#scared whumpee

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #15: Broken Dreams

previous | masterlist | next

content: recapture, lab whump, captivity, mind control, self injury, drugging, murder mention, winged test subject whumpee, creepy scientist carewhumper

Dew and Anton have a much needed conversation about stuff (things will only get worse before they get better i’m afraid)

— 

The drive home was long and quiet.

Anton stared ahead as the windshield wipers went fast and rain pattered on the roof of the car. The roads were dark and empty, and thunder boomed in the distance. After a while, Anton turned in to a trail, mud splashing under the tires as he drove through his forest.

He looked in the backseat.

Dewey was sleeping, still and quiet. He’d fallen asleep after only a few moments of lying curled up in the backseat, letting himself drift off to the sound of gravel rumbling beneath the tires. He was weak and bloody and broken. Anton tried to ignore the sound of blood dripping onto the car floor.

God, this had never happened before. Nothing like this had ever happened before. What would Pierce think? If he found out Anton had let his test subject escape?

It hadn’t been a big deal at first. He knew what Dew and Sasha had been scheming, and Anton thought it was cute that the two of them were working together. Anton had just wanted to give him a sense of control, a small taste of a false freedom to latch onto, just something to keep him satisfied. He thought that even if Dew did escape, Anton would easily bring him back. He’d teach him a lesson not to leave, and they could have a laugh about it in the future after everything went back to normal.

But Anton had never expected, not in a million years, for his sweet little lab rat to do something not even Anton himself could stomach; murder. Dew had killed someone, taken a life, just like that. Sure, the clone wasn’t a real person. Anton could easily make a new one. Nobody saw it happen or would ever know about it. Anton wasn’t worried about whether or not he’d get away with it, because he knew he would.

Anton was worried about Dew. Maybe it was his own fault; this was what happened when he chose to let his test subjects have an ounce of freedom. Maybe he should’ve known better. He should’ve known better.

Anton arrived at his cabin and sighed. He hadn’t been one to listen to music, but maybe he should have, it sure seemed to help Dew during his spirals. He was still sound asleep in the backseat, chest rising and falling slowly as he breathed, so oblivious to the world around him. Anton stepped out of the car, ignoring the pouring rain soaking into his clothes and hair, and gently picked Dew up. He ran into the cabin while holding his test subject tightly against his chest, sheltering him from the rain.

Anton went straight to the lab, trying to avoid Sasha and their wandering eyes. They’d find out Dew was back eventually, but for now, all Anton wanted to do was sleep his thoughts away.

He cleaned Dew up, taking care of his bloodied clothes and matted hair. Then Anton dressed him in soft, warm pajamas and gently laid him to bed. He closed the latch of the vents, locking it tight. No more of that anymore.

Anton didn’t even know how to move forward from this. He should punish Dew. He should. That’s what Pierce would have done… Although, Pierce never would have let a test subject escape in the first place. He would have erased Dew’s memories, got rid of his free will, made him a hollow shell of a person.

Anton wasn’t going to do that. But what should he do then? He was growing soft. He had been too lenient, too… friendly. Dew wasn’t his friend, he had made that very clear.

As he lay in bed, staring at the blank ceiling alone in the world, Anton couldn’t help but think. Fuck, Pierce would be so disappointed in him.

. . .

I’m back.

The words repeated in Dew’s head over and over again. In the span of only a few hours, he went from being finally home and safe to finding himself back with the person who tormented him. Back to being a test subject in that horrible lab. Back with Anton.

A wave of terror flowed through him as he remembered last night, and he hid under his bed again. A million questions were flowing through his mind but he felt too tired and numb to do anything but quietly weep under his blankets.

It was most likely a very long drive back to the lab last night, but Dew wouldn't know, falling asleep too early to tell. He supposed it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know the directions to the lab or the way back home; he’d surely never see the outside world again.

After who knows how long of sleeping, he had woken up in soft pajamas, cozied up in warm blankets in his bed. He was so comfy, melting into the warmth. It was as if last night had never happened.

He really thought— he really thought he escaped, that he’d never be back here again. And that only made this all the more devastating.

He had been home, with his friends. They were there and they had been shot with tranquilizer darts by the scientist, so so close to danger and yet so far. It hurt to think about what would’ve happened if they had woken up, Dew bloody and broken, Anton standing there with a smug smile on his face. There was no knowing what the scientist would’ve done to them.

And then he was taken away from them again. He didn’t even get to talk to them before he was whisked away.

Dew knew things would never go back to normal. Not when he lied, tricked, and schemed behind his captor’s back. Not when he escaped and got caught brutally murdering his own clone that had replaced him all these months.

He shuddered thinking about it. Dew killed someone. Not just anyone, but another version of himself— the old him, the Dew who was free, the Dew he had always wished to be again. He killed him. Who could do such a thing? He felt sick— with himself and with the world. But most of all, with the scientist.

Anton. Dew hated him, more than anything. He was filled with so much burning anger that for a moment, he wished his clone had fought back and killed him instead. That would have been revenge against the scientist. Anton would have lost.

But he didn’t. The scientist had won. Again.

And that was terrifying. More than Dew could ever hate someone, he was so, so afraid. He could never be more scared of anything more than Anton. This man could control every aspect of his life easily, he could hurt his friends. At this point, Dew didn’t care what the scientist did to him anymore because he knew he couldn’t escape it. There was nothing Dew could do but cry and hope that whatever punishment Anton was planning for him wouldn’t be too painful.

. . .

Anton walked into his test subject’s room quietly, not wanting to accidentally startle the poor guy awake if he was still sleeping. He clicked the door shut, then realized that Dew wasn’t on his bed where he had left him. Anton looked around, noticing the bathroom door was ajar, light off. Dew wasn’t in there either. Anton’s eyes widened, could he really be…

“...Dewey?”

Anton knelt down beside the bed, lifting up the blanket to peak underneath. Sure enough, his test subject was hiding from him again, skittish and afraid. When he noticed the scientist staring, Dew shuffled deeper under the bed against the wall, trying to create as much space between them as possible. Anton clicked his tongue and let go of the blanket, letting it cover Dew back up, and stood up.

“You’ll have to come out eventually, Dew,” Anton said, setting the tray of food on Dew’s nightstand and crossing his arms. He got no response. “The silent treatment, huh?”

Anton leaned back against the wall and took a cookie from his pocket, taking a bite. “Aren’t you hungry? I’ll give you a piece of my cookie if you come out. As a treat. It’s really good.”

The only response Anton got was quiet sniffles muffled by the blanket. “Dew, I’m not going to hurt you. You’ll be okay, I promise. You’re safe.”

“Your… friends are safe too.” Anton’s voice was soft, as if he was trying to sound comforting. “Everything was taken care of. No blood, no body… no knife. It’s– It’s as if it never happened, okay? Nobody’s hurt, nobody’s sad, nobody knows. Everyone woke up like normal, completely fine, if not a bit tired from that party they threw you— your clone.”

Anton hesitated. “And you left a note, telling them you’d be gone for a few days, visiting distant relatives. They won’t suspect a thing. It leaves me the perfect amount of time to make a new clone and have it take the old one’s place. I have plenty of your DNA samples; you wouldn’t have to give me your blood, you wouldn’t have to do a thing. It was no big deal really, what you did. It changed nothing.”

The silence itself was driving Anton mad. He had no idea what his lab rat was thinking down there. They both royally fucked up this time.

“If you won’t say anything… that’s fine. I’ll just… assume you’re okay with this arrangement then, and I’ll go make another clone.”

There was a whimper coming from under the bed, followed by a couple sniffles. “N-no.” Dew said quietly.

“What was that?”

“No. Please don’t. Please.”

“I can hardly hear you under there,” Anton said. “If you want to talk, you’ll have to come out. You… don’t have to hide from me. I don’t want to hurt you, Dewey. You’ve put yourself through too much already.”

Dew’s breath hitched, failing to stifle a sob. “I-I can’t”

“...Why not?”

“I’m s-scared…”

Anton fidgeted with a pen in his pocket. “I’ll tell you what. I bet you have about a million questions floating through that little brain of yours, right? If you come out, you can get answers. I just want to talk, Dew. Talk. That’s it. You… You don’t have to be scared.”

You’ve been talking, Dew wanted to say, but quickly pushed that thought away. Arguing never worked before, nothing ever worked before. It was best to do as he was told from now on.

Dew timidly crawled out from under the bed, clutching his chicken plushie in his arms. He avoided looking at the scientist, and curled up in a different corner of the room. Anton had never seen him so afraid, so broken.

Anton forced himself to give a friendly smile. “How are you?”

No matter how much he wanted to act strong, Dew couldn’t stop himself from breaking down the second the question was asked.

“I-I didn’t wanna do it,” Dew squeaked, looking up in despair. “I didn’t mean to- to kill him. It- it happened so f-fast— I’m n-not a murderer! I didn’t wanna do it! I didn’t wa–wanna do it!” Dew’s voice broke down into uncontrollable sobs, his chest heaving.

If this was anyone else, Anton would give him something to calm him down, but Dew hated needles, and Anton didn’t want to scare him more than he already was. He sighed. “It was just a clone, Dewey. It wasn’t a real person. I promise, everything’s okay now. You don’t have to be sad.”

“I w-w-wanna go h-home. I was home, I… I got out. M-my friends, I didn’t g-get to talk to them— I d-didn’t want you to h-hurt them. Wh-why did you take me away? Why c-couldn’t you just set m-me free? I was out.”

It was a sad sight. Anton had always tried not to feel bad before, but this… it overwhelmed him. Maybe the only way to calm down and eventually see eye to eye, was to do what Dew always did to calm himself.

Anton dimmed the lights, causing his lab rat to curl into himself at the sudden change. The scientist walked to the other side of the room and picked up Dew’s MP3 player, then he crouched down in front of him, simultaneously caging him into the corner. He grabbed a blanket off the bed and sat it on the floor beneath them, a soft cushion from the cold, hard floor.

Dew stared at him while Anton turned on some music. They sat there for a long time. The only way they could tell that the minutes were passing was when each song ended and a new one began.

“Do you wanna talk now?” Anton asked after a while, when Dew had started to relax.

Dew nodded, taking a deep breath. “You cloned me,” he said numbly.

“That, I did.”

Dew looked up. “That’s why nobody was looking for me.”

“Yes.”

“The whole time?”

“Yep.”

“Nobody knew I was gone?”

“Nope.”

“How’d you do it?”

Anton’s face seemed to lighten up at the opportunity to explain something scientific to him. A small, familiar distraction from the gravity of this situation. “It was quite easy, actually. All I needed was a DNA sample, your clothes, a memory eraser, and the cloning chamber on the other side of the lab. It was on your first day, actually, when I got your blood, remember? It took a few days to make the clone, and once it was ready, I gave it all your stuff, drove down to your old house and set it free. I obviously had to erase its memories of the past day, so it wouldn’t remember me or my lab.”

“After that,” Anton continued. “It was like you had never left. I don’t actually know what it did as you. I could’ve made it so I’d be able to see through its eyes if I wanted, but I didn’t think I needed to.”

Dread pooled in Dew’s stomach. There was so, so much about this man that Dew did not know and couldn’t begin to understand. If he had cloned him without Dew realizing, what else had he done to him?

Dew ignored the fact that he felt so utterly helpless, and swallowing his nerves, he decided to ask more questions. “If– If you could make clones this whole time, why didn’t you just experiment on a clone of yourself instead? Wouldn’t that be… easier?”

“I did,” Anton replied. “For five years before I got you, the only test subject I had was myself— and obviously I didn’t experiment on animals, that’s unethical. Sometimes I would experiment on a clone of myself. But it got to the point where it was getting too dangerous to do that anymore. And that’s why I got you.”

“But—”

Anton shushed him. “I needed a test subject separate from myself. I couldn’t keep experimenting on a clone because, well, he’d be me. He’d know all my weaknesses. We’d have the same strength— he’d be stronger, even; enduring everything I'd put him through. He'd easily overpower me if he could, maybe even outsmart me. I needed someone smaller, and weaker, someone who didn’t know me like I know myself. Like you.”

Dew swallowed down his unease. “Then– then why didn’t you just take a clone of me instead?”

Anton looked surprised at the question, as if it was obvious. “Because… I needed the real you, and a clone isn’t the real you. Unlike my mentor, Pierce, I like my test subjects to be themselves, to be their own person and to have their own personality. I want them to be real. Clones are just… a fake, a facade. Making a clone of someone feels like a cheap, easy way out.

“I couldn’t just keep a clone of you knowing that the real you was out there living your life. Clones don’t mean anything to me. They’re not real people and can easily be recreated and replaced. I wanted the real you, Dew. And I’m so happy I got it.”

“Will you make another clone of me? Like you said?” Dew asked, fearing the answer.

“Yes, most likely. Unless, of course, you want your friends to think you’re dead? They’ll be awfully sad about that I think. It’s in your best interest to be cloned again.”

“How would they think I’m dead? I thought… you got rid of the body?”

“I did, but I could always fake your death. That’s… what Pierce used to do when he got new test subjects, sometimes. I could clone you and kill the clone, make it look like some horrible freak accident. Everyone would think you’re dead and that’d be the end of it. But I don’t think you want your friends to be sad, do you, Dew? I’m giving you a way that’s beneficial for all of us.”

“Except me.”

“...Except you.”

“Fine. Clone me again, I-I guess. My friends will figure out something’s wrong eventually.”

“They hadn’t for almost three months.”

“Well, I don't want them to be sad.”

Anton smiled and ruffled his hair. “Good choice.”

Dew looked down and fidgeted with his hands. So, that was it, then. He’d just given up. He’d just agreed to be replaced by a clone. That entire escape plan, those weeks of crawling through the claustrophobic and cold air ducts, had all been for nothing. He was back where he started, and far worse. He was completely and entirely defeated. He lost.

“Hey, where’s Sasha?” Dew asked, looking for the only friend he’d ever had in this terrible place.

“Oh, they’re upstairs.”

“So… are you mad at them for- for helping me?”

“What? No. I mean, I didn’t realize that they were such a great escape artist,” Anton chuckled. “I guess it makes sense though. They’re a snake, after all. But no, I’m not mad. They were just… doing what was right, I suppose. We’re both their friend, they just wanted to help you.”

“Can I talk to them? Please?”

“Oh,” Anton looked around awkwardly. “I um, I actually didn’t tell them you’ve returned. They were in their room when we got home last night. I just… couldn’t bear to break the news to them? They still think you’re free.”

Dew stood up. “What!?”

Anton stood up after him. “It’s fine—”

“You need to tell Sasha I’m back! You can't keep this a secret from them!”

“But I'd feel bad. I don't want to disappoint them. I don't want them to hate me.”

“Grow a fucking spine Anton! You made this happen! You ruined everything!”

“Lighten up, will you?” Anton said, playfully poking Dew’s stomach. “Where’s birthday Dew? Where’s the Dew that had fun throwing balloons around, or watching TV with me? Or—”

“‘Birthday Dew’ is fucking dead!” Dew hissed.

“That’s a shame,” Anton tutted. “I liked that Dew more than this one.”

“I should have ran when I had the chance,” Dew hissed, hopping over the bed and away from the corner he and his captor had been sitting in. He couldn’t go anywhere, but standing on the opposite side of the room was much better than being anywhere near the scientist. “I should have fucking ran!”

“You wouldn’t have gotten very far, I’m afraid.” Anton’s voice darkened, and he pulled out that horrible device Dew recognised and turned it on, activating the mind-control. “Don’t move,” Anton said.

He watched his test subject’s eyes go wide in horror, the blood draining from his face. “N-No, you—”

“Don’t talk.”

Dew was fuming on the outside. But on the inside, he was more scared than he’d ever been in his life.

“Yes, I made a spare.” Anton waved around that remote as if it was nothing. “Of course I made a spare. Why wouldn’t I, when I knew what you and Sasha were planning?”

Anton walked closer to Dew in slow, deliberate steps. His body was still, frozen in place, once again so easily cornered. Dew couldn’t say anything.

“I think you underestimate me, Dew. And that’s a dangerous thing for you. I feel I’ve been letting you off too easy. It was all my fault, really. I wanted you to have some freedom, because I didn’t want to see you so completely hopeless. But now I realize that it only made you more comfortable to act out against me.

“You’re never leaving this place again. I thought I’d given you enough time to accept your situation, but you’re simply too… too determined to escape me. It’s admirable, truly. But it’s gone on long enough.

“Let me put all this in perspective, Dew. It doesn’t matter if you run away, because the world won’t accept your wings. If you let anyone see them, they’ll catch you and turn you into the authorities, where other scientists will get their grubby little hands on you and perform far worse and merciless experiments than I ever had. Face it, Dew, you know you belong here.

“And if you don’t accept that, I could make you want to stay here. I can control your mind, Dew. I can control your thoughts, your desires and dreams. I could make you yearn for experiments. But I don’t. Because I want you to come to trust me naturally. I want you to choose to be loyal to me.”

“And I thought…” Anton laughed. “I thought you were doing so good, too. We had fun together, didn’t we? I thought we were making progress.”

Anton didn’t want to say the next part, but it might be the only thing he could say to finally convince him. “If you try to escape again, I’ll hurt your friends. And I know you know I’m capable of it. I could erase their memories of you, destroy any evidence of you ever existing in the outside world. There are so many things I can do to make you stay here, but I’m going to continue to give you a choice. I don’t want to resort to those measures, Dew. I want us to trust each other.”

Dew stared blankly. So there was really nothing he could do now. All hope was lost. He’d rather endure an eternity of horrible pain than see his friends get hurt because of him. He had truly lost everything. This was his life now. Of course it was, rang a little voice in the back of his head he had tried to ignore for so long. It had always been, from the start.

Anton shut off the device, and Dew was in control of his body again. He collapsed to the ground and brought his knees to his chest.

“...Will you still let me fly?” Dew asked, quiet and broken.

“Of… Of course,” Anton said. “I won’t ever hurt your wings.”

“Okay.”

“As for Sasha… of course I’ll tell them you’re back. When the time is right. You’re both friends… after all. It wouldn’t be right to separate you.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“I’m thirsty.”

Anton held his hand out. “Let’s go to the lab and get something to drink, alright?”

“Okay.” Dew grabbed his hand and Anton pulled him up. They walked into the lab, Dew unrestrained but obedient. He stayed by Anton’s side as he filled up a glass of water, and Dew slowly drank it. 

“Now, Dewey, I wanted to say I’m proud of you for coming back so nicely last night.” Anton smiled brightly, the praise making Dew’s stomach turn. “But… I still have to punish you for escaping. There’s an experiment I’ve been wanting to do for a while and— hey, don’t worry. It’ll benefit you too, y’know. You just sit tight while I start preparing it.” Anton ruffled his hair, ignoring the tears forming in his eyes.

Dew couldn’t do anything but nod along, numbly watching Anton gather his clipboard and tape recorder. Another experiment? Really? After everything that had happened, Anton just wanted things to go back to normal? Dew felt sick to his stomach.

He should have ran. He should have fought back. He should have murdered Anton too, with that knife, when he could. He should have called out to his friends, screamed for help that wouldn’t have come. He should have gotten away when he had the chance. But instead, he fucking complied. What was he thinking?

The scientist wanted acceptance? Okay, sure! Dew would accept this life. He’d be his test subject. He’d stay here in this lab with that monster, but he’d do everything in his power to make the scientist’s life a living hell in the process.

Dew grabbed a random vial of liquid from a shelf and drank it.

“Dew!” Anton exclaimed, dropping everything and rushing over to him. “What the hell?!”

Dew flinched. “I– I just—”

“Shut up.” Anton picked up the vial his test subject had just drank, and rolled it over in his hands, reading the label. In a split second, Anton’s horrified expression warped into one of concern, then surprise.

“You just— Oh man. I um, I forgot all about this stuff. You just drank something I created a very, very long time ago. It’s supposed to, um, make whoever drinks it extremely happy. Like, ecstatic.” Anton laughed, and to Dew’s horror, he laughed back.

“What?!”

“Remember that first round of experiments I ever did on you? This was the stuff that made you unable to stop laughing.”

“Ser- seriously?! This isn't funny! This isn’t— hahahaha— fucking funny!”

“Why did you do that?” Anton asked.

“I– F-fuck you! Fuck you!”

“No, seriously Dew, why the hell did you do that?”

Dew giggled, almost painfully. “Make this stop!”

“Why did you drink something when you didn’t even know what it was? I have dangerous and deadly things all around my lab, if it was something else, it could’ve killed you. Surely you knew that.” As Dew continued laughing maniacally, Anton’s eyes went wide in horror. “Is… is that what you wanted?”

“No!” Dew cackled. “I don’t want to fucking die, Anton! I want to make every single little thing harder for you if I really am going to be your test subject forever.” He laughed, tears forming in his eyes. “Because– because the experiments are just gonna get worse from here on out right? If I cause problems for you then– then it delays whatever fucked up thing you’re gonna do to me. Because nothing I do to myself could be worse than the shit you have planned for me, I know that.”

“No, Dew, look at me.” Anton grabbed Dew’s arm and pulled him closer, making eye contact. “You don’t know that. And you just told me your whole stupid plan. I can easily stop you from doing any of that. I could keep you sedated permanently, keep you docile and relaxed and completely defenseless. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Fuck— hahaha— you! You would've found out my plans anyway!” He spat. “Just like all the other times! No matter what I do, you always win! If hurting myself is what it takes to get you to open your fucking eyes, that’s what I’ll do!”

Anton never should have played their game. He never should have let Dew leave, if he knew this was going to happen. He had ruined everything. “Stop this.”

“You made me like this!” Dew roared with laughter. “I was– I was happy before. W-with my friends! You took everything away from me, Anton! You ruined my life!”

The worst part was, everything Dew was saying was true. And Anton knew that. But he wasn’t going to admit it. “I didn't ruin your life, Dew. You’re still alive and your life here is just beginning. You’ll come to see that eventually.”

“I’m tired of listening to you, just m-make this stop!”

“I don’t have the antidote. We’ll have to wait until it wears off on its own.”

“Damn. This sucks!”

“C’mon, Dew, let’s… let’s go back to your room.”

Dew slapped his hand away. “No! No, I–I can’t go back there again! Not yet! It’s suffocating—”

“Okay, okay, fine. We can sit out here. Just don’t touch anything else.”

Dew hopped up into the air, flapping his wings rapidly. He curled up in a ball, and focused on his wings beating into the air around him. “Talking makes me laugh less. I need to keep talking,” he said.

“Okay,” Anton said, sitting down in his spinny chair. “You can talk to me about whatever you want, about anything.”

“Okay… Anything. Anything… I-I…” Dew choked back a sob. “I can’t stop thinking about it, I can’t get it out of my head.”

“What?”

“What I– what I did! The screams, the blood, it- it was horrible— and- and it… it was me! My clone! And- and he did everything I was too much of a coward to do. He– he lived a better life than me.” Dew giggled painfully. “And I just ended it… just like that… How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Live with– with hurting people? Don’t you feel remorse? How can you even- even live with the guilt weighing on you like this? It’s torture!”

“I guess I… Never had to worry about that. I’ve lived here all my life with Pierce and his test subjects, and I guess he just taught me not to feel guilty. It was just a fact of life for us. I didn’t know any better.”

“That sucks. What a freak. I wish—”

“Dew, let’s not talk about him right now, okay?”

“...Okay.” Dew wanted to keep talking, though. “My wings are getting tired.”

“You can touch the floor.”

“Sweet.” Dew stopped flying and collapsed on the hard tiles, laying flat on his stomach while his wings covered him like a weighted blanket.

“I cannot believe this is my life now.” Dew giggled into the floor.

Anton felt relief mixed with sadness. He should feel good about this. He won.

Dew sat up, criss crossed on the smooth tile floor, and stared up at the scientist with a grin on his face and tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, A-Anton. I shouldn’t have drank that. I just didn’t wanna be experimented on. I won’t do it again. Please don’t wipe my brain.”

Anton sighed. “I won’t, I promise. And I wasn’t actually going to conduct that experiment today, I was just gonna talk about it. But I think we both needed a break.”

“I think that experiment will be shit. I don’t want you to do it.”

“You don’t even know what it’ll be yet…”

“I guess not.”

“Y’know, Dew… You don’t have to be scared of me. You don’t even have to hate me. We could start over, work together. …Become friends.”

Dew snorted. “I think it’s a little too late for that. Nothing will be normal after what I did, after everything you put me through.”

“...I suppose not.”

“Hey, why’d you even make that stupid laughing stuff an-anyway?”

“It’s not– I didn't think it was stupid, at the time.” Anton sighed. “It wasn’t for me. I wanted to see if there was a way to just, uh, take away someone’s… bad feelings completely.”

“Pfft. You couldn’t just get them antidepressants? Or therapy? Or– or better yet! Set them free?”

“It wasn’t like that, and that wouldn’t have helped. I… I needed something that could have an immediate effect. Something they could drink that would make them feel better, happy, completely ease their pain and mental anguish in the moment. Something that could make them never feel sadness ever again. I thought it would help. As you can see, it backfired.”

“Help who? Help what?”

“That doesn’t matter. I was young and… didn’t have my priorities straight.”

“You said you’d answer my questions!” Dew exclaimed.

Anton rolled his eyes. “These questions have nothing to do with you.”

“Well I’m not fucking happy, Anton. It’s painful as hell. It’s like it’s stealing all the air from my lungs and forcing me to laugh, and stretching my skin to make me smile. And yet I can’t seem to feel upset about it. I feel elated. It’s fucking horrible.”

“I know, they said the same thing.”

“Who?!”

Anton changed the subject. “In any case, I’m glad you drank that instead of… something else. Thankfully this won't have any negative side effects.”

“Well when the hell will it wear off?”

“I don’t know… A few hours?”

“A– a few hours?! Hahaha. I can’t do this anymore!” Dew collapsed to the floor, crying and sobbing in a ball.

“For what it's worth, I really am sorry,” Anton said, voice so soft and genuine. Dew didn’t trust that for a moment, but just hearing him utter those words had affected him more than he would’ve liked. He looked up at his captor. Dew just wanted it all to be over, he just wanted the pain to stop. If this really was the rest of his life now, he’d have to make the most of it. He didn’t have any other choice.

“Can I—” Dew hiccuped, futilely attempting to wipe his never ending tears. “Can I have a hug?”

Anton looked surprised for just a moment. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. “You’re not gonna… stab me in the back during it, are you?” Anton joked.

Dew laughed. “No, I don’t have a knife.”

“Yeah, then um, sure.” Dew ran to him and wrapped his arms around Anton, gripping his lab coat and crying into the scientist’s chest. Anton held him, slowly petting his hair and rocking back and forth. What a long fucking day.

They were all each other had now, all each other had always had. Alone in the world, nothing but the lab. Anton tightened his arms around him and buried his face into Dew’s shoulder. Sitting there like that would’ve felt nice, if it weren’t for Dew’s body uncontrollably trembling and silently laughing and Anton’s intense sense of guilt that never seems to go away anymore.

Dew was the one to break the hug, and take a shaky step back. He smiled even though it hurt, and laughed despite it feeling like a burning fire in his lungs. He was so tired. He stared at Anton as he walked backwards and scurried up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. From the lab, Anton watched his test subject leap under his bed and pull the blankets and plushie underneath with him. Dew put on his headphones and curled up in a ball.

Anton turned Dew’s light off, and began to clean up the birthday decorations that they both had forgotten all about.

— 

i laugh when i’m nervous (sorry for taking literally 2 months to finish this omg i feel so bad y’all!!! tllr will hopefully return to bimonthly updates after this!! i hope!) (also idk i struggled with this a lot and i’m gonna be real y’all i feel like it didn’t turn out very good… the next ones will be better though i prommy! yippee!!)

taglist: @whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole @sorry-i-spaced @theelvishcowgirl @catnykit @tettlod @delicateprincepaper @rejectedbytheempty @mijajaj @anothertawogsideblog @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox @parasitebunny @bottlecapreader @thecareandkeepingofwhumpees @inkwell-and-dagger @vidawhump @thepotatoofnopes

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

#the last lab rat #my writing #lab whump #whump writing #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump series #winged whumpee #test subject whumpee #lab rat whumpee #scientist whumper #carewhumper #creepy whumper #captivity whump #death mention #emotional whump #mind control #begging #recapture #clones #defiant whumpee #scared whumpee

[echoingalaxies]

We know kicked puppy and wet cat characters, but what about scared hedgehog characters? Curled up around themselves trying to protect themselves from the world with their tough appearance but really they're just sweet and vulnerable and afraid.

#whump #whump tropes #whump scenarios #whumpee #scared whumpee #whumpblr #whump community

[whump-blog]

Whump Art 9

Whumpee is safe, but terrified of his rescuers, or maybe he's still with Whumper, who is trying to be a better person, but Whumpee can't forget all the things Whumper did to him so easily.

#whump #whump art #whump art 9 #I couldn't decide which version I liked better so here are both drawings #I'm busy with life #but I want to try and keep posting #whumpee #conditioned whumpee #rescued whumpee #angst #caretaker #scared whumpee #wound #trauma response #cigarette burns #:D #whumper #whumper turned caretaker #whumper to caretaker #carewhumper #my art

[whump-place]

Caretakers that are famous/important figures in the real world; a prestigious doctor, lawyer, painter, etc., when they end up taking care of a nobody whumpee.

Especially if Caretaker is well known for being cruel/mean to anything and anyone they don't consider worth their time, but that has a soft spot for Whumpee!!

Whumpee being all scared for Caretaker's reputation or looks, thinking that they might hurt them but that ends up meeting a soft and caring person that would do anything for them.

Wouldn't that be the cutest?

#whump prompt #whumpee #whump tropes #whump writing #caretaker #scared whumpee #unintentionally bad caretaker #that would be so cute! #whumpee being comforted for the first time #strong caretaker #scary caretaker

[delicateprincepaper]

Whump Trauma Tips

I just finished a three month long research, fieldwork, and interview project on trauma so I figured I'd put the knowledge to good use and write some tips on how to create realistic trauma whump

Trauma Denial= Your brain purposely forgetting about the trauma to protect you. Your character could be unable to heal becuase they couldn't process what happened to them, could suddenly remember the trauma all of a sudden or could recognize a abuser but block the trauma out so they don't know why they recognize them.

Trauma avoidance= Coping with trauma by avoiding all reminders of it. Your character could not do things they liked before becuase it reminds them of the trauma.

Triggers= Things that remind someone of the trauma and give them flashbacks or make them feel scared or angry. Your character could get triggered and not be sure why they felt that way, dislike someone becuase they something about them slightly triggers them or have a flashback and have a caretaker comfort them. A way to heal from triggers is by bringing them up again in a safe enviroment so you could write about that going wrong and the person having a panic attack.

Fight, flight or freeze= A common thing our body and mind do to help us get away from danger. This can extend well after the trauma is done. Freeze becomes staying in bed and dissociating, a coping mechanism where you disconnect from your enviroment. Flight becomes escaping from the negative emotions using alchol, drugs or risky behavior. Fight becomes hypervigilance, a constant state of scanning for threats and being stressed. Characters could be hypervigilant and see a caretaker as being threatening when they're just trying to help or be jumpy and punch someone who suprises them.

There's a lot more but i'm too lazy so please tell me if you find this helpful so I know to write more.

#trauma #whump ideas #whump scenario #whump #ptsd #scared whumpee #caretaker

[aspergirl2022]

Tiny Pet prompt

I wanted to write a story with a giant and their tiny pet, some kind of Giant Caretaker receiving Tiny Whumpee as a present but since I can’t put in on the paper I will change my story into a prompt.

In Caretaker's society only the wealthiest can afford Tiny pets. Caretaker is one of them, their family had a Tiny pet when they were a kid but Caretaker remember that their Tiny always looked sad and cried a lot, even more after Caretaker's Mom cut their tongue.

Caretaker never wanted a Tiny pet but their parent decided it was the perfect gift for their beloved child who just became an adult and lived on their own. So one day when Caretaker come home from work they find a cage with a note from their parent on it, inside of it there is a Tiny pet named Whumpee. Whumpee is dead scared of the Giants but Caretaker is decided to show them they’re not like their fellows.

#gt #giant/tiny #g/t #g/t prompts #giant caretaker #caretaker new master #tiny whump #scared whumpee #tiny whumpee #pet whumpee #writing prompt #whump prompt #reluctant caretaker

[whumblr]

"Come on, Whumpee... you didn't used to fight like this. You would launch yourself at me. Hell, you were ferocious! Never backing down, getting right back up. But now, it's almost like... something is holding you back. Warning you, cautioning you."

He took a step forward and where Whumpee would usually meet him head-on - sometimes literally - they now fell back a step.

"I know what it is. Do you?" he taunted.

"If you're gonna say it's you I will bust your head," Whumpee snarled, but in a voice that sorely lacked punch.

"Oh," Whumper barked out a laugh. "Oh, no. No, but I'm flattered. No it's not that. In a way." He lowered his voice and said in a hushed tone:

"It's fear."

#whump #whump prompt #whump drabble #defiant whumpee #scared whumpee #aftermath of whump #I'd say even #recapture #because :)) #my prompts #my writing

[whumped4whumplover]

Whump Idea

Months ago, Whumpee was taken. Caretaker was a wreck, spending the days scouring the streets in search of Whumpee and investigating at night, hoping to find some clue, even the most insignificant, about where they might be.

Caretaker and Whumpee had a special relationship, they always had. While Caretaker was an extroverted and popular person, full of friends and party invitations, Whumpee was extremely shy and reserved. They didn't like crowds, or loud noises, or talking for a long time. In fact, if it were up to them they wouldn’t have spoken to anyone at all. To anyone but Caretaker. And Caretaker was grateful for this, for the fact that, with them, Whumpee smiled and laughed, cried and vented, a completely different person from the one with that neutral expression and empty eyes which they were the rest of the time.

One day, finally, Caretaker manages to find Whumpee, and their heart skips a beat. Whumpee is covered in bruises and dried blood, thin in the most severe meaning of the word, it is as if Caretaker can count all their body’s bones, and their complexion is pale as that of a ghost, their lips of the same purple as the dark circles under their closed eyes.

If it haven’t been for the pulse they heard when they places their trembling fingers on their neck, Caretaker would have thought Whumpee was dead. But, as soon as the two’s skin makes contact, Whumpee's eyes suddenly open, and a strange expression forms on their face. At first Caretaker thought it was confusion, but then they realized: it was just pure terror.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's me, it’s Caretaker. It's going to be okay" Caretaker tries, but their words are uttered in vain, and Whumpee pushes their weak convulsing body against the wall, screaming hysterically and crying, no, sobbing desperately, as if danger was about to envelop them. But it doesn't make sense, Caretaker thinks, because they’re here now and they’re ready to take Whumpee to safety. There is nothing to be afraid of, Whumper is no longer here, there is only Caretaker. Yet, Whumpee's heart wrenching screams don't cease.

The torch falls from Caretaker's hands and they retreat, realization evident in their eyes.

Whumpee is reacting like this because they are afraid of Caretaker.

#caretaker and whumpee #traumatized whumpee #caretaker #whumpee #delirious whumpee #rescue whump #conditioned whumpee #conditioning whump #caretaker x whumpee #whump things #whump stuff #whump prompt #whump writing #whump angst #scared whumpee

[dont-be-gentle-please]

Whumpee being scared of loud noises. Fireworks. Honking. A pan being dropped accidentally. Gunshots.

Whumper could take advantage of it, punishing their sweet dumb pet in the most harmless and amusing way possible. Entertaining their guest with a shaking and pale whumpee covering their ears.

#don't be gentle please #dont-be-gentle-please #whump promt #pet whump #scared whumpee #this has potential but im sleepy

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (VI)

Part one here…

Continued from here…

*~*~*~*~*

Kit’s body ached everywhere. It hurt to sleep if you could even call it that. Every time Kit turned over or moved his head, or adjusted the pillow he was in pain.

The dull aching everywhere nearly blinded Kit to the fact that he was in a bed. Lying down. Unrestrained. With a pillow!

Which meant that he wasn’t with Ambrose.

Had he… had he woken up when he was supposed to be doing Ambrose’s bidding, because this wasn’t a foreign bed this was Kit’s bed. He knew because he could feel the springs in his old mattress digging into his ribs.

The same mattress Superhero had told Kit to get rid of, but Kit just couldn’t part ways, and Kit’s pillow was perfect for him, not too firm but hard enough to support his creaking neck.

Kit was at home!

Ambrose fucked up, Kit could call Superhero right now, tell him exactly what’s going on and what Ambrose did, he could catch Ambrose!

Kit was halfway out of the bed as this thought crossed his mind, a giddy feeling numbing the bruises, cuts and trauma his muscles had endured with the fucking cattle prod—

His electricity.

Kit wasn’t wearing the rubber gloves. Or rubber anything for that matter!

Kit fell out of bed, his leg not quite carrying his weight, but it didn’t matter.

Kit sat on the floor, licking his lips in anticipation as he brought his hand in front of his face and with bated breath… clicked his fingers.

Blue sparks cackled around Kit’s hand like a glove, and it was like Kit was being revived. The relief it felt to see the bright electric blue, to hear the soft buzz of power, to feel the electric currents in the air.

Kit let the power wash over them. He clicked his fingers in his other hand and let the sparks fly from his fist down his arms up to his elbows and from there he just let it rip.

It got to Kit’s shoulders, to his chest, he could feel his hair stand on end from the currents but none of it fazed them. Not one bit. Kit could feel the power thrumming behind his eyes, and he knew he were same colour as his electricity and for a while Kit just sat there completely engulfed in the wash of his power.

It felt like relieving a muscle that had been stuck in one spot for too long and was cramping, or, cracking his back, or, stretching his shoulders in the morning.

Kit’s electricity reinvigorated him with the energy surging through him just because he could.

He was his own conduit.

His own person.

His own mind, not Ambrose’s puppet, he was 100% Kit right now, because Ambrose fucked up with his twisted compulsion. Kit almost cried with joy.

Kit let his electricity dim and got to his feet with a renewed fire to find Superhero and tell him everything… but first… Kit needed a shower, he needed to feel the warm water pound on his back and relax the rest of his aching muscles.

Kit looked to his bedside table and saw his phone plugged in and charging. Ambrose really did make sure Kit was living a normal life when he wasn’t conscious…

Kit didn’t want to open the phone; he didn’t want to read the text messages he didn’t send. And yet Kit’s feet padded over to his table and picked up the phone. The screen lit up. Kit’s heart dropped as his eyes stared down at the date and time.

He wanted to be sick.

It wasn’t days he was with Ambrose; it wasn’t weeks, it was a month and a half since the docks.

A month and a half of Kit’s lost time… where all he remembered was Ambrose and his cruelty. A month and a half of nobody realising that Kit wasn’t in fact Kit, but Ambrose’s vassal.

Kit swallowed the lump in his throat and put in his pin. The same pin it had always been, at least Ambrose didn’t have the foresight to change that.

Instead of going to his messages and torturing himself further, Kit went to his Spotify and clicked into his shower playlist.

How long had it been since he heard music?

A month and a half, a snide voice told them in the back of his head, but Kit ignored it and just let the music wash over them.

Oh yeah, he was going to be singing this at the top of his lungs in the shower.

Kit grabbed a towel, some underwear and made sure to lock the bathroom door just in case. When the hot water hit his back, he let out a long sigh of relief. His shoulders were so tense after Ambrose had made him dangle in chains for who knows how long? The water seemed to get under Kit’s skin and unwind every knot and ache in his muscles leaving him feeling refreshed and calm.

The smell of Kit’s soap and shampoo made him relax even further. It felt as if nothing had happened to him in the last six weeks and that he was just going about his daily routine of waking up, showering, going to work tell Superhero he was tortured.

Kit’s stomach growled the second after he had turned the shower off and he smiled to himself. How normal a feeling it was to be hungry. How entirely mundane, that Kit’s body’s nerves were telling him to eat. Reminding him to do it.

God when was the last time he had tasted food for himself?

Kit got hungrier just thinking about it. He dried himself and dressed as quickly as possible. He stopped the music on his phone, towelling his hair dry, not too bothered with how he looked as he descended into the kitchen, ravenous with hunger.

The smell of bacon made his mouth all but water and it wasn’t until he saw Ambrose that he realised he shouldn’t have smelled bacon to begin with. Ambrose saw Kit too and grinned at him, smirk wicked sharp.

“Morning,” Ambrose drawled. He looked too strange in Kit’s kitchen, a towel over his shoulder and a spatula in his hand he used to turn the bacon over in the pan.

Kit’s hand shot out on instinct, but his electricity simmered from a glove of reassurance to nothing but pathetic sparks as Kit felt the icy sludge of Ambrose’s power creep into his mind.

“Come on, Kit, none of that now,” Ambrose said, clicking his tongue. “I let you sleep in and everything, made you breakfast. Tell me you’ll behave, and I won’t restrain you further.”

Kit bit the inside of his cheek, frozen where he stood. A part of him wanted to lash out and go mad and kill Ambrose where he stood, but another part, a bigger part of him was too scared of being restrained again. He was enjoying the limited freedom Ambrose was giving him, and until seeing the bastard Kit was happy.

God he was so stupid for thinking Ambrose would just let him go, or fuck up in his commands… Kit was such an idiot.

“Well?” Ambrose asked, cocking an eyebrow at Kit, interrupting Kit’s thoughts and reminding him that he hasn’t answered.

Kit’s shoulders sagged at the demoralisation of having to articulate his submission, but Kit could beat himself up about it later. Right now, he was starving, and he wanted to be able to eat unhindered.

“I’ll be good,” Kit said quietly, swallowing his pride.

Ambrose beamed at him like a proud parent and gestured for Kit to sit at his own table. “Good. Sit! Breakfast is almost ready.”

Kit sucked in a deep breath and crossed the room to his table, pulling out a chair, settling heavy into it. He was facing Ambrose as he worked in the kitchen, not daring to take his eyes off of him for a moment. His heart started beating a little faster in his chest as he felt the weight of his phone in his hand.

If he called Superhero right now… Superhero would know. He could come and find Ambrose. Catch him in the act.

“One egg or two?” Ambrose asked, smiling over his shoulder at Kit.

“Uhm, two please,” Kit replied, licking his lips.

“So polite, Kit. Of course. Two eggs coming up,” Ambrose said, turning back to the counter and grabbing two eggs. Kit glanced down at his phone and back at Ambrose quickly. Just in time too because Ambrose turned back to face Kit a fraction of a second later. “See how nice it is when we can be civil.”

Kit forced a smile, which came out more as a grimace, and nodded.

“Could this be the turning point for us, do you think?”

“Maybe,” Kit said, nodding again. “You never know.”

Ambrose smiled, satisfied, and turned back to the pan, cracking the eggs into it. Kit’s fingers moved quickly under the table as he heard the eggs hit the pan with a sizzle and a spit.

He found Superhero’s contact and hovered over it for a second, looking back at Ambrose to see him whistling by the stove and with a heavy swallow Kit pressed the call button and left it on the chair beside him, making sure the volume was down.

But it didn’t matter.

Because a couple seconds after Kit had put his phone down and looked up innocently at Ambrose, he heard the start of the song ‘bad moon rising’ playing by Creedence Clearwater Revival and his blood ran cold. Ice rushed through his veins, and he so very desperately wanted to cancel the call, but he couldn’t move. All he could do was watch as Ambrose reached into his back pocket and answer the call without so much as blinking.

“You know, Kit,” Ambrose said into the phone, his voice echoing because the phones were in the same room. “I really thought we could at least get through breakfast without you throwing a tantrum. Guess not.”

Kit was out of his chair before Ambrose finished the sentence, feet on the wood floor, sprinting, lunging for the front door. He was only two feet away when a piercing screeching sound echoed between his ears and Kit screamed, trying to force himself through it.

He was so close.

He had to power through it.

Then it got too loud. Unbearable and Kit’s leg went like jelly, his vision swimming, the world tilting until he was on the ground, curled up into a tight ball, eyes squeezed shut trying to push out the ringing in his ears. The screeching lessened, leaving a dull ache in its wake and Kit wanted to throw up as the world spun around him.

“Kit, Kit, Kit,” Ambrose chided, feigned disappointment but it sounded so far away. Kit vaguely heard his footsteps approach and knew he had to get away.

Kit turned onto his stomach and reached out to the door, swallowing the bile in his throat with his motion and pathetically half-dragged himself forward. He only got an inch before the heel of Ambrose’s boot slammed down onto the back of Kit’s hand and dug in.

Kit was a wreck. His mind both hazy and frantic, thoughts like bullets shooting through a foggy moor, his chest heaving with the effort of his screams and his pathetic attempts of escape. All Kit saw was Ambrose’s foot draw back before slamming into the side of Kit’s jaw a second later, flipping him onto his back. Ambrose didn’t release Kit’s hand, so Kit was staring at the ceiling, arm twisted above them awkwardly. He must have bit his cheek because the stench of iron overwhelmed his tastebuds as he glared weakly up at Ambrose, eyes still having trouble focusing.

“God, Kit. I will just never get bored of you. Of this. Look at you… so strong, so sure, so noble, and yet there isn’t a thing you can do to stop me.”

Kit pushed weakly at Ambrose’s boot with his free hand, just because he could and just because he didn’t want Ambrose to be right. Kit could do something, he could try and get away. Try and escape. Ambrose hadn’t taken any of the fight from Kit, he was going to defeat Ambrose, someday. Somehow.

He just needed to be patient and let Ambrose think there was nothing Kit could do to stop him…

Yeah.

Kit believed that, or he could, if he forced himself to try and completely disconnect from reality and ignored how well and truly fucked he was.

“Awh,” Ambrose cooed, lifting his leg and stomping it down on Kit’s chest instead of his hand. Kit’s eyes bulged and he wheezed, his body curling around Ambrose’s boot, trying in vain to push Ambrose off of him. It was no use. Ambrose leaned down over Kit, shifting more of his weight onto the leg on Kit’s chest, effectively pinning him to the ground like an ant under a giant’s boot.

“You’re so cute when you’re like this. Tired eyes wide with panic,” Ambrose said, digging his heel in further and grinning when Kit tightened his grip on Ambrose’s ankle and grit his teeth to prevent the scream from escaping his lungs. “The bags really do wonders to the character of your face. Truly, Kit. I must admit I’ll always be a little weak in the knees at the blood staining the inside of your lips when you gasp.”

“Why don’t you take a fucking picture?!” Kit hissed, spit flying from his mouth in anger, rage flaring ugly inside him. “And then leave me the fuck alone!”

Ambrose’s dark eyes smiled down at Kit like a cat’s alight with interest. He didn’t drop the eye contact for a second as he reached into his pocket and took his phone out, snapping a photo of Kit. Kit blinked at the flash, stunned for a moment. Bewildered Ambrose would actually take a picture.

“You’re right Kit. That was a great idea. I think I’ll make this my screensaver.”

“Motherfucker!” Kit howled. Something hideous that could only be described as vengeful wrath fuelling his body as he shot forward from the ground. For a moment Kit could revel in the shock on Ambrose’s face as he hooked his arms around Ambrose’s knee, driving his heels into the ground to push himself forward and flip Ambrose onto his back.

Kit got on top of him, taking every advantage as he saw it. He had a very short window of time where Ambrose’s brain would be trying to catch up with current events, Kit would know. Ambrose had him in a constant state of shock and fear, trying to claw at the situation and adjust but all too slowly.

Kit pinned Ambrose’s shoulders to the ground using his knees. He didn’t even reach for his power. Instead, he punched from the waist, letting out a half-shocked gasp when he felt his knuckles collide with Ambrose’s perfect cheekbone.

Was he dreaming?

No. Even if this was a dream, Kit didn’t care. He didn’t have time to dwell on things.

Act now, think later.

Ambrose struggled under Kit, but Kit laughed a little giddy as he sent his second punch straight for Ambrose’s throat. Ambrose gasped under him like a fish from water and it was a bit addicting seeing him choke on air. Seeing him being strangled for once, breath robbed of him by Kit, instead of the other way around.

Kit punched Ambrose’s temple, but he felt Ambrose’s familiar ice-cold touch slide down the muscles in his arm and slow the impact of it, so Ambrose wasn’t knocked out cold. Which was a pity, but it also meant Kit got to punch him again. This time Kit’s knuckles crunched against Ambrose’s nose.

If Ambrose was able to get a hold of his power for a moment to stop Kit’s punch that meant he needed to knock him out now.

At that thought Kit’s hand ignited like a match dropped to petrol his electricity crackling happily around his fingers, blue sparks flaring and turning almost red. Kit grinned down at Ambrose who’s struggles renewed tenfold. Kit dropped his hand to Ambrose’s face and stared mesmerised by the reflection of his power in Ambrose’s dark eyes, like fire glinting off marble. In the reflection Kit saw himself too and he recoiled in horror.

Ambrose grinned below Kit as Kit’s electricity dissipated with a weak whizzing sound. Seeing Ambrose’s grin, Kit’s arm moved before his mind did and this time his punch landed straight on Ambrose’s temple. Ambrose’s eyes rolled back, and he went limp under Kit, his head hitting the ground with a gentle thump.

Kit’s eyes blew wide, not wanting to move at first. His hand reached down and pulled Ambrose’s eyelid down and saw that he was actually unconscious. Then Kit was on his feet, running to the bathroom and slamming the light on.

He stopped in front of the mirror over the sink, and it was still there.

Kit stepped closer to the mirror, staring deep into the reflection that didn’t look like Kit. He was used to his eyes turning an electric blue when he used his power, but his eyes… the eyes reflected back at them were a violent scarlet, and not just his eyes. The veins under his eyes were the same garish, bright red mixed with a few of Kit’s familiar electric blue and a deep purple where the two colours collided.

Kit reached a shaky hand up to touch the veins and saw his hand still coated in the same mix of red and blue and purple. He clicked his fingers and electricity buzzed to life in his palm, his electric blue and Kit nearly sighed in relief.

Until the red sparks started flying again and shot out at the light in the bathroom. Kit flinched as glass shattered above him and fell like twinkling rain down onto the tiles with a clatter. When Kit looked back at the mirror those red eyes stared back hauntingly at him, and Kit swore for a moment that his eyes smiled like Ambrose’s.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <;3) — @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whatwhumpcomments @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @princess-bubble-blossom @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain

#writblr #hero villain writing #hero villain snippet #hero villain story #hero #villain #writing #orphan writing #whump writing #intoxicating fear #intoxicating fear part vi #IF VI #IF #Intoxicating fear series #scared hero x telepath villain #scared hero #terrified hero x telepath villain #cruel villain #sadistic villain #scared whumpee #sadistic whumper #cruel whumper #terrifying whumper #whump #whumpee #whumpblr #captive whumpee #defiant whumpee #defiant whumpee my beloved #orphan

[whumpy-wyrms]

so scared and helpless

#no idea what this is i just got a burst of inspiration #my guy is not having a good time #i’m soooo tired #this wasn’t originally gonna be dew but it looks like him anyway #dew oc #whump art #my art #tllr art #knives #knife #scared whumpee #whumpee #whumper #whump #whumpblr #whump blog #whump community #captive whumpee #sadistic whumper #kidnapped whumpee #kidnap whump #captivity whump #fearplay

[whumpshots]

Whump Snippet Saturday #35

"N-no, go away," whumpee mutters, eyes only half-open as they try to push caretaker away. Their fever has gone up since the last time they checked on them, but caretaker is still surprised to see them like this.

Eyes glassy and unfocused, huddled in the corner of the room, trying to make themselves smaller than they already are.

"I don't know where they are," they continue and shrink away even further, ignoring the pain these movements must cause. Their hands are shaking from fear, the rest of the body probably from exhaustion.

Caretaker crouches down next to them, giving them as much space as possible. "It's me, kid," they say softly and wait for a reaction, but whumpee is too out of it to notice.

Caretaker sees the tears on the other's cheeks and puts their fingers gingerly on the their hand. "It's me. I won't hurt you, kid."

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #whumpee #caretaker #worried caretaker #feverish whumpee #delirious whumpee #delirious #scared whumpee #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #whump trope #whump prompt #whump snippet #whump snippet saturday #whumpshots

[mentallyill-daydreamer]

Caretaker was getting quite inquisitive about whumpee and whumpers relationship after they started catching onto whumpees mutual fear to practically anything within five feet of them.

Caretaker went to grab something on the shelf above whumpees head as whumpee flinched and winced at the movement.

"whumpee, are you okay? Why did you jerk like that? does something hurt..?"

"no, I'm fine. I'm sorry." whumpee said in a small voice. "Just nerves."

"you say that a lot."

"..say what a lot?"

"sorry." caretaker stated in an almost questioning tone.

"I feel it a lot."

#caretaker x whumpee #whump community #whump trope #conditioned whumpee #whumpee #whumpee x caretaker #caretaker #tw abuse #whump #whumper #whumperflies #scared whumpee #whumpee trauma #whumblr

[the-baby-storyteller]

Based off this prompt from @jordanstrophe

“Caretaker! Caretaker!”

Whumpee let out a breath of relief as they stumbled into the arms of Caretaker, grasping desperately at the fabric of their shirt and clinging on for dear life.

“Hey, hey Whumpee calm down,” Caretaker rumbled. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“They’re trying to- You have to stop them,” Whumpee blubbered, “Please, please don’t let them get me please-”

Caretaker drew a calming hand down their back. “Shhh calm down, no one is trying to hurt you.”

Whumpee’s sobs softened as they gripped tighter onto Caretaker.

“We just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Whumpee froze. Their eyes raised slowly to Caretaker's and saw an undefinable glint in them. Despite the warmth Caretaker tried to exude, Whumpee could see something hidden under the facade. Something dangerous.

All of a sudden the warm arms surrounding them seemed all too constricting. Whumpee’s eyes widened.

They bucked against Caretaker, suddenly terrified as Caretaker’s hold grew tighter.

“Whumpee stop-”

“Let me go!” Whumpee shouted, panting breathlessly as panic grew. The sound of the footsteps of the medics behind them grew louder and Whumpee’s struggles increased.

“No, no no stop stop please Caretaker Caretaker-”

Caretaker huffed while shifting to pin them down. Whumpee yelped.

“Whumpee we’re doing this for your own good.” Caretaker looked tired out, stressed.

Whumpee wouldn’t buy it. They pulled frantically against the hold but Caretaker wouldn’t budge.

“Caretaker, please-” Tears streamed down their face and they looked up at Caretaker only to see a stony, unwavering face meet them back.

The sound of voices drew their gaze as the medics finally arrived. Their heart dropped. Their last chance at freedom, gone.

A needle pricked them in the neck and they whimpered, slumping against the ground.

Whumpee’s eyes started to droop against their will and they used their last bit of strength to glance at Caretaker, the one they thought was on their side.

Caretaker looked back at them, a look of sadness and concern. They brushed a sweaty lock of hair out of Whumpee’s face and Whumpee would have flinched had they had control of their body.

“We’re going to help you.” Caretaker whispered softly, a sad smile on their face.

Whumpee’s eyes shut to the sound of lies.

#whump #whump writing #stern caretaker #scared whumpee #unreliable narrator #please understand that #forceful caretaker #pinned down #betrayal #? #whump snippet #drabble #creative writing #prompt by jordanstrophe #such a great prompt #whump ideas #tropes #restrained whumpee #medical whump #rough caretaker #the baby storyteller

[livingforthewhump]

Whumper let out a long sigh as he stretched back on the couch, back cracking against the cushions. Whumpee was curled in the corner, his own back aching, but the protective instinct to make himself as small as possible won over any kind of pain he felt.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Whumper from looking over at him. Nothing he did ever seemed to stop Whumper. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his long legs, and surveyed Whumpee.

Then he reached out a hand. “Come here.”

Whumpee hesitated, but the decision had already been made for him. Whenever Whumper spoke, Whumpee never had any choice but to obey, never mind his feelings on the matter. Shakily, he peeled himself up from the floor and walked over to Whumper. It felt weird to be standing over him. Whumper was so much bigger, so much taller, and Whumpee wasn’t usually on his feet a lot anyway. Still, Whumper’s gaze was as much a prison as anything else, and there was no question as to who had the power there.

Whumper looked Whumpee over, humming in thought. “You don’t have your collar on right now. But I don’t particularly want to go get it…” Whumpee’s heart jolted and he took a half step back. The collar was never a good sign. Whumper’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back in with an iron grip. “See, that’s exactly why you need it, dumb thing,” he chided.

After a moment’s pause, he reached up and slid his tie off over his head, keeping it knotted. Using the hand holding Whumpee’s wrist, he tugged Whumpee down, successfully pulling the tie over the other man’s head and securing it at his neck.

“There we go,” Whumper murmured, using the tie to tug Whumpee in closer. Whumpee's throat bobbed in a swallow. The tie was pulled too tight by Whumper’s hand, digging into his adam’s apple and all but choking him. The tension tugged him into an odd angle, leaning over Whumper on the edge of his balance, centimeters away from collapsing on top of him, leaving his shaky core to work overtime to keep him upright.

It certainly didn’t help when Whumper’s hand left his wrist and started moving up his side, ridiculously warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Stop—” Whumpee tried, but it ended in a grunting cough when Whumper jerked the tie, sending Whumpee toppling forward.

His arms flew out to catch him, landing on the back of the couch on either side of Whumper’s head, caging him in in an odd imitation of the pose Whumper was so fond of taking with Whumpee. Still so obvious to them both that an imitation was all it was. All the power lay with Whumper—not in the circumstances Whumper had forced them into or the resources Whumper had, as Whumpee had tried to convince himself at first. It lay within who Whumper was, and who Whumpee was before him. Nothing more than clay to be molded. A game to be played.

Whumper’s arm was looped around Whumpee’s waist now, stopping him from pulling away. His arms were shaking from the effort of holding himself up like this.

“You look scared, Whumpee…are you?” Whumper murmured, eyes sparkling. His voice dipped down low. “Answer me, boy.”

Whumpee swallowed thickly. “Y-yes.”

“Yes…?” The word was a warning, as was the slight tightening of the hand around his waist.

“Yes sir.” His eyes screwed shut as he spoke. A mistake. Whumper tugged him forward further, bending his elbows more and making him tremor from the strain.

“You think you don’t deserve this. Is that right? You think you deserve to be free of me?” There wasn’t any of the anger Whumpee expected in his voice, mere curiosity and amusement.

Whumpee opened and closed his mouth, entirely unsure how to respond. Whether to be honest and give the wrong answer or to face the punishment for lying.

Whumper seemed to take his hesitation as its own answer. “That’s okay, I’m not mad.” His hand left his waist—other still firmly grabbing the tie—and slid up his chest to take hold of his chin while Whumpee arched away from the touch. “I understand where you’re at. Up until now I’ve only ever hurt you, haven’t I? And you can’t understand why, so you assumed I was being unjust. Does that sound right?”

Whumpee’s heart clambered in his chest. Nothing Whumper had just said was wrong, exactly…but it also didn’t sound right.

“Whumpee?”

“Mm—yes sir,” he whispered.

“Good.” His voice was silky and gentle and it terrified Whumpee more than anything else he’d done. “Relax, now, boy, I’m just talking to you. You can let go, I’m not going to let you fall.” His arms wrapped around Whumpee’s middle, bracing around him as he obeyed and let his arms fall limp under his weight. Whumper supported him, maneuvering him to sit on the couch beside him with his knees tucked underneath him.

Then he grabbed onto the tie again, making Whumpee to lean over his lap, shoulder pressed against Whumper’s chest.

“You fought me so much in the beginning. Do you remember? It wasn’t that you were afraid of being hurt—that’s only natural. Your defiance was against me. You didn’t want me anywhere near you, no matter what I was going to do.” As he spoke, Whumper traced his hand across Whumpee’s curved back, his shoulders, slipping into his hair. Whumpee held back his very breath for fear of attracting even more attention.

He leaned forward suddenly, lips brushing up against Whumpee’s ear as he murmured, “You were very bad to me, Whumpee.” And then he relaxed again, and eyes roving over Whumpee’s half-cowering form. “But I’m sure we’ll make up for that later. In the meantime, I’ve had to give you a form of exposure therapy, if you will.”

Whumpee shuddered at the term, sucking a breath in through his teeth when Whumper’s hand found his face, cupping his cheek and turning it up to look at him. From the way he was leaning against Whumper, they were very, very close together.

“I had to hand-feed you the worst possible scenario, little thing. You were rebellious no matter what I planned to do, so I worked with you until you were okay with whatever I wanted to do by helping you not fight against the most scary things. And just look at you now.” His thumb stroked over Whumpee’s face for emphasis, then he wrapped both arms around the poor boy’s shoulders and pulled him fully into his chest. “You still don’t understand yet, all the way. But it’s helped. Hasn’t it helped you feel better, Whumpee?”

His throat burned. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to cry. More than anything he just wanted to not be here anymore. “…yes sir.”

Whumper’s arms squeezed tight for a moment before relaxing, sinking Whumpee into his lap to lay down. “It has, I can tell. And we’re not done yet. We’ll keep working until you’re willing to let me do anything, so long as it’s me who wants it.”

Whumpee’s bottom lip wobbled. He hated the way Whumper looked down at him, like he was a sacrificial lamb on an altar, just waiting to be destroyed for the sake of his own sins. Whumper’s hand pet over him absently before grabbing ahold of the tie and wrenching it tight, cutting off Whumpee’s air completely.

“Don’t worry, boy. I’ll make sure to keep you needy in the meantime. After all, what’s the real joy of receiving something if you don’t want for it first?”

—

General Whump Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @multifandoms-multishipper @shadowylemon @utopian819 @whumpkitty @journey-the-panda @freefallingup13 @prettyboysinpain @1becky1 @temporary-whump-sideblog @chartreusephoenix @thelazywitchphotographer @mylifeisonthebookshelf @badluck990 @lockedupuniverse @luna-rein @broadwaybabe18 @pinescales-whumps @silverwhisperer1 @embersalive @the-bloody-sadist @batfacedliar-yetagain @nicolepascaline @whump-angst-fluff-repeat @susanshinning @didieatyourdog @corvid-voidbur @insane-writing-things @thebaffledtiewriter @morning-star-whump

#whump drabble #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #noncon touching #nonsexual noncon touch #scared whumpee #whumper #whumpee

[whump-or-whatever]

Imagining a whumpee who is absolutely terrified of thunderstorms. As in, the second the skies start to darken their heartbeat kicks up. The first sign of rain has them panicking. The initial clap of thunder sends them skittering into hiding, covering their ears and burying themself in anything that will block out the noise.

Of course, said whumpee would have a caretaker who starts panicking as soon as it starts to storm as well, albeit for different reasons. They take the first chance they get to leave wherever they are and head back home. The caretaker searches high and low for whumpee, all but pries them out of their corner and wraps them in a comforting hug, fitting ear protection onto their head to help block out the noise.

#whump #whump prompt #whump idea #whump scenario #whump community #phobia whump #scared whumpee #fear whump #comforting caretaker #whump prompts #whumpblr #whumpee #caretaker #protective caretaker