#whumpmas in july 24

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 3 @whumpmasinjuly-archive : "I deserved it"

Characters: Asset 84 and Asset 83

83 finds 84 after a "correction".

CW: conditioning, living weapons, injuries, punishment.

Asset 84 masterlist

Complex 27 masterlist

It was a few hours since 83 had last seen 84, they weren't sure if the details but they knew the other asset had been taken to Sergeant Munroe to be punished - and the fact that they were not back yet meant it must have been a serious punishment. Not that this was surprising, Colonel Carter, 84s handler, was particularly harsh and often had the Sergeant punish 84 for this that other assets got away with.

Concern gnawed at 83 as they walked down the corridor towards the labs. It was likely that 84 was in the medical wing or the recovery room. They couldn't possibly still be undergoing punishment… could they? No one, not even an asset, could endure that for so long. The thought made 83 quicken their pace.

Showing concern for another asset could be dangerous. It was vital that no one realized they were worried about 84’s welfare. As 83 approached the labs, they scanned the area. No one seemed to notice them as they moved silently through the halls. The security was tight, but stealth and subterfuge were part of 83’s training - a part the facility probably never thought 83 would use in this way.

83’s breath caught as they saw 84 slumped against the wall in the corridor, the usually composed and unyielding asset now reduced to a trembling figure, blood seaping through the back of their grey jumpsuit. 83 hesitated for a moment, scanning for any prying eyes before they hurried to 84's side, their heart pounding.

84's breathing was shallow and labored. With every inhale, their shoulders quivered slightly, the rhythm of their breath uneven and jagged. When 83 reached them, 84's head lolled slightly, eyes half-closed as if trying to escape the pain.

"84," 83 whispered urgently, crouching beside them and gently placing a hand on their shoulder. The skin beneath their fingers was hot and clammy, slick with sweat and blood. 84 flinched at the touch, a low, strained sound escaping their lips—a sound more primal than anything the facility’s rigorous training could stifle.

84’s eyes fluttered open, grey eyes glazed with pain. They blinked slowly, focusing on 83’s face, a faint recognition flickering in their expression.

"83?" 84 rasped, "You should not be here."

83 ignored the warning, instead they gently touched 84's shoulder, feeling the tension and pain radiating from their body.

"What did they do to you?" 83 asked softly.

84's gaze flickered toward 83, the usual sharpness in their grey eyes now clouded with agony. The muscles in their back twitched involuntarily, and their breath hitched as they attempted to speak through clenched teeth. "It is nothing," they managed, though their voice cracked and faltered. "I deserved it."

Despite the words, 83 could see the truth in 84's pained expression and the trembling that seemed to seep into their very bones. They could feel the heat radiating from 84’s body, the blood seeping through the torn fabric of their jumpsuit, slowly darkening the material and leaving a trail of evidence to the brutal reality of their treatment.

"Can you walk?" 83 asked, their concern barely masked by their calm tone.

84’s gaze dropped, the effort of lifting their head seeming monumental. They tried to push themselves up, but their limbs trembled uncontrollably, and they collapsed back against the wall, a ragged sigh escaping them. “I can manage,” they murmured, but the words were hollow.

83 glanced around once more to ensure no one was watching before slipping an arm around 84’s waist, gently helping them to their feet. “Come on,” 83 said softly, guiding them down the corridor.

As they began moving, each step was labored; 84's body swayed slightly, and their movements were sluggish, as if their very bones were weighed down by the pain.

They made their way to the medical wing with 83’s support, every step eliciting a grimace from 84. When they reached the door, 83 hesitated before pushing it open, the sterile smell of antiseptic hitting them like a cold wave. Inside, the room was empty, save for the cold, harsh lights that illuminated the clinical surroundings.

Gently, 83 guided 84 onto a bed, avoiding direct contact with their back as they eased them onto their stomach. The back of 84’s jumpsuit was peeled away to reveal a latticework of angry welts, each one a deep shade of red and purple. Some had split open, forming small pools of blood that slowly trickled down, leaving streaks of crimson on the bed.

84’s breath came in ragged gasps, their entire body trembling with the effort to remain still. Their eyes, normally sharp and unwavering, were now dulled with pain and exhaustion. Despite their insistence that they deserved the punishment, their physical state spoke volumes about the severity of their ordeal.

“what happened?” 83 asked quietly, as they carefully inspected the damage.

84’s eyes flickered with confusion. “it is nothing,” they repeated, “I deserved it."

"No, this isn’t nothing," 83 insisted softly, their frustration barely masked, "This is beyond what is reasonable."

84’s eyes closed momentarily, struggling to maintain composure. "I failed," they murmured, their voice wavering. "Failure... brings consequence."

83’s expression hardened with anger. "We are more than weapons. You’re worth more than this."

"I failed," 84 repeated, "a lesson in endurance was... Nessecary,"

83’s frustration flared. “We’re more than just weapons, 84.”

84 looked at 83, their gaze tired but firm. “You should not say things like that.”

83 glanced around to confirm their solitude. “But it’s true,” they said fiercely. “We are more than weapons.”

84’s head hung low, a shudder running through them. “We obey,” they whispered. “We endure. It is our purpose.”

[badluck990]

I'm about an hour late to this but its fine.

Whumpmas in July day 2 let's go!!

I like themes if that makes any sense. Its why I like pet whump, I see the pet thing as a theme. The concept of all the action centering around a simple idea is just good soup.

I also enjoy fantasy whump and fantasy stories in general. Complicated magic my beloved!!

[whumpmasinjuly]

Now introducing the prompt list for Whumpmas in July 2024! 

Thank you for patiently waiting! As a reminder, we will not be reblogging any creations on this blog and will instead keep this blog as a space to only post the prompts, tags, and relevant information. We will post the tag for each day, and we ask that you use two tags when filling prompts this year so that others may find your creations easily:  Tag 1 —> #wij24day__ (Fill in the blank with the appropriate day number for the prompt you are filling! For example, if you are doing the prompt for day 21, make sure to tag your post with #wij24day21.)

Tag 2 —> #whumpmasinjuly2024 Be sure to also tag @whumpmasinjuly-archive if you would like your posts reblogged to our new official archive account! Of course, feel free to use any other relevant tags too! You can also find a banner that you can use in your posts (if you want, not required) under the #wijbanner tag.

The prompts are divided into three categories: community (red boxes), question (green boxes), and creation (white boxes). Everyone is free to participate as much or as little as they want–there’s no completionist requirement! This list provides a preview of the prompts, but on each day a more detailed post will be released with more context and additional suggestions for each day’s task. Similar to previous years, all prompts and other important information will be found under the #infowhumpmasinjuly tag and #infowij24 for ease of access. This blog will also use the tags #wijquestion , #wijcommunity , and #wijprompt respectively for each post so that you can filter and find the type of prompts you’d like to do. 

Below the cut is a text list of this year’s prompts:

1. (Re)Introduce yourself 2. What are your top three favorite whump tropes? 3. "______ deserved it" 4. Post a whump prompt for someone else to fill on Day 28 5. Share a TV show, movie, or any media that gives you the whumperflies! 6. Left Behind 7. Post a link to your favorite whump fic of all time! 8. Describe your favorite type of whumper 9. Mind Games 10. Check out a new whump blog and drop them an ask 11. What songs/playlists are perfect for whumpy daydreaming? 12. Caught 13. Share some of your favorite niche whump tags! 14. Describe the ideal fic you've always wanted to read, but have yet to find/haven't written yet. 15. A Soft Reprieve 16. Create a whump meme! 17. What has been your most recent whump obsession? 18. "Or else" 19. Create a list of some of your favorite whump blogs to share! 20. What character do you wish to see whumped more in canon/fan-made media? 21. Abandoned 22. Find a story/author you've never engaged with before, and leave some nice comments! 23. What is your favorite type of whump setting? 24. Denial 25. Share a sneak peek of something you're working on 26. Describe your favorite type of whumpee 27. Delirium 28. Fill someone's whump prompt from Day 4 29. When did you get your first whumperflies? 30. "I'm here" 31. Who is someone in the whump-creating world that you admire and why?

[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

[serickswrites]

Whumpmas in July '24 Day 25

Share a sneak peek of something you're working on

So this idea has been floating around in my head for a week and some change (yes, I know I have so many pieces I need to finish, but I have to start ideas when I get them!)

It's under the working title (that I think will stick) called 'Lonely Place of Longing'

“Are you afraid of me?” Whumpee asked quietly. They hadn’t moved. Hadn’t attempted to get closer to Caretaker. Hadn’t tried to run out the door behind Team Leader.

Caretaker licked their suddenly dry lips. “Yes.”

Whumpee nodded. “Good. You should be.” They crossed the room and flopped onto their stomach on the bed. Caretaker could see a long, still bleeding cut, running the length of the weapon’s back from their left shoulder to their right hip.

The weapon propped their head up on their arms. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you unless Team Leader tells me to.”

“Do you always do as Team Leader asks?”

The weapon lay their cheek on their arm. “Yes. I am to always listen to Team Leader.” The weapon sighed. “The last one didn’t last long. There’s no shame in quitting. I won’t blame you.”

“What?”

“My last keeper. They quit after three days. It’s ok if you are too scared. You can quit. Everyone does eventually.” The weapon seemed to say the last more to themself than Caretaker.

[justplainwhump]

Red

Written for Whumpmas in July, "Denial" (Day 24, but it fits today...)

Follows right after [Over].

[Angel Masterpost]

Dany changes cars.

Content / Warning: BBU, abduction, character death, a bit of dissociation (panic response), a lot of blood.

It took a while for the world to take shape again, for words to form over the shrill ringing in her ears, just drifting fragments of a broken reality.

"Dress", Dany made it out, then faces around her, the taste of metal on her lips, a hand pulling her upright, a sudden relief around her wrists.

"Get out of your dress." 

Someone pressed her down again, into a puddle of sticky red on a metal ground, and her stomach lurched at the smell.

Hands roaming over her back, the noise of a zipper, a soft draft caressing the now bare skin of her back.

Frankie had helped her put her new white dress on, minutes ago. 

Frankie, whose blood pooled on the floor and stained her dress red, now. 

The fabric was pushed over her shoulders, a hand around her waist lifted her up, before the dress was swiftly pulled off.

She wondered how hard it was, to undress a tied up stranger. How often one had to do it, to become efficient at it.

She wondered, if it was the first time she'd tasted Frankie's blood on her lips.

She wondered, if she grieved him. 

"She's dissociating."

Her hands were wrestled onto her back again, wrists zip tied again. Had she been free in between?

She didn't think it mattered.

"Good. Hold her down." 

Somebody approached her, twisted her arm slightly. 

Cold steel broke through her skin. Dany gasped. "Shhh," a voice hissed, as a hand pressed onto her shoulder. "Shhh, we're not hurting you, just drawing a little blood." 

Wasn't there enough blood already? Not hers, she figured. Hers was more important, somehow. Better than Frankie's.

She felt the blood leave her body, watched it run into a clear bottle. It filled up fast.

Dany was dizzy.

The needle was pulled out. "Good girl," someone whispered, and petted her cheek. "All ours, already, aren't you?"

They turned around, left, vanished. There was no plaster being put on the wound. Strange.

"Where's the decoy?"

Dany blinked. Long golden hair caught the light outside the van. Hair just like hers. Hers, before it had become stained with her ex' blood. She wondered if it'd ever be clean again.

The hair belonged to a woman, tall and lean, who stood outside the van. She was naked. Then again, so was Dany. 

The woman stared at her. Restrained panic spoke from from wide blue eyes. She wasn't a mirror. Dany's own eyes were light brown. Brown and empty.

There were more differences, on second glance. The woman's skin was lighter than Dany's. No freckles. Instead - scars. Over and over. On her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. Most were older, fading. Some weren't. 

On the woman's wrist, stark black against pale skin, was a bar code.

Dany's stomach turned.

"No," she breathed. "No no no no."

"Well, Ms Hammond is back," the masked man next to her stated. "Don't worry, sweetheart. It'll pass."

Dany tugged at her restraints. "You can't do this," she begged. "They'll know, my Dad will know, he'll fucking obliterate you."

"That's why we make sure he won't know," the man replied. 

"Don't do this to her. Don't to this to me. I have money, whatever they pay you, I can match it. Please."

The woman - pet - no, woman, held something in front of her. Short, white, spattered with red. Dany's dress. The woman swallowed. "Sir?"

"Put it on."

The pet didn't hesitate. The dress fit her perfectly.

Dany twisted to her side to get up, her bound feet scratching over the slick floor of the van uselessly, unable to find any footing.

"Tsk. I thought you were a clever one." All it took was a boot on her shoulder to pin her down. "No need to fight, Danielle. Your life is over."

"No," she yelled, tears springing to her eyes. "No. Run. Run, pet, please."

The pet just tilted her head. 

"Don't listen to her," the man said mildly. "She's a pet, too."

"Run! They'll kill you!"

The pet remained silent, just tugged at the hem of the bloody dress.

Dany kicked at the man with her bound feet. Missed, by far.

With a sigh, he reached down and easily lifted her up, pressing her close to his body, as he stepped out of the van and into the garage. "In your line of work, princess," he mumbled into her ear. "I thought you'd have known. Death can actually be a mercy."

He pressed her elbow down, before she could jerk it into his face. "If not, you'll learn soon enough."

"No," she sobbed. 

"Pets don't say that," he whispered. "But that's a lesson for another day. For today, your lesson is way simpler."

He stopped in front of a SUV. Hydraulics hissed, when the trunk opened, laid out with plastic.

"Good girl," a voice echoed, from back at the van. "Camera on. Now. Turn around, and run for the exit. You've practiced this, haven't you? Seen the videos of her? You'll do so good. Run, just like she would."

"No," Dany's voice broke. 

The man's hand curled up into her hair and slammed her head into the edge of the trunk. Pain exploded behind her eyes. Her vision swam with tears.

A shot rang through the garage. Then another, a third.

Dany couldn't breathe.

"You don't get away from WRU," the man said softly. "That's your lesson, princess. Safe ride."

The hood slammed shut over her, plunged her in darkness, cut her off from the outside world. Left her alone, with her pain, with the taste of blood on her lips - and with the dawning realisation, that behind them, on the concrete floor of a parking garage, Danielle Hammond had just died.

---

[Next]

---

Angel tag list:

@whumplr-reader @there-will-always-be-blood @whimpers-and-whumpers @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumpmas in July Day 24: Denial

CW: Betrayal, recapture

Whumpee was met with a grin they’d hoped they would never have to see again. “Hello Whumpee,” Whumper said. It felt more like a threat than the greeting it really was.

Whumpee took a step back. They were nearly paralyzed with fear, but still had enough presence of mind to search for anything within their reach that might work well as a weapon against Whumper. No such luck. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you you’d never get away from me: You’re mine. I’m just making good on my promises, dear.”

“How—you shouldn’t have been able to get here.” Whumpee was supposed to be safe here. Caretaker told them it was safe.

“Oh, shouldn’t I?” Whumper asked, teasingly pretending as if it mattered to them. “Well. With a bit of help from your little friend, I seem to have managed.” Keeping up the mockery, they looked around the room as if to make sure they really had managed to get there.

Whumpee wasn’t paying attention to the teasing. All they could focus on from the exchange was one phrase. Help from their friend? No. Caretaker wouldn't give them over to Whumper. 

“You’re lying,” they said. They wouldn’t believe it.

“Oh, you poor thing. Come on, let’s get you back where you belong.”

Whumper dragged Whumpee along. They tried to fight back and squirm away, but some part of them was still too afraid of the consequences to fully commit all their efforts to escape.

On their way out, Whumper exchanged words with a familiar figure. Whumpee didn’t listen to what was being said. They only noticed who it was, watching and trying to make sense of it. “Caretaker?”

Caretaker wouldn’t meet their eyes. “I’m sorry, Whumpee.”

Whumpee still couldn’t believe it. It had to be a mistake, or a clever trick. Caretaker wouldn't give them over to Whumper.

Masterlist

[whump-me]

Whumpmas in July Day 24: Denial

Day 53. She hung heavily from her chains. The bruises around the thick manacles wept blood. Her stomach growled, anticipating her daily crust of dry bread.

“Are you ready to cooperate yet?” the man asked.

She shook her head. “She’ll come for me,” she whispered, to herself as much as to her captor. “She’s coming to save me.”

Next to her, the body of the savior she was waiting for hung from matching chains. Gray flesh peeled away from the corpse’s skull. The room was thick with rot.

She stared at the body without seeing. She wasn’t ready to see.

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[builder051]

Whumpmas in July 2024 day 24: Denial

[emcscared-whumps]

WHUMPMAS IN JULY 2023!!

I'm rather fond of these little navigation posts, so I'll make another for this year's proceedings :)

I actually accomplished my goal last year of completing more than 50% of the prompts-- 20 of them, in fact, which is 64.5%! I'll aim to equal that this year (as I'm currently procrastinating on participating in the WLC Summer Exchange ^-^)

This Navigation Post will be updated with new entries.

Last Updated: 15 Oct, 2023

Whumpmas in July Prompt List

WiJ Posts!

Day. 01 - Introduce Yourself

Day. 02 - Ten words that Give me Whumperflies

Day. 03 - Stitches and Bandages

Day. 04 - Share Whumperflies Media

Day. 05 - Character you Wish to see Whumped

Day. 06 - Deprived

Day. 07 - A Link to my Fave Whump Fic

Day. 08 - Describe your Fave Type of Whumper

Day. 09 - "Stay with Me"

Day. 11 - What Whump Medium do you Prefer and Why?

Day. 12 - Search and Rescue

Day. 13 - Share your Fave Niche Whump Tags

Day. 14 - Describe your Ideal Whump Fic

Day. 15 - Buried

Day. 16 - Create a Whump Meme

Day. 17 - What Inspires you to make Content?

Day. 18 - Ache

Day. 19 - List your Fav Whump Blogs

Day. 21 - "Please"

Day. 24 - Earth (Environmental Whump)

Day. 27 - Unstable

Day. 30 - Antidote

WiJ Mini-Series Reading Order

Okay, so I actually managed this last year, so let's see if I can do it again! I really liked the way I did it last year, so the way it will work this year is: I'll write all of the prompts and post them, and they will act as a first draft. I will then take time afterward to stitch them all together and make a short fic that I can be proud of and list on my SP masterpost :)

As for posting, I'll try to get them up as close to the days as possible, but, I'll probably write things in weird orders. If I finish anything in advance, I will schedule it for the appropriate day.

1 - Earth (Environmental Whump)

2 - Unstable

3 - Buried

4 - Deprived

5 - Ache

6 - Search and Rescue

7 - "Please"

8 - Stay with Me

9 - Antidote

10 - Stitched and Bandages

[its-my-whump]

Whumpmas in July Day 24: Earth

A rescue team had made their way through the rough terraine and 4 highly trained and specialisted men had finally reached him.

The moist of the soft forest floor had embedded itself in his bones, but he hardly noticed anymore. He was shivering as a remaining gift from spending the night out in the open hurt and alone, but that he also hardly registered anymore. The aching pain, the stinging and throbbing his body fell hostage to almost a whole lifetime ago, it seemed, was still there. His hands desperatly grabbing soil to hold onto something, anything.

Staying alive was pretty exhausting. The arrival of help was something his brain wasn't really able to comprehend. Pain occupied his whole. There was no space for a thought, least of all admiring his, in the matter of speaking, breathtaking surroundings or greeting someone, he didn't really understand was nearby.

Everything he was capable of, everything he was concentrating on, was breathing. Just to breathe through the pain, that wanted to pull him under.

In and out, in and out.

In every other scenario this probably would have been called meditation. Here is was sheer and desperate survival.

He was afraid, if he fell asleep or more passed out, his body would give in and just stop the vital flow of air, which was the only thing keeping him alive, he believed. He was exhausted and tired.

Every inhale was accompanied by a stabbing pain. Every exhale was pure agony. The feeling that there was absolutly not enough air and he had to push the little he fought in, right out again, increased his panic.

When he was still able to think, he had thought, that when finally someone would come, relief would spread within, but it didn't. He was kind of glad, that he wasn't alone in his ordeal anymore, but that didn't improve his desperate fight for air at all.

Nothing changed, except that there was fuzz around him, hectic voices from blurry faces. Too much. Too loud. Too bright.

He was loosing this fight. All these desperate lonely hours, in the middle of nowhere, battling his pain just to breathe, were in vain.

Suddenly they started to touch him. Couldn't they see, he was already in so much agony. The stabbing pain increased. Hands were fumbling with his chest, his arms, his clothes, his feet. Something big and orange passed his blurry vision.

A sting in his arm, a hand on his face, something over his nose and mouth. Now, they wanted to suffocate him as well. His lungs were already doing a pretty good job here. Someone moved his head, something around his neck. Whatevery was going into his constricted lungs tasted different from the earthy forest air. But yet it didn't improve his struggle.

He was hurting more and more with every contact of their hands.

He just couldn't breath. The stabbing in his chest overwhelmed him. He was just not strong enough to take one single breath anymore.

The darkness longing for him, suddenly felt so inviting. Warmth and sweet painless oblivian were awaiting him.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't give in. He made a promise. What good was his word, when he wasn't even capable of keeping this one promise of staying alive.

They were fumbling with that big bright board somewhere by his side. Then there was an uncountable amound of hands on him and they "just" moved him.

His body exploded in a firework of red hot flames all of a sudden. Like someone had enflamed a fuse, the burning pain rushed through every fibre of his being.

He couldn't even hear his own horrendous desperate scream in agony, before it broke.

The young mans' limp body was straped to the backboard from practiced hands. 4 men lifted the board in a swift motion and slowly started their way back through the rough terrain towards the waiting ambulance.

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

wij masterlist

[teine-mallaichte]

Whumpmas in July Day 27 - Delirium

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

Character - Asset 84

CW - referenced character death, self harm, injuries, identify crisis, living weapon, extreme conditioning.

Asset 84 slumped against the cold, steel wall of their quarters, the flickering lights casting erratic shadows across their face. They clutched their head, trying to steady the rapid oscillation of their thoughts.

Flashes of the colonel's green eyes, her reassurances and praise, the training and punishments, the veiled threats, and the sergeant's cruel laughter swirled together in a cacophony of torment.

A shudder wracked through 84 as they tried to focus on the present, their body trembling as phantom pains from the branding surged through them. They could almost feel the searing heat of the iron, the acrid smell of burnt flesh, and the sickening satisfaction in the sergeant's eyes.

The vision of Asset 83’s execution invaded their thoughts relentlessly. The image of 83’s body crumpling, the sharp, echoing sound of the gunshot, created a persistent loop of grief and anger that 84 struggled to comprehend. Each time they tried to focus on the present, 83’s final moments would intrude, an unbidden specter haunting their mind.

84’s fingers dug into their scalp, trying to physically expel the memory. They recited their mantra, clinging to it as if it were a lifeline. “I am 84. I am a weapon. I will endure.” But the words felt increasingly like a desperate plea rather than a conviction.

They were a weapon; they didn't make emotional connections. 83's death was meaningless; it had been necessary. 83 had broken protocol, and their utility had ended. But the logic did little to quell the chaos of disjointed thoughts and memories.

The walls of the quarters seemed to pulse with a rhythmic, oppressive beat, mirroring the chaos inside 84’s mind. Every repetition of their mantra was a threadbare attempt to anchor themselves amidst the storm.

They were trained to be emotionless, to view death as a necessity. But, the sight of 83’s lifeless body haunted them. They remembered the countless missions, the silent camaraderie, and the brutal punishments. Each memory clashed with their training, creating a cacophony of conflicting emotions.

"I am 84. I am a weapon. I will endure,” they repeated, though the words felt more like a desperate plea than a solid conviction. They were not meant to doubt, to question, to… feel.

84 squeezed their eyes shut, trying to shut out the swirling thoughts, but it was futile. The vision of 83’s execution was relentless. Every detail was etched into their mind—the harsh spotlight, the cold metal of the gun, the final, fatal shot. “Stop,” they muttered to themselves, voice breaking. “Stop… I am 84. I… am… a weapon…” The words trailed off, the mantra faltering as 84’s mind wrestled with the unrelenting flood of emotions.

In the flickering light, they saw distorted faces—the colonel's green eyes gleaming with false compassion, the trainer's cold, indifferent gaze, and the unyielding eyes of 83, a haunting reminder of what could happen when obedience faltered.

A sudden wave of nausea swept over 84, and they retched, the bile searing their throat as it forced its way up, leaving a bitter, acrid taste that seemed to claw at the edges of their consciousness. Each convulsion was a betrayal of their meticulously trained resolve.

The raw, unrelenting vision of 83’s death played on repeat in 84's mind. The memory was so vivid they could almost feel the icy barrel of the gun against their own temple, the echo of the fatal gunshot foreshadowing their own potential end.

“I am 84. A weapon. I must endure.” Each repetition brought no comfort, only a sharp reminder of their current failure. Their insides twisted and vision swam. Their body convulsing uncontrollably, every heave a stark reminder of their growing vulnerability.

“Stop…” 84 whispered again, their voice cracking under the weight of their distress. “Stop… I am 84.”

The walls of their quarters seemed to pulse in time with their own heartbeat, a cruel reminder of their isolation. The mantra continued to echo in their mind, but it was no longer a beacon of strength but a plea, a fragile lifeline, an attempt to salvage a semblance of control in a world that seemed to be spiraling out of their grasp.

Their nails dug into their arms, and the pools of crimson that emerged were stark reminders of their fragile humanity. The vivid, throbbing pain and the sight of their own blood momentarily drew 84’s attention away from the tumultuous storm in their mind. They had been trained to believe that assets were not people but mere tools—emotionless and impervious to the trials of human existence. And yet… they could bleed, they could hurt, and they could suffer, and 83 could die.

Tears mixed with sweat, blurring their vision as they fought to hold onto the mantra that had been their shield for so long. “I am 84. I am a weapon.” The repetition was mechanical, yet each iteration felt increasingly hollow.

A fresh wave of nausea hit them, and 84 retched again, the bile burning their throat and leaving a bitter, acrid taste. Each heave of their body seemed to echo the emotional turmoil they were desperately trying to suppress. The room seemed to spin around them, the oppressive atmosphere suffocating. 84’s attempts to ground themselves were increasingly desperate. They clutched at their head, their fingers digging into their scalp as if trying to expel the tormenting memories. Each sob, each shudder, was a betrayal of their training, a sign of the fragile human beneath the veneer of the weapon they were meant to be.

In their desperation, 84’s mantra finally faltered, their voice breaking as the reality of their situation sunk in. They were not just a weapon; there was a time before they were a number, a time when they had a name and a life.

They were once a person, not just an instrument of destruction.

As the room's oppressive atmosphere seemed to close in tighter, 84’s sobs grew quieter, their breaths slow and labored. The relentless cycle of nausea and tears eventually subsided into a weary, defeated silence.

The echoes of 83’s execution continued to reverberate in their mind. Each time 84 attempted to clear their thoughts, the brutal image of 83’s death reasserted itself, relentless and unyielding. They could almost hear the soft, haunting whisper of 83’s final, resigned acceptance—the “No” that had been uttered with such finality.

“I am a weapon. I will endure,” they muttered once more, their voice hoarse. The mantra felt increasingly like a lie, a broken shield against the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm them. The repetition was mechanical, a last-ditch effort to cling to a semblance of their former self.

Their gaze fell to the bloodstains on their arms—a stark reminder of their struggle, a painful affirmation of their humanity that contradicted their role as a weapon.

“I am asset 84…” they muttered, “I am… a weapon…” The statement faltered.

Their breaths came in shallow gasps, the echoes of 83’s execution haunting them. The mantra that once defined them now felt like a lie, a broken shield against the flood of emotions threatening to consume them.

“I am… 84.” The repetition was weak, a desperate attempt to cling to their identity, “I am not… Alex,” Each word was a struggle, a reminder of the person buried deep within, "I am… 84."

[whumpmasinjuly]

Now introducing the prompt list for Whumpmas in July 2023! 

Thank you for patiently waiting! We will be implementing a couple of new changes! We will not be reblogging any creations this year and will instead keep this blog as a space to only post the prompts, tags, and relevant information. We will post the tag for each day, and we ask that you use two tags when filling prompts this year so that others may find your creations easily:  Tag 1 ---> #wij23day__ (Fill in the blank with the appropriate day number for the prompt you are filling! For example, if you are doing the prompt for day 21, make sure to tag your post with #wij23day21. Of course, feel free to use any other relevant tags too!)

Tag 2 ---> #whumpmasinjuly2023  Be sure to also tag @whumpmasinjuly-archive if you would like your posts reblogged to our new official archive account!  You can also find a banner that you can use in your posts (if you want) under the #wijbanner tag.

The prompts are divided into three categories: questions, prompts, and community activities. Everyone is free to participate as much or as little as they want–there’s no completionist requirement! This list provides a preview of the prompts, but on each day a more detailed post will be released with more context and additional suggestions for each day’s task. Similar to previous years, all prompts and other important information will be found under the #infowhumpmasinjuly tag and #infowij23 for ease of access. This blog will also use the tags #wijquestion , #wijcommunity , and #wijprompt respectively for each post so that you can filter and find the type of prompts you’d like to do. 

Below the cut is a text list of this year’s prompts:

1. (Re)Introduce yourself. 2. What ten words give you the whumperflies/make you think of whump? 3. Stitches/Bandages 4. Share a TV show, movie, or any media that gives you the whumperflies! (Feel free to go off about your favorite episodes/moments!) 5. What character do you wish to see whumped more in canon/fan-made media? 6. Deprived 7. Post a link to your favorite whump fic of all time (or reblog it and/or make a list of them!) 8. Describe your favorite type of whumper! 9. “Stay with me” 10. Check out a new whump blog and drop them an ask! 11. What whump media type do you prefer and why? 12. Search & Rescue 13. Share some of your favorite niche whump tags! 14. Describe the ideal fic you’ve always wanted to read but have yet to find / haven’t written yet. 15. Buried 16. Create a whump meme! 17. What inspires you most to create whump content? (Images? Fics? Shows?) 18. Ache 19. Create a list of some of your favorite whump blogs to share! 20. Describe your favorite type of whumpee!  21. “Please.” 22. Find a story/author you’ve never read before, read it and leave some nice comments (people can reblog the post to plug their series/masterlists/etc as well) 23. What is your favorite type of whump setting? 24. Earth (Environmental whump) 25. Share a sneak peek of something you’re working on! 26. What is your favorite place to find whump media, roleplayers/writers, or fan-created content? (Link us to it!) 27. Unstable (Mentally? Physically? Both!?) 28. Send people asks about their OCs or favorite fandoms! 29. Do you identify with any particular roles or situations in whump? 30. Antidote 31. Who is someone in the whump-creating world that you admire and why?

[serickswrites]

Whumpmas in July '24 Day 28

Fill someone's prompt from day 4.

I'm going to be filling this prompt by @justplainwhump because I love this dialogue idea!

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, blood from the mouth, beating, forced to watch, broken bones, escape attempt

Whumpee moaned as blood dripped from their mouth onto the ground in front of them. Whumper had been kicking the shit out of them for the last ten minutes. Had been kicking them since they had caught Whumpee trying to escape and dragged Whumpee back to the dungeon and Caretaker.

Caretaker yelled their protests as Whumper kicked Whumpee. Whumpee had failed. Which meant they hadn't been able to get help for themself, but more importantly for Caretaker.

"Quit your yapping," Whumper said to Caretaker as Caretaker banged their cuffs on the metal bars keeping them from Whumpee, "or I'll give you something to yell about."

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" Caretaker roared.

"I've had enough of you!" Whumper turned from kicking Whumpee.

Whumpee let out a groan of relief as they uncurled themself from the ball they had wrapped up in to protect their ribs. They spat blood on the floor as they tried to breathe through the burning pain in their ribs.

"This is your fault, Whumpee," Whumper said as they picked up a baseball bat they had dropped just outside of Caretaker's cage. "You know that right?"

Caretaker opened their mouth to scream and yell at Whumper, but Whumper struck their side with the bat. Whumpee could hear the bat connect with Caretaker's side and Caretaker wailed with pain. Whumper brought the bat down on their restrained arm. Whumpee could hear the crack of Caretaker's arm breaking.

"STOP! PLEASE!" Whumpee roared.

Whumper paused, bat mid swing. "This is your fault, Whumpee. You know that, right? All the pain Caretaker just had to endure? It's because you failed. And they will continue to endure this pain." Whumper brought the bat down. "Until I'm satisfied."

"ME! ME! HURT ME! PLEASE!" Whumpee begged. They couldn't bear to have Caretaker take their punishment.

Whumper smirked. "Now that's more like it." And they swung the bat once more.

[autobot2001]

Whumpmas in July Day 24: Denial

Author: Autobot2001

Genre: Fanfiction

Random: Transformers

Rating: E

Warning: None

Pairing: None

Description: Crosshairs finds out Drift's nightmares returned while Drift denies he's exhausted.

@whumpmasinjuly-archive day 24: denial

Perhaps this counts for day 28; prompt fill, with this prompt.

Crosshairs sees how exhausted Drift is. He questions if Drift has slept the past few days. Concerned about if Drift's nightmares are back. Unlike when Jamie has a nightmare, Drift's seldom frighten him that he's screaming resulting in Crosshairs being woken up.  Jamie is with them, but Crosshairs doubts that would keep Drift from waking up, frightened.

The plan to get up at six in the morning to workout changes when Crosshairs sees Drift sitting on the couch.

"How long have you been up?" Crosshairs asks. Drift doesn't answer  leading Crosshairs to believe Drift has been up all night. In addition to Drift rubbing his eyes, "I'll take that as a yes. Why?"

Crosshairs knew Drift wouldn't answer him. He sighs, frustrated, and decides to go without as planned.  He goes into the bathroom to get changed, finding Drift lying on the couch when he walks out. Crosshairs hopes Drift will sleep.

Drift is still awake when Crosshairs returns to the room ninety minutes later.  Drift's hair is wet. Evidence that he took a shower.  Crosshairs is concerned about how Drift is avoiding sleep.

Crosshairs waits until the night to talk to Drift. Jamie is with friends watching a movie. By now, Crosshairs is amazed Drift hasn't fallen asleep yet.

"The nightmares are back, aren't they?"

"Yes. I don't know why. Jamie is safe with us and not in the medbay."

Crosshairs frowns.  Drift has been worried about Jamie's mental health, but he didn't think it was enough to cause nightmares.  Crosshairs doesn't know what to say. He is worried about Drift not sleeping. The only thing he can think to do that might help is lying on the bed with him. Sleep aid medicine will work, but that won't solve the problem. The two get r adu for bed. Drift gets in bed, while Crosshairs lies on Jamie's side of the bed. He does worry about accidentally falling asleep. Crosshairs and Drift face each other. Crosshairs takes Drift's hand, hoping to help him relax. The room is quiet as Crosshairs watches Drift fight sleep.

Drift fights sleep for twenty minutes before giving in. Before he falls asleep, Crosshairs gets off the bed. He sits on his bed, sighing frustrated. He's tempted to stay up all night to help Druft. Both are going to have a problem if they don't get sleep for a week. Crosshairs hates that Drift's nightmares are back and they Drift was in denial about it

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumpmas in July 2024 Masterlist

Writing

3 - "______ deserved it"

6 - Left Behind

9 - Mind Games

12 - Caught

15 - A Soft Reprieve

18 - "Or else"

21 - Abandoned

24 - Denial

27 - Delirium

28 - Community prompt fill (pet whumpee fighting their own recovery)

30 - "I'm here"

Other posts

My whump prompt

WIP sneak peek

Community posts

Question posts

All posts

Prompts list

Status: Completed!