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ashintheairlikesnow · 7 months

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The Nightingale's Song

CW: Dehumanizing language, use of ‘it’ as pronoun for nonhuman whumpee, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, intimate whumper, fade-to-black noncon implied, magical whump, captivity, minor side character death

One year after the events of The Seas No More

Gilly, fingers itching to close around the old biddy’s skinny neck, settled for laying the cool compress over her forehead, taking pains to look like nothing so much as the devoted tenant helping his landlady through some terrible mysterious illness.

It had been a very, very long eight months or so since he'd started this little act, feigning devotion and care for the old woman, and it was with very real relief that he finally saw the end in sight.

Mrs. Neumann’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her little yappy dog running circles below her where she was laid out on the chaise in her less-fashionable front room. It stopped, now and then, to lick at her fingers, and then ran in circles again.

“Water, please, Gilly,” Mrs. Neumann croaked, and he smiled solicitously as he tipped the cup to her lips, allowing her only a few sips before pulling it back away. “Thank you, you sweet young man.” Her cold bony fingers closed around his wrist and Gilly suppressed a shudder only with effort. "You have been so good to me, in these hard days..." Her eyes, when they met his, were strangely foggy, as if covered with a sort of film that stood between her and the world. “You have been such a boon to an old woman with no one to care for her. There is some infection, I should think… We must send for the doctor, mustn’t we?”

“The doctor has already come and gone,” Gilly said, leaning close and half-shouting in the hopes she could hear anything he said. Her mouth worked aimlessly, and he gave her more water, although it didn't seem to help. “Do you not remember?” Her hearing had gotten even worse since her illness had taken hold of her - or since the siren's song had convinced her that she was ill, anyway - and soon enough, he thought, all this shouting could finally cease.

“Oh, he did?,” Mrs. Neumann quavered, eyes watering. But then she seemed to forget her emotions and looked to the side. “I suppose so… He must have. Oh, but Gilly, who is singing? The voice is so fine…”

In the corner, Gilly’s siren sang, plaintive and mournful, as he’d been ordered to. He hadn’t wanted to turn his song to Gilly's will, but with a year of careful teaching he had taught the creature to obey him without hesitation, and they were finally ready to put Gilly’s plan into motion.

It began here.

His future would start here at Mrs. Neumann’s sickbed, where beneath the notes of the lovely song were the commands being worked into the elderly widow’s malleable little mind while she burned with unchecked fever.

The doctor came and said there is nothing to be done now but rest. Gilly Wentworth cares for you now. Leave him everything you have. He deserves all you have and more.

He deserves everything.

“He's a friend,” Gilly replied to her question, shouting right against her ear and getting almost no sign she was aware of him at all. Her eyes shifted, moving as if following the notes of Areyto’s beautiful song. The clouds over her irises were thickening. “He sings well indeed! It was a miracle I found him!"

“As the hart on the mountain so was my love brave,” The siren sang, powerful tenor rising and falling. Its eyes were distant, its body relaxed in a way it never was otherwise. But even Gilly could see that the siren loved the act of using its voice, not only for luring wayward sailors but simply to sing at all. “So handsome, manly and clever. So kind and sincere and he loved me so dear - oh, Edwin, thy equal was never..."

“How beautiful,” Mrs. Neumann whispered, lips barely moving. He watched the fog on her eyes overtake them entirely as the spell in the siren’s voice took hold of her. “Oh, Gilly, you have done more than anyone could ever be asked to do for me… it's a pity, what happened with your father… you should have kept your riches…"

“Yes,” Gilly whispered, leaning closer. “Yes, I should have…"

"A pity," The old woman repeated, reaching blindly for him, unable now to see anything but what the siren commanded. "Such a pity… you deserve everything…"

Gilly shivered with anticipation, breathing harder. "Yes, yes, I do…"

Even the little yappy dog had gone silent, now, head cocked with its ears up as it listened, seated on the ground. Gilly wondered idly if the dog would try to give him all its stupid little bones or something, if the siren’s magic could speak to the hearts of animals, too.

It didn't work on animals, everyone knew that. But then it wasn't supposed to work on women, either, and here was Mrs. Neumann wholly ensorcelled by it.

He would have to go see Atabei, and tell her, after this was over.

“You have been such a good and kind gentleman…” She murmured, and he held her hand in both of his, soft papery wrinkled skin cradled between his palms. “I will leave you everything, everything you deserve…”

“Yes," Gilly repeated, more insistently this time, leaning even closer. He could smell her now, the rosewater she dabbed at her neck and wrists each day like clockwork when she rose, the sour note of her sweat beneath. It wouldn’t be long now.

As soon as she signed.

“But now he is dead and gone to death’s bed,” The siren continued, “He’s cut down like a rose in full bloom. He’s fallen asleep and left me here to weep by the sweet silver light of the moon…”

Mrs. Neumann’s mouth had fallen open, a look of serenity overtaking her features entirely but for the clouds over her eyes. Gilly left her for the moment and went over to a table near to the door, grabbing the sheaf of papers there, an inkwell and pen. He returned, settled himself back next to her, and began to speak to her in a soft voice.

She heard, somewhere, deep beneath the deafness that had come on her with age and the siren’s song. The siren commanded her to hear him, so she did.

He explained how important it was that she leave her wealth to someone who would use it wisely, that her friends and the church could not be trusted with it - only Gilly Wentworth, who cared for her so faithfully, deserved her fortune.

She nodded, and wept a little at the selfless nature of such a man, and then she took the pen.

The old woman signed every paper he gave her, her signature unmistakably her own and unwavering, even though she never looked directly at any of the words. He’d had these drawn up himself by a solicitor who had remarked, also, on the fine quality of his friend’s singing, before his own eyes had clouded.

When they had left the solicitor's office, the man had remembered no such song, only Gilly himself, and how kind he was to care so for an old woman alone in the world.

He would file the papers, once Mrs. Neumann finally kicked over the bucket and went on to the endless pile of her previous beloved yappy dogs in the sky, waiting for their mistress to greet them. Really, it wasn’t like she was doing anything with her wealth anyway.

Gilly intended to do quite a lot with her wealth.

“Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveler’s way when the nightingale’s song is in tune,” The siren’s voice shifted, went so painfully sad that tears welled in Mrs. Neumann’s eyes, moved by the mourning the siren could mimic but, Gilly thought, not actually fully feel. “Never more with my lover shall I stray by the sweet silver light of the moon…”

She signed.

And she signed.

When he had all he needed, he put the sheaf of papers back, poured a glass of a scarlet liquid into a crystal cordial glass, and then set it into Mrs. Neumann’s hands, closing her fingers around it. She didn’t seem to notice, frozen in place by the strength and power of the siren’s song.

Smiling, Gilly walked slowly towards the corner where his captive magic creature stood, lit by the strong yellow sun coming in the windows. Despite the immensity of emotion in its song, there was an emptiness in its dark eyes that sent a thrill down Gilly’s spine and pooled a greedy heat within him begging to be released. The sun touched the edges of its black curls and turned them to gold, shone warm on smooth brown skin.

Naked, it was a vision, an ancient statue brought to life by the favor - or curse - of ancient gods. Gilly came to a stop beside it, looking over its finely-formed face, the imprints of his fingers still, eternally, written clearly in purples and reds around the slim column of its neck. His eyes moved down, following the complicated swell of magical symbols that held it firmly in check, bound it without question to his will. The siren looked down and away from him, the song… shifting just a little.

The note of wistful loss that the words called for became something stronger but far more painful to hear, a wailing plea to the heavens for help trapped within its perfect pitch. And yet no help could come.

Not for such a monster, not with the magic keeping it still for Gilly’s every touch, for as long as he commanded it to be.

“His grave I will seek until morning appears and weep for my lover so brave…”

Gilly laid his hand against the siren’s face, palm to its cheek, and its voice wavered a little as its dark eyes closed.

“I’ll embrace cold turf and wash with my tears the flowers that bloom o’er his grave…”

With avid delight and no small amount of desire he followed the trail of a tear that ran down its other cheek and settled at the corner of its mouth. He touched his thumb to the spot and then licked the salt off it. To see the creature at its wicked work was… truly beautiful to behold. To know that it wept because it could do nothing but obey him - him, Gilly Wentworth, just a man in a world full of men and yet now one of the most powerful men alive - was… incredible.

Awe-inspiring.

And they had only just begun.

“Never again shall my bosom know joy,” The siren’s voice dipped to low, a hushed and mournful lament. “With my Edwin I hope to be soon. Lovers shall weep o’er where we both sleep by thy sweet silver light, bonny moon.”

Gilly checked back on Mrs. Neumann, and smiled. She stared off into space, her chest moving fitfully with emotion. The money, the house, the horses even… all of it would be Gilly’s very, very soon.

Really, it was like she was investing in him.

Just like everyone else was going to do.

Pity she wouldn’t see the returns.

“Have her drink what’s in the cup,” He whispered. The siren took a breath and obeyed, changing its power minutely.

“Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveler’s way when the nightingale’s song is in tune…”

Gilly watched as Mrs. Neumann, seemingly in a trance, lifted the cup to her lips and drank it all, swallow after swallow, some of the liquid running from the corners of her mouth to wet her hair and the chaise beneath her.

He smiled.

“And never, never more with my lover I’ll stray by thy silver light, bonny moon…”

The final note hung in the air, as Mrs. Neumann’s eyes slowly closed. She relaxed back into the chaise, her hand dropping, the cup clinking onto the floor and rolling away, the last drops of poison spilling like water to evaporate and leave no trace of themselves behind.

Gilly exhaled, then walked with purpose back to the siren.

It raised its eyes, briefly, to meet his just as he grabbed it by the arms and shoved its back against the wall. A gilded mirror hanging next to it crashed to the ground, cracking into pieces, and the little dog took to yapping again.

It stared at him with naked, unhidden fear.

“Good,” Gilly murmured, an inch from its false man’s face. Uneven breath on its lips, those eyes like pools of deep water locked on his. There were still red welts on its back, new ones thanks to Gilly discovering that even its pain sounded pretty, and he enjoyed the soft sound the siren made as its back was ground against the wallpaper.

He put one hand around its neck, thumb pressing just over its pulse, and felt it flutter and jump under his touch as the siren bared its neck to him, as he had taught it always to do. To defy even this touch would result in a misery the stupid sea creature could not bear. Even the dumbest animals could be trained, after all. Even the stupidest, most stubbornly beautiful man-shaped things could learn.

Its voice was thin and airy. “M-Master-... please-"

“You did wonderfully,” He breathed. “A perfect tool for my will. Now we must find someone to take the dog - it’s irritating but I won’t leave it to starve here, will I? I’m not so heartless as all that - and then we’ll sell the house and the horses and all this nonsense and frippery she keeps… and then we’ll be on our way, won’t we?” He leaned forward, speaking against the siren’s ear just to feel the way its body shivered against his. “You and I. Now. Kneel for me.”

“Yes, master.” Its voice went dull. Its mimicry lost its shine, and everything fell flat from its mouth like heavy stone. It always spoke like that, when he commanded it to its knees.

Gilly didn’t mind.

Behind him, as the poison took hold, he heard Mrs. Neumann's breath go suddenly rapid and rasping, heard her fall from the chaise to the floor, arms and legs rigid, muscles spasming.

It would only last a few moments.

Then she would slip into unconsciousness and finally to her death, and Gilly would be one step closer to everything he'd ever wanted.

He let go and stepped back, watching the siren gracefully sink down onto Mrs. Neumann’s expensive woven rug.

Gilly put a hand in its hair, gripped tight enough to make it whimper with the pain when he pulled its head back. “I need to write a letter to Atabei." His other hand worked at his breeches, and his eyes took in the way the thing shuddered at the sight with greedy, rising lust. "Have to tell her it worked on a woman. I should see if it works on other women... Need to tell Beibei I finally have the coins to come see her for a visit. Be dressed in real finery, for once."

"Yes, master."

"Sssshhh. Open your mouth for me."

He closed his eyes, buried both hands in the siren’s thick hair, and gave himself over to his triumph and the perfect pleasure of the siren’s tears.

Taglist: @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings

Covers @whumptober prompts 13, 14, 15

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whumpy-writings · 11 months

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The Wagon

Reeve Masterlist // Of Vampires and Men Masterlist

This takes place right after Tribute

CW: Minor whumpee (OC is 16), slavery, vampires, restraints, stress position, implied future noncon

Reeve came to with a headache that pounded like a blacksmith against an anvil. He groaned. Where was he? He felt wooden boards under his cheek, a rumbling motion. . .

All at once it hit him. The wheat, the vampire torturing his father, Reeve trying to protect him. Reeve barely held back the sob that bubbled in his throat. He was in a wagon, being taken as a blood bag. He tried to sit up but immediately collapsed back to the floor. The world spun around him and he groaned.

"Looks like the blood bag is awake," someone called. Reeve's heart skipped a beat. He fought against the shackles tying his hands behind his back until warm blood oozed down his skin, but it was no use.

"Stop that," the sergeant snapped. "You're only hurting yourself." Reeve continued to struggle. The wagon rolled to a stop. The next thing Reeve knew, one of the sergeant's hands was fisted in his shirt, other other pulling his head back so he was forced to look the vampire in the eye.

"I said stop, blood bag. I expect to be obeyed." His face was stony and a spike of terror shot through Reeve. "Defiance won't help you now. The only thing that will help you is me. I know of several. . .establishments looking for humans of your age." He looked Reeve up and down in a way that made his skin crawl. "If you're good, I'll sell you to one of the nicer ones."

Reeve's breath hitched in his throat. He didn't understand what the sergeant was talking about, what those establishments were. But he did know that this man was dangerous and had no qualms about hurting humans.

"So sit there, don't pull at the restraints, and don't make a fuss. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Reeve choked out. The sergeant nodded.

"Excellent. We have one more village to stop at, then we'll make camp for the day."

The sergeant dropped Reeve back to the floor. The wagon resumed its journey through the night. Reeve blinked back tears as he stared up at the sky. It was cloudy tonight and so dark he could only make out the shapes of the vampires on horseback around the wagon. The vampires surrounding him. He needed to get out of here. But he didn't know how.

"There it is," a soldier said.

Reeve took a steadying breath before pushing himself to a sitting position. Despite himself, Reeve was curious. He had never been to a village outside of his own.

As the wagon rolled into the square, Reeve felt a pang of homesickness. It all looked so familiar. The houses were low to the ground with thatched roofs, a handful of torches casting a flickering glow on the scene. Just like home.

The sergeant dismounted and walked towards the sacks in the middle of the square. There were a couple dozen humans standing around and Reeve wanted nothing more than to run to them.

"Well, I see that you actually made your quota," the sergeant said. "I'm impressed."

Reeve was suddenly hit by the realization that this was his chance to escape. He wormed his way to the side of the wagon. The vampires were focused on the tribute, nobody was watching him. He couldn't easily climb down over the side with his hands tied behind his back, and he had to stay low so that the soldiers wouldn't see him. Reeve awkwardly swung a leg over the side, still in a crouch.

Well, here it goes. He flung the rest of his body out of the wagon. For just a moment, he hung in the air. Then the ground rushed up towards him and he landed with a thud that knocked the air from his lungs.

"What was that?"

Reeve's heart spiked even as he struggled to get his lungs to inflate. He couldn't run if he couldn't breathe. Painfully, he attempted to squirm his way away from the wagon and into the shadows of the buildings.

"Look what we have here," a voice said. Reeve squirmed faster. "The blood bag's trying to get away."

"Hey, don't stop him. I want to see how far he gets." Reeve threw his head over his shoulder to glare at the vampires who stood right behind him, leaning on their muskets.

"Fuck you," he spat.

The guards' jovial mood vanished.

"We'll have to punish you for that. That's no way to speak to you superiors."

The guard reached him in three steps and Reeve tried to roll out of the way. He was too slow though and the leech's boot stomped down on his back, pinning him in place.

"What should be the punishment? I would muzzle him but we don't have a good metal one with us," the guard whose boot was on Reeve's back said.

"We could tie him to the cart and drag him behind it," the other suggested.

"Tempting."

"But we don't want to risk messing up such a pretty boy when he'll nab a fortune at auction. Lets bind his ankles to his wrists. He won't be trying to escape like that."

Reeve cried as the vampire stretched his arms behind his back and tied them to his ankles. He could hardly move now, and there was no way he could escape. The vampires threw him back in the wagon, along with the tribute from the village. And then the wagon was moving again.

Reeve cried. It was over. He would never be free again.

After a while, the muscles of his back and legs and shoulders began to throb.

"Please sir," Reeve begged, as the wagon rumbled on, each jostle sending a stab of pain through him. "Please, I won't try to run away again. Please just untie me."

The vampires ignored him. Reeve spent the rest of the night in that position. Tears were dried on his cheeks, and he was cold and hungry and scared but the leeches didn't care. Finally, just as dawn was painting the sky a dusty pink, they stopped.

Reeve couldn't see the vampires, but he could hear them bustling around, presumably setting up camp. The wagon rocked as the sergeant got in.

"I heard you tried to escape," he said, crouched in front of Reeve. "A disobedient human needs to be punished."

Reeve whimpered a little at that. His muscles were screaming at him. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes sir," Reeve said. "Yes sir, I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again." He hated giving in to this monster, but he couldn't stand the pain any longer. The sergeant reached out and Reeve flinched, but he only ran his hand through Reeve's hair. It reminded Reeve of the way he pet his dog back home. Bile rose in his throat.

"You're a very pretty boy," he said. "Be obedient and you'll have a good life." Reeve couldn't stop the shiver that ran through him at those words. Whatever the sergeant had planned for him, he was sure it wasn't good. The sergeant stared at him for a moment longer before he finally released Reeve's ankles from his wrists.

Reeve sobbed as blood flowed back into his hands. His arms were still bond behind his back, but the awful, awful tension in the shoulders and back and legs was lessening.

"Thank you sir," Reeve said. The sergeant picked him up and slung him over one shoulder. He propped Reeve up against a tree, and then took a coil of rope and tied him to it. The vampires got into their tents just as the sun peaked over the horizon, leaving Reeve tied up in the chilly morning air. Reeve halfheartedly pulled at the restraints before he fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

...

The vampires awoke at dusk. Reeve's neck ached from sleeping tied to the tree. He eyed the vampires as they packed up camp. They were dressed in green uniforms and moved with a precision he had never seen before. Within half an hour, their whole camp was packed up. Two vampires untied Reeve and tossed him into the wagon with the rest of the tribute. They didn't speak to him. Reeve's stomach ached, but he didn't dare ask for food.

"Come on men, it's only a couple hours to the fort," the sergeant said.

Reeve curled up on his side and buried his face against a sack of wheat. The earthy smell gave him a bit of comfort. It smelled like home. Reeve inhaled deeply, tears burning his eyes. He cried silently for what felt like hours.

Reeve didn't move when the cart rolled to a stop at the fort. He was past being angry, past being scared. Now he was just numb, exhaustion in his bones. There was no point in running or fighting. There was no point at all.

Tag list: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy @the-monarch-whumperfly @aswallowimprisoned @secretwhumplair @whumpzone @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @princessofonwardsworld @itsleighlove @pumpkin-spice-whump @wiwinia @sunflower1000 @whump-blog @blushing-snail @melancholy-in-the-morning @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpsday @ceph-the-ghost-writer @inkkswhumpandstuff @whumpycries @quietly-by-myself @darlingwhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

#of vampires and men #reeve the human #minor whump tw #restraints tw #implied noncon #stress position #vampires #slavery #vampire whumpers #human whumpee #slavery whump #vampire whump #minor whumpee

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whumpinthepot · 10 months

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Minors Please don’t like or reblog this post!

@figuwhump day 31, going to work backwards until I catch up more or less.

Its Abby and Ratty-

#suggestive #minors dni #dubcon tw #implied #breezys art #whump art #pet whump #tw shock collar #rats race #abby #ratty #nsft #chained tw #figuwhump #figuwhumpday31 #figuwhumpjuly #figuwhump2023

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faofinn · 1 year

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DAY 16: semi-conscious

@febuwhump

Everything was…hazy. Nothing really made sense, and he wasn't entirely sure where he was, or, if he was honest, who he was.

He was warm though, and rarely in much pain. There were people around, talking to him, but their words were fleeting and he never managed to make them out.

They’d been trying to get Harrison out for a long while. He’d been known to them from a young age, but his family were difficult and without formal social services intervention, their hands were tied.

And then they got news that things had truly broken down with the family, that Hars was in hospital critically unwell, and that he needed the support of ARCC. A young wolf all alone, he needed a pack. Needed people behind him. Fred and Sheila had a lot on their plates, and so they spoke to Steve and asked him to reach out to the kid. He’d been doing such a great job working with the more troubled kids, and they knew he’d be a good fit to give Harrison the support he needed.

So he headed to the hospital, intending just to touch base with Harrison’s care team, get some more information, and speak to the kid if he was up to it. He understood how critical things were, that he was still somewhat sedated amongst other things, but it would be good to at least see him.

He’d bought a little stuffed animal, too. He knew it was daft, the kid was 13, after all. But it felt right, somehow, to offer him a little bit of comfort amongst it all. Hospital was a scary place, no matter how old you were. It was a little ginger tabby cat, the softest toy he’d found in the shop, and he hoped it would bring the kid some comfort.

After a nice conversation with Harrison’s nurse, they let him into his room. It was quiet, aside from the soft noises of the medical equipment, and he took a careful seat next to the bed. The boy in the bed looked small, asleep under the sheets, pale with his hair a mess. As so not to disturb him, Steve carefully tucked the cat up next to him. After a moment’s deliberation, he took his hand, squeezing it gently. He wasn’t sure how aware the boy was, how much he’d remember, but he wanted to make an effort.

“Hi, kid. I’m Steve.” He said, his voice soft. “You’ve really been through the mill. I’m really sorry it happened, but you’re safe now. Got a whole pack looking out for you.”

His words were gentle, as was his touch. He fought against the sedation, squinting at the man. He didn’t recognise him, though he doubted he would have anyway. The scents were all wrong, mixed with the sterility of the hospital.

Steve hummed. “Hey. Didn’t expect you to wake up. It’s okay, you’re safe.”

He blinked slowly, taking a moment to just try and figure out what was going on. He finally noticed the new arrival on the bed, and frowned. It took a little longer for him to manage to reach for it with the hand not in Steve’s, a small smile playing on his face.

Steve smiled back. “Thought you might like a friend.”

"Mine?"

“Yeah, he’s for you.”

"Oh."

“He’s not got a name though, you’ll have to think of one.”

He almost gave a shrug. That was too much to think about.

“For later.” Steve soothed, aware the boy would be struggling. “Are you in any pain?” He asked gently.

He shook his head. It wasn't pain, just…uncomfortable.

“No pain is good.”

Harrison hummed, shuffling slightly to get more comfortable. He instinctively pulled the cat closer, giving Steve's hand a soft squeeze.

“That’s it, you get comfortable.”

It didn’t take much for Harrison to fall asleep again, and he soon drifted, safe and content. He woke a little while later, and couldn't quite believe the man was still there.

Steve let him sleep, glad he was getting some rest. God knows he needed it. When he woke again, he didn’t move for a minute, letting him adjust to being awake again.

He gave a small smile, trying to clear his throat. "Hi."

“Hi.”

"It hurts a little."

“Here, where’s your button? We’ll call a nurse in.” Steve said softly, standing up.

"I don't know."

“I’ll have a look, is that okay?”

He nodded, his lip trembling slightly. "I'm sorry."

“It’s alright, you’ve not done anything wrong.”

"I have." He whimpered quietly.

Steve easily found the buzzer, and pressed it to bring the nurse in. He sat down afterwards, not wanting to intimidate him further.

He pushed the cat away from him, worried he was going to be told off. "I'm sorry."

“Hey, it’s okay.” Steve said gently. “The cat is yours and you don’t need to be sorry.”

"No."

“It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you.”

"Why?"

“I’m not that kind of person.”

Despite the pain, Harrison struggled to stay awake, stuck somewhere between conscious and the past.

Hesitantly, Steve moved the little stuffed cat closer to the boy. “It’s alright. Nobody is going to hurt you now.”

"I wasn't bad." He murmured. "I wasn't."

“You‘ve not been bad.” Steve said, his heart breaking. “You’re alright. Going to get you some painkillers.”

"I didn't say anything." He looked straight through Steve, focused on something, someone that wasn't there.

“It’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”

He gripped the cat absently. "I was good."

“You’ve been so good.” Steve told him. “You’re okay.”

Harrison gave a tiny nod, finally hearing Steve. "I was good."

“You’ve been so good.” He repeated.

"Oh, Steve, you're still here?" The nurse asked, finally answering the call bell. "Is everything okay?"

“Hi, sorry. Wanted to stay until he woke again. He was saying he was in a bit of pain, I wondered if he could have anything extra?”

"Yeah, of course. I'll go grab him something. Bless, he's just getting used to being awake again, isn't he?"

“Yeah, he is. Trying to be a consistent person for him. Thank you.”

"He definitely needs that."

“Yeah, exactly.”

They weren't long, returning with some pain meds. She shook Harrison’s arm gently, speaking softly to him. "Hars? Sweetheart? Got your painkillers."

He gave a quiet noise in acknowledgement, too deep to do much else. She took that as his recognition she was there, it was more than most would usually get anyway. It didn’t take long to give and she hummed, stepping back.

"There you go, I'll leave you two alone."

“Thank you.” Steve said gently.

Harrison whimpered softly, reaching out for the older man. "Steve?"

Steve was surprised he’d remembered his name. “Yeah?”

"Thanks."

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

Harrison smiled then, still semi-conscious, everything still hazy. And for the first in a long, long time, he felt safe.

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flowersarefreetherapy · 2 years

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Shadow of Stars: Chapter 1

(the AU is here!)

CW: Implied past spice, mentioned character deaths (minor and in the past), past parental death, grief, angst

Star sits on the throne, looking out over the crowds of people coming to offer their tributes. Another good harvest has come and gone, so the people bring their praises to the gods in hope of a better harvest the next year. It is a time of joy and excitement, children’s laughs filtering into the palace from the streets outside.

This was his parents’ favorite time of the year. They loved meeting their subjects, talking with them, hearing their concerns, doing everything they could to ease their burdens.

Of course, that was before the outerlands were laid to waste, the Shadows coming out of their caves in the darkness, leaving behind bloodied husks, sacred lifeblood bleeding into the soil from hundreds of perfect bite marks. Before the armies rode out in pursuit of the killers and came back with missing limbs and missing friends. Before Shadows crept through the palace and killed the king and queen, most of their children, and their bodyguards.

Before he learned the man whose bed he had been sharing that night was one of them.

Star closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose against the memory. Of Daniel’s chilled hands on his body, breathless moans filling the space, how good he made him feel, over and over again. How they didn’t get to sleep until the first rays of sunlight began to show over the treetops.

His family had been dead for hours by then and Star woke up with those life-taking fangs inches from his face.

“Your Highness.”

Star opens his eyes to see Robin approaching. Their face is lined with grief, the same grief his eyes echo back to him every time he looks in the mirrors lining the hallways. If it weren’t for the Shadows’ annoying ability to mimic a human, he would cover every one.

“The elders wish to bring the complaints of their villages.”

“Right,” Star breathes. “I f-forgot.”

“There’s no shame in that, your highness. There is enough for you to be worrying about. If you wish, I can have Thaddeus handle them?”

Star debates it for a moment. Thaddeus has the knowledge and the experience to handle the large crowds, but he isn’t the king. His words only have so much weight.

And its your parents’ tradition. Honor them in this way.

“Thank, thank you, but I, I can do this.”

Robin nods and steps back, the hem of their cloak brushing against the floor. Star contemplates for a moment asking about the raiding parties hunting down the Shadows, if there was any progress. Thaddeus and they led the army now and the kills of Shadows had doubled. The couple worked in perfect harmony. There was no need to micromanage them. If there was a problem, one of them would let him know.

The grand hall shines in the afternoon light. Everything is painted with a sheen of gold. The burgundy tapestries lining the walls turned the color of old blood, the marble floors blinding to look at. Still he expects to see his father sitting on the throne, looking out over the room with a commanding presence Star dreams of having.

“Your highness,” Thaddeus says, dipping into a low bow. He stands at the foot of the throne, hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword.

“At ease,” Star whispers, unable to stop himself from glancing at the giant oak doors that hold back the complaints of the villages. He can hear the hushed whispers from the other side. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“What’s the report?” Robin asks.

“All forty-two villages have sent representatives. Longport and Icland have new representatives. Their old ones were taken by Shadows.”

Robin curses. “Thank you.”

Thaddeus nods. Not the formal salute after giving a report, but the casual one that comes with years of friendship. Well, marriage, in their case. Star turns away before he is reminded of his parents dancing across the balcony.

Or the secret dreams he carried in his heart of waking up in Daniel’s cabin, making tea in the morning, helping with the chickens and sheep on his farm, watching the small bugs light up the night sky, as if his namesakes had come down to play with mortals. The youngest prince didn’t have the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders and Star had wished he could make a life away from the finery and diplomatics of the palace, somewhere quiet with the man he loved.

Loved. Because the dream died the night he learned Daniel was a killer.

Star tiptoes to the throne, hesitating. He takes a deep breath before sinking down onto the thin cushion. The wooden back pushes the circlet into his curls as he rests his head against it, sucking in several deep breaths to keep from being sick.

“Your highness?” Robin whispers.

Star curls his fingers around the armrests of the throne and breathes, “One, one–I. . . I’m ready.”

He lowers his head, smoothes out the light blue vest he wears, and nods for Thaddeus to open the doors.

Tagging the whole crew: @blood-is-compulsory @darkthingshappen @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @whumpinggrounds @pigeonwhumps (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

#Star my beloved #Daniel the protector #Thad #Robin #minor character death #past character death #angst #grief #implied past spice #vampire au #fantasy au #fantasy whump #shadow of stars au #parental death mention tw

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serickswrites · 2 years

Text

Kingdom Collapse II

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: fire, head injury, hospital, presumed dead, restraints, minor character death, captivity, kidnapping, implied future torture

Caretaker woke to a cacophony of sound. The wails of sirens. Screams of pain. Shouts for aid. And underneath it all, the crackle of fire. It was hot. So very hot. Their body hurt.Their head hurt. Everything hurt. Especially their head. Caretaker coughed as they tried to sit up. “Whoa, there, buddy.” A hand pressed against their chest, pushing them back down. “I need you to lay back.”

Whumpee. Whumpee needed them. “I just need to–”

“You need to lay back. You hit your head pretty hard on a squad car.” The hand increased pressure on their chest.

I did? How long was I out for? “I need to check–” Caretaker whispered around the hand on their chest. For some reason it felt like the medic’s hand weighed a ton.

The medic ignored them. “Hey, buddy, can you open your eyes?”

Slowly, Caretaker cracked open an eye. The overhead light in the ambulance stabbed at their eyes. They shut them tight again as a wave of nausea crescendoed. “Uhh,” they moaned. Hit my head. Pretty hard.

“That’s ok. You probably have a concussion. You hit your head pretty hard.”

“The others?” Caretaker croaked. Teammate One? Teammate Two? Whumpee?

“I’m not sure. I was assigned to you.” The medic pressed something to their forehead. It was cool. Soothing even.

I have to get up. I need to check on them. With a groan, Caretaker opened their eyes. They turned their head to the side so they weren’t staring at the overhead light. They could see the young medic moving around the back of the ambulance. They had long, curly black hair. They were tall and lean, and they worked quickly. “Buddy, please, just lay back.” They pressed a hand to Caretaker’s chest again.

Caretaker swallowed around their nausea. They rolled out from under the medic’s hand. “I’ll,” they swallowed again as they rose, “I’ll be right back.” I have to see. I have to see. Whumpee!

Caretaker made it three steps from the ambulance before they froze. The entire building was engulfed in flames. There was a row of ambulances and medics ran to and fro attending to fallen members of the breach team. The SWAT command center remained standing. They couldn’t see Teammate One. They couldn’t see Teammate Two. They couldn’t hear them either. And they couldn’t see or hear Whumpee. Whumpee! Caretaker took two steps forward before their knees gave out. As the concrete flew up to meet them, Caretaker realized maybe they did need to lay down.

Caretaker didn’t wake again for many hours. And when they did wake again, they were laying somewhere soft. Hospital. I’m in a hospital. They opened their eyes to the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room. Their eyes didn’t hurt as much as when they had last opened them. The pain in their head had dulled to a soft ache. Better. Much better. How long was I out? They started to rise.

“Stay down, boss,” Teammate One said from Caretaker’s right. “You really don’t need another bump to the head today.”

“I’m not clumsy. I’m fine.” Their throat felt raw and scratchy.

“That’s Whumpee’s line.” Teammate One’s voice was tight around Whumpee’s name. Caretaker was awake enough to notice. “Have some water. I’m supposed to hydrate you when you woke up.”

Caretaker sipped greedily at the water Teammate One had stuck to their lips. They were thirsty. Their head hurt. Their brain was buzzing, fuzzy even. But that didn’t stop them from continuing to check. I have to check. I have to know. Please.

“Whumpee? Teammate Two? The team? The security officers? The perps?” Caretaker rolled their head so they could stare at Teammate One. Teammate One was covered in soot, their eyes red-rimmed. From the smoke. Their eyes are irritated from the smoke. Caretaker repeated the mantra over in their head.

“Teammate Two is fine. They broke their wrist. Got patched up,” they checked their watch, “about three hours ago. I sent them home. They were pretty hopped up on pain killers. Don’t worry. They should be fine. I’ll stop by theirs on my way home.

“Most of the breach team is ok. A few had some pretty bad concussions like you. One somehow got a glass shard through the thigh. They’ll be fine though.” Teammate One sighed.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. Honestly, just got blown back a few feet. Didn’t hit anything. I was up and moving, calling for help before I realized how bad the rest of you were. And it’s a good thing I did. You took a real nasty crack to the back of the head, boss.”

Caretaker swallowed. Teammate One had avoided answering one very important question.

“Building went up completely, boss. It’ll be a bit before we can go in and check the rubble for the perps. And the security officers.” They grimaced at the last. Nobody liked losing victims. “Though I expect we’ll find them all in there. No way we wouldn’t. Serves them right. The perps that is. Not the officers. They…they deserved better.” Teammate One frowned. They looked down at their feet, avoiding Caretaker’s gaze.

Whumpee? I want to know about Whumpee. I don’t care about our case. “And Whumpee?”

Teammate One sighed again, but didn’t reply.

“Teammate One, what about Whumpee?” Caretaker’s voice held an edge–desperation–that it hadn’t held in years. Not since they had called Whumpee when Other Caretaker had been taken to the hospital one final time.

“They were in the building when it blew, boss.” Teammate One finally lifted their head, red-rimmed eyes shiny with unshed tears.

No. No. NO. “They could still–”

“Caretaker. They’re gone, Caretaker. They’re gone.” Teammate One put their hand on Caretaker’s.

“We have to check, they could still–” Caretaker choked around the words. Caretaker could not, would not believe that Whumpee was dead. They couldn’t. Because it was their fault if Whumpee was dead. Letting them go in there alone. Letting them offer themself up as a sacrificial lamb. Bringing them in on this case. On any case. Not protecting them. It was all Caretaker’s fault if Whumpee was dead.

Teammate One shook their head. “We can’t check. We can’t look. Not yet. But we will. When we can. We’ll bring them home when we can.”

Gone. Whumpee is gone? Caretaker felt the tears wend their way down their cheeks as the first sob ripped itself from deep within their chest. Whumpee was gone. Teammate One wrapped their arms around Caretaker and held Caretaker as they sobbed. They rubbed soothing circles on Caretaker’s back, murmuring words of comfort to them. But Caretaker couldn’t hear. Couldn’t hear above the ringing in their ears. Couldn’t hear above the words replaying in their brain. Caretaker. They’re gone, Caretaker. They’re gone.

*******************************************************************************************

Whumpee woke suddenly, sputtering for air as they were drenched with icy water. “Wakey, wakey, Whumpee. We have lots to talk about.” The leader of the gang crouched in front of them, empty bucket in hand.

“We…we were talking.”

The leader smirked. “Yes, but now we can talk without listening ears.” They cupped Whumpee’s cheek. “And I do love chatting without an audience.”

Whumpee struggled against the chains that bound them to the wall. “What did you do to the security guards?”

The leader cocked their head. “You care?”

“Of course I do!”

“They’re dead, Whumpee. Like you will be, too, if our chat doesn’t go well.”

Whumpee’s heart filled with dread. They hadn’t been able to save the security guards. They were dead because of Whumpee. It was their fault for not protecting the guards. For not saving them. It was Whumpee’s fault they were dead.

Tags: @appleejuice

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw fire #tw head injury #tw hospital #tw presumed dead?#tw restraints #tw minor character death #tw kidnapping #tw captivity #tw implied future torture #queue

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onedayillmakeanamebutnotrn · 2 years

Text

tw/cw alot of temperature whump so basically anything to do with that is here like ice fire burns etc, caretaker is accidentally the whumper, small heart attack mention + small implied nudity mention

whumpee got alot of funy temperature whump idk what is in the temperature whump circle but im spitting this out anyways cold or hot water poured on them and/or being the only kinda water they can bathe/shower with and once the temperature changes its ether get out, refill, refill with the opposite temperature (i heard u can get a heart attack from this) hand on stove forced to keep ice in their mouth (maybe with mints) forced to keep hot water/hot food in their mouth (maybe spicy) ice/hot water is the only thing they are allowed get hydrated from hot food is the only thing they are allowed to eat and if it gets too cold its too late (gotta eat fast too then maybe ohoho) dumped in snow dumped in hot coals no/very little clothes during cold times many clothes during warm times etc etc now they are with caretaker they have vastly different senses of temperature with or without whumpee having trauma whumpee needs to shower/bathe or even just wash their hands/drink any liquid with a very specific water temperature caretaker thinks that its far too cold/hot and changes it whumpee needs to have a very specific body temperature depending on weather/temperature caretaker thinks its wayy too hot or cold for them to be dressed like THAT like arent you making it worse for yourself?? whumpee gets a complete intolerance towards mint and/or spicy stuff caretaker wouldnt know yet and has some light spicy/mintyish food or snacks (maybe even the toothpaste is too much) also whumpee might have a fear of ice somehow but oh no its a hot summer day and i got tasty lemonade with ice cubes in it !!! fear might also include any kinda fire, snow the mf oven, stove or microwave bc it just radiates heat and,,ohno scawwy,,, up to you how long this lasts before whumpee goes "ur a different breed from me and we have different definitions of cold and hot so please stfu and let me shower in a way i think is normal"

#temperature whump #caretaker to whumper (not on purpose)#cw minor implied nudity #tw minor implied nudity #cw minor heart attack mention #tw minor heart attack mention #whump #whump prompt #whumpee #whumper #caretaker

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aseasonwithclarasblog · 2 years

Text

Drunk and Drugged

15 weeks into Jack’s captivity

tw: drugs implied, alcohol mention, cigarettes’ mention, noncon- nothing explicit, minor drinking, minor taking drugs, light swearing, conditioning trauma, implied torture, bbu, hunger, starvation, boxboys, this short bit has a lot of implied stuff

Previous // ~ Jack Masterlist ~

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack found himself awake, listening to the sounds of Victoria coming back home at 2 am. He had to look out Lily’s bedroom when he heard her walk inside because she was giggling… like a physical laugh? It didn’t sound like her but it was her. He’d heard her laugh before, and of course, he’d heard her cursing like a sailor, but it wasn’t like this. She was never like this. She smelled like cigarettes, smoke, alcohol, and everything awful all wrapped up in one beautiful package. Beautiful of course because it was her- What h a p p e n e d? He shrunk back when a guy came in after her. “Sssh. Vicky~ be quiet.” He covered her mouth while laughing softly. She waved her arm around. “Ssss fine. No one’s ‘wake Tony.” She gave him a look before bursting into giggles. Victoria laughing was weird, her giggling was unheard of. “Still.” Tony smiled kindly at her. She drowsily directed him to her room. Jack frowned heavily. She looked high as hell and he knew her policy. She didn’t want to sleep with anyone. She said it all the time. And this guy, “Tony,” was grinning too much for him to just be helping her get back home safely. Not your problem- Jack. But what if she needs help… He held his head, shaking a little as fear crept into his bones. “Nonono.” He whimpered before running to Lily’s room. Sitting down on his ‘bed’ and hugging his knees. Rocking back and forth while listening. The door to Victoria’s room closed. It sounded like furniture was slowly and quietly being moved. Tell her father… You wanna talk to him again? Do you want to be with him again? No. Anything but that- Good boys DON’T say no. At the end of the inward torment of yes and no, he found himself walking to Al’s room. Not realizing it until he was in front of their door. He froze like a deer in headlights. When did I get here… Before he could think anything else his hand was already knocking on the door. Al answered with a near growl. “What-?” Jack swallowed while taking a breath. “I… I’m s-sorry Sir. I-I j-just… just wanted to um… tell you, t-tell yu-you-” “Tell. Me. What.” His eyes seemed to glow with anger, though when Jack blinked they were perfectly normal. He took his best option, avoiding eye contact at all, staring at the ground instead. “S-Sir V-Vic… Victoria… a-and a guy…” He whimpered. “I-In her ro-room… I-I’m so sorry.” He whispered an apology. He stared at him for a beat before knowing he wasn’t lying. After all, Jack was a horrible liar. When his words really took effect Al’s face twisted in fury. Jack quietly crept back to Lily’s room as Al went off. Listening to the boy screaming a minute later. He closed his eyes while curling up against the wall and holding his legs. It took hours to fall asleep, and when he woke he was terrified to go out of the room. Lily was already gone to school and after a while, he knew he couldn’t keep hiding forever. He crept out of the room, being silent as he snuck off to the kitchen, hoping he could get some food. He noticed most of the others staring at him, not only the maids and such but the pets as well. He lightly waved at Annie and Kendall. When he saw a plate of untouched food on the table it sent a short spark of fear through him. “Uhm… M-Maka? D-did on-one of them, uh, f-forget breakf-” Maka glanced over. “Na. I think it’s for you. Masters said.” “F-for me?” He blinked at him slowly. “You sure?” “Well, Sir said so.” He shrugged while putting the other dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Trap. It has to be a trap. But Jack didn’t know where the trap began or ended, and his stomach told him to stop caring and to- Just eat… please? So with shaky, gingerly hands he slowly took the plate before sitting on the ground and quietly eating. He had noticed the silverware but he wasn’t allowed it, and maybe that’s where the trap would close in on him? He didn’t dare touch them. When he was done he gave the plate to Maka who cleaned it up, giving a shy smile to the older boxboy. Maybe he had done the right thing after all?

~~~~~~~~~~

Written on September 10th, 2021

Next // ~ Jack Masterlist ~

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albino-whumpee · 2 years

Note

This is your pass to ramble about kuro

Oh dear, thank you so much.

Kuro is this one character that wasn’t supposed to be more than an old memory of the main character. A good one from a nice past, but suddenly his role began to eat the others. Actually his real name has to do with a god who did that to his own children. It was an omen his father cleverly knew would happen someday.

Kuro can look like the strongest of his kind, not for nothing he’s the leader of a “rebellion” and is called “the Angel of death”, but he used to be very different. He was weak. It was such a disappointment precisely because his father was the leader of a radical group that killed hundreds in a single night, all on his and Kuro’s mother command. Which, let’s say it wasn’t a happy marriage and it was an even more unhappy family. Kuro distinctly remembers being at one of his father’s speeches, barely holding himself together to not bend and cry because the injuries on his back burnt and hurt so much. His father never saw his mother and him as equals, actually, he saw them as possessions. Objects he could toss around until they broke. So he amused himself watching them curl in fear of him.

The scars from that time never healed even when Kuro excels at regeneration and healing. The pain and fear still lingers on his back and he’s so scared to let anyone see it, that he never undresses in front of his trusted team. Never takes his shirt off when he’s with his lovers. Nobody knows he has nothing but a web of scars on his back, wrists and ankles that no matter how many times he tries, they never fade.

Let’s say Kuro knows how to escape all types of restraints, using the most barbaric methods because his father loved to watch him struggle and not amusing him meant death.

Of course, a breaking point came and Kuro failed miserably at his attempt of killing his father. He learns then it was for the purpose of implanting himself in his son’s body, that he was born at all. Kuro was stronger than any of his kind, but at the price of having his father’s mind merged with his. Poisoning every corner of his mind.

He pretty much went insane after that and somehow, because he found family in the darkest place after the darkest of times, he recovered his sanity.

He couldn’t live without his family, so he would do whatever it took to have them back, alive and well. But of course, Kuro’s destiny is to be miserable because he can’t not go to extremes when it comes to a breaking point. He quite literally explodes into a monster, much like his father. Which is something he is repulsed by, but can’t seem to stop. So, when he gets his family back, at such a great price, but they don’t remember him, he can’t go back and undo his mistakes, no matter how much he begs for it.

He learns soon enough he can only slightly bite the leash other’s have put on him before he gets pulled and punished, but punishment and pain never stopped him before and most certainly it won’t do it now that he sees a possibility to end all suffering his kind has bravely endured for a century.

No matter what is the price for peace, he will pay it.

He’s my original tragic character and he was supposed to die in the end, but now? Well, he knows very well dying would be a mercy for him and such considerations have been long denied to him.

#Kuro #my beloved #my oldest son #right after Alec #they’re 8 years old #awww they were already fucked up at that age #tw implied torture #tw murder #tw mental trauma #tw sadistic whumper #whumpee turned whumper #tw whumping of a minor #whump #ask

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3-2-whump · 4 months

Text

Whump Quote

Or, micro-dosing whump when I’d rather be at home writing than at work

TW/CW: rape/noncon, nsfw, minor whump implied, intimate whumper, victim blaming (?) (by victim)

“It wasn’t all bad, you know. Before I grew up and became so handsome that he couldn’t control himself, Master was really nice to me.”

“There is so much wrong with what you just said.”

#whump #whump prompt #whumpee #caretaker #intimate whumper #whumper #nsfwhump #tw: noncon #tw: minor whump #tw: victim blaming

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whumpdrivethru · 10 months

Note

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

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

Where Even Diamonds Shatter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Natalia #whumpdrivehtru #answered asks #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #tw blood #tw implied past torture #tw implied past captivity #tw bruises #tw somewhat graphic wound description #angst #whump #whump blog

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faofinn · 1 year

Text

DAY 1: touchstarved

@febuwhump

Fao hadn’t been living with the Daniels very long, but they’d made things feel like home almost immediately. He’d clicked with Sheila pretty much straight away, and Finn felt like the little brother he’d never had. Fred was… more difficult. Obviously he didn’t remember his Mum, and he’d never had siblings, so it was easy to let Sheila and Finn in. When it came to Fred, things were harder. He’d been so close with his Dad, he’d lost him so soon, and it was really hard to see Fred as anyone other than someone trying to replace him. He knew he wasn’t, he knew he was just there to support him and look after him. They were only foster parents, for crying out loud, of course he wasn’t replacing his Dad. But it was still difficult, to see a father figure like that. And then, considering the last man in his life had been Tomas… he was still unlearning a lot of stuff. Fred was kind, and caring, and always made Fao laugh. He was nice, and Fao just had to learn to let him in.

Sheila was out with Finn that evening, some appointment somewhere that Finn didn’t want to talk about and Fao wasn’t about to ask about. Fao had been struggling with his head all day - all week, if he was honest. The bad thoughts kept creeping in, the urge to hurt himself to make them stop, the urge to get away from it all. He’d tried to take a nap before dinner, to get rid of the thoughts, but he couldn’t sleep. He’d not slept that night either, save for an hour or so, and college had completely taken it out of him.

He’d ended up in tears on his bed, frustrated and overwhelmed and fed up of everything. He knew he had to do better than that, knew he had to at least try and get his head on straight, before he hurt himself. Forcing himself up, he roughly wiped the tears away, grabbed his Dad’s lighter and his stashed cigarettes, and headed downstairs. Maybe a smoke and some fresh air would help.

He crept downstairs, not wanting to disturb Fred, and headed out of the back door. His cigarette between his teeth, he lit it carefully, and savoured the first drag. It didn’t fix things, but for a moment he felt ever so slightly better.

Fred had heard the kid crying from his office, and though it felt so, so wrong, he left him to it. After everything he'd been through, it would be odd if he wasn't crying.

He'd just been about to make the pair a cup of tea when he heard him emerge, and head to the back door. The routine was familiar enough with Fred that he knew he was smoking, so waited a few minutes before following.

He made sure to shut the door loud enough that Fao would hear him, and then headed through to the kitchen.

Fao heard Fred come into the kitchen, but at least he knew now he didn’t need to stop. He carried on, sniffing and trying not to cry. He hated feeling like this, feeling so low. He just wanted to curl into a ball, and do nothing else. He tapped the ash from his cigarette, finished it, and then headed back inside. He crept in, aware of Fred boiling the kettle.

"I'm making tea. Want me to bring one up for you?" He asked gently.

“Oh.” Fao said softly, startled by Fred’s voice. “Uh…”

"Or we can stay on the sofa, if you want company."

He sniffed. “I don’t know.” He admitted, his voice shaky.

"Hey, it’s okay. Go sit in the living room, I'll bring you a hot chocolate. Are you okay with marshmallows and squirty cream?"

He nodded. “Yeah.” He replied softly.

"Good. Go get comfortable."

He did as he was told, disappearing off into the living room. He curled up on the sofa, hugging one of the blankets close to his chest.

Fred wasn't much longer, and he carefully walked through, mugs held out. "Here you go, kid."

Fao looked up, taking it from him. “Thank you.” He mumbled, looking down again.

"Want some space? Or can I sit by you?"

“You can sit.”

"Thank you." He said gently, settling on the sofa.

“I didn’t disturb you, did I?” Fao asked, after a moment or two in silence.

"No, I was getting a coffee anyway. My lecture plans are driving me mad."

“Oh.”

"If you ever want some help going to sleep, let me know. You can read them." He joked.

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.” Fao mumbled into his mug.

"Oh, they are. They put half my students to sleep."

“Mm.”

"Look, kid." He spoke after a moment. "I'm not going to force you to do anything, but you know I'm here if you need anything, right? I know you usually go to She, and I'm just kinda in the way, but I've been through some crap too. I know what it's like when you're fighting your head all day."

“You’re not in the way.” Fao said quietly.

"I'm not as useful as She."

“Different.”

He hummed. "I think you're just being polite."

“No.” Fao insisted. “You let me smoke.” There was a hint of a smile on his lips, for just a split second.

"I know what that's like too."

“Yeah.”

"No point making this harder for you."

Fao shrugged. “Could still stop me.”

"That would just make us moth miserable."

“Mm.” He sipped his hot chocolate. It was really good, sweet and hot. He had to admit how nice it was, Fred obviously had taken care to make it.

"Not that I'm condoning it or paying for it, but do you have enough?"

He nodded. “I’m okay.”

"Just let me know, yeah?" He gave a small shrug. "Same with everything, really. If you need anything, just ask, yeah?"

“Yeah.”

"How are you getting on at college?"

Fao shrugged. “Okay I guess.”

"Are they going easy on you?"

“Not really.”

"I'll give them a call. They should know better."

“Please don’t do that.” Fao said quickly, voice worried.

"Okay, I won't."

“I jus’…” He trailed off, unable to find the words.

"It's okay."

Fao sighed. “It’s been hard.”

"I think that's an understatement."

“Today… was hard.” He admitted.

"You get days like that."

“Feels… Feels like every day is like that.” He whimpered.

"It probably will for a while."

The sobs came back so quickly Fao couldn’t stop them, putting his mug down. “I d-don’t know if I c-can keep doin’ it anymore.”

Fred quickly put his own down, leaning closer. "Hey, hey. It's okay. It’s okay to feel that way. You've been through so much, but you're safe now. It's gonna bring things to the surface."

Against his better judgement, Fao threw himself at Fred. He buried his face into his chest as the sobs wracked his body. He was just so overwhelmed, and so desperate for contact. It had been so long since he’d had anything.

"Oh, okay." Fao surprised Fred, but he wasn't mad. He wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back. "That's it, let it out."

It had been such a long time since he’d had soft touch. Fao didn’t realise how nice it felt until Fred wrapped his arms around him, his hand rubbing over his back. He just couldn’t stop crying, it all just so overwhelming and far too much.

Fred just held him. The kid didn't need anything else, he just needed someone there for him. He was more than happy being that guy.

Being held by Fred made him feel infinitely lighter. He stayed pressed against him as the tears refused to stop, clutching his top.

His hand found its way to Fao's hair, gently stroking through it. He’d never replace his dad, and he had no desire to. But, that didn't mean Fao wasn’t his son, or that he was just going to ignore his pain.

Fao’s tears eventually slowed and then stopped, as they always did. He didn’t make any effort to move, still pressed against Fred.

"There we go. It's okay. You're gonna be okay."

“Sorry.” He whimpered.

"You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing."

“It’s been so loud.” He said. “My head. An’ I couldn’t get it to shut up.”

He rubbed Fao's back. "I know that feeling. Sometimes talking can help quieten it down a bit."

“Mm.”

"Sometimes it doesn't, which is shit, but okay."

“‘M sorry.”

"Why?"

“For this.”

"There is absolutely no reason for you to be sorry."

“I am though.”

"You don't have to be."

“I should be.”

"It's the furthest thing you should be."

“Can we stay like this for a bit?” He asked, enjoying the contact.

"Let me shuffle a bit." Fred hummed, getting comfortable. "I'm getting old, kid."

“You’re not old.” Fao mumbled. “But thank you.”

"I'll always be here for you, Fao. Please don't forget that."

“You… You’ve been amazing.”

"Don't forget the work you've done." He said softly. "Don't put yourself down."

“I know, but… Thank you, Fred.”

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sparrowsage · 6 months

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The Warehouse: Digging Up Old Memories

Buckle up, because this piece is something. I really enjoyed writing this piece, even if it is a giant emotional show lol. A huge shoutout and thanks to @flowersarefreetherapy for giving me the general idea for this piece! I hope I did it justice! And thank you to @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, and @whumpcereal for cheering me on as always!

HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE!!!

TW: Minor whump (Jayden is 14), head injury, threatened noncon drugging, implied noncon (off screen), threatened noncon, mentions of past noncon and torture, implied future noncon, character death (off screen), suicidal thoughts, adult character referred to as 'boy', adult language, heavy grieving ((If I missed anything, please tell me and I'll add it!))

“No, I’m sick of doing this shit!” Jayden yelled, stepping back from Logan as the Keeper moved in closer, towering over the teen. “You never stay true to your word! I can’t let you stand by and hurt Sparrow after I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do!”

Sparrow stared at the two of them, wide-eyed as fear grabbed hold of him. Sure, Sparrow’s challenged the Keeper’s here plenty of times, but that was because whatever ended up happening would happen to him. Jayden fighting back like this? All for his sake? It was thoughtful, but he couldn’t handle the wrath of the Keepers.

Logan backed Jayden up against the wall, his hand shooting forward to the kid’s neck, taking hold of his throat in a tight grip just shy of suffocating him.

“I’d be real careful about your choice here, boy. That piece of shit over there doesn’t deserve a hero, let alone a scrawny one such as yourself. Everyone always comes to the realization that they can’t escape this fate, one way or another. It’s easier for the both of you if you just follow my orders. So what’ll it be, pretty boy? Are you going to show me and the bastard here how much of a good listener you are and suck me off or are you going to continue your little defiant act thinking you can best me?”

Jayden’s hands were around the Keeper’s wrist, doing his best to try and scratch Logan in an attempt to get the hand off his neck, but it wasn’t working. He was too weak. At the question, Jayden stared right back at Logan, his expression sharp enough to cut diamonds.

“Jayden, please-,” Sparrow tried, on the verge of getting up from his spot against the wall by the door. Logan had told him to stay put and that if he moved, he’d force Sparrow to watch the worst Showing he’d ever put Jayden through.

“Shut up, runt,” Logan growled, his head turning slightly in Sparrow’s direction. “He has to make this decision on his own.”

There was silence for a couple seconds and Sparrow could feel the anger rolling off the both of them in waves.

“You and this whole place can go rot in hell. I’m not following another one of your stupid orders just because you think you deserve respect,” Jayden finally spat, bracing himself against the wall before kicking his foot out, his heel landing a direct hit to Logan’s crotch.

The Keeper could hardly brace himself before Jayden’s foot connected with his crotch, Logan doubling over for a moment, his hand never leaving Jayden’s throat, before a loud, angry scream erupted out of his mouth.

In a fluid motion, Logan used all the strength he could muster and lifted Jayden by his neck and threw him to the left over by his desk. Sparrow watched on in horror as he saw the fear and terror flash across Jayden’s eyes as he went flying before the back of the teen’s head connected with the sharp corner of Logan’s desk. He crumpled to the floor as Logan doubled over again, letting out small groans of pain.

“Jayden!” Sparrow shouted, his body jerking momentarily as he went to get up, but remembered Logan’s threat from earlier, causing him to stay in place.

He wasn’t getting up and there was blood leaking out onto the floor. Sparrow couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

“Jayden, get up!” he cried out, Sparrow’s whole body frozen in fear.

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan yelled, his head turning sharply to look at Sparrow.

“No, please, he’s not getting up!” Sparrow pleaded, his fists white with how tight they were balled up. “Please, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, just take him to the medical ward, please!”

Logan chuckled slightly as he was finally able to stand up straight again. “Oh, you think a bit of pleading will convince me to get him treated? As if. The little shit deserved it, thinking he could fight back like that. Besides, you stupid mutts always seem to recover. He’ll be fine come tomorrow.”

Instead of continuing on with what he had planned, Logan gave one last look to Jayden and Sparrow before deciding to leave his office. There’d be time to do things with them later.

Sparrow let out a snarl as Logan passed him to leave, waiting for the door to shut before he rushed over to Jayden, his hands hovering over his body, afraid that a single touch would make his friend crumble into dust.

#####

“No, you have to let me stay with him!” Sparrow shouted, desperately trying to fight his way out of Josh’s grip on him. “Let me go!”

“You’re scheduled for a Showing and there’s no way you’re missing it,” Josh growled, his grip seeming to get tighter the more Sparrow fought. “He’ll be fine and you’ll get to go back to the main room and see him once the Showing is over.”

“No, he needs me to stay with him since you fuckers won’t take him to the medical ward! Let go of me!”

Josh stopped trying to drag Sparrow forward and out of Logan’s office, instead pulling him in close with an iron tight grip on both his wrists. Their faces were mere inches apart and Sparrow could feel the warmth of his breath. “I won’t hesitate to inject you full of muscle relaxers, boy. You know as much as I do that you’ll do anything to fight back during these things, so do you really want to give up being able to move all because you want to sit by your little friend?”

Sparrow’s body froze at the threat, his eyes going wide for a moment. Josh was right, he couldn’t go through a Showing drugged up like that. He’d have no control (not that he did during Showings) over anything. He couldn’t get injected with that stuff.

Josh smirked as Sparrow stayed still, finally continuing towards the door to the office. “That’s what I thought. Once it’s over, you’ll be able to spend as much time with the little runt as you want.”

#####

Sparrow wasn’t proud of the Showing he just went through. It had to have been the most compliant he’s ever been during one, but he didn’t want it to be dragged out. His only thought and priority was getting back to Jayden to make sure he was okay.

Josh had been surprised with how compliant he had been, as was the audience that showed up to watch. It was utterly embarrassing, but he didn’t care enough to not do it. He would have been the most compliant pet in the entire facility if it had meant getting out of that Showroom faster.

Once the Showing was done, Josh walked him back to the main hallway before leaving him there to do his own thing. The moment Josh left him, Sparrow started running to the main rooms, his heart rate picking up as he tried to get to the room as fast as he could.

Sparrow was almost certain Logan would have moved him out of his office during the Showing, so the most logical place to put him would be one of the main rooms. That, or Jayden had woken up and Logan kicked him out of his office and he made his way to their spot in one of the main rooms. If Sparrow didn’t see him in there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

When Sparrow finally made it to the doorway that led into the main room he and Jayden usually ended up in, he scanned the entire room, trying desperately to locate his friend. His anxiety was starting to climb with each face he saw, none of them being the young teen before his eyes landed on a figure in the corner where Jayden and him sat most of the time.

He was there, sitting in his normal spot, looking completely fine. Jayden was waiting for him.

Sparrow did his best to make it over to the back corner of the room, nearly tripping over several pets as they tried to sleep or just pass time, not even bothering to let out any kind of apology before making it over to his friend.

“Jayden!” he called out, falling to his knees in front of his friend before embracing the teen in a tight hug.

“You’re okay! You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he said, his voice going quiet as he spoke, letting things sink in. His friend was okay, he was alive and that was all Sparrow cared about.

“Of course I’m okay. Do you really think a bump on the head would keep me down?” Jayden joked, hugging Sparrow back.

Sparrow pulled back slightly, his hands still on Jayden’s shoulders, afraid that if he let go, Jayden would disappear. “It’s just - you collapsed once your head hit the desk, a-and Logan refused to bring you to the medical ward, and then I was dragged off for a Showin-”

“Sparrow,” Jayden interrupted, his voice a bit firm, “I’m alright, I promise. I can’t die that easily. Besides, we promised each other we’d find a way to escape this place some day. I can’t go back on my word, now can I?”

Sparrow wiped at his eyes, tears starting to form. “I’m just happy you’re okay. And you’re right, we are going to escape this place one day. Just please don’t go pissing off any more Keeper’s. Leave that to me, I can handle it.”

Just then, the entire main room started to fade out, a black abyss surrounding the two of them. Sparrow didn’t even notice, his entire focus was on his friend.

Jayden looked at Sparrow with a soft smile, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“I know you can. That fighting spirit is what’s giving me hope that you’ll be able to make it out of here alive. If you hold onto that, you’ll be able to escape. Just keep fighting. For the both of us.”

Sparrow faltered a bit at that. “W-wait, what do you mean by that? We’re going to get out of here together.”

Jayden didn’t answer, continuing to give Sparrow that soft, warm smile that he cherished so much as he slowly faded away. Before Jayden was completely gone, Sparrow reached forward, trying to grab hold of him before he fully disappeared, leaving Sparrow alone in the dark abyss.

#####

Sparrow woke with a jump, jolting up from his spot on the floor of Damon’s office. Looking around the dark and empty room, Sparrow couldn’t see Jayden and was a bit confused, but mostly worried.

Where was he? Jayden had just been in front of him a second ago. He wanted that back, he needed it back.

The more he woke up though, the more things finally started to settle in.

Four days ago, he had been brought back to the Warehouse from his two week stay at Volkov’s island, having gone through his ‘welcome home’ Showing yesterday. Two months ago, Damon had been put in charge of training him, starting up a brand new hell for him to navigate on his own. Five years ago, the Keeper’s gave up trying to train him because he was deemed a lost cause and couldn’t be trained, instead just using him as a free-for-all and overall enjoying causing him pain, discomfort and humiliation. Seven years ago was when he had watched Logan give his one and only friend a death blow and then later finding out that Jayden had died all alone while he was in a Showing Josh forced him to go through, unable to be with him in his final moments to make him feel safe and loved.

As reality came crashing back, Sparrow couldn’t help the gut wrenching sob that erupted out of his throat, the pet clutching his hands close to his chest as he curled into himself.

Ever since it happened, Sparrow had done all he could to repress that memory to the point that he couldn’t remember it at all. All he chose to remember was that Jayden died. Everything else, how it happened, the look of fear and terror right before his head connected with the desk, how much he tried to fight back as Josh dragged him off to the Showing, Logan’s fucking taunting once he finally told Sparrow what they did with Jayden after he died, he wanted to forget and never remember.

He had no idea why the memory resurfaced. It had been so long ago, yet now he could remember every detail clearly, as if he were reliving it in full. It was the worst pain he has ever felt and would probably ever feel. And what made it worse was that his head went and twisted the events, giving him the false hope that Jayden was alive and fine. But Sparrow could never see him again.

After a couple more minutes, Sparrow wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. It had to have been close to morning, if he had to guess, and Damon would be here soon to put him through another day of hell. If the Keeper walked in and saw him crying or saw the evidence that he had been crying, Sparrow would never hear the end of it.

Before he could put a cap on his emotions, he felt another sob bubble up from his chest and before he could stop himself, he reared his fist back, sending it straight towards the wall beside him. The wall stayed intact but Sparrow let out a loud shout before biting his tongue, cradling his hand.

Why couldn’t one of these guys have killed him too? Why couldn’t he have had the peace that his friend had? All he wanted was to be with Jayden again, because he was the only one that made this place bearable. His smile and laugh lifted his spirits no matter how he felt and his presence made Sparrow feel safe, even though there wasn’t a single thing either of them could do when the Keepers came for them. If he didn’t have that, if he didn’t have him here, there wasn’t much of a point to keep fighting.

The pain that now pulsed from his bleeding and possibly broken hand acted as an anchor to the real world for him and Sparrow was able to stop the tears from falling, taking in a couple deep breaths before he felt like himself again. Damon would probably point out his hand when he came in later, but right now, Sparrow didn’t care. If Damon was overly concerned about it, he’d get it looked at because unlike Logan, Damon wasn’t going to sit by and have a wound that looked serious enough unchecked. Sparrow had no doubt that the Keeper wouldn't let him die before he himself molded Sparrow into the perfect pet.

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green, @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whumpcereal (if you want to be added, let me know!)

#The Warehouse #Sparrow Cresky #Jayden Cresky #Minor whump #head injury #threatened noncon drugging #implied noncon (off screen)#threatened noncon #mentions of past noncon and torture #implied future noncon #character death (off screen)#suicidal thoughts #adult character referred to as 'boy'#adult language #heavy grieving

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gottawhump · 11 months

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The Nameless Boy

115

CW/TW: minor whumpee, implied noncon of minor whumpee, Facility whump, pet whump, BBU/WRU. Also cursing/bad language.

The nameless boy shivers in the cold white room. When the door opens, he tries not to flinch.

“Good morning, Handler.” He doesn’t know if it’s morning or night. The bright white light never goes off. But he knows, now, what he’s supposed to say.

“Look at me, trainee.”

He lifts up his head, a dark curl falling over one eye. The man moves it aside. The nameless boy can’t stop his flinch at the touch, or his whimper, anticipating the punishing shock. Lean in, trainee, not away.

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” The man grabs his arm, hard, and turns over his left wrist to see the barcode. “Fuck. How old are you, trainee?”

The nameless boy can’t always remember his number, but he knows the answer to this question. “I am of legal and consenting age.”

“Yeah, that’s the company line, but how old are you?”

“I-I-“ His mind is as blank as the white walls. “I don’t know.”

All Pets are of legal and consenting age, and you’re a Pet now, 115.

You signed up for this.

You want this.

“Please,” the nameless boy whispers. He tries to blink away the the tears threatening to spill, and they catch on his lashes.

“Christ, you’re pretty. But you’re just a child.” The big handler moves away from him, his hands balling into angry fists. “Go lie down. Take a nap or something.”

Under the cold unrelenting light, a nameless boy drifts in and out of consciousness.

#minor whumpee #implied noncon of a minor #pet whump #facility whump #bbu/wru #115

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blackberry-bloody · 2 months

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Did some fanart for a fic I've been reading which has Superman as a living weapon whumpee! This is a little scene of Clark holding Kon.

TWs: implied minor whump (nothing is happening to the minor, but due to the context it's implied)

#whump art #nightingale sings #nighingale draws #tw minor whump #superhero whump #fandom stuff #fandom whump #superman whump

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auroragehenna · 7 months

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AI-less Whumptober

Day 23 Begging, Take me instead, Forced to watch

TW/CW: Minor whump (teen-age), broken whumpee, defiant whumpee, feral/angry whumpee, implied torture, strong language Word count: 500

This plays in Tierney's past. You can see her angel friend on one of the picrews here

„Stay away from her!!“, Tierney screamed, chains rattling as she threw her whole body against them with full strength.

One of her torturers just laughed while another one roughly shoved her back against the wooden wall.

She could already feel her back bruise again.

The first man kept walking towards her friend and Tierney could only watch. „No, no, no, don‘t hurt her! Please!!“

„Oh? And why should we do that, hm horns?“, the one with the silver tongue asked.

“I’m way more fun, just take me instead.”, she tried.

“Mmh so you’d offer your pain to us? To protect your little feathered friend?”, silver tongue asked and stepped closer to her.

Tierney refused the old-learned impulse to back away. Her bunny ears already flopping with ever heavy breath she took and reminding her of her weakness.

“Yes. I will. But please don’t hurt her.”, Tierney insisted.

Silver tongue cocked an eyebrow before looking around the men and women in the room. “What do you think? Should we do what the little pest wants?”

One of the women stepped forward and inspected Tierney with a look as cold as a glacier. “Tell me, Tiefling why ever should we do that?”-she stepped even closer and grabbed the girl’s jaw and tilted it up-“When we can also just punish both of you? It’s not like you can do anything about it.”

“I-I can make it worth your while, please.”

“That so?”, the woman asked, her tone giving away that she was not at all convinced.

Tierney’s eyes darted to her friend, she was still just sitting there, head buried in her arms. She gulped and with a look to the woman slowly, like asking for permission, lowered herself onto her knees and laid her head on her chest.

Silver tongue hummed. He stepped in front of her and looked down. Taking in her pitiful form. “That is quite the offer, horns…”

“Please…”, Tierney whispered out.

“…No.”

Tierney’s head snapped up and her wide eyes found Silver tongue’s. But he just gave the first man a signal and that one kept advancing towards her friend.

“No, you fucking bastards! You monsters! Stay away from her! NO!”, Tierney screamed now again, she jumped back on her feet and trashed against the chains.

The woman that had stepped forward before backhanded the feral Tiefling hard across the face which only earned her an aggressive growl and a look from her firey eyes.

Soon the screams of her friend filled the room and tears started to run over Tierney’s face. She wanted to scream, to tear away her chains, to claw her own ears out, to kill everyone in this room. But it was all no use. She couldn’t even look away, the others made damn sure she had to watch. Eventually she settled down and just tried to support her dear friend as best as she could. But there were still tears running over her face. She just couldn’t say if from sadness or rage.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @ailesswhumptober

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