#emotional manipulation whump

[cryptids-lobelia-garden]

I’m currently thinking about a time traveler Whumpee (we’ll call him V) who did very VERY bad things in the past (like, nearly world ending bad things) and has joined a time protecting organization to try to fix it

(Btw this is Pokémon except I don’t really know much about canon bc I’m still working on getting all the games played and I’m also adding tons of my own stuff, just absolutely making tons of shit up, also most of the Pokémon understand human speech and some can speak it sort of vibe. Also if you know who this is about no you don’t, there’s only like 1 canon character in here)

Anyway, V didn’t know what he was doing at the time, but he almost broke spacetime and almost everyone at the organization hates him over it- in fact, pretty much everyone wants him dead over it, because he single-handedly created a MASSIVE problem that they’ve spent a LONG time trying to fix. The only reason he’s alive is one (1) member of management saw his skills in research and stuff and was like “hey wait stop we should offer him a position in tracking down other time criminals”

So he’s left scared and pretty much fending for himself here, and the guy he’s put under (E) takes him under his wing.

But here’s the thing: there’s a couple people at this organization who DON’T want to hurt V. But V doesn’t know this bc E is playing into his fears to keep him kind of isolated, telling him everyone else here is out to get him, yadda yadda, and then he’s turning around and telling everyone else V is still not a great person

And V wants to fix things, he really does, and he’s trying REALLY HARD to fix things but everyone still looks at him like he’s a criminal and he doesn’t know why because he’s helped stop a LOT of bad things now, but the people that WERE kind to him avoid him by now and the rest still hate him and E’s treatment of him is getting worse

V is smart though, and he eventually figures it out. But by the time he does, nobody will ever believe him, because everyone thinks he’s a manipulator. A liar.

And that’s when things get worse. Because E knows he can get away with just about anything now.

Thinking about E getting a little careless with how he hurts V. Usually he keeps things where they’ll be hidden, but one day, something incriminating is just a little too visible, and management brings V in to talk and he doesn’t want to because he knows these people aren’t going to believe him bc E is pretty high up in the agency and he doesn’t want to make things worse for himself, but it’s the one person on management that likes him (we’ll call him A) and A eventually convinces V to show him the scars

And A is like “…oh shit. Who did this?” And V decides to tell the truth because there’s no point lying at this point, the word liar is etched into his skin a thousand times over, A’s not going to believe a single word, right? Besides, it’s not like E will hear about this.

Well, A listens and E gets fired and V gets put in his rank bc V’s actually one of the best members of the team he was put on, much to his surprise. And things get better, and people start getting used to V and he even gets a few friends

But one day while V is out on a job stopping a time loop or something E is there and he like almost dies

And the agency realizes E wasn’t supposed to be in that time loop. E found a way to travel through time without the agency’s tech.

So once V heals up, he gets sent after E, because E’s been capturing legendaries and stuff from a bunch of different times and just fucking shit up and yeah it’s a whole thing

V goes to a specific time and ends up meeting one of the people who stopped him (C) and C is really suspicious of him at first but when V explains the situation C is like “..oh” and decides to help him out and they team up

Well, V finds E and it starts a big fight and E throws C off a cliff and almost kills V but C is OT human and he survived and climbed his way back up and just straight up kills E (accidentally on purpose) and he rushes V to the hospital

And V’s just. So done at this point, with the agency and with time travel and with everything so he’s like “can I just stay with you I won’t cause any trouble” and C’s like “yeah sure” and they live together domestically now and it’s cute

……anyway uh. Yeh. This started as me trying to figure out how exactly I could write a redemption arc for V and it turned into a (realizing everyone hates him/realizing why/hating himself over it/letting himself be hurt over it/realizing that’s Not Good but not having anywhere to go/finally making it out/trying to actually fix everything/managing to fix things/being tired of being hurt and finally finding peace) arc, and. God.

Currently I have three different hyperfixations going, and it’s Pokémon, Adventure Time, and Epithet Erased is sitting on the back burner but has never really left (speaking of epithet erased Giovanni Potage is really REALLY gender). So. Help.

Btw uh. Like. Are people going to judge me if I? Start talking about who the specific characters I’m talking about are?? Haha I know probably no, I’m just Worried. Uuuuhh anyway yeah that’s the entire plot for a thing I want to write at some point when I finish another thing I’m already writing so uh. Yay

#Pokémon whump #well he’s human but like you know #it’s in the Pokémon world so #psychological whump #there is one (1) canon character here #and almost none of the plot has anything to do with canon #I just straight up made the agency up #and half the characters too #I can talk abt these characters more if people want by the way #only if people want though #these guys have SO MUCH whump potential #like. a LOT #and I didn’t even get into all the stuff that E did #I’ve got a bunch of oneshots about him and V #in my head not on paper yet #whump #redemption arc whump #oh damn is that not a tag? #emotional manipulation whump

[whump-queen]

give me a whumpee who reveals insecurities or past trauma in a moment of vulnerability,

give me a whumper who leans in with the most genuine look of concern, their eyes warm and compassionate, their palm gently cupping whumpee’s cheek, a bright smile blooming onto their face—

“oh sweetheart,

I’m going to exploit that.”

#give me all the warmth in world for the coldest words imaginable. #sunshine whumper #creepy/intimate whumper #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumper dialogue #akia.txt #my prompts #emotional whump #psychological manipulation

[serickswrites]

From a Whisper

Warnings: hostage situation, torture, captivity, emotional manipulation, self sacrifice, bruises, broken bones, blood, wounds, strangulation, choking, unconsciousness

"You look awful," Whumper whispered in Whumpee's ear. Their hot, wet breath tickled Whumpee. "Do you think Caretaker will recognize you?"

Whumpee opened their mouth to reply, but Whumper clamped their hand down on Whumpee's mouth. Whumpee swallowed their retort. There was no point in angering Whumper any further. It was hopeless.

"Look, here they come now," Whumper whispered as they tightened their grip on Whumpee's face. They began with their other hand, to press down on the deep bruise on Whumpee's collar bone. Whumpee wasn't entirely sure something wasn't broken, but with the pressure Whumper put on them, it would surely break. Their screams were muffled as Whumper kept their other hand on Whumpee's mouth.

"Let them go," Caretaker's voice carried across the room.

Whumpee looked up, their vision hazy with pain, their heart falling as they say Caretaker was really there. They had fallen for the bait.

"This is a hostage situation. If you're negotiating for their release, you've got to give me something," Whumper hissed, slowly drawing their hand away from Whumpee's mouth and putting their fingers on Whumpee's throat.

"Don't--" Whumpee started, but Whumper's fingers tightened, cutting off all air Whumpee had.

"Stop hurting them, Whumper. I am here like you asked. Let them go." Caretaker didn't look at Whumpee's face. They only had eyes for Whumper.

"Your presence is not enough, Caretaker. Give me something better. And I'd hurry if I were you, they don't look so good."

Blackness encroached the edge of Whumpee's vision. They sputtered and choked, but couldn't get a breath around Whumper's fingers. They shook their head. Caretaker couldn't give up anything for them.

"I will give you what you want, but you have to let them go first! Whumper!"

Whumper smiled and when they spoke, their voice sounded so far away even though Whumpee knew they were right next to Whumper. "I don't have to do anything. It is you who has to do something."

Whumpee gasped, their lungs burning for air. And still there was nothing. Their knees buckled, but Whumper kept them upright, the grip on their throat tightening.

"Jesus, Whumper! Stop! Stop!"

Whumpee wanted to reassure Caretaker. Wanted to ease the fear they heard in Caretaker's voice. Wanted to comfort Caretaker. But as the sounds began to fade and the darkness began to consume them, Whumpee realized there was nothing they could do to stop either Whumper or Caretaker.

And that was the last thought Whumpee had as they fell into the waiting darkness.

#serickswrites #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #tw captivity #tw torture #tw hostage situation #tw emotional manipulation #tw self sacrifice #tw bruises #tw broken bones #tw blood #tw wounds #tw strangulation #tw choking #tw unconsciousness #whumpuary #whumpuary2024 #day 15/16 #prompt: “you look awful” #prompt: hostage situation #prompt: muffled screams #queue

[whumpshaped]

@bobtheskeleton asked:

What about... A whumpee turned whumper and their whumpee being the caretaker?

---

tw whumpee turned whumper, caretaker turned whumpee, manipulation, emotional blackmail, past trauma

“Don’t you want me to get better?” Whumpee asked with a terrifyingly sweet smile on their face, and Caretaker took a step backwards. “You know all about what I have gone through. All the torture… All the humiliation… All that pain and misery…”

“Whumpee,” they breathed, taking another step away from their… friend. “Of course I want you to get better. And I’m really sorry that you’ve gone through so much–”

“You’re not really sorry. It’s not your fault, of course, you can’t really empathise unless you’ve gone through it yourself. And you can’t really help me unless you know what it feels like.” They continued closing the distance between them, and Caretaker was soon backed up against the wall. Cornered. “If you want to help me get better, I think you need to learn to empathise.”

“Whumpee, I have so much empathy for you, that’s not how empathy works–”

“Why are you being so condescending to me?” Whumpee asked with a pout. 

“I’m– I’m not– I’m being desperate, you’re scaring me–” 

Caretaker cut themself off and pressed back against the wall even more when Whumpee grabbed something off the top of the drawers next to them, especially when they realised it was a pretty heavy vase, something they’d used to joke was a self-defence weapon. Whumpee wasn’t going to hit them with that, were they? They weren’t going to seriously harm them… right?

“You’re being condescending. I know what empathy is. I know big words, contrary to what Whumper liked to preach. I’m not actually a dumb pet. Or did you believe that too? Maybe the people who haven’t been victims of such a thing can only ever agree with the perpetrator, deep down.”

Caretaker’s heart was hammering in their chest as they watched Whumpee play with the vase and try out different grips, as if seeing which would be best if they were to use it as a torture instrument. “Of course you’re not a dumb pet,” they whispered. “Whumpee, I love you. I would never agree with someone who has done something so heinous. If you’re not satisfied with the way I’ve been treating you, we can talk about it, you can vent all your frustration, I’ll listen. I’ll try to do better.”

“You can’t do better without first-hand experience. That’s what I keep telling you, and see? You’re not listening.”

“I am! I am listening, I just– I disagree–”

Whumpee cocked their head to the side. “You disagree. I’m telling you what I need to get better, and you disagree. You think you’re a lot smarter than me, don’t you? You think you know better, as an unbiased, outside observer. You don’t think I could actually know what’s best for me.”

“Knocking me out is not good for anyone. Please. I can help you so much better when I’m conscious, I promise.”

Whumpee seemed to at least consider that sentiment. Caretaker didn’t even breathe as they waited for the verdict. Would they be knocked out, tied up, held captive, and tortured? Would they not? Their stomach was in knots as they thought about all the messed up shit they knew Whumpee had gone through, and all the additional things they could’ve kept secret. What would happen to them if Whumpee got their way? If Whumpee were to teach them empathy?

“Will you call the police on me if I put this down?” Whumpee asked eventually, nodding towards the vase in their hand.

“No. No. I just want to talk. Just the two of us. Please. We’re friends, aren’t we? We can just talk.”

“See, I would’ve called the cops at the first opportunity that arose when I was with Whumper.” Whumpee lifted the vase above their head, ready to strike. “You need to understand that sort of desperation.”

#asks #bobtheskeleton #whump #whump drabble #whumpee turned whumper #caretaker turned whumpee #manipulation #emotional blackmail #past trauma

[feverdreamsanddelusions]

prompt ask game — bad caretaker

[tw bad caretaker, victim blaming, manipulation, conditioning, conditioned whumpee, abandonment, emotional whump, psychological whump]

25 scenarios and 25 dialogue prompts :)

scenarios

caretaker accidentally injures whumpee

caretaker accidentally triggers whumpee

caretaker loses their patience and snaps

caretaker forgets about whumpee

caretaker forgets about an important event/date

caretaker is overworked and whumpee is the last thing they want to be thinking about

caretaker purposely abandons whumpee because they're fed up

caretaker lashes out and ends up saying something very hurtful

caretaker purposely uses whumpee's conditioning against them

caretaker purposely triggers whumpee for whatever reason

caretaker is too rough when handling whumpee

caretaker has no idea how to communicate properly, they're so gruff and blunt to the point of rudeness

caretaker is friends with whumper and ends up believing whumper over whumpee

caretaker is victim blaming

caretaker is reluctant and constantly whining

caretaker perceives whumpee as a huge burden

caretaker feels like their life ended when they got tasked with caring for whumpee

caretaker gets too possessive/controlling over their charge

caretaker can't keep it consistent with the house rules

caretaker has their own issues so whumpee's sometimes get swept under the rug

caretaker x whumpee romance (gone wrong) (it's weird and toxic and dubcon-y)

caretaker can't cook and it ends up causing serious issues

caretaker has no idea how to take care of a sick person and makes it all worse

caretaker is too squeamish to take care of whumpee but they're the only one around

caretaker is trying to solve a medical issue with zero experince (stitches, splints etc.)

dialogue

"how can you be so ungrateful?"

"how do you think i feel?"

"i can't believe you can't even do that."

"look, i'm sorry, it's just... a lot."

"oh, here we go again."

"so now i'm the bad guy."

"i can't keep doing this anymore."

"you can't keep doing this anymore."

"you're being so difficult."

"can't you just give me a break for two seconds?"

"oh, fuck. you look like shit."

"if i have to hold you down, i will, and no amount of tears will convince me not to."

"stop crying already, fuck."

"i told you not to do that."

"one more sound and i swear i'll bring you back to whumper."

"you have to get over it at some point."

"yeah, yeah, i know, trauma this, trauma that..."

"you're such a victim."

"have you ever thought that maybe... it was kinda your fault?"

"do not go outside without me."

"what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"oh, you're really messed up/broken."

"i really can't do anything anymore, can i? it's all about you, you, you."

"it's just a fucking [object of phobia/irrational fear], stop being so childish."

"you know what? maybe you deserved it."

#whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #bad caretaker #victim blaming #manipulation #conditioning #conditioned whumpee #abandonment #emotional whump #psychological whump #ask game

[theheartwhumpswhatitwhumps]

Whumper comforting Whumpee

Whumper shushing Whumpee while they sob

Whumpee rejecting their touch, disgusted that this monster is holding them, being gentle with them, soothing them

Whumpee trying to pull away because even in their weeping delirium, they know they don’t want to be anywhere near Whumper

Whumper pulling them in close, locking Whumpee in strong arms like bars on a cage. Confining, but safe

Whumpee is too weak to pull away. Whumpee…Whumpee doesn’t want to pull away. They’re so afraid, they hurt so much, that any soft touch feels like Heaven

Whumpee crying even harder as they finally concede, leaning deeper into Whumper’s touch

Whumper stroking Whumpee’s hair, smiling in quiet victory

Some Whumper dialogue:

“Shhh, there there…”

“Oh, darling, I know.”

“Let it out, it’s alright.”

“Now now, no need to make a fuss.”

“It’s over now.”

“I’m here.”

Some Whumpee dialogue:

(between hiccups) “Get off. Get off me.”

“Don’t touch, don’t you dare.”

*uncontrolled sobbing*

*screaming into Whumper’s chest/shoulder*

“It h-hurts…”

“I’m sorry.”

“They’re gone”

(lost within mournful wailing) “It’s my fault. My fault.”

#there’s a specific scene that does this #but I can’t remember the story the medium or context #so please share if you have examples :) #please let me know if I missed an important tag #heartwhump #whump #tw stockholm syndrome #whumper turned caretaker #tw emotional manipulation #intimate whumper #tw noncon touching #crying #comforting #kind of??? #creepy whumper

[echoingalaxies]

Whump drabbles, 19/100: mantra.

“You’re nothing,” Whumper said.

“I’m nothing,” Whumpee repeated. They tried to cling to the image of Caretaker in their mind – before he’d imagined Caretaker would walk through hell to tell them those words weren’t true – but where were they? The memory of them was getting weaker every day, whereas the words Whumper made them recite had begun to sound… right. Easy.

“You’re useless,” Whumper grinned.

“I’m useless.”

“You’re worthless.”

“I’m worthless.”

“Nobody cares.”

“Nobody…”  Stinging pain, which would also soon be buried. It was easier to let go than to hold out hope. It had been so long. “Nobody cares.”

#100x100 whump drabbles #whump #emotional whump #manipulative whumper #hopeless whumpee #whump prompts #whump writing #whump scenario #whump tropes #whumpblr

[random-fandom-whump]

Whumptober Day 2: Caged ↳ Captain America: Civil War (2016)

#whumptober2022 #no.2 #caged #mcu #captain america: civil war #gifs #flashing gif #bucky barnes #the winter solider #captivity #under arrest #restrained #escape #screaming #anger #fury #emotional whump #brainwashed #manipulated #ca:cw #sebastian stan

[whumpypepsigal]

Outer Banks s03e09: “Look at me! I know what you did, okay? I don't care, 'cause you came back for me.”

#outerbanksedit #obxedit #outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #whumpedit #whump #angst #on the verge of tears #emotional whump #father and son #my gifs #outer banks spoilers #im taking crumbs at this point #ward still manipulating rafe #can rafe get a therapist and heal in s04? my (misunderstood villain) man can’t continue on this downward spiral… i want a redemption arc!

[dainluvr]

Unpopular (maybe popular) opinion but in my opinion emotional/ psychological whump is so much better than physical whump.

#whump #whump things #whump blog #writing #whump writing #whumpee #manipulative whumper #whumper #emotional whump #physical whump #psychological whump

[scratchandplaster]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 6 - "You lied to me"

CW: parental Whumper, hypnosis, emotional manipulation, interrogation, conditioning

Previous | [Masterlist] | Next

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"There are still plenty of thoughts inside your head, so let's get them in order."

Shepard was intently focused on his son. Above now dried tear tracks, his unblinking attention denied Ben to be unguarded for even one second, whilst his assertive but nevertheless mellow tone carried him along a carved-out path.

Possessive strokes down his back dragged him further: "Down, just down, always deeper down. We can't choose our sorrows, but you can choose to let them go for a moment, to let me help forget them. Follow my lead."

In and out, it was impossible to resist the pace he was taught so well.

"I would count you down, but you know all my old tricks."

Shepard was not naive, he had to be extremely lucky that his charade still worked after all these months Reuben spent on his own, poisoning his mind and spirit out in the world. That he still responded obediently to the suggestions of the past was a goddamn miracle. One he would gladly use to its full potential.

"Remember all the times we did this before," Shepard repeated for good measure. So many, many times, half of which Ben couldn't even recall. Today was far from the first instance he helped to quiet his ward's nettled thoughts.

It was about time to rectify old lies.

"You always knew where Lukas was, though we both know you claimed otherwise," Shepard sighed low, "Will you tell me now?"

The soft face on his shoulder began to stir back to wakefulness, his bottom lip scrunched up in painful guilt. Rough start.

"Shh, forget that, it was a stupid question. You did nothing wrong." Comforting reassurance and soft circles drawn onto his temples helped to smooth out any risen qualm. "I know it's difficult for you to stay alert during this state, so I'm keeping this easy for us. Just Yes or No from now on, you don't even have to say a word."

Reuben showed himself more agreeable and leaned back against him.

"Is Lukas doing well?"

A small nod. Good.

"Is he eating enough? You know how he always skips breakfast."

Again, Ben nodded against the rough wool of Shepard's sweater while the same tediously tried to keep this interview on track: he could embrace his success later, when both of his sons were near him again. However, the abandoned father was ready to reap the fruits of his endeavor.

"Do you want to tell me where he is?"

Ben quickly shook his head. No, not yet.

"Mhh, I understand."

It felt horrible how easy it was to make him tell the truth, but Shepard had no interest nor intention to question his parenting methods at the moment. He knew exactly what limits confined them: he couldn't make Reuben do or forget anything he didn't want to, at least if he failed to be persuasive enough.

Shepard's boy was easy to read and just as simple as he was loyal to both his brother and father. But not in equal parts, Shepard was at a certain disadvantage he ought to correct. 

Children like them were too inept for the world outside the settlement, so it was no wonder Reuben merely crumpled under the first selfless act of affection in a long time. If his forgiveness was not given freely, Shepherd could just rip it from his fragile heart. For both their peace of mind, nothing else.

"You know how much I love you, both of you."

The shake of Ben's head said it all. It hadn't even been a question, but the blunt answer pricked nonetheless.

"Oh, well, I love you more than the world. I did everything to get you back!" Shepard mused softly, "If not me, what about the rest of our family?"

Kind memories of the people who waited for him outside rinsed Ben of any stray thoughts and drifted with him into the depths. He never wanted to hurt any of them with his decisions. 

"Did you miss us?"

Ben affirmed this shyly, grabbing a corner of Shepard's sweater.

"You are safe here, right?"

A nod.

"You are safe with me."

At the claim, Ben's head rolled around aimlessly, as if he was trying to stir awake again. Shepard tutted; this was a tricky one.

"You are here with me and the others, all together. We watch out for each other, we keep each other secure."

Yes, this made sense. Through the pleasant, thick fog that filled his head, Ben knew it to be sincere.

"Here, you are safe. With us, you are safe."

Safe...together. He couldn't possibly disagree with these smooth words.

"You are safe and loved by us all, we were awaiting your return. Always putting an extra plate on the dinner table for when you decide to come back." 

Shepard had to endure countless days of waiting before accepting that his youngest would stay gone. He had searched for him for so long it made him sick with fear, not knowing if his sons were hurt or fraternizing with God knows what kind of people. Yet, he didn't want for Reuben to realize the damage he had caused, not when he was so calm and open for the right input. 

"And today our wishes were granted!"

Warmth, safety, love. Encased by these sensations, Ben's mind caught itself slipping into easy relaxation once again.

"Can you say it for me, can you tell me that you're safe and loved?"

"'m safe and loved," he slurred quietly against the wool. It felt good to be here in his dad's arms, it felt right.

"That's my boy, I knew we could stand above the past." 

Shepard's sweet promises hugged his exhausted soul, he was too tired of hiding, adapting, changing. They tried to teach Ben what to say and what to hide out there, but the only thing he understood was to never be himself; another truth nobody could ever tell his brother. He remembered exactly how angry and disappointed Luke loved to get with him.

Cupping his face carefully, Shepard pushed him to sit straight up: "Open your eyes."

With a wide, empty stare but not awake in the slightest, Ben continued to sway back and forth. He was unsure what Dad wanted from him and too dizzy to care, silently begging to be allowed back into the stream of soft, dark dreaminess. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes, but Shepard was far from done with him: "Ben, tell me what you are when you're with us."

"I'm safe and I'm loved," tumbled from his lips without thinking twice about it.

"Yes, you are." Relief washed over Ben like a tsunami: he didn't do anything wrong after all, nobody hated him here.

"Now close these heavy eyes and relax."

As he sagged back down, the inward pull doubled its force. He felt that the soap bubble his brain had become threatened to pop. Too much to focus on, nothing to think about, clutching onto the inner peace Dad had so kindly given him. 

"We all love you so much. Missing is too weak a word to explain how desperately we wanted you back. You are always wanted here." 

Every word was law.

Shepard should feel dirty at using Reuben's obvious weaknesses so bluntly against him, but not today. Today they would celebrate his return and plan the one they enjoyed as soon as the other prodigal son decided to come home. A selfish sting inside Shepard's heart forced the next question out: "Did you miss me?"

A final nod made tears run down Ben's face. Shepard hugged him tighter, as if he never intended to let go again:

"I missed you too, starshine, it's going to be alright. Everything falls into place when we are together."

Numb with joy, Ben felt too tired to hold on to the present any longer, a problem his father gladly helped him with: "Sleep now, sleep and let my words manifest as truth in your mind."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

#whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump drabble #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday6 #recapture #Carewhumper #touchstarved Whumpee #dubcon touching #love bombing #parental Whumper #cult setting #mind control #hypnosis whump #emotional manipulation #referenced past abuse #hangover #alcohol #scars #conditioned Whumpee #regretful Whumper #conditioning

[serickswrites]

In Your Arms III

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: unconsciousness, hospital, bedside vigil, self sacrifice, lies, emotional manipulation, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Caretaker hadn’t moved in the three days Whumpee had been in the ICU. Hadn’t moved since the medical team let them sit by Whumpee. Hadn’t moved since they sat down and saw just how dire a condition Whumpee was in. Hadn’t moved because they were afraid the moment they relaxed, the monitors would blare and tell them Whumpee had died. 

And so they were stuck with their thoughts as they waited, as they hoped, for Whumpee to wake. 

There had been a ring box in Whumpee’s things. The hospital had given it to them to hold. They turned the box over and over in their hands as they thought about everything that had happened leading up to three days ago. 

Whumpee cheated on them. Whumpee cheated on them. Whumpee cheated on them. 

But Whumpee hadn’t. Whumper had confessed that they had try to get Whumpee to cheat, but Whumpee wouldn’t. That they had to blackmail Whumpee, had to threaten Caretaker’s life, to get Whumpee to even talk to them. And then that was all it took for Caretaker to believe the lie that Whumper was peddling–that Whumpee was a cheater. And that they didn’t love Caretaker. 

It had all be a lie. 

And one that Whumpee had let Caretaker believe. Because they had to. Or else Caretaker was dead. 

But that didn’t stop Whumpee from asking for forgiveness. Hadn’t stopped them asking for forgiveness even though they were choking on the blood that filled their mouth, filled their lungs. Didn’t stop them from trying to mend Caretaker’s broken heart even as theirs stopped.

Because that was Whumpee. Whumpee was always putting Caretaker’s happiness and well being above their own. It wasn’t the first time Whumpee had thrown themself in harm’s way for Caretaker. It was the first time that they died for it. 

But they weren’t dead. And neither was Caretaker.

“You have to live, Whumpee,” Caretaker whispered to the silent room, “because I do forgive you. Because I still love you. Because I will always love you.”

They leaned over to kiss Whumpee’s forehead. They would sit here as long as it took for Whumpee to wake. “Please, you have to live,” Caretaker whispered as they leaned back. 

Caretaker gasped as they saw Whumpee’s eyes blink open. “Whumpee!” 

Tags: @espzd@whump321 @painsthegame @j-is-evil-28

#serickswrites #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #tw unconsciousness #tw hospital #tw bedside vigil #tw self sacrifice #tw lies #tw emotional manipulation #hurt/aftermath #hurt/recovery #caretaker and whumpee #queue

[whumpshaped]

next time after this @auroragehenna

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, manipulation, emotional whump, psychological whump, aftermath of drinking

Beck didn't remember much from his night of excessive drinking. After a certain point, the memories had simply cut off, and it was just static until he woke up. He remembered searching for the pizza place, he had faint memories of running away from Helle, of the bus ride home... and that was that. He crashed into bed and slept 12 hours only to be more tired than he had been, with a mean hangover to top it all off.

He was moaning and groaning in bed the whole day, occasionally going out to the kitchen for some soup, then coccooning further in his bedroom. He wasn't looking forward to getting dressed and going downstairs, but it was either that, or risking Helle getting into his home.

By the time he had to go stand in front of the building and wait for the vampire, he was reasonably put together, shifting his weight from one leg to the other constantly so he wouldn't freeze to the spot. He was more than sure that they would have some sort of comment about their encounter from the night before, but it was hard to predict what that would be when he didn't even properly remember the conversation they'd had.

"Feeling better?" Helle asked with an insufferably smug grin when they arrived. "Is the advanced strategy working out well for you?"

"Advanced..? What?"

"Oh." Their expression got even more smug somehow, and Beck was beginning to fear that he had done or said something extremely stupid last time. "Nothing, forget it."

"Wait– wait, what happened? What did I do? Did I say something yesterday?"

"Nothing of importance," they said lightly, clearly hiding something. They didn't even make a proper attempt at it.

"Don't be like that, please?" Beck tilted his head to the side, suddenly desperate to appease them. "You'll tell me after, right? Please? Please, I'm already nervous about it, I don't– I don't remember much–"

"Relax, dear. It was only one little kiss."

"Wha–" He was cut off by Helle biting into his neck, and he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. He hoped his blood wouldn't taste too gross, or at least not enough to disincentivise the vampire from telling him the whole story. There was no fucking way they kissed. There was no way.

There was no way his first ever kiss was with–

Helle pulled away with a satisfied sigh, then let out a content hum. "Barely any trace of it by now," they remarked casually, then stepped away and walked down the stairs. "Tomorrow night, then."

"Wait– wait, Helle, don't– don't just leave! Please, you have to tell me–"

They disappeared in a blur of movement, and soon Beck was only staring at an empty sidewalk. He looked around frantically, hoping this was only a joke, and they would come back... but they didn't. He felt the sting of unshed tears behind his eyes, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep down a string of curses. They had to be lying. Right? They had just been messing with him, as always.

Right?

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #beckett #vampire whumper #manipulation #emotional whump #psychological whump

[edencalls]

There isn’t enough gut wrenching disgusting angst about ascended astarion. Sometimes it’s a little silly when he tries to manipulate the player character after already telling them that he’s a professional manipulator, but he makes good points in trying to convince the player. He has had 200 years of pure shit, he does deserve better. That and those little snippets of “love” you get from him—I can see it being tempting. I can see falling into the trap of someone who claims to love you forever and regardless of anything the world could give you. I can see wanting desperately to give this person you love a chance at a truly good life, to your own detriment. Only to spend an immortal life as property. Sure the sex scenes in that route are hot, but I want to see what comes afterward.

#baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #whump #emotional manipulation #tw: abuse #astarion

[whumpshots]

Whumptober #2

Trope of the day: “They don't care about you.”

_

Whumper takes a good look at caretaker, who still spits at every question they ask them. They didn't expect the other to be so persistent, to be so ... strong. But whumper always gets what they want, no matter how much they have to cheat for that.

With a grin, whumper comes closer and crouches down before caretaker, whose face is bloodied and swollen. They still have this fascinating look of defiance on their face, a look whumper wants to wipe away even more with every passing second.

"Fascinating, really. You are stronger than I anticipated," they mutter and shake their head a little. "But do you know what is also fascinating? They never took this long to rescue one of you. Never. It's been days and there's still no sign of your little group."

Caretaker has been unconscious for quite some time, so whumper hopes they don't realise they are trying to mess with their perception of time. A grin spreads across their face as they see a reaction. The movement of their eyes is enough for them to continue.

"That's true. They don't care about you, darling," they coo and look at caretaker's face with even more fascination. "They probably have already found another idiot to take care of any inflicted wounds." Whumper feels triumphant when caretaker averts their gaze, their breath shaky all of the sudden.

“They don't care about you," they repeat and grab their chin to make them look at them. "But you will care about what I have to offer you."

#whumptober 2023 #whumptober2023 #whumptober #trope of the day #“They don't care about you.” #no.2 #whumper #intimate whumper #caretaker turned whumpee #stoic whumpee #emotional whump #manipulation tw #whumpshots

[little-peril-stories]

The Queen of Lies: Retribution and Regret

Story Intro | Contents [Warnings] | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contents: abusive relationship, gaslighting-adjacent emotional manipulation, trapped in a locked room, lady whump

Thanks @clairelsonao3 for inspiring me to turn to Breanna's literary society book for this chapter following your use of Yeats' "When You Are Old" in GSNBTR. 💕

Of course, I'd also be remiss not to also mention Nathaniel Hawthorne and thank him for the lovely prose in The Scarlet Letter. Thanks, Nate.

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Word count: 2300 || Approx reading time: 10 mins

Retribution and Regret

Teaser: Baden’s voice, too, haunted her every thought. Her every breath. What were you thinking? Sneaking around like that? For him? For a bastard thief? For one of those Iustitia aecum crooks? Are you trying to humiliate me? Make me the laughingstock of the entire constabulary?

Breanna stared at the ceiling.

Breanna stared at the ceiling and watched nothing happen.

Breanna stared at the ceiling and watched nothing happen, even as the empty, frigid cavern of her bedroom wobbled and spun.

Don’t, Curtis, for the love of god, please don’t let him—

I’m sorry I lied, I really did just want to do something kind—something good—

Please, he’s going to be so angry no matter what, don’t let him kill that boy, he didn’t do anything—

A tear welled in her eye, burning her skin when it grew too heavy and slid down her cheek.

It was my fault, please, I swear—

Rife with hurt and fury, Curt’s voice rang in her head. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?

Baden’s voice, too, haunted her every thought. Her every breath. What were you thinking? Sneaking around like that? Deceiving Lenton? Telling ridiculous lies? For him? For a bastard thief? For one of those Iustitia aecum crooks? Are you trying to humiliate me? Make me the laughingstock of the entire constabulary?

I’m sorry, she’d gasped, again and again and again.

I never expected this from you, Baden had said. Have you taken complete leave of your senses?

I’m sorry.

You’re sorry? You have no idea how sorry you are. But you will.

She had expected what came first, had held her breath and closed her eyes and pushed herself through until it was done.

The soft words of her mother often came to her in such moments—the gentle but fragmented counsel that had helped Cecilia Cooper through her own marriage to Silas Cooper, a bitter man prone to temper and partial to drink. Stay with me, my love, she had whispered so often, and I will keep you safe. A mostly empty promise, untrue but well-meant; Breanna had known even then that her mother had tried her best.

Let’s practice some sums, she would sometimes say, smoothing away her daughter’s tear-damp locks, watching the door with a frantic eye in case the handle began to turn.

Twice two is four. Twice four is eight. Twice eight is sixteen. Twice sixteen…

Or perhaps, Sing me a song. Sometimes, Shall we read together? Or, We’ll play a recitation game. Can you tell me a poem? Quietest one wins.

Some of the poems, Breanna still clung to. O Rose! who dares to name thee? No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet, but pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat. Kept seven years in a drawer —thy titles shame thee…

She had not expected what came after Baden’s furious tirade—had not expected his rage to be yet unspent, or that he should become a jailer not only to criminals, but to her as well.

You will stay in there, he had said, and she’d been too slow, too stupid to realize what was happening until the bedroom door slammed and the key scraped in the lock. Until you learn your lesson. Until you’ve had some time to remember who you’re married to. Who you belong to.

She had screamed then, hurling herself against the door despite the way her body screeched in pain, despite the rawness of her throat, despite how her weak, pathetic limbs could not budge the heavy wood.

Did you kill him?

She had choked out the words, still sobbing, on the floor now. She’d told herself it was her conscience that wanted to know so desperately.

Silence had answered her question, and she’d tried again. What did you do to him?

More empty air, devoid of sound and of pity.

Please, Baden. He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t.

A long, hissing breath from the other side of the door.

If I ever hear you mention the thief again, Breanna Hatchett—ever again—you will regret it until the end of your days. Do I make myself clear?

It had been her turn to respond with silence, until a fist smashing against the wall made her cry out.

Answer me.

Yes.

Now Breanna stared at the ceiling.

Wishing she had made different choices.

Wishing she had been wise enough to see this coming.

Mrs. Dennison had obviously been instructed not to open the door. Breanna had considered, for a while, setting fire to the room, just to see if the housekeeper would let her out then. To see if she was more loyal to her or to Baden. Fear had stayed her hand in case it was the latter—in case she ended up burning to death on her own self-built pyre.

How many hours had passed since the door had been locked, Breanna could no longer tell. She suspected it felt longer than it truly was, and she reprimanded herself for not paying more attention to how the light had changed. But when she tried to recall the path of the sun across the sky, to ascertain whether one night or two or five had passed, she found she could not remember.

The scrape of a key in the lock woke her from a hazy, dream-filled sleep.

“Breanna.”

He was back.

It was too late to turn around, to turn her back on him now. She was already facing the door. His grey eyes bored into hers, and her courage failed her. She looked away.

Baden closed the door behind him, the key already hidden away in his pocket, and approached.

“You are angry,” he said.

Was she? It was impossible to tell what she was feeling anymore.

“You made a terrible decision and a foolish mistake.” He sat down next to her, his arm scraping against hers.

“I know.”

“You made a complete mockery of me. My position. My authority.”

“I know.”

She kept her eyes downcast, counting specks of dust between the floorboards. He took her chin in his hand and directed her gaze toward him. “You could have been seriously hurt. Killed.”

“I didn’t think—”

“No,” Baden said. “You didn’t. That much is obvious.”

Although Breanna had not wept in hours now, a sob burst out of her again.

“Stop that,” he said. His grip tightened. “Enough tears.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Was she sorry? Again, it was difficult to discern exactly what she felt. All she knew was that it twisted her insides and filled her mind with fog.

“Perhaps you are,” Baden said. “Perhaps I believe you. But I confess…I cannot even begin to fathom what you thought to accomplish with your folly.”

“I…” His eyes were so cold and so grey, and he was so angry, and he was still holding her chin.

“I ask again. Why were you in there? What in god’s name were you doing?”

So tight. “I thought I’d… I just wanted to…” Too tight. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm.” Finally, Baden let go. He passed a hand over his face, sighing—a motion that might have been boyish were it performed by someone else. “I cannot have a wife who doesn’t think before she acts, Breanna. Who does impetuous things and cannot explain why.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. It won’t—”

He cut her off, gesturing around the room. “You understand, then, why this is needed. It’s for your own good. You may remain here and reflect on your choices. What you’ve learned. How you will conduct yourself in the future.”

“No,” she said, reaching for his hands. “I—I’m really—Baden, truly, you don’t have to leave me in here, I’ll—”

He took her hands in his, but the grip was like iron. “Do not argue with me, Breanna.”

She slid to the floor when the lock clicked, too exhausted to cry.

Voices floated through the walls. “When will the punishment be ended, Mr. Hatchett?”

Baden’s voice was almost too low to hear. Breanna inched closer to the door, straining. “When I say it is.”

“If it’s not too bold to ask, sir…”

Their footsteps faded, and Breanna curled into herself. How stupid she had been to believe that she could do something new—something good and exciting. Brave and bold. What nonsense—what madness. It had always been this way. It always would.

***

It was a shock when Mrs. Dennison entered.

“I’m not to let you out,” she said quickly. “Before you ask.”

“I know,” Breanna said. She lay on the bed, a dent long carved into her pillow. She could not bring herself to care that she was only half-dressed. So what if the housekeeper saw her wrinkled underclothes, the bare skin of her shoulder, the unkept bird’s nest of her hair? What did it matter?

Mrs. Dennison laid a tray of food next to her. The dull thud of wood against wood seemed far too loud for the gentle action that caused it. Wincing, Breanna closed her eyes tight.

“I asked him.”

Breanna did not raise her head but opened her eyes, directing her gaze upwards. “Asked him what?”

“What happened,” said Mrs. Dennison. “To that man you were help—the man you were visiting.” There was a snick of disapproval to her voice—unspoken and buried, but there. “You wanted to know.”

Breanna sat up. “You did? Why? What—” Her voice splintered. “What did he say?”

“He’s alive,” Mrs. Dennison said. “All the constable would say, though, is that he was punished. For hurting you.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Breanna whispered. The room blurred before her, turning her housekeeper’s face into naught but watercolour swirls and brushstrokes. “He—he didn’t hurt me.”

No, it was not the thief who had hurt her.

Ice crystallized in Breanna’s veins as this realization sank in fully. That boy had been punished, but he’d done nothing except lash out in confusion and anger, and he had done her no harm, nor had he left a single mark on her skin.

She watched the housekeeper make her way toward the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Dennison.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Hatchett. I hope you feel better soon.”

The ice in Breanna’s veins melted and turned to flame.

The solitude of her chamber became a blessing. Breanna, tears dried, made her preparations, trembling and yet fuelled with a fire she had not known could burn inside her so brightly.

Alice’s book was now finished, read beginning to end, many times wept over. Breanna combed through it, placing slices of silk ribbon amongst the pages and marking passages with lightly drawn lines. She could no longer borrow from the future to ease her present grief. Would Alice understand? Perhaps not. In fact, Breanna thought, few would.

But she wrapped it tidily when it was done, the brown-paper corners folded tightly over the beautiful leather binding, the string pulled taut and cut to just the right length, ending in a tight, charming bow.

“Please send this back to Mrs. Wright,” she said when Mrs. Dennison delivered breakfast, holding out the parcel. The housekeeper eyed it nervously. Breanna smiled, relaxed her limbs. “It’s merely the book she lent me. I’ve finished it now.”

Mrs. Dennison nodded, then lifted the book from Breanna’s outstretched hands. “Was it any good?”

“Enthralling,” said Breanna. “Eye-opening. Although I suppose there are some who wouldn’t like it.”

“What’s it about?”

“Sin,” Breanna said. “Hypocrisy. Judgment. Guilt.” She paused. “Such things as no one truly wishes to face.”

Mrs. Dennison’s eyes locked with Breanna’s, fluttering slowly, as if she meant to parse every word, searching for some hidden meaning.

There can be no power to disclose the secrets that may be buried with a human heart.

Breanna smiled wider.

“Perhaps we all could learn a thing or two,” said Mrs. Dennison.

“Oh, yes,” said Breanna. “I know I did.”

The housekeeper cleared her throat. “You’re…well, then? Feeling better?”

She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom.

“It’s been nice to have something to occupy my mind.” Breanna gestured vaguely to the book, hoping Mrs. Dennison wouldn’t look too closely at the pile of sewing behind her.

“You’re looking rather tired, though, if I may say so, Mrs. Hatchett. Haven’t you been sleeping?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Breanna said, “If I wasn’t, would it be a surprise?”

“No,” said Mrs. Dennison. “I suppose it wouldn’t. After what you’ve been through.” She peered around the room again, eyes roving from the book to Breanna’s face to the bed to the hearth. “Would you like me to sit with you awhile? Keep you company?”

Breanna shook her head. “I’m quite fine, Mrs. Dennison. But…” A lump grew in her throat. “Thank you.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Hatchett.” The housekeeper backed away from her, heading toward the door. “I think…”

“Yes?”

Mrs. Dennison cleared her throat again. “I think the constable will release you soon, dear.”

When an uninstructed multitude attempts to see with its eyes, it is exceedingly apt to be deceived.

Letting a forgery of a smile cross her face, Breanna said quietly, “How kind of him.”

When the door was closed and locked, when Mrs. Dennison had gone away, cleaning or conducting the cooking duties that were not usually hers, Breanna allowed herself a few moments of breathless quiet to ponder the choices she had made, and the ones she would make—the life she’d had, and the one she now chose. She suspected, after everything, after the tears she had shed that seemed so infantile now, she would never see a meeting of Mrs. Gage’s literary society. True, she had wanted so desperately to join, but it was a loss she was willing to bear. Did it matter anymore?

Perhaps not—perhaps it never had.

The last of the words she had marked for Alice swirled in her mind, etched in her memory as if they had always waited there for her to read. Scriptures of truth, prophecies of deliverance, and a call to action:

Do anything, save to lie down and die!

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Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)

@starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@gala1981

@pleasestaywithmedarling

#lps the queen of lies #whump #whump story #whump writing #original writing #original story #original content #lady whump #guy whump #romance #angst #abusive relationship #emotional manipulation #trapped in a locked room