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distinctlywhumpthing · 9 months

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In League — Nightmare

Masterlist

Summary: August still feels out of place in the house after trying to escape run away but a nightmare has him seeking Wyatt's comfort...

(This was in the Google Drive Black Hole until @peachy-panic's This Could Be The Moment and @hold-him-down's Not Ideal inspired me to polish it in the spirit of Bad Nights. If you haven't read these pieces (& entire series) yet, you should plan on getting zero work done this week because you now have more important things to do.)

CW: Late-19th century, indentured servitude/classism, explicit language, past-noncon implied, power dynamics, carewhumper/sympathetic whumper. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

August didn’t like sleeping alone.

He missed being allowed to sleep in the chair, knowing all night that Wyatt was near, working at the desk or asleep in the bed. He would’ve kept to the chair forever if it had meant he didn’t have to be alone at night, in the dark where Keats could still find him.

The nightmare hadn’t been anything novel. He was always struggling to regain some ground, all the while only digging himself deeper. Sometimes Fionn was there, hurting. Keats would lay a trap and August would walk right into it. Without fail. Hopeless, thoughtless, thankless. He was too slow, too dim-witted not to fall for the tricks every time, even in his own dreams.

He’d awoken to his heart beating like a drum between his ribs. Chest both gnawingly hollow and achingly tight. The room was pitch-dark, with no moon or stars shining through the window. Even the fire had died in the hearth like the night was snuffing out all light. He’d played the unwitting accomplice, banishing any chance of warmth by casting all the blankets and even the pillows to the floor in sleep. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, shivering.

There were still many things he didn’t understand or trust about his place here and the older boy who had given it to him. But Wyatt had a way of making Keats feel like a small, distant memory and that was exactly what August needed right now.

When he’d asked to stay—or rather, accepted Wyatt’s invitation to stay by way of needlessly asking his permission, Wyatt had insisted August take his bed. A laughable stipulation, considering how much worse he’d had than an armchair by a warm fire, but Wyatt had insisted. So, August had Wyatt’s room and bed to himself at night while Wyatt slept in the spare bed in Theo’s room down the end of the hall.

August paused at Theo’s door, leaning around the frame, the corner of the wood pressing into his collarbone. Wyatt was alone, sleeping with his back to the open door. Theo’s was probably among the voices that occasionally rose from downstairs, a sliver of bright electric light seeping from under the parlour door and trying to climb to light the stairs. It was just enough brightness that August had been able to avoid the creakier of the floorboards in the old house. After hovering in the doorway uneasily for five full minutes to confirm Theo wasn’t coming upstairs, he tiptoed in, chilly air nipping at the strip of bare skin between his stockings and underbreeches. The rest of the house was always freezing in comparison to Wyatt’s room. August had eventually learned that none of the others ever bothered with fires, a realisation that had made heat spread through his chest like the very warmth Wyatt kept him in.

It was hard to distinguish Wyatt himself from the bedcovers, fabric from skin, where one stopped and the other began, in the darkness. The bed itself and the man on it a single unbroken silhouette, carved from shadow marble. His even breath the only sign he wasn’t stone. August felt even more obtrusive standing over him. He crouched instead, not sure if he should sit on the edge of the bed without being invited and reluctant to kneel on the cold floor.

He hesitated countless times, hand hovering in the open space between them, heart sprinting in his chest. What if he was given more than a hand to hold, the warm embrace he sought? Even in the face of the vows Wyatt made during the day, August had never met a promise that didn’t have a trap door. And coming to Wyatt’s bed like this in the middle of the night was as good a reason to use it as any. His nerves rose steadily until it was like his heart beat between his ears and it was all he could hear or feel, swaying in the darkness to the tide of his own pulse.

A clatter from downstairs almost had him bolting back to his borrowed bed, ill dreams or not, lest someone else catch him out of it. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he’d rather it be Wyatt than anyone else, when the tables finally turned.

Now or never.

He reached out, brushing his fingertips over Wyatt’s bare shoulder. As faint as the hope he clung to that this would be no different than any other time Wyatt had comforted him. “Wyatt?”

Wyatt grumbled, turning onto his side to face August but not opening his eyes. He let his arm fall open, extended out toward August.

His heart hammered on in his chest as he held his breath waiting for more of an indication from Wyatt. More of an invitation or a dismissal.

Was that space meant for August? Or was Wyatt only reaching out his hand?

They’d never lain side by side before but Wyatt was always looping an arm around his shoulders during the day, swift to pull him into an embrace in those embarrassing moments when he lost his composure.

Or was Wyatt simply fast asleep?

August twisted his fingers in the fabric of the nightshirt Wyatt had given him, knees starting to ache from crouching. He’d disturbed Wyatt enough thusfar. He ought to leave him in peace. But the thought of leaving had him swallowing a lump in his throat and blinking away tears, as though Wyatt were truly sending him away, rejecting him. An unwarranted, invented ache.

It was for the best that he hadn’t roused Wyatt fully. He should feel lucky that he hadn’t gotten more than he bargained for. That Wyatt wasn’t the sort to thrash him simply for the disturbance. At least, he hadn’t shown himself to be that sort yet. August uncurled his fingers, pulse throbbing in his fingertips from how tightly he’d bound them in the fabric in his fists. He swiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand and rose.

Wyatt sighed, fingers at the end of his open arm curling away from August, beckoning him closer.

August’s heart faltered in his chest and against all reason, his tears fell with renewed urgency. He sniffled and fruitlessly wiped at them again before ever so gently, lying down at Wyatt’s side.

He settled on top of the bedcovers since Wyatt hadn’t lifted them. It wouldn’t matter anyway once he was closer to Wyatt, in his arms. His heart still felt like it was beating too heavily in his chest. As though he were stealing something he didn’t deserve, hadn’t earned. He took a deep breath, forcing the air in past his galloping heart and chased away the memories of his nightmares and of Keats. Wyatt was nothing like him, had only ever welcomed him with open arms.

August inched closer, resting his forehead against the older boy’s shoulder, hands tucked up between them. Wyatt’s breath tickled through his hair, in and out. If August flattened his hand, he could feel Wyatt’s steady heartbeat, its comforting metronome. He—

Wyatt drew in a sharp breath and shoved August back. He crashed to the floor, yelping as his head cracked against the corner of the solid bedside table.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, scrambling off his back as Wyatt’s shadow sat up in the bed, looming over him.

Wyatt didn’t move, didn’t dignify his feeble apology with a response. But he had to be furious for how hard and fast he was breathing, for how rigid his shadow was, as though he truly was stone.

August’s heart carried on beating erratically in his chest. It didn’t feel right. It felt like it would swallow him, end him from the inside out, compounding his fear with each consuming beat. “I’m sorry,” he repeated lamely, voice shaking. He didn’t know what else to say. When Wyatt still didn’t acknowledge him, he inched forward, reaching out—

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Wyatt stood and August cowered back with a whine, hands coming up to protect his head. He couldn’t do anything right, perpetually reduced to crawling back like a puppy who’d been kicked but was too stupid to learn its place.

It was all he was, broken, desperate. Exactly as Keats had made him. “Please, sir. I beg your pardon.” He hadn’t called Wyatt that in weeks, had been able to rise just a little bit in his esteem, and even his own. Until now. He started crying in earnest, the tension from his uncontrolled heart and the open fall of failure overtaking him. “I’m sorry, sir. Please—”

Wyatt skirted away from him, bringing his hands up to his head in his rage. As far as possible from the pathetic mess of a boy who’d overstepped his welcome. He would have run if Wyatt hadn't been blocking his way to the door. Sobs halted his apologies so he pulled his knees up to his chest and waited, never taking his eyes off Wyatt.

But crying would not constitute an apology, hiding from punishment even worse, and he needed to fix this. If he wasn’t dead in a day on the streets, Keats would find him. To remain in this house, even chained in the basement, was preferable. He would offer anything, surrender any part of himself, to stay with Wyatt. Make himself smaller, bend, break to counterbalance this fault, to regain what standing he’d had. He had brought this on himself and he would face the consequences. Prove––

A light in the doorway silenced his undeserved tears and he held his breath.

“Wyatt?” It was Theo. And no one behind him, which was a small mercy, though it didn’t promise anything about what was coming for August. Theo lifted the candle, scanning the room until his gaze fell on August.

A whimper escaped his lips and before he could sort himself to make some attempt at apology, Theo was moving. He couldn’t help himself, he covered his head again.

Only Theo paid him no mind, just went to the chair at the foot of the bed and gathered Wyatt’s clothes in his free arm. He thrust them at Wyatt with enough force that August heard the impact, pushing them at the unmoving statue that used to be Wyatt until he was forced to take a step back and finally brought his arms up to cradle the clothes.

“Go on,” Theo said, keeping his voice low.

Wyatt didn’t move. August couldn’t see his face from this angle but after a moment it became clear that something was transpiring. Something excluding August.

“Get some air. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

His stomach dropped. He didn’t want Wyatt to leave when things were like this, when he hadn’t told him that he hadn’t meant to be so much trouble and that he would face the consequences well. But he couldn’t find his voice.

With one more moment’s hesitation but not a second glance in his direction, Wyatt left and August was alone with Theo.

First thing he did was set the candle on one of the posts of his bed. A precarious placement that had once lost August the privilege of candles for an entire month –of bruised shins and stubbed toes– at Elmwood. But Theo didn’t have to worry about things like that. None of the other boys here did. At least, August didn’t think so; even if they didn’t have much, they were all equal. Theo bent down a few paces away, resting his forearms on his knees.

“August, you all right down here?”

He wasn’t sure what to say, or if he could say much of anything without just crying some more. He swallowed, to see if his throat was clear enough for words. It wasn’t.

“I know you’re frightened,” Theo said gently.

That only made the lump in August’s throat worse, sobs closer to escaping his lips.

Theo watched him carefully, as was his wont. August fought shy of meeting his gaze. It made him nervous, how heedful Theo always was. What might he observe and, worse, what might he tell Wyatt?

“You’re not in any trouble.” August couldn’t help but look straight into his eyes now. Watchful as they were, he didn’t find them deceitful. “I promise, everything will right.”

He hoped Wyatt would agree.

“Why don’t you let me help you up? We’ll sort you out, too.” He held out one of his hands. “It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you.”

When August reached out, his palm shone crimson in the candlelight.

To be continued...

@whumpy-writings , @writer-reader-24 , @deluxewhump , @no-whump-on-main , @maracujatangerine , @painsandconfusion , @wolfeyedwitch , @briars7 , @gala1981 , @redwingedwhump , @whumpflash , @poeticagony , @annablogsposts , @fleur-alise , @melancholy-in-the-morning , @crystalquartzwhump , @magziemakeswhatever , @neverthelass

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whump-queen · 1 year

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see i Was planning on whumping you

but i can't do that when you're so sweet to little crab me :((

[so instead of waking up in my secret torture chamber you just wake up in a comfy bed all tucked in. Okay Maybe you're tied up as well but shhh focus on the soft bed]

Wakey wakey Akiaa... You see I noticed you're working way too hard in your whumper duities. So i thought you needed to be allowed some rest... and what better way to rest than getting knocked out and put in bed? So there you go ;D

i’d rather take my chances with the drill, thanks 💢

#nahh you gotta beat the shit outta me or smth if you want me to tolerate this soft shit #wont do it nope nope #💢💢💢#(yeah ic I think this would actually piss me off even more)#once the drugs wore off that is #void #akias asks #answered asks #tw drugging #carewhumper

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lumpsbumpsandwhumps · 5 months

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we need more language barriers in whump because it's so fucking good no matter if you use it for whumper and whumpee or whumpee and caretaker or especially carewhumper and whumpee or any combination!!!!

Whumpee not being able to know what the fuck is going on no matter how many times they ask, only being manhandled into various situations because they don't understand how to comply with whatever is being told to them (gently or not is up to you >:3c)

Having to rely on tones and facial expressions to get a vague sense of what the other person is trying to get across, despite all the repetition of sounds and slow pronunciations and childish gesturing

Those little moments where a word just finally clicks for someone, the one piece of common ground, even if they can't fully repeat it back due to an accent that maybe earns them an amused chuckle or a scowl

Endless frustration and exploding so many pent up feelings for a rant that falls on deaf ears, because why is this so hard to comprehend, why can't you just understand my words, why do I feel like such a fucking idiot??? And what do they get in return? Silence...or more foreign gibberish.

Not bothering to keep quiet about their thoughts, agreeable or otherwise, vulgar or polite -- what does it matter? No one is going to understand a lick of it, they can say whatever the hell they want (unless maybe someone does catch a couple words or phrases hmmm)

Whumpers using sweet coos and nice smiles while saying the most awful shit. Caretakers being endlessly patient in trying to foster some kind of trust and feasible communication. Carewhumpers being stern and hands on because there's no time to waste in getting Whumpee to grasp what they need from them.

The longer they're in each others company, the more quirks and micro expressions they start to pick up, long before they ever fully understand a word of what's being said, including when someone is lying or when a nerve has been struck

Realizing which words mean "bad thing" and which words mean "good thing"

#whump #whump community #whump scenario #whumpee #whumper #whump ideas #implied whump #whump prompt #caretaker #carewhumper #language barrier

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whumpshaped · 5 months

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been spinning this idea around in the microwave that is my brain for a while now.

pet/slave/etc whumpee being rescued, seemingly improving and going along with what caretaker asks of them, and then immediately bolting and returning to their master the moment they get the chance.

they feel sorta bad for caretaker, but ultimately where they belong is at their master's side. whumpee's life was miserable and empty before they found them, but with master they were fed, had a warm place to sleep, and were shown more affection than they'd ever experienced before.

whumper, who in this specific scenario is more like a carewhumper/soft whumper, wanting to keep whumpee as their pet/slave but otherwise not being cruel to them, is of course elated to have whumpee back, lavishing them with praise and love and affection, further cementing in whumpee's mind that this is where they belong.

tw pet whump, conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome, caretaker new master, betrayal, abandonment

When Whumpee caught a glimpse of the article, it was like colour had suddenly returned into their world. Like the storm clouds had parted and finally allowed the sun to shine through, making all their worries and sadness dissipate.

All charges dropped.

Caretaker seemed to have the opposite reaction, throwing the newspaper across the room and groaning in frustration. Whumpee flinched, alerting them to their presence. “Oh, shit… Whumpee, I’m sorry. I didn’t– fuck, did you see the article?”

Whumpee suppressed their eagerness and slowly nodded, attempting to keep their expression neutral. Whatever Caretaker had interpreted it as, it made them open their arms for a hug.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Would you like a hug? Or… or would you like to talk about it?”

Oh, they wanted to talk about it more than anything, but they doubted what they had to say would’ve been to Caretaker’s liking. They accepted the hug anyway, holding their temporary owner tight for what was probably the last time.

“You did your best,” Caretaker whispered. “I’m so sorry that… that they’re a bunch of incompetent idiots there! You gave all that evidence, all those testimonies… I don’t get it… I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s not talk about it?” Whumpee hoped that was a reasonable request. They hated hearing about all the ways in which they’d betrayed Whumper, but they hoped their reasoning wouldn’t be readily apparent.

“Of course. I’m sorry. I got carried away.” Caretaker took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, and Whumpee had the feeling this hug was more for their friend than it was for them. “You wanna do something tonight? As a little distraction? We could make those new cookies you found a recipe for. Or watch a movie.”

Whumpee pulled away so they could look Caretaker in the eye. “Would you mind if… if I went for a little walk?”

Caretaker hesitated. “Can it be another time?” they asked cautiously. “I don’t like putting restrictions on you, I really don’t, it’s just…”

“Okay,” they said without knowing what Caretaker was going to say. “Another time.”

They could seek out Whumper any time, right? The sooner the better, but they didn’t need Caretaker following them.

“I’m a little nervous about letting you out of my sight after news like this,” they finished anyway.

“Okay,” Whumpee repeated.

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.”

Caretaker smiled and pulled them in for another hug. “Alright. Thank you.”

It was two days later when Caretaker finally let them go. It was honestly a little heartbreaking to know they would never go back, but… It couldn’t even compare to that time the police had swarmed the building and took Whumper away from them.

Whumper had been their everything. Their best friend. Their owner. The only one who cared. The one who had always provided for them, food, shelter, love. It didn’t matter what others had told them — they had to get back. And now that Whumper was finally let go, they could.

They kept looking over their shoulder, hoping Caretaker really wasn’t following them. They weren’t. They were left to their own devices, and they were about to betray every morsel of trust Caretaker had placed in them.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered outside of getting back to Whumper. Whumper was the only one whose trust counted for anything.

They rushed back to the house they’d used to stay in, and the ugly police tape was finally gone. It looked just like the first time they’d seen it: friendly and inviting.

Whumpee walked up to the door and knocked before their anxiety could’ve gotten the better of them. They stepped back and waited, rocking back and forth on their feet, shifting their weight from heels to tiptoes.

The garden seemed a little neglected, but it looked like Whumper had gotten to work since their release. There were fresh seeds in the bird feeder, and fresh water in the bowl they used for any stray creature that might’ve needed a sip. They were so caring. It was ridiculous that any investigation had even been conducted.

The door opened, and Whumpee’s eyes snapped up to meet their owner’s. They jumped into their arms without thinking, burying their face in the crook of their neck. “Master, you’re free!” they exclaimed, delighted when Whumper’s arms closed around their waist.

“I’m free!” Whumper parroted, just as giddy as their pet. “And you’re back!”

“Of course I am! I missed you so much!”

Whumper brought them inside without letting go, pushing the door shut with their foot. “I missed you too, sweet thing. I’m not quite packed yet, but now that you’re here, I’ll try to make it quick so we can leave tomorrow.”

Whumpee pulled away, frowning a little. “Leave?”

“Of course. They’d never leave us alone if we were to stay; not the police, and definitely not Caretaker.” Whumper moved their hands to cup their pet’s cheeks, smiling at them softly. “We’ll go somewhere peaceful, hm?”

Well… When they’d left the house and told themself it’d be forever, that they’d never see Caretaker again, that they were ready to leave all of this behind… They didn’t think it’d be so permanent. So irreversible.

They didn’t think they’d have to leave Caretaker so far behind.

Some of the cookies they’d baked the night before were still waiting for them at home, soft and sweet and tasting of friendship.

“I’d love that,” Whumpee said with a smile of their own. “We can go whenever you’re ready, Master.”

#asks #whump #whump drabble #pet whump #conditioned whumpee #stockholm syndrome #caretaker new master #betrayal #abandonment

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redd956 · 6 months

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(@urlocalwhumper)

hey dawg thanks for feeding us living weapon whumpee enjoyers

i know that generally the vibe for living weapon whumpees is like the stoic "unfeeling" supersoldier type, but how are we feelin about living weapon whumpees that are like. off the shits feral.

more of an attack dog than a super soldier, weapons of mass destruction built into them cybernetically, because their masters aren't looking for efficiency, they're looking to send a message. for everyone around to know that if you don't bow to their rule, they'll send their monster to destroy you and everything you hold dear.

(and ofc the "monster" themself is kept in a constant state of suffering so they're always agitated and the pain clouds their mind too much to question what they're doing and why)

I love the way you think!

I never really thought of that character trope as a living weapon, but you aren't lying, it would count. (My brother and I's ocs would count then Ig) Also ties into monster whumpees :D

Here's some ideas I bounced off of this

Guard Dog Whumpee

CW: Pet Whump Sorta, Classic, the whump community should bring these up more

Whumper having more than one, forcing them to compete with one another. The most brutal earns their medical treatment.

Dangerous whumpees who have to be muzzled and mitted because whumper doesn't have them under control fully. Gentle carewhumpers being able to coerce whumpee into muzzles.

Non-guard dog whumpees equally trapped under whumper's boot being terrified of the guard dog. Sharing space with one is like sleeping on the shore of alligator infested rivers.

Scarred whumpees with dangerous animalistic features bared, backed into a corner with a tail in between their legs. Caretaker is trying their best to appear nonthreatening.

A guard dog whumpee failing its job. It showed no fear to its enemies, but the same cannot be said as they returned home.

Monster Living Weapon Whumpee

Say that three times fast

While rampaging after whumper's enemies whumpee broke the device keeping them confined to whumper. Quickly a symbol of destruction becomes a confused, hurt, and whimpering creature.

Whumpee always thought they were uniquely a monster. Whumper told them so everyday, rewarding them for their monstrousness, telling them they're alone as a creature of evil. Whumpee always thought this until they met caretaker.

Monster whumpees that despite being living weapons show rage in their failures, and pride in their kills. They don't see that whumper's treatment of them is subpar, because they're "partners in crime" of course. Caretaker would never treat whumpee that way if they were their weapon.

Killing Machine

They know what they're capable of, and they don't want to be that

Maybe they wanna do things their way, maybe they're ashamed of being a killing machine. Whumper could care less.

Killing machine in disguise has been living the everyday life, perhaps even an extravagant one. Whumper found them out, and no one has seen whumpee since, until the destruction started.

Killer Machine Villain -> Supervillain meets Villain with the promise to make them more powerful -> Extra Murderous Killer Machine Villain (Unstable)

Robotic whumpee that is just doing what they're told. Whumper was great, whumper was life. Robotic whumpee who sees whumper returning home with the newest model. Whumper who won't stop boasting about how much more efficient and deadly the new one is.

#whump #whump drabble #living weapon whump #living weapon whumpee #living weapon trope #guard dog whumpee #guard dog whump #villain whumpee #carewhumper #whump prompts #whump ideas #whumper

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demondamage · 1 year

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MasterList / Introduction

Hello fellow demon whump enjoyers, welcome to my blog!

You can call me Az. I mostly use He/Him pronouns, but "it" is almost more fun. I am 24, queer, and from California! I mostly draw little sketch comics of my Ocs and occasionally write. I am also V new to tumblr so pardon me if I seem clueless about things!!

This blog is not trying to be child friendly! Enter at own risk! The rating is technically PG-13 (no full frontal nudity, no graphic depictions of sex) but the violence is still there and Azzi rarely is allowed clothing privileges.

Please do not repost my work without asking permission first!

Reblogs are great but if you want to repost my work either on tumblr or another social media, please ask first.

Commissions are closed but heres my sheet if interested!

Requests and asks are currently closed.

You can find all of my artwork under #Demondamageart and comics under #Demondamagecomics. I also tag character names (Aziphem, Kotarou, Alejo, Haziel, Warren) to search for them.

I love fanart and fan fic!!! Please tag me if you make anything based on my characters!!! I will love you forever!!

Gore art policy

Looking for Character Refs? Check here!

MediwhumpMay MasterList

Figuwhump Master List

General Art Masterlist

18+ ? Feel free to check out @deaddemondonteat for stuff a lil too saucy for this account. If you can't access it, you likely followed without an age and I blocked you. If I made a mistake, please ping me here and I'll Un block you!

Keep reading for other blog housekeeping stuff as well as the synopsis of what you might find here!

I am making a general art tag list and a comics exclusive tag list. If you're interested, please message or comment here!

When I have more OC bio/lore to post, you will see it here! Same with my masterlists for challenges and writings! But this is a work in progress :)

Here's what you can expect to see on my blog:

Whump! No shit! Specifically of my OCs

Non sexual nudity

Carewhumpers!

Physical violence of many varieties

Emotion/Mental manipulation

FTM Trans Whumpee and Whumper (Aziphem and Haziel)

Intimate whump

Medical/Lab whump

(mostly) Immortal whump

And maybe a smattering of gore (classifying gore as injuries that would kill a mortal: decapitation, throat slit, gut spill) this will be rare and tagged with gore and gore art tags

Here's what I probably will not be posting (not that I dislike these, just don't really draw them)

Women being whumped

Non-humanoid whump

Explicit NSFW

Fluffy caretaking

Fandom whump

Here's what I I dislike most of the time:

minor whump

whumper/whumpee from the same family

domestic abuse flavored whump

#whump #whump intro #whump artist

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whumpy-wyrms · 4 months

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The Last Lab Rat #12: Fever Dream

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content: lab whump, captivity, fever, drugging, comfort, electrocution, parent death mention, winged test subject whumpee, scientist carewhumper

—

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more terrified.

The past week, he had been planning a real escape with his little snake friend. He and Sasha had been crawling through the vents every night, mentally mapping out every twist and turn, every exit and entrance, every dead end. It was hard without a flashlight, but they would make do. The two of them decided to take it slow; no use rushing something and risk being caught, having the entire plan ruined.

They weren’t in a hurry. They knew Dew’s escape plan had to be absolutely flawless, with no possible way of getting caught. So even if it took weeks, they would take it slow.

But after everything, lying to the scientist was taking a toll. Dew had accidentally constructed an intricate web of lies he had to constantly keep track of. If Anton confronted him on just one hole in his stories, Dew would be done for. He’d crumble, too scared for what would happen if he kept lying.

So Dew tried to avoid his captor growing suspicious at all costs with the only way he knew how. Dew hated talking to Anton like a friend, having friendly conversations with the scientist after experiments, talking about his life, laughing, smiling. But gaining Anton’s trust was a priority. Besides, if Dew did get caught in this web of lies, maybe his captor would go easy on him because of this.

It was about a week after he met Sasha, and Dew found himself with a terrible headache, right after waking up. The lights were off, so it must’ve been early in the morning. He rolled over and held his head in his hands, feeling the heat radiating off of him. His stomach felt like shit too. No. Was he getting sick? He supposed that made sense, considering how long he’d been here. But this certainly wouldn’t help things.

Dew laid there for hours, unable to fall back to sleep. Eventually, the lights clicked on, making him wince and squeeze his eyes shut. A little bit after that, he heard the sound of footsteps walking up to his room.

“...Dewey? Are you okay?” Anton asked, walking into Dew’s room and putting the tray of food on his nightstand. The truth was, Dew looked like absolute shit. He was racked with sniffles and coughs, with piles of used tissues littered around him. Oh. Anton’s lab rat must be coming down with something.

Dew only mumbled an incomprehensible response, curling into himself and moving deeper under the warm blankets, as if searching for a false sense of security. Anton walked closer, now noticing that Dew’s wings were trembling.

“Hey, Dewey? What’s wrong?” Anton’s voice came out soft, quiet, as if he didn’t want to scare the little guy more than he already was. “Are you sick?”

“What does it look like?” Dew hissed, but his voice came out groggy and strained. He sounded absolutely miserable. He looked miserable. “I’m sick, Anton, obviously. I probably have a fever or something.” The scientist tilted his head and reached out his arm to Dew’s forehead, trying to feel his temperature.

“Don’t touch me.” Dew flinched back and swatted Anton’s hand away with his wing. He turned his body to the other side and buried his face into his pillow. “Just leave me–” Alone. Dew shuddered. He didn’t want that either. His voice softened. “I mean… Can you um- j-just get me some water? Please? The stuff in the bathroom sink is gross.”

Anton stepped back, giving Dew space. “Uh, Sure.” When the scientist left, Dew had a sudden spurt of coughs and sneezes. He groaned into his pillow, wishing he didn’t feel like this.

“Here you go, Dewey.” Anton smiled and handed him the water.

“My name’s not Dewey,” Dew complained into his pillow.

Anton smirked. “What was that, Dewey? Your voice is all muffled.”

Dew immediately sat up and shot Anton a glare, then groaned in pain and held a hand to his head. Too fast. He sat up too fast and now the room was spinning and his headache was worse.

“Gimme the water,” Dew said, sniffling.

“Pfft, rude.” But Anton handed it to him anyway.

Dew flopped back down onto the bed when he was done, and rolled over. “My head hurts,” Dew said weakly. “Can you um, dim the lights a little more? It’s hurting my eyes.”

“Oh. Okay.” Anton turned the lights down until he saw Dew visibly relax.

“Thanks,” Dew said.

“Don’t mention it. But, Dewey. You can’t just stay in bed all day.”

Dew turned to look at him incredulously. “I… I have a fever I think. I’m sick. A-Anton, I can’t- I don’t feel good.”

“Well, yeah, but I can just–”

Dew squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He didn’t want to deal with Anton’s antics right now, whatever that man was planning. Dew took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking away. His eyes widened at something new. “...Wait, what is that?” He asked, surprised. He sat up and pointed to a bag that he noticed was sitting on the floor next to the wall.

“Oh,” Anton said as he picked it up. “It’s the night-light you asked for.”

Dew looked at him with a puzzled expression. “...Really?”

“Yeah, you wanted one, remember? I don’t understand all your silly fears, but whatever.” Anton tossed a strange object to Dew, and he scrambled to catch it.

The night-light in question was a little, round, white cartoonish ghost, made out of plastic with small LED lights in the middle. There were two little black dots for eyes and a small smile printed on its face. Dew turned the light on, and quickly squeezed his eyes shut at how bright it was. He turned it off, and rotated it around in his hands. It was cute, a bit silly, sure. But it was bright enough to light up the vents. It was perfect.

“Um, thanks,” Dew said. “I like it.”

“Cool. Oh! I got something else for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Anton smiled and pulled something out of the bag. Dew looked up, right as a blur of something fluffy and white was being thrown at him. He scrambled to catch it and get a look at whatever it was. Anton snickered, standing awkwardly next to his bed. “I saw it at the store and immediately thought of you.”

Dew looked down, and in his arms was a large, very fluffy and soft… chicken plushie? “What…”

“You both have wings! You’re like a giant chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken!” Dew said angrily, clutching his plushie in his arms anyway. He had to admit, it was really soft. He had a lot of plushies back home, and he missed snuggling with them. “What is this, um, for anyway?”

“I just thought you needed a friend. I suppose it gets lonely down here without me.”

“...Yeah,” Dew said quietly. “It does.”

Anton figited and walked closer, voice turning serious. “...Dew, how are you feeling?”

“Not good. I just wanna rest. …Please.”

“Hmm,” Anton hummed. Dew broke out in a burst of coughs. “I have an idea.”

“W-what kind of idea?” Dew asked miserably. “Can I just have some headache medicine or something?”

“Yeah yeah, hold on.” Anton waved him off while fishing something out of his pocket, seemingly not paying attention to what Dew was saying at all. The scientist pulled out a tape recorder, and clicked it on. “Alright,” Anton said. “The date is Saturday, October 12, 7:32am. Test subject seems to be sick with a fever. I’ll do some tests, and then–”

“Tests?” Dew asked miserably.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t feel good, Anton. Ca-can we just take a break? For one day?”

“You’ve had a lot of breaks recently, Dew. I wanna have some fun.”

“So do I.”

Anton shrugged. “The experiments are fun.”

“They are not! They’re– They’re painful and traumatizing!” Dew wrapped his wings around himself and curled deeper into a ball.

“...What’s fun for you then?”

Dew furrowed his brows. Was Anton really asking what Dew liked to do for fun? Why did he care? “Um,” Dew began. “Playing video games, drawing, going outside, flying. Anything that, you know, doesn’t hurt.”

“Hm.” Anton sighed. He looked deep in thought, which never ended well. “There is this one thing I’ve been wanting to try out.”

“...Does it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” Anton shrugged. “If you behave.”

“Mmm,” Dew hummed anxiously, considering his lack of options. “O-okay.”

Anton smiled wide and ruffled Dew’s hair, who in turn, tried not to shy away from it. Behaving meant accepting Anton’s kind gestures, right?

“Okay, so I guess you wanna be healed from your fever, huh?”

“What? You can…?”

Anton rolled his eyes. “Of course I can.” He pulled out a flask of glowing fluid from behind his back, and held it out to him. “Drink this. You should go back to normal. In fact, you’ll probably even feel better than you did before.”

Dew eyed the flask warrily. It was no different from the other strange fluids the scientist makes him drink, but this gave Dew a weird feeling. It was a dark purple, with rivers of red and colorful specks flowing through it. It looked thick, with bubbles popping and floating upwards. Just looking at it made Dew more nauseous, the opposite effect it was supposed to have, Dew thought.

But he reached out to grab it anyway, like Anton said. But as he was about to grab the flask, Anton pulled it out of reach.

“Dew, your hands are shaking. I don’t want you to spill it.”

Dew glared at him. “What even is it anyway?”

“Medecine.” Not helpful. “I can’t let any spill and go to waste. This stuff is hard to make.”

The “medicine” became more and more unappealing the longer Dew looked at it. But whatever, he’d rather just get this whole thing over with. “Fine.”

Anton grabbed Dew’s chin gently, and brought the flask towards his mouth. “Open.”

Dew opened his mouth and allowed Anton to bring the flask to his lips. Dew drank it; downed it all in one go, despite the disgusting taste. Anton let go of his chin and blacked away, now looking bored.

Dew felt… wrong. The second he was done drinking it, he was hit with a wave of dizziness, and leaned back against the wall for support. His eyelids were growing heavy, and it was hard to stay upright.

“What’s… happening?” Dew asked worriedly, voice breaking.

“Shh,” Anton cooed. “Just relax. When you wake up, you’ll be back to normal.”

Dew blinked heavily and tried sitting up, but Anton firmly pushed him back down. “What–”

“Go to sleep, Dew.”

Dew shook his head lightly, trying to stay awake. But once his head hit the soft pillow, and he was wrapped up in cozy blankets, his eyes finally fluttered shut. Everything went black, and Dew drifted off into a short, peaceful sleep.

Anton stepped back and looked around the room. “Holy shit this place is a mess.”

. . .

Dew woke up to see Anton leaning over him, with his usual smirk on his face. Dew’s face scrunched up in fear and he turned his head away. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into this warm bed forever.

“How’re you feeling?” Anton asked.

Dew glared at him, but after thinking about it, Dew realized he felt better.

“Woah,” he breathed. “I feel… great.” Great as in, Dew wasn’t tired anymore. He didn’t feel sleep deprived at all, quite the opposite really. Of course, he wasn’t sick anymore either. His headache was gone and his temperature was normal. Besides the obvious, stagnant feeling of fear and dread that came with being kept captive, Dew felt okay.

“Told you.” Anton teased.

“Thanks for… helping me. Really. I felt like complete shit earlier.”

“Yeah yeah,” Anton waved him off as if it didn’t matter. “I need to keep you healthy, remember? And it’s no fun when you’re… down in the dumps.” Anton trailed off. “Just eat your food.”

Dew looked at the tray. Waffles again, an apple, and a banana. As he ate, the scientist watched him.

“So…” Dew thought about what Anton said earlier, giving the empty tray to him when he was done. “What are we gonna do now?”

“Follow me.”

They headed out of the lab and up the stairs, Dew following closely behind. The scientist said nothing as they walked, allowing tension to rise in the air.

Dew also remained silent, but his mind wandered. Whatever Anton wanted to do involved going outside again, which Dew was always thankful for. Although this time, his captor hadn’t put any restraints on his wings yet, like he always did when they went outside to keep him from flying away.

Dew looked at the scientist incredulously. What was going on? Did he forget? Was this all some test to see if Dew wouldn’t try to fly away and escape? Why?

Dew kept walking by Anton’s side, too afraid to question anything. Maybe Anton just forgot. That’d be unlikely, but still possible.

Once they entered the cabin and Dew got sight out of the window, his wings started flapping lightly, excitedly, apprehensively. He wanted to fly– he needed to fly. His captor was taunting him with this. He had to be.

“A-Anton?” Dew squeaked. He didn’t want to point out the obvious, but he’d rather Anton do something about it now, rather than find out when Dew inevitably tried to escape while out there. Because Dew already knew that he couldn’t escape with Anton around, not without being so easily mind-controlled. “You um, you for-forgot something–” He hated himself for this, but Dew already had an escape plan. This could destroy it.

“I didn’t forget anything, Dew,” Anton said smoothly. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

Dew stood, glued to his spot. “I’m not stupid, Anton,” He hissed. “The second I go outside, I-I won’t be able to resist flying away, you know this! I don’t want you to hurt me for trying to escape again! I don’t want to be mind-controlled or poked with a needle o-or never be allowed outside again, or worse, just because of a stupid mistake!” I don’t want this to interfere with the plan I already have.

“Woah, jeeze,” Anton laughed. “Relax. This isn’t a trick—”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Dew,” Anton grabbed his shoulders, making eye contact. “I can assure you, this will be fun for you. As long as you behave. You can do that right?”

“Y-yeah, I can.” But he really didn’t want to.

“I know you can.” Dew flinched when Anton patted him on the head, and then they walked outside.

When they hit the fresh, cool autumn air, Dew’s wings stretched out to feel the wind in his feathers. He wanted nothing more than to jump in the air and disappear into the trees, but he had to control himself. His wings fluttered lightly in the air, basking in the sun and savoring this new sensation of a fake freedom.

This was okay. As long as Dew focused on his sensations now, he could deal with being stuck to the ground. He could gain Anton’s trust, he could stick to the plan.

Dew followed Anton a few steps away from the front door, and then off of the porch and into the grass.

“Fly.”

The word hit his ears like a truck. It was as if the entire world stopped, and all Dew could hear was his rapidly beating heart.

“W-what?”

Anton laughed, stepping away from his test subject. “You heard me, Dewey. Fly!”

“You said this– this wasn’t a trick.”

“Not a trick,” Anton snickered. “I can assure you.”

The scientist motioned with his arms, a big grin on his face. “Go ahead, fly.”

Dew glared at him, but he didn’t waste a second. He flew. He jumped up into the air and flapped his wings rapidly, never taking his eyes off Anton and the sickeningly sweet smile on his face. Dew blinked back tears, knowing freedom was right there, in his grasp. The scientist was allowing him to fly outside unrestrained, but still, Anton would never let him go. Dew didn’t know what his game was, but he knew it wouldn’t end well for him. He knew he would lose.

Dew swallowed thickly, flying just a bit higher, expecting to be shot down by tranquilizer darts or told to stop like last time— those words flowing into his brain and controlling his movements as if he was nothing but a puppet. His heart sped up when that didn’t happen, and he flew higher. His captor wasn’t doing anything besides standing there and watching him, his figure getting smaller and smaller the higher Dew went.

Dew couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He couldn’t resist freedom being closer than it had ever been before. His wings flapped into the air with a hope that was almost too much to bear. Was he really doing this? Was this it? He reached the top of the trees, and was about to fly above the forest and into the clouds when he suddenly felt a sharp pain all over his body.

A faint “It worked!” could be heard from the ground, but that hardly mattered.

Dew screamed, his voice a shattering shriek. He grabbed at his neck– his arms– his head– but the feeling of every fiber in his body being on fire wouldn’t go away. His eyes widened as he felt himself falling, trying and failing to flap his wings and catch himself. His wings had stopped working, going limp in the air while he cried. He couldn’t fly. He flailed his arms as he plummeted to the ground, down and down and down.

Dew landed roughly on a large tree branch, getting the wind knocked out of him and scraping his arms while trying to hang on. His body stinged, splinters digging into his hands and panic rising in his gut. Dew’s grip loosened and he tumbled to the ground, with no way to soften the landing.

He laid there for a few moments, his head pounding with a terrible ringing in his ears. His wings twitched as his muscles gained control over them and his body again. Dew’s hands curled into the dirt and he scrunched up in a ball, not caring that his hair was getting tangled in the autumn leaves. He didn’t move from the spot.

“Shit.” Dew heard the scientist curse as he ran towards him. Lying there would do nothing, Dew realized. He felt his blood boil, this time in anger as he turned his head to face him.

“Wh-what did you think was gonna happen?” Dew spat, still struggling on the ground, trying to sit up.

“I didn’t think you would try flying away, since I specifically told you not to,” Anton sneered.

Dew felt venom rise in his throat. “How could I resist? You told me to fly! Why the fuck wouldn’t I try to leave?!”

“Because you should have known I’m smarter than just letting you go like that. And because you should know you’re never leaving.” Anton sighed. “Come here, I’ll help you.”

“No.” Dew blinked back tears. His arm that he landed on hurt, bad. He needed help. But fuck, he was angry. Dew huffed in frustration and crawled towards Anton, letting the scientist help him stand. Dew leaned against him as they walked towards the cabin.

“W-what even happened up there?” Dew’s voice wobbled as he spoke. “What did you do to me?”

“Oh,” Anton took out the device he used for mind-controlling him. “If you fly too far away, there’s an invisible barrier that sends a shock through your nervous system to stop you from leaving.” Anton spoke as if that wasn’t completely earth-shattering news to his little lab rat. He set Dew down on the stairs, and took out a first aid kit.

“A-Anton,” Dew began, voice wavering. “Please, p-please tell me there’s a way to turn that off.”

“There is,” Anton replied simply. “But we’ll never need to use it.” Anton started looking over Dew’s wounds. He had a lot of cuts and scrapes from falling through the trees, but nothing that couldn’t be easily patched up. “I just thought it’d be fun for you to fly outside for once, safely, without risking you escaping.”

Dew ignored what the scientist was doing and stared at him, eyes burning with hatred. He could grab the pen from his pocket and stab it into the scientist’s eye and take the device that controlled his body. He could destroy it and fly away before his captor could catch him. He could be free. Right. Now.

Dew shook those thoughts away. It was the worst idea he had ever had, and he knew it would never work. He tried to calm his racing heart, and stop the fire rising in his throat. The scientist was just toying with him. He needed to calm down before he made things worse.

He hissed back a whine as his wounds were tended to. Anton didn’t seem to care about his pain, and held Dew firmly in place.

He looked at the sky, needing a distraction. But the sun was so bright and it hurt his eyes, so he looked away. He caught a glimpse of Sasha through the cabin window, and Dew tilted his head. They were watching him. Of course, Anton had allowed Sasha free reign of his house, probably even the outside too. The two of them stared at each other. Sasha knew what he was thinking, and the snake slowly shook their head “no.” Dew knew what they meant. Don't try escaping. It’s not your time. Stick to the plan.

Despite his friend only trying to help, Dew felt himself deflate, all the hope and fiery spark of adrenaline leaving him. His only option really was to comply for now, despite being so close to freedom. It would be hard; Dew would have to force himself to fly into the cool air while not going too far away. Whatever that meant.

“What now?” Dew asked begrudgingly.

“You and Sasha done with your staring contest?”

“Uh– yeah?”

“Then keep flying out here.” Anton shrugged and sat down on the porch stairs. “It’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it?”

“W-well yeah, but—”

“I’m not letting you go. This is the closest thing you’ll ever get.”

Dew didn’t waste his time, he jumped into the air. He hovered in front of Anton for a few seconds, before darted away into the trees. Anton smirked and leaned back against the porch railing.

Dew flew over the cabin and landed on the roof. His heart pounded through his skull and he felt like it would explode. He wanted so badly to leave, fly away and never turn back. But he knew what would happen, so he would play Anton’s game. For now.

Dew sat perched up there for a few moments, looking around him. What were the limits? Dew questioned. Despite still being trapped, he wanted to make the most of this new development. How far could he fly without his entire body being electrocuted and cause his wings to momentarily stop working? Dew shuddered even thinking about it.

He wondered what his captor was up to. Dew slowly crawled across the roof and peaked over the edge directly above the scientist. Anton looked up, Dew scurred backwards.

…There always was the possibility of Dew being able to snatch that device away from him so he couldn’t be controlled anymore. He shuddered thinking about it. The chip in his brain that allowed himself to be mind-controlled, now shocked him whenever he went too far away. It was honestly impressive how much Anton could do to him now, just to keep him his.

But Dew knew that trying to escape would be futile now. He had a plan and needed to stick to it. But… Now there was a hole in their plan. Dew couldn’t actually leave. Shit.

He would have to tell Sasha about this new development later, and fit, “stealing the device connected to Dew’s brain chip from Anton,” into their escape plan.

So for now, Dew took advantage of his free time outside. He stood on top of the roof and spread his wings out, cherishing how relaxing and satisfying it felt to finally not have them restrained outdoors. He started flying again, careful to not go too high or far and hurt himself again.

He looked down to see Anton, nothing but a fleck of dust to him at this height. It felt so surreal, like a dream. Dew had dreamed a lot about days of flying freely, finally escaping the clutches of captivity and being kept as a test subject. This felt like those dreams, this felt too good to be true, even if he was still trapped. But it also felt so real.

…Because it was. Anton simply wanted to let Dew have fun for once.

“I’m going for a walk!” Anton called from below.

Dew stared at him, and then slowly made his way to the ground. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

“You can come with me, you know.”

Dew looked at Anton, then back at the cabin. “But–”

“The barrier isn't surrounding the house, it's around me. As long as you’re by me, you’ll be fine.”

Oh.

Dew walked up to him. “Same, uh, distance?” He asked.

Anton nodded. “Same distance.”

With that, Dew darted up into the trees, out of his captor’s sight. Anton walked the same trail they always had, but instead of walking, Dew was hopping from tree to tree, taking the high ground. It was oddly satisfying watching the scientist from above, like he was nothing but a bug that could be easily stomped on.

As Anton kept walking, Dew kept following from above, sometimes gliding in a circle above the scientist, like a crow surrounding a decaying carcass. Anton paid him no mind, just kept walking at a leisurely pace, letting Dew explore the woods around him.

Then Dew sat, perched on a tree branch, when a squirrel scurried up to him. He went ridgid, expecting it to run away. But it sat there with him on that tree branch, doing its own thing. Dew stared, confused, but content. He and the squirrel were both just… existing. At the same time, in the same space, doing the same thing, but in far different circumstances neither of them could try to comprehend from each other. And that was okay. Dew liked existing with this little squirrel.

Dew sat there for a while, forgetting that Anton was still walking. After a few minutes, Dew realized that he’d get shocked again if he didn’t keep following along Anton. But he didn’t want to leave his new friend. He’d never see them ever again after this.

“A-Anton,” Dew said quietly, not wanting to spook away the squirrel that had curled up against his leg. The scientist was far up ahead of him, down the trail, probably assuming Dew would be keeping up. There was no way for Anton to hear what Dew was saying. He sighed, and called out a little louder this time. “Anton!”

That got his attention. Anton turned, looking around in confusion on where Dew’s voice was coming from, until he spotted him very high up in a tree.

“What?” Anton asked.

Dew gestured to the squirrel. “I, I wanna sit here for a little bit. With, uh, with the squirrel.”

Anton stared. “You do that then!” He called.

“...Thanks!”

Dew sat up there for a long time, unable to tell if it was minutes or hours. But by the sun setting and turning the sky into bright hues of pink and orange, Dew realized that Anton had let him spend all day out there. He realized he didn’t remember the last time he watched the sunset with anyone. And now here he was, sitting on a tree branch looking over the forest, with his squirrel friend still by his side.

But he was getting hungry. Obviously, it must be around 6pm now. The days had been getting shorter as the weather got colder, but it wasn’t like that mattered in the lab.

Dew said goodbye to the squirrel once it became too dark to see it. He landed softly on the ground, and found Anton sitting in some grass under the tree.

Dew choked back a laugh. “What are those?” He asked.

“Night vision goggles?” Anton crossed his arms. “I don’t want to lose sight of you out here.”

“They look so stupid.” Dew snickered.

“Shut up,” Anton said.

The two of them walked back towards the cabin, and Dew realized how cold it had gotten outside. Obviously, it was the middle of autumn. Dew shivered as he walked, socks getting wet from the dewy grass.

He walked inside without a fuss, wanting to warm up. As Anton kicked his shoes off, Dew took a look around his cabin, having never actually been inside this place much before.

And before Anton could escort him to the lab, Dew spoke up. “Where’s Sasha?”

“In their room.”

“Where’s that?”

Anton pointed to a door, “Over there.”

Dew nodded awkwardly and shuffled his way towards it.

“Woah, hey!” Anton stopped him from moving. “Why are you shivering?”

“...I’m cold?”

Anton rolled his eyes and stepped around the corner. He came back with a blanket and draped it around Dew’s shoulders. “You should’ve told me you were cold. I don’t want you getting sick again.”

“Oh. Okay. Can I go see Sasha?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The two of them spent the rest of their free day hanging out with Sasha in their enclosure. Anton had built a large enclosure, almost resembling a mini rainforest, inside one of the rooms in his cabin. It was a perfect habitat for his snake friend; their own little world to themselves. The scientist still gave Sasha free reign of the house, it was their home too, after all.

The three of them sat in a circle and talked for a bit. After a while, they sat in comfortable silence. It was peaceful, somehow. Dew felt safe.

. . .

It was getting late, and it was hard to believe that Dew had spent the entire day above the lab, without attempting any real escapes. It made Dew feel incredibly guilty, but he knew he had to wait it out. He had to gain Anton’s trust, and he had to wait for his plan.

Eventually, Anton took Dew back down the stairs. He said goodnight to Sasha, and walked down willingly. It was hard. Dew distracted himself by thinking of what’d it be like finally escaping this place, flying freely outside for real.

Soon, he thought. He’d get out of this place soon.

The lab was dark when they opened the door. As they were walking to Dew’s room, Anton spoke up.

“So, today was… fun. I suppose. I’m proud of you for not running.”

Dew’s heart sped up. “Um, y-yeah. Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t mind having one day of the week as a free day. As long as you keep behaving, I don’t see why not. I prefer to just always work on my experiments, but your needs need to be met as well, since you’ll be here forever. How does every Saturday sound?”

“G-good. Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Great.” Anton smiled. They arrived at Dew's room, and Anton opened the door for his test subject. Dew walked inside timidly, eyes downcast. He really was getting used to this routine.

“Goodnight, Dew.”

“...Night.” The lights flickered off and Anton was gone. Faint sounds of the scientist's footsteps could be heard walking through the lab and out the exit.

Dew sighed and laid down in bed. It was so quiet. Dew missed the sounds of the birds chirping, of leaves rustling in the wind. Dew missed existing in the same space with others in a way that felt safe. Dew missed flying outside. Holy shit, that was the best thing that had ever happened to him, despite falling to the ground and getting hurt.

It was surreal, the whole day. It would almost feel like a dream. His captor had not only agreed to give him one day a week free for him to do whatever he wanted, free from experimentation and pain, but allowed him to fly outside. Sure, there was now the threat of… being electrocuted every time Dew left the area around Anton’s cabin. That was bad. But it was progress. Flying outside was something Dew had always wanted to do since he got his wings, and he did it, just like that!

The only thing that would make it better was to fly freely. He’d get there, of course, once he escapes.

Speaking of escape, Dew sat up in bed when he heard the familiar rustle of the vents above his head, signifying Sasha was there. They were a better escape artist than he was, having already found a way down here from up there. Dew supposed that made sense; snakes were escape artists in nature.

“Hey!” Sasha said, opening the latch with their tail.

“Hi,” Dew said. He grabbed his new night-light and held it up to them. “Look what Anton got me. It’s a little ghost light.”

“That’s cool. What’s a ghost?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know, huh? Okay… Ghosts are spirits. Like, like the soul of a dead person, they don’t exist in the physical plane. Nobody can see or hear them, but they can haunt people. And they’re not real– obviously. I used to believe in ghosts and then… then my parents died. And uh, if ghosts were real, my parents would have probably found a way to contact me. But they’re gone. But that doesn’t matter!”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just hope I can get outta here before Halloween. This little ghost would be perfect for that.”

“You’ll get out in no time, Dew.”

“Yeah.” Dew turned the light on, surprising them both with the brightness of it. “And look! It’s really bright so it’ll be perfect for mapping things out up there. You might have a good sense of direction, but I don’t.”

“Good idea!”

“Let’s go, it’s kinda chilly in here.”

Dew and his escape artist friend hopped up into the vents, using his night-light to make a windy and swirly map that was somewhat beginning to make sense. Their goal was to find the quickest possible route to the surface and map out a real exit. The steps after that, well… Dew just hoped he could finally get out of this torment, mostly unscathed.

Not to mention, they now had to find a way to get that device away from Anton. Escaping the cabin is useless when Dew can’t even leave without being shocked.

But they were sure they could do it, if they kept working together. Exploring the vents had been fun with Sasha. Sometimes Dew would bring his blanket up there and they would use his night-light to tell stories. Dew was thankful to finally have someone he could trust here, to finally have a friend he could talk to.

And that filled him with more hope, knowing that he’d finally be out of here soon. He would finally talk to his friends again, and spend time with his pets. He would finally sleep in his own bed and wear his own clothes. He would do whatever he wanted. He would fly, truly free.

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more excited.

—

This is Dew’s ghost light btw

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whumpay · 1 year

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WHUMPAY 2023

Well, this is earlier than usual… But, as a thanks for all y’all’s help getting prompts together, I’ve decided to release the list earlier! And, well… With the new ‘Extreme Edition’ addition, I figured a bit more prep time may be warranted.

Rules:

You only have to use one (Or two, if you’re doing the extreme edition.) prompt a day! But you’re welcome to use multiple if you want to, and it still counts for both.

I know the description of the blog says it’s a writing event, but if you want to draw or make other kinds of content, that’s cool too.

Have fun, tag content warnings (such as noncon, graphic violence, etc) and try not to be crushed by the mortifying ordeal of posting your writing.

This is a pretty chill event so you can start posting whenever but I’ll be reblogging posts made to the #Whumpay2023 tag throughout May.

EXTREME EDITION: Made to be used together with the normal prompt list, the extreme edition prompt list has 31 types of whumpees for you to use. This is entirely optional, and you don’t necessarily need to do them in order. I know it says bonus points, but it basically is just bragging rights.

(Prompt list under the cut.)

GROUP ONE: PHYSICAL WHUMP

Day 1: Heatstroke

Day 2: Asphyxiation

Day 3: Physical Torture

Day 4: Passing Out From Pain

Day 5: Near-Death Experience

GROUP TWO: MENTAL WHUMP

Day 6: Psychological Torture

Day 7: Betrayal

Day 8: Claustrophobia

Day 9: Lotus-Eater Machine

Day 10: Trapped In Own Body

GROUP THREE: WHUMPER TYPE

Day 11: Intimate Whumper

Day 12: Good Whumper / Bad Whumper

Day 13: Reluctant Whumper

Day 14: Vengeful Whumper

Day 15: Unintentional Whumper

GROUP FOUR: CARETAKER TYPE

Day 16: Bad Caretaker

Day 17: Parental Caretaker

Day 18: Reluctant Caretaker

Day 19: Carewhumper

Day 20: Enemy-To-Caretaker

GROUP FIVE: SICKFIC

Day 21: Working Through Illness

Day 22: Surgery

Day 23: Worse Than It Seems

Day 24: Allergic Reaction

Day 25: Deadly Illness

GROUP SIX: SICK FIC

Day 26: Scars

Day 27: “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Day 28: Self-Isolation

Day 29: “I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

Day 30: Nightmares

Day 31: Forced Relaxation

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

X. Sadistic Choice

X. Epistolary

X. Dehydration

X. Anger Born Of Worry

X. Death Wish

X. Stress Position

X. Gore

X. Just Out Of Reach

X. Hurt/Comfort

X. Magical Whump

EXTREME EDITION:

Whumpee Type:

Day 1. Vampire

Day 2. Young

Day 3. Stoic

Day 4. Winged

Day 5. Whumper-To-Whumpee

Day 6. Immortal

Day 7. Defiant

Day 8. Demon

Day 9. Villain

Day 10. Possessed

Day 11. Multiple Whumpees

Day 12. Robot/AI

Day 13. Cowboy

Day 14. Team Leader

Day 15. Werewolf

Day 16. Team Outcast

Day 17. Mermaid

Day 18. Asshole

Day 19. Fairy

Day 20. Hero

Day 21. Healer

Day 22. Soft

Day 23. Comedian

Day 24. Compliant

Day 25. Monster

Day 26. Traumatized

Day 27. Touch-Starved

Day 28. Stockholm Syndrome-d.

Day 29. Vengeful

Day 30. Ghost

Day 31. Alien

#whump #whumping #whump prompts #whump writing #whump event #whumpay #whumpay2023

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whumpsday · 1 year

Text

Our Hell on Earth #1: Warm Welcome

Masterlist

content: demon whumper, demon caretaker/carewhumper, interrogation, torture, burns, defiant whumpee, caretaking, captivity

welcome to my next bigger series! it’s not gonna be nearly as long as K&J, but still way longer than my little miniseries. been having these guys in my head for years and MTAT finally gave me the push to put ‘em out there. hope you enjoy my new guys :)

@amonthofwhump March Trope-A-Thon Day 3: Spy/Military / Interrogation / Undercover Mission / Barracks/Training / Patching Up A Wound

Cedric flexed his fingers nervously, his wrists shackled directly to the arms of the chair. It was wooden, but a hard, sturdy wood: both uncomfortable to sit in for as long as he had been, and impossible to break, especially when he couldn’t gain any leverage. His head still pounded from where he’d gotten hit.

His ankles were similarly bolted to the chair’s legs, preventing him from anxiously bouncing his leg like he so wanted to, unable to see even an inch in front of his face in the pitch-dark of the windowless room he’d woken up in. He could hardly even tell if his eyes were open or closed.

He was so fucked this time.

It wasn’t like Cedric hadn’t gotten into some bad situations before, in his line of work. You didn’t exactly get into demon hunting if you held your life close to your chest, unwilling to risk it. But he’d imagined he might go out in the heat of combat, one and done. Not this.

There wasn’t much he could do but sit there. Infuriatingly, he could feel that his phone was still in his pocket, he just couldn’t fucking reach it.

He couldn’t be sure how long it had been when Cedric heard heavy footsteps in the distance somewhere behind him. Was the chair facing away from the door?

His suspicions were confirmed when the door opened with a click, finally letting light into the room. Cedric tried to turn his head and see, but the chair’s back was too high, and all he could see was dark wood. He looked forward instead, squinting in the dim light from the doorway.

It looked like an unfinished basement from what he could see, which wasn’t much, mainly just the wall. Anything of note in here was probably also behind the chair.

“Wakey, wakey,” came a deep, gravelly voice.

“I was already awake, asshole,” Cedric shot back immediately.

The low voice chuckled. “Oh, we’re going to have some fun together, aren’t we.”

His suspicions of being in a basement were confirmed when he heard the sound of the guy walking down stairs, slow and deliberate. The light flicked on, and Cedric had to squeeze his eyes shut, too bright after the total darkness.

As he slowly opened his eyes and eased them into the light, the guy came into view. It was apparent that he was a demon, which came as no shock. But he wasn’t the one Cedric had been fighting when he went down.

He was huge, for one. Seven feet easy, maybe more, which Cedric resented all the more at his cool five-three. The demon he’d been fighting had been maybe six-five tops, short for a demon, but quick. That was what did Cedric in: he was too damn slow.

Cedric glared up as his eyes adjusted. “Yeah, real fun. What do you want? Why am I still alive?”

The demon gave him an amused, condescending look, like Cedric was being silly. “Oh, not much. Just answer some questions for me and you’ll be on your merry way.”

“Uh, why would I wanna answer your questions if you’re just gonna kill me after?” Cedric scoffed.

The demon grinned, row of razor-sharp teeth gleaming. “We’ll get there.”

His eyes travelled lower, down to Cedric’s pocket. “Looks like Lack’s been slacking in his duties again, I should have already had this in my hand. Tsk-tsk. Going to have to give him a reminder to be diligent.” The demon reached down into Cedric’s pocket with a clawed hand.

“Hey! Don’t touch!” Cedric shouted, but the demon paid no mind, taking the phone out and carefully tapping the relatively-tiny screen.

He turned it around. “That makes for a good first question. What’s the password?”

Cedric took a moment to be thankful that he never used any of that stupid biometric crap on his phone.

Then he spit in the demon’s face. Well, he tried, but trajectory landed it on his chest. Close enough.

The demon gave that condescending smile again as he wiped it away. Cedric was beginning to hate that smile.

“Forgot to introduce myself. I am Drive,” the demon said, leaning forward. “And I have a lot of it. Here is how this is going to work. You give me the information I’m looking for- base location, names and locations of fellow hunters, the key to your phone- and the pain stops.” Drive reached forward and patted him on the cheek. “Understand, little one?”

“Gah!” Cedric pulled away as much as he could given his restraints, which wasn’t much. “Might as well give up. I’m not telling you shit.”

The words coming out of his mouth scared him more than Drive’s threat. If the demon gave up... he would kill him. Cedric knew that.

But he would rather die than rat everyone out. He couldn’t. He’d rather be tortured to death than know they were hurt because of him.

He knew that was no longer a hypothetical.

Drive grinned. “You’ll find I don’t do that easily.”

He snapped his fingers, a small flame coming to life at his fingertip.

Cedric’s breath caught in his throat. But he had to be strong, he had to. The other option was just unthinkable.

“Hmmm...” Drive contemplated, looking him up and down. “How about we start with that pretty face?” he sneered.

“Don’t fucking call me pretty,” Cedric growled.

Drive rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. No one will after I’m done with you.”

He grabbed Cedric by the hair with his free hand, holding his head in place and bringing the flame close with the other. “Last chance before we get started.”

Cedric could feel the heat from the flame, just barely kept from licking at his face. “Go fuck yourself.”

Drive laughed, wordlessly bringing his finger to Cedric’s cheek. He gasped as his face came alive with pain, increasing exponentially as the fire was held there. He tried to pull away, but it was a hopeless endeavor: the demon’s grip was iron-tight.

He couldn’t help but cry, the tears rolling down his cheeks doing nothing to quell the flame. His breaths came quick with panic, and he bit his tongue hard to hold back a scream, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. It felt like the flame was boring a hole straight through his face, the nerves there screaming at him to get away.

Drive held him there for a few minutes before sliding his finger down just slightly, moving the flame onto fresh skin to start all over again. Cedric let out a strangled cry of pain despite himself, chest heaving.

The demon tugged on his hair to tilt his head even further into the fire. “We can start slow. One piece of information and we’ll call it enough for the first day.”

“No,” Cedric squeaked, hating the way his voice pitched up like that when he was afraid.

“Then we’re going to be here a while. You’d better get comfortable.”

It was hours later when Drive finally decided to call it quits, extinguishing the flame. Cedric’s breathing was ragged by this point, half his face a mess of meticulously burnt flesh from just below his eye all the way down to his jawline, the other half a mess of sweat and tears. When the demon let go of his hair, he slumped forward, shaking.

“You know most humans don’t make it past the first day?” Drive commented casually.

Cedric didn’t have a biting remark to that.

“I’ll leave you to calm down. My assistant will be down in a bit to clean you up.” Drive smirked. “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, the demon sauntered back up the stairs, flicking the lights off and the door closed to leave Cedric in total darkness.

He let himself cry unabashedly now, pathetic little sobs that sent his shoulders bobbing up and down instead of strong, mostly-silent tears.

What was he going to do? He wasn’t alone when he got taken, so at least they knew he wasn’t just killed outright. They’d be looking for him. But would they actually be able to find him? He had no idea where he was. He might not even be on Earth anymore, they could have taken him through a portal. There’d be no chance of rescue if he was in Hell.

But the air was clean. It smelled disgustingly of his own burnt flesh, but it didn’t stink of sulfur. He’d never been to Hell, but he’d heard that about it. So he was probably still on Earth.

Someone would come for him. He had to believe that. Maybe they could track his phone, though Drive had taken it with him. He hoped that wherever he was, there was cell signal here.

The door opened again, and Cedric’s head snapped up with panic at the sound before he remembered what Drive had said. His assistant.

The lights flickered back on, the footsteps coming down this time lighter, confident. The demon who came into view was maybe the first Cedric had seen who probably wasn’t over a foot taller than him. He looked maybe six-one, if he had to guess. He sported a black eye and held a bucket full of various supplies, the handle resting on the inside of his elbow, his expression sour.

“Ouch,” he commented, giving Cedric a once-over.

“Yeah.” His voice came out more broken than he would like. “Ouch.”

“Here’s the deal,” the demon stated, putting his bucket down. “I’m not here to get information out of you. That’s Drive’s job, not mine. If you decide you want to talk, wait for him. I’m just here to make sure you don’t die while he does what he does.”

He took a plastic cup out of the bucket and left Cedric’s line of sight, the sound of a tap running soon following. When he came back, he shoved it in front of Cedric’s face. “Drink.”

He was more than glad to, the water amazing on his parched throat. The demon tipped the cup further as he drank, until it was all gone.

The demon pulled a tube of burn cream out of the bucket, squirting some on his fingers. “Hold still.” He reached for Cedric’s face.

Cedric jerked his head away, on instinct more than anything else. He knew it would probably be good to get treatment, but the thought of anyone touching his face right now, even the demons’ medic, was unthinkable.

The demon sighed, obviously annoyed. “It’s not going to hurt any more than it already does. Like I said, not my job. Hold still.”

“F-fine.” Cedric held still this time as the demon smeared the gel over his burn, the sensation cool on his abused skin. “Are you Lack?” he asked, remembering what Drive had said earlier.

“Yep.” The demon dabbed carefully under Cedric’s eye.

“Is it ‘cause you’re the lackey?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his situation.

Lack gave him an exasperated, deadpan look. “No.”

He replaced the burn cream in the bucket, pulling out some gauze and cling wrap and applying that over the wound. “Any other injuries I should know about?”

“Nah, that’s it.” Cedric flexed his fingers again, the height of motion he was really allowed.

Lack nodded, pulling a sandwich out of the bucket. It was wrapped in plastic and still had the barcode sticker on it. “I’m betting you want me to hand-feed you about as little as I want to do it. If I let your hands free, are you going to try and pull anything?”

Cedric would kill to be able to actually move for a moment. “No.”

Lack produced a key, inserting it into the shackles bolting his wrists to the chair and opening them one by one. Cedric stretched his arms up, relieved to be able to do at least that, even if his face still felt like it was on fire. He grabbed the sandwich from Lack, unwrapped it, and took a bite.

“Can I get more water?” he asked.

Lack eyed his still-shackled ankles for a moment, then conceded. “Sure, that’s fine.” He left to go refill the cup, taking the key with him.

Cedric leaned forward as much as he could, trying to reach for the bucket and see if there was anything useful in there, but it was a good foot and a half out of his reach. He quickly abandoned his effort before Lack could see.

Lack came back with a full cup of water, setting it on the chair’s armrest. “Do you take any critical medications?”

He doubted the demon would consider it critical, and he had bigger things to worry about right now. “Nope.”

“Good. That shit’s apparently annoying to get, and then they get mad at me for requesting it. Like they wouldn’t be even more pissed off if you died in the chair because I didn’t. Idiots.” Lack kicked the ground with irritation.

So Lack didn’t like his boss. Maybe Cedric could use that, somehow, but he wasn’t sure how yet. After he finished his sandwich and the rest of the water, Lack took the key back out. “I’m going to let you out of the chair so you can use the bathroom. Don’t try anything, because if you do, I’m going to have to watch you, and neither of us wants that. Drive’s right upstairs, you’re not escaping.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t. Sheesh.” The concept of running into Drive again made him feel almost ill.

Lack unlocked the last of his restraints, and Cedric did a full-body stretch when he stood up. Being locked into that chair for hours wasn’t nearly as bad as his burns, but it still took a toll. He turned around, finally able to see the rest of the basement.

His eyes immediately fell on a table pushed against the wall, terrifying instruments sat neatly-organized across it. Knives of all shapes and sizes and serrations, pliers, saws, a drill, a hammer and nails, and more. His stomach turned at the sight, knowing that it was likely meant for him.

He turned away, following Lack to the small bathroom on the opposite side of the basement. “Five minutes.”

Cedric nodded, throat choked up with nerves, and closed himself in the bathroom. There was no lock on the door. Even if there was, Lack could probably break the door down easily, and Drive definitely could. There was no window. Nowhere to run.

He stayed in the bathroom well after he’d finished washing his hands, letting the tap run until Lack knocked on the door. “Time’s up. Come on out.”

Knowing he didn’t really have any other choice, Cedric turned the tap off and opened the door. “You gonna put me back in the chair?”

“I’ll be back in six hours with more food and water,” Lack said by way of answer.

Cedric hesitated, staring reluctantly at the chair.

“Sit in the chair,” Lack insisted. “If it’s going to be a fight every time I let you up, I’ll have to figure out something that doesn’t involve letting you up. This is easier for both of us, so let’s just stick with this.”

“I gotta sleep in that thing? I don’t even get to lie on the floor?” Cedric whined.

Lack looked from his miserable face to the chair and back. “...I’ll see about getting you a pillow.”

He figured that was about as good as he was gonna get it. Cedric stalked back over to the chair and slumped down in it, too exhausted from his ordeal to try and fight.

“Thank you.” Lack locked his wrists and ankles back in.

taglist:

@a-crumb-of-whump

@banditosong

@interdimensional-chaos

@kixngiggles

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@pigeonwhumps

@whump-amine

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@whumpthisway

@whumpwillow

@whumpycries

@whumpzone

@zillastar13

#amow tropeathon 2023 #spy/military #interrogation #demon whumper #demon caretaker #caretaking #torture #burns #captivity #defiant whumpee #carewhumper #our hell on earth #whump #my writing #whump writing

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mj-iza-writer · 4 months

Note

Shyly shuffles into your ask box

I really love your writing! Do you take requests??? If you do, would you consider writing about a Carewhumper that drugs Whumpee for their own good?? Totally fine if not though, no pressure!!!

Aww, you are so sweet. Don't be shy, I love request. Thankyou so much. I hope you enjoy.

Whumper had everything prepped. They flicked the vile a couple of times and would squeeze out the air right before poking Whumpee.

Alcohol swabs were ready, cotton balls, even bandages with cute little characters.

Whumper looked over the set up one more time to make sure it was ready.

"Whumpee come here please", Whumper called.

Whumpee wandered into the bathroom, they had their favorite stuffy cuddled close.

One look at the shot, and Whumpee turned away from the bathroom.

"N-no thanks", Whumpee whispered.

Whumper almost caught Whumpee, but they were to quick.

"Whumpee, you need to take this. There is a storm coming, and it's supposed to be bad", Whumper called, "you are not going to win, I'm not dealing with your nerves tonight. Especially when you have medicine to relax you."

Whumper listened to Whumpee's frantic running until it stopped.

"Oh no, we're could Whumpee possibly have gone" Whumper sighed in a mocking tone, "however will I find them."

Whumper marched right to their bedroom, got down to the floor and reached under their bed until they felt an arm.

"Come... here", Whumper groaned as they tried to pull Whumpee out, "I'm not dealing with you crying all night because of your anxiety. I'm not in the mood to cuddle all night again like last time."

"I don't want it", Whumpee cried out as they tried to hold on to their stuffie and the bed.

Whumper managed to get a hand under Whumpee's arm and tickled their armpit.

"The medicine", Whumpee groaned in pained laughter, "makes me feel run down", Whumpee cried out from being tickled, "you just leave me sitting on the couch then, I don't like it."

Whumper pulled harder, finally getting Whumpee out.

"Wait my stuffie", Whumpee cried.

"I'll get it in a second", Whumper concentrated on tying Whumpee's hands behind their back.

"Don't move, or I'll tie your feet to", Whumper held Whumpee's chin.

Whumpee nodded, but couldn't keep tears from welling up in their eyes.

"I don't want to get a shot", Whumpee struggled to move their hands, "I don't like them and I don't like the medicine."

"Why don't you like the medicine Whumpee? You always say you feel better and more relaxed with it", Whumper sighed as they reached under the bed for the stuffie.

"I feel good with it, except the stupid prick", Whumpee sighed, "but you ignore me too much, and I'm to out of it to ask for attention. Plus, I can't cuddle my stuffie."

Whumper sighed as they helped Whumpee stand from the floor and led them to the bathroom.

"You're making me get the shot still", Whumpee frowned, "even after..."

"Yes Whumpee, I'm giving you the shot. It still helps you with your anxiety during storms", Whumper sighed, "you aren't complaining about the medicine you just don't like being left alone."

"But I-I feel like I'm looking out and yelling for help, and your not paying attention to me", Whumpee cried.

Whumper grabbed an alcohol swab and cleaned the area for the shot.

Whumpee blinked away some tears as they watched Whumper squeeze out the air and a little of the medicine from the needle.

"Your doctor ordered this for you Whumpee, and it's to help you. That's why I'm doing this", Whumper frowned as they held the needle to Whumpee's body.

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut as Whumper pushed the needle in.

"Okay 3...2..1", Whumper counted down as they injected the medicine, "and we're done."

Whumpee opened their eyes again once Whumper put on the bandage.

"See all that fuss, and only a few seconds", Whumper tried to lift the mood.

"It's not a few seconds for me though", Whumpee looked at Whumper sadly.

Whumper carried Whumpee out to the couch and laid them down. They untied the bindings, and let Whumpee get situated.

"My stuffie?", Whumpee looked around frantically.

Whumper ran to the bathroom and hurried back carrying it.

Whumper tucked the toy into Whumpee's arms, the medicine was already starting to work as Whumpee was slowing down.

"Well go about your business, I'll be here against my will", Whumpee glared.

Whumper sat on the floor, "I won't leave you like this. I didn't realize you felt so left out."

Whumpee nodded slowly, "how bad is this storm supposed to be?"

"Pretty bad", Whumper sighed as they pushed Whumpee's bangs out of their eyes.

"Are you going to leave me if it gets really bad?", Whumpee blinked slowly, "will you be okay?"

"No Whumpee, I won't leave you", Whumper grinned, "I'll be fine."

The next morning, Whumpee woke up cuddled into Whumper's arms. They were both in the tub.

Whumpee tried to reach for their stuffie, but the movement woke Whumper.

"Hmm, good morning", Whumper yawned.

"Wh-why are we in the tub?", Whumpee whispered.

"There was a tornado siren, so I got us both in the tub", Whumper sighed as they started to wiggle out of their position, "I stayed up and listened to the radio until the warning was lifted. I was too tired to get us to bed though."

"I'm sorry you had to be by yourself for that", Whumpee looked back at them sadly, "you shouldn't have given me the medicine."

"Trust me, I was better off with you not panicking", Whumper sighed as they lifted Whumpee up and started to climb out of the tub, "you were happily snoring the whole time. Made my life so much easier last night."

"Oh", Whumpee sighed.

"Alright let's get cleaned up, I'm sure I have some work to do outside", Whumper sighed.

"I guess that medicine does work pretty well if I slept through all of that", Whumpee tried to stand up.

"I guess now you won't fight me to take it then", Whumper helped them out of the tub.

"I probably will", Whumpee giggled.

"Great", Whumper sighed.

"I have to keep you on your toes", Whumpee snickered, "you know you love it."

"Keep telling yourself that", Whumper grinned.

Thanks again for the ask, I hope this is to your liking.-MJ

Taglist,I don't know if I'm supposed to tag people for this or not, but... As always, please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet

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echo-goes-mmm · 1 year

Text

So we all the love the whumpee-thinks-caretaker-is-their-new-master trope but what if it's true

Caretaker who did buy whumpee, and who does wholeheartedly believes and acts like whumpee belongs to them

But damn it they take great care of their possessions. After all, cats and dogs get spoiled with treats and comfy beds and vet visits when they're sick and cuddles and a form of love

Why should a slave be any different? Especially because caretaker bought whumpee for companionship

Plus whumpee can tidy up, cook for themselves, hold a conversation, and even play games like cards or board games, and can go everywhere caretaker can

That's infinitely better than a cat or dog.

It's just such a shame their old owner was so terrible. Whumpee is so timid now, and nearly skin and bone. But that's nothing a good owner can't fix, right? The poor thing needs some proper structure and attention that's all. It's a good thing whumpee is human. It would be a lot harder to rehabilitate a rescue who can't comprehend speech.

And whumpee doesn't want to leave. Fetching files from a desk and playing checkers and occasionally cleaning the kitchen while master chatters about work is far better than being locked in a cold basement and getting beaten every day

Their new master doesn't lay a hand on them, their version of punishment is no music while doing chores, or no dessert

After all, you wouldn't hit your dog. Caretaker's new pet deserves at least that

#carewhumper #i suppose but caretaker isnt super whumpy here #whump #this is super indulgent #pet whump #i guess but not really #slavery whump #yeah that fits better #its the good master trope #yeah yeah we all know slavery is bad #this is fiction get off your high horse #but like wouldn't this be nice for whumpee??#its the benefits of being owned (protection. doesn't have to worry about bills/homelessness. possessiveness as care against other whumpers)#plus being told whats right and wrong you dont have to think much as long as caretaker is Clear #without much of the drawbacks of being a whumpee (torture. starvation. lack of social interaction)#i imagine this world is like your typical fantasy/medieval world #caretaker is probably wealthy or a lord with an estate and servants #caretaker got lonely maybe. wanted someone in their life more personally attached than hired help #like personal assistant meets pet whump meets default friend #i do think whumpee and caretaker would become close friends #Meet caretaker: a minor lord who recently inherited the title!#Meet whumpee: caretaker's new slave whos just happy to be fed and have his own bed #journey with them as they navigate the condescension and annoyances of the royal courts!#caretaker needs a friend they can trust while whumpee discovers that they deserve affectionate actually #hurt/comfort shenanigans ensue #head chef edna just wants everyone fed #whumpee have a cookie challenge #get that whumpee a meal #my writing

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whumping-valentine · 2 months

Text

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 5 🦌

"Cabin Colds"

Content: Sick Whumpee, Carewhumper

1100 Words

Hey it's part five! Who likes sick whumpees and caretaking whumpers? 👀

This part is short and simple, but it was a way for me to vent when I was sick last week, lol. The parts will get longer and more complex as we go though, so you can look forward to that!

I really wanna try and get this little story done, because afterwards I'm gonna be posting my story on Valentine, which I'm itching to share with you all. God, I can't wait for y'all to meet Valentine and Vittoria, man. It's gonna be great. But anyways, I hope you like this tiny little slice of sick whump!

Fawn barely slept a wink that night, how could they? Tied up and in pain isn't exactly the utmost form of comfort.

Ironically enough, it was warmer down in the basement. Though that's probably due to the numerous broken windows around the cabin, closed off with nothing more than wooden planks and tattered blankets. And last night they just added another one to the list.

That's how Fawn would sleep for the next week. Their days consisted of the same old things, being taunted, condescended, sometimes slapped and pulled by the hair. Being treated as some pretty pet, or lowly companion. Eating nothing besides venison. It was all starting to take its toll on the poor thing.

As the days continued to tick by Fawn slowly came to the realization that they were going to be here for quite a while... unfortunately. They didn't want to completely give up hope just yet, but Hunter was quite experienced with this sort of thing, so it was apparent.

One night, Fawn fell asleep with a sore throat, and woke up completely sick. It was freezing, but they also felt hot, all at once. Their head was pounding, their nose was running, and every muscle in their body was aching. It was pure, absolute misery, and worst of all they weren’t sure how Hunter was going to react to it. Whether or not they were going to be comforting or neglectful, Fawn liked neither option.

Though they’ll accept any help by this point, they couldn’t just lay here, they simply couldn’t. They tried to call out to their captor, though their sore throat didn’t allow it. All they could do was cough, and a short while later, it was enough to catch their attention. All it took was one look at the poor thing for Hunter to tell they were sick. They crossed their arms and leaned their shoulder against the door frame.

“Feelin’ bad, baby?”

Fawn coughed, “Yes.”

The sound of their voice made Hunter widen their eyes in surprise, “Oh, wow, you really are, poor thing." They said, still talking down to them, "Need some help?”

Fawn would normally bicker and bite, but in this instance said, “Please.”

Hunter didn’t waste a second going to untie them. Rope marks stained their wrists and ankles, which were growing more frail as the days ticked by as Fawn slowly lost weight and strength.

Hunter picked them up bridal style, and carried them down to the basement, into a new room that was previously kept behind a locked door. A secret, cozy place that was actually rather nice, and well kept. They laid Fawn down on a couch, lit a fireplace, then covered them up with a thick quilted blanket. They left for a few minutes and returned with a cold washcloth, which they placed on their feverish forehead.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

“Wanna rest?”

“Yes.”

Hunter gently lifted their head, sat down, and placed it on their lap. They ran slow fingers through their hair. They chuckled, “What, too sick to yell at me for this, are you?”

Fawn simply peeked their eyes open, glared at them, and closed them again.

“I see, I see. You can yell at me when you’re better.” They said, placing a hand on their head as they dragged their fingers through their now coarse hair. Fawn hated it, hated that their captor of all people was being so intimate and caring. They always hated it, but in this instance they were far too sickly to even think of biting back.

Their head was pounding, fever burning, body sweating. Their throat was sore, it was hard to breathe, and they found themself asking for a tissue every few minutes. Their body ached, they felt nauseous, their stomach was upset, and every muscle in their body hurt. Their skin was sensitive to the touch, and they were tired as all hell but couldn’t find it in them to fall asleep.

They weren’t sure what exactly they had, but it was probably the sickest they had ever felt in their entire life. Really, they probably had more than one thing. Being held out in an old, dirty cabin with deer carcasses all over the place is a pretty good guarantee that you’re going to catch something. Hunter was surely used to the conditions, but Fawn clearly was not.

Eventually Fawn managed to drift off to sleep without even realizing. When they awoke again they were still there, head in Hunter’s lap. Hunter looked down at their sleepy eyes, and took the washcloth off their head to check their temperature with the back of their hand. They asked, “You feelin’ any better?”

Fawn’s only response was a meek, hoarse, “Thirsty.”

Hunter got up, gently laying them back down as they went to fetch a canteen of water. When they returned, they helped Fawn sit up as they held the canteen to their lips as they gulped down the whole thing at once. It felt difficult, uncomfortable, and painful to swallow due to their sore, swollen throat, but they persisted despite it.

“Want me to grab you something to eat, too?” Hunter asked. Fawn thought for a moment, and slightly nodded.

Hunter left to the kitchen once again, and ravaged through the old, dusty cupboards for something to feed them that wasn’t meat. They grabbed an old soup can, checked the date, and to their surprise it was still good. They rinsed a dusty bowl and poured the soup into it. They warmed it up over the stove, and retreated back down to the basement.

"I thought you'd like something other than venison." Hunter said, sitting back down with Fawn, "How does vegetable soup sound?"

Fawn could practically cry tears of joy. “great.”

Fawn's head laid on Hunter's shoulder, one of their arms around them as the other fed them soup like a child. Fawn was far too sick to get upset about it, accepting the gesture with gratitude. They closed their eyes as Hunter fed them spoonfuls.

The warm, crackling fire paired with their fever made them just about ready to fall asleep. They were so feverish and tired that they even found it comforting when Hunter gently rubbed their hand up and down their back. If they had any sense of clarity in their head, they’d find the gentle gestures and caretaking insulting.

Hunter finished feeding them the soup, placing the empty bowl on a nearby table. They looked down at the sickly thing in their arms, "Hm. I think it's time for bed, Fawn."

"Says who?" Fawn mumbled, the soreness present in their tone.

"Says me. You’re already falling asleep. And more sleep will do you good.”

“What do you care.”

“I care because I’d like to take care of my pet, that’s what.” They said, grabbing onto them as they both laid down. Fawn wanted so badly to fight against the gestures, but couldn't. They weren't sure if it was because of how ill they felt, or if it was because they actually liked it.

They hoped it wasn't the second one.

Hunter held Fawn to their chest, their arms wrapped around them, both curled up under the blanket.

Well, I suppose it's better than being tied to a bed. And, I guess there could always be worse creepy serial killers to be taken by...

Taglist: @parasitebunny

^^ If you want added, lmk!

#fawn and hunter #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #whump things #my writing #whump writing #sick whump #carewhumper

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a-crumb-of-whump · 1 year

Text

A New Beginning #17: The Glass Box

Masterlist | AO3

Content: Put on display, vampire whumpee, carewhumper, [mentioned] blood (for the sake of food), pet whump, conditioned whumpee, [implied] multiple whumpers, stress positions, collars, gags.

This takes place when Carlos is about 23! He was surrendered to a shelter when he was nineteen, spent four years there and then was rescued by the man in the story, whom I actually plan to make into a proper fleshed out OC:)

Carlos had been with his new master for a little over a month now. It was different to his childhood home, and even more different to the shelter he was rescued from. Instead of a cold, comfortless cage, he now slept in a large pet bed with fluffy pillows and several squeaky toys to play with throughout the day. Enrichment was the word his master had used when he gave them to him. A way of keeping him entertained.

Really, he had nothing to complain about. Master was so kind to him. He was fed regular meals and groomed every week to make sure he always looked his best. In the evenings, while Master watched movies, he’d invite him up onto the couch with him and stroke his hair or let him sit by his feet if he wasn’t feeling affectionate. Punishments and pain were only ever given when he misbehaved, but he was a good boy. At least, he always tried to be.

Tonight, Master had a special event planned that involved Carlos as the main form of entertainment. While he hadn’t told him exactly what he was going to be doing, he was not shy about giving him a long wash and making him look as presentable as possible.

Afterwards, the man escorted him back to the living room, where a large glass box now sat on the coffee table with a pillowed pedestal inside. Someone had obviously set it up while Master had been getting him ready. Perhaps his friends were already here?

“Alright, pet,” Master began as he carefully lifted the bottomless glass box up and set it aside. Now just the pedestal was left, but something told Carlos that wouldn’t last long. “Come here and we’ll get you set up before the party starts, alright? Have you ever been put on display before?”

Carlos blinked a few times, almost forgetting to give a verbal response. It wasn’t until Master raised an eyebrow that he shrunk into himself a little and shook his head as he began to crawl forward.

“No, sir,” he finally answered, his voice so small that he almost thought Master hadn’t heard him. Thankfully, however, the human smiled down at him and pet his head; lifting him up with with his arm around his stomach so he could be placed and positioned the way Master wanted him to be.

“That’s okay. As long as you obey and remain still and quiet until you’re told to reposition yourself, you’ll do great. Even you can do that, little pet. Right?”

Before he could respond, Master had pushed a large ball gag into his mouth, giving the vampire no option but to nod as enthusiastically as he could despite the discomfort of the object in his mouth. It bordered on painful, just as it did every time he wore it, but he did his best to ignore that.

“Good.” Much to his delight, Master brought Carlos’ head to his stomach for a few seconds and gave him several long, drawn out pets to show he was happy with his behaviour so far. His hand was so warm and kind, he found himself leaning into his body for more when he let him go again. “I know you’ll make me proud.”

There had to have been at least a hundred or so guests that attended Master’s party, none of which Carlos knew. The house they lived in was rather big, so there were people spread out across several different rooms, all waiting to get a good look at the vampire displayed in the living room.

For the first time in months, he felt so exposed and uncomfortable, forced to stay on his hands and knees as multiple people gawked and stared at him. He was grateful to have the glass as a form of protection from being touched - he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay still if it weren’t there, but a part of him dared to wish that it had been one of those one-way glass boxes. At least then he wouldn’t have been able to see everyone, too. He wouldn’t have to look into the eyes of those people and watch as they took photos of him and talked about him like he wasn’t there.

By now, his jaw was beginning to ache. For a moment he attempted to find a position that didn’t cause his mouth so much pain, but it only caused everyone to coo and pay more attention to him, thinking it was the cutest thing.

Eventually, a familiar-looking hand reached out to knock on the glass in an attempt to gain his attention. He averted his eyes towards the direction the arm had come from, only to see his master smiling at him. In an attempt to show his excitement to see him, he let out a muffled whine.

“Isn’t he adorable?” the human called out, earning a chorus of cheers and laughter that only caused Carlos’ face to go redder. He looked up at his master out of the corner of his eye, silently begging him to make it stop. His arms were shaking from the constant weight on them, threatening to give out on him at any moment. “This is what good pet ownership does! Treat your vampires well and they’ll never disobey you again!”

A part of Carlos wanted to tear up. Master was using him as an example of what good pets look like. That meant he was a good pet! The realisation only made him all the more determined to be good, and he tried to express his excitement by smiling through the gag, and earned another loud chorus of praises and positive exclamations.

The rest of Master’s speech went on for another minute or two, and Carlos did his best to smile through it all, despite how much his jaw ached in protest. His entire body was in so much pain that when he realised he was allowed to take a break, tears of relief started dripping down his face.

“You’re doing so well, pet,” Master praised as he lifted the glass up and set it down on the ground. “Just a few more hours to go and then it’s over. You’ve made me a lot of money tonight.”

Carlos whined through the gag again, closing his eyes when Master reached out to run his hands through the vampire’s hair. He did his best to ignore the multiple sets of hands reaching out to touch and pet him, simply trying to focus on the one person that mattered.

“Are you looking to sell?” someone asked as the human wrapped an arm around Carlos’ stomach and lifted him onto the floor, like he’d done earlier. “I’m sure there’s people who’d pay good money for a pet like that.”

Much to his relief, Master rolled his eyes and snorted, reaching down to put the vampire’s collar back on. “No. I intend to keep him for a while yet. At least, until he’s no longer of use to me.”

No longer of use. That meant that as long as he was useful… he could stay? That was a relief to hear.

After clipping the leash he had hanging from his belt to Carlos’ collar, the human escorted him to his bed and instructed him to lay down, petting him as he went.

“People will come and pet you while I’m gone - you just need to be quiet and do what they say until I get back, alright?” Carlos eagerly nodded, despite his growing exhaustion. The gag was still tight in his mouth, but he figured he could handle that. As long as Master was happy with him, he could handle anything. “Good pet. Keep up the good work and you’ll get double the amount of blood tomorrow. Sound good?”

Once again, Carlos nodded and watched as his human stood up and dropped the rope by the vampire’s side to pick up later on. Then he was gone, merging into the croud of people that seemed to excited to finally not have the glass in the way.

He nervously swallowed and shrunk a little deeper into the pillows, hoping the humans would get bored of him soon enough.

Though, something told him that wasn’t about to happen.

Taglist: @alexkolax @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @whump-things @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @choppedflowermuffinchild

#whump #whump stuff #whump things #whump thoughts #whump tropes #vampire whumpee #vampire whump #pet whump #anb stuff

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