantana better, personally. It sounds softer.”

-

“Oh, I could never,” Whumpee said quietly, voice filled with adoration and want. The dress had turned out absolutely breathtaking, and Whumper wanted them to try it on? The offer was beyond tempting, but what if they ruined it? What if they tore it by accident? It was made for a doll, there was no way they would fit into it.

Though they had become quite frail recently. They were pretty sure they’d become sick with something, but the doctors could never tell them anything. Whumper was the only person willing to take them seriously, always offering healing herbal teas and candies from their own personal stash. A kindness Whumpee didn’t feel like they deserved.

Whumper gave them a reassuring smile. “I would love to see it on you. Please.”

Whumpee had no idea why they nodded so easily. Why they just went along with whatever Whumper wanted by this point. Why their wants always seemed to align so perfectly. “O-okay.”

“It’s going to be alright.”

The dress was dazzling: hours and hours of work, all by hand, frill and lace and flowers adorning every inch of it — and they were about to try it on.

They were playing with the piece of candy in their mouth, nervously pushing it from one side to the other with their tongue. It didn’t help with the fuzzy feeling in their head, but at least it seemed to soothe their worries, just like the teas and the scented candles around the shop.

Whumper gently helped them get dressed in the backroom, and despite all of Whumpee’s worries about the size, the dress fit them perfectly. It was as if it had been made specifically for them.

“Wow,” they breathed, barely believing the mirror in front of them. “I look…”

“Beautiful,” Whumper whispered, their expression full of fondness and warmth.

“Like a doll,” Whumpee added with a small smile. The flowery scent was so strong in this room, it almost made them want to close their eyes and drift off. “Though… I think I should take it off. I feel a little dizzy. I can’t imagine what it’d do to the dress if I were to fall.”

“Of course.” Whumper carefully helped them out of it, skilled fingers quickly untying the bows that held it all in place. “You can sit down behind the desk outside.”

-

Whumper turned the key in the lock, opening their shop for the day. They hung their coat and turned the lights on, illuminating the faces of all their precious dolls, sitting and standing in all different positions, just as they’d left them the day before.

“Beautiful weather today,” they said casually. “People will be out walking, for sure. Hopefully, some of them decide to visit.”

They checked on the dolls one by one, gently fixing their dresses and brushing their hair. They were humming as they worked, filling the air with magic soft as silk, wrapping around their beloveds’ minds like a comforting blanket. It was impossible to escape; the sedative scent of the candles, the taste of candy infused with traces of poisonous plants, the alluring tune of their song.

All of them had been caught as soon as they entered the shop and expressed interest. It was only a matter of time before their inevitable demise.

Once the soul left their bodies, it was easy to trap the delicate thing and tuck it away into a little jar, just until Whumper was ready to put it right back in its place. Making sure the fragile human body was prepared to withstand an eternity in the condition they’d received it in was a finicky process, but one Whumper found greatly satisfying.

They walked into the backroom to check the state of their newest acquisition, noting with a pleased smile that the body was finally ready. They took the glass bottle with Whumpee’s matching soul in it, uncorking it and raising it to their doll’s lips to allow it slip back inside.

Whumpee’s glassy eyes were suddenly filled with life, confusion and fear taking the place of the blank, corpse-like stare. Only for a moment, though. Only until Whumper ran their fingers through their hair, gently shushing them.

“The dress really does look gorgeous on you,” they cooed. “I can’t wait to put you on display, so everyone else can admire you too.”

-

The soft chime of the bell above the door signalled the new customer’s arrival, and Whumper greeted them with a smile. They seemed entirely mesmerised by the doll collection, asking all manner of questions after Whumper assured them it was fine to do so.

The stranger spent a few moments looking at the tag that had been adorably tied to one of the dolls’ hairbands, reading the name out loud. “Lantana…”

“I just call them Tana,” they said fondly. “They’re the latest addition to the family.”

[montammil]

whumper dialogue

1. “Come on. Don’t make me do this again.” 

2. “Oh, darling, don’t scream. You’ll ruin your pretty voice!”

3. “Go ahead, tell them. No one will believe you. They all think you’re crazy, so it’s your word over mine.”

4. “This is for your own good, Whumpee. I’m just trying to help, after all!”

5. “I’ve waited so long... You have no idea how much I wanted this.”

6. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” 

7. “Don’t worry. I’m almost done.”

8. “You’re not going anywhere until you learn some damn respect. Get over here. Now.”

9. “This is your last warning. Next time, you’re dead.”

10. “What did you say? No, no, repeat that for me, dear, I didn’t hear you. Tell me what you said.”

11. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll help you forget. Then we can start over again.”

12. “Oh, Whumpee, I’m not leaving this world alone. You’re coming with me.”

13. “I’m not done yet.” 

14. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

15. “Just relax. It’ll be over before you know it. And like I said, you probably won't feel it anyway.”

16. “Oh, don’t cry, pet, you’ll make yourself sick! I don’t have to calm you down myself, do I?”

17. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

18. “Now, sleep. Sleep and forget.”

19. “I told you I’d come back.”

20. “I’ve got a little surprise for you, pet.”

21. “You’ll have to stay down here. It’s for your own good.”

22. “You’re still my favorite.”

23. “I didn’t think you’d be such a challenge. That’s okay, just makes things more fun for me.”

24. “You’ve done such a great job today. Good pet.”

25. “I bet you loved that.”

26. “You think you’re so special.”

27. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

28. “You should have just stayed silent.”

29. “Go ahead, scream. It’s just music to my ears.”

30. “Honestly, you should be grateful you’re still alive, darling. If anyone else said that to me, I’d snap their neck in an instant.”

31. “What are you going to do? Kill me. Go ahead. I’ll even give you my knife! I know you won’t, though.”

32. “Interesting, isn’t it? That you don’t remember anything? Well, let me fix that for you.”

33. “You and me. Forever.”

34. “Please, Whumpee, don’t look at me like that. You’re almost making me feel bad for you. Almost.”

35. “Oh, you poor thing.”

36. “You should have ran when you had the chance.”

37. “Think of how much better life will be for you now. A free roof over your head, free food, free clothes? You should be a little more thankful, honestly.”

38. “You won’t be needing this anymore.”

39. “You remind me of someone...”

40. “Maybe you need to be taught some manners.”

41. “If I weren’t so in love with you, I’d kill you.”

42. “You’ve had your fun, now it’s my turn.”

43. “Have a nice sleep, dear.”

44. “Don’t ever try that again.”

45. “I’m not going to waste any more of my time on you.”

46. “I still remember the first time I saw you.”

47. “You’ll never leave my side again.”

48. “I like those little noises you make when you’re scared.”

49. “Oh, you didn’t argue this time! That’s progress.”

50. “You know, even when you look like you’re dead, you’re still beautiful.”

51. “Why did you run? You know how much I love you. You know how much I need you.”

52. “Okay, now you’re just asking for it.”

53. “Now? Now you just sit here and bleed out.”

54. “I know you won’t remember this, but I thought I’d tell you, anyway.”

55. “I can’t hear you, Whumpee~ Mind repeating that for me?”

56. “I’ll give you to the count of three.”

57. “Just think, maybe this will all be over soon!”

58. “You’ve ruined everything.”

59. “You’re making me do this.”

60. “Oh, darling, please be still. This won’t take long.”

61. “The only reason you’re still alive is because of me. Remember that.”

62. “You can’t scream. Not here.”

63. “Do yourself a favor and give up. You can’t escape.”

64. “I told you to shut your mouth.”

65. “You should have seen this coming.”

66. “Be quiet. You don’t want to wake the others, do you?”

67. “The fun has just begun!”

68. “Just because you aren’t beautiful anymore, doesn’t mean you can’t be useful.”

69. “Now, clean yourself up. I’m not doing it for you.”

70. “Look how pretty you are... Red’s really your color.”

71. “Now that you found your anger... it’s time to play.”

72. “You should have thought about that before you started screaming.”

73. “I didn’t break you, did I?”

74. “Either you apologize this instant, or you’ll be seeing nothing but the basement walls for the next week.”

75. “I’m disappointed in you, Whumpee.”

76. “Shh, don’t struggle. It’ll be easier this way.”

77. “You want to sleep? Beg for it, then.”

78. “I never tire looking at you, darling.”

79. “Now, why’d you go and do that? Look at you, now you’re hurt! And not by me this time...”

80. “I suppose I could always just toss you aside like yesterday’s trash.”

81. “Don’t be scared, Whumpee! You’re back with me now, why would you be scared?”

82. “Oh, my dear. Don’t tell me you think you’re the first person I’ve done this to.”

83. “Careful now, don’t tense up. It’ll just hurt more.”

84. “You’re not the first, and you definitely won’t be the last.”

85. “Let’s say you did escape. What would you even tell them?”

86. “I want to kill you slowly, but even that might be too kind for you.”

87. “Next time, I won’t knock you out first.”

88. “No one will ever know.”

89. “I can tell you’re not really asleep. Your breathing is different.”

90. “Don’t be sad, little one. I’m putting you out of your misery just like you wanted! You should be smiling!”

91. “Now you’ve really gone too far.”

92. “Do you see how completely useless you are now?”

93. “Sit up straight.”

94. “You have a visitor, Whumpee!”

95. “You better hope you’re worth it.”

96. “I’m going to take you apart slowly, and then... I’ll put you back together again.”

97. “Let’s see... where to start, where to start...”

98. “My friends will take great care of you.”

99. “I heard that you like pain. I won’t disappoint you.”

100. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, darling...”

[suspensefulpen]

Choice

TW: Wounds, Death

Whumpee winced as he dragged himself across the rubble. He was injured somewhere, but he didn’t care to find out exactly where. He was looking for his team, he’d been out for a couple of minutes and everything had gone silent. 

They hadn’t left him, had they? They couldn’t have abandoned him. There was no way. 

The more Whumpee adjusted himself to get a better look at his surroundings, the more he was convinced otherwise. Absolutely no one was around. At least, no one who was alive. Despite not wanting to believe it, Whumpee couldn’t ignore the rising hurt he felt. And not the hurt from the wounds he was still choosing to ignore. He wasn’t usually one to be emotional but, he suddenly felt the urge to cry. Why had his father figure Team Leader decide to leave him? Didn’t they all care about Whumpee? Didn’t he care about Whumpee? Was anyone going to come back for him? 

Before he could dwell in his thoughts any longer, he heard something behind him. Grabbing the nearest jagged object, he turned to face the source of the sound. He frowned deeply when he faced Carewhumper in all their annoying glory. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” 

He lowered the makeshift weapon and turned his head. “Go away.” 

“Why when you seem lonely out here?” 

“Gee, I wonder why that is.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have something better to do than bother me? Shouldn’t you be with your own team? With Whumper or something?” 

“Oh but I am here for one thing.” Carewhumper’s smirk turned mischievous. “And that’s you.” 

Whumpee quickly turned back to face them. He frowned again, narrowing his eyes. “That sounds like a bunch of crap.” 

“Oh, but Whumpee, remind me why you’re out here alone again?” They mirrored his expression, making him pause to consider their words. He shook his head. 

“I’m not… I’m not alone.” 

“Of course you aren’t.” Carewhumper smiled softly. “You have me.” 

“No I don’t! I have my team! I’ll always have them!” 

They shook their head, almost in disappointment. “Whumpee, you just don’t understand, do you? Your team does not care about you. Your team does not have your back. Your team did not come back for you. But I did.” They said. “And I always will, no matter what happens. That is, if you want that.” They extended their right hand, the left out of his line of vision behind their back. 

He stared at it for several moments. “How do I know you won’t hurt me? You’re not exactly known for not hurting people…” 

“But Whumpee, your team isn’t known for leaving people behind are they?” 

Realization sank deeper into his mind. No. That wasn’t what his team was known for. Yet here he was, all alone in a field of dead bodies. And the person who came back for him wasn’t on his team. 

It was Carewhumper. 

If they were willing to come back for him, they couldn’t possibly want to hurt them in the same way. Would they? Would they hurt them at all? After all, Team Leader told them to give everyone a chance sometimes. 

But he was the reason Whumpee was stuck out here in the first place. Why should he wait for him longer only to bleed out and die? Or even worse, get attacked again. 

He looked up at Carewhumper, seeing the look in their eyes. Eyes like those wouldn’t hurt him. Would they? 

“Okay.” He nodded and took their hand. 

Carewhumper smiled. “Good choice.”

[painsandconfusion]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Prompts and starters A collaboration with @wormwriting

[Prompt Masterpost]

“How much did you hear?”

Whumpee crouched and trying to stay quiet until they can slip away. Then the cool barrel of a gun pressing against the back of their head. Bonus for ~click~

“You know what happens now, right?”

Whumpee stumbling home, breath ragged and body in shock still. They stare at the liquor bottle - and without thinking, uncap it and start downing as much fire as they can stand. They don’t want to remember what they just saw. For everyone’s sake. 

Whumper shoving a bottle against Whumpee’s chest. “You’re going to want to forget that. I’ll check back in tomorrow to make sure you did.” 

Walked into the wrong bar at the wrong time - now they’re a vampire’s lunch.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who fucked up everything. Now I need to clean up your mess.”

The shaky hand Whumpee presses to their mouth to try to stifle their echoing breaths. Eyes squeezed shut so hard that they might press the memory of what they saw out of their mind.

“How’s about you and me go for a little walk, hm?”

“Sorry kid - boss said no loose ends.”

Whumpee stepping around the corner to see people and blood and heads slowly turning toward them. Seeing them seeing what just happened. Seeing the blood. Seeing them seeing the blood. Whumpee slooooooowwwwwly steps back, eyes stricken with horror-

“Can’t talk without a tongue, right?”

Whumpee driving in the middle of nowhere - how were they supposed to know it would be fifty miles to the nearest gas station? At least they can cal-......they don’t have signal either…

Whumpee flinching at each echoing footstep, tucking further back into their hiding spot. “I know you’re theeeeerrreeeee~ Come out come ouuuut~”

“You know this isn’t personal, right?”

And escaped whumpee bumping into Whumper completely randomly years later. The  s t a r e. Aaaaaaand run-

“What are you so scared for? I don’t gotta kill you~”

“Wh-y me?” “You were the easiest to grab.”

Stepping into a bear trap. 

Whumpee getting mistaken for a target. Tortured in their place while pleading all the while that they got the wrong mark. Of course, no one believes them.

“Know what you are? A liability.”

The random guy the villain shoots in a bar just to make a point. 

“Don’t. Move.”

[Prompt Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

(a few of these arent working so if wibbly-wobbly-whump or hold-back-on-the-comfort changed their blogs please lmk <3