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whump-mania · 14 days

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Alright, here's my idea.

A whumper couple "fighting" over their whumpee, both of them wanting to torment them in their own ways (one can be a brute force trauma type whumper and the other can be a more creepy mind games whumper, i like that pairing) and Whumpee cant figure out if they're glad that they're being "saved" from the other or if they're more terrified that they're being fought over since the whumpers are getting increasingly violent and theyre afraid one might kill the other to keep them forever, and if that happens than it'll be a nightmare either way cause both whumpers are awful

(Thanks for the request!

TWs for cursing, fade to black beating/torture, mentioned drugging, creepy whumper (sfw))

“You’re putting too much thought into it. Just beat them,” Whumper 1 complained in an annoyed tone.

Whumper 2 circled Whumpee’s unconscious form like they were prey, thinking of all the ways they could make their life miserable. Many of the ways didn’t even involve touching Whumpee at all.

“You’re never any fun,” Whumper 2 chided. “You’re not considering how satisfying it is to play into fear,” they said cooly.

“We’re not here to play,” Whumper 1 said gruffly. “We’re here to retrieve information.” They pushed past Whumper 2 and kicked Whumpee in the chest, rudely waking them up. Whumpee coughed and groaned at the force of the kick. They were still a bit weak from what they’d been drugged with.

Whumper 1 stepped forward again to continue the assault, but Whumper 2 stopped them. “No no—let them wake up all the way. We want them to experience all of this.”

Whumper 1 rolled their eyes in frustration and turned around to look for something to hit Whumpee with in the meantime. While they were gone to the other side of the room, Whumper 2 smirked and knelt down next to Whumpee.

“We can make this so bad for you,” they whispered, taking a fistful of Whumpee’s hair and pulling. “You’ll be telling us what we need to know very soon. And after that, you’ll be begging us for death.” Whumper 2 leaned in closer so that their lips brushed Whumpee’s ear. “And we won’t give it to you.”

Suddenly, Whumper 2 was pulled away by the collar of their shirt and up to face Whumper 1, who glared at them dangerously. “That’s enough. You’re wasting time. Use your fists, not your head.”

Whumper 2 looked back at Whumper 1 smugly with no fear. “You don’t want to get in my way, friend.” They pulled a small pocket knife just barely out of their pocket, flashing it. “I can dish it out just as well as you can. I just prefer not to.”

“Is that a threat?” Whumper 1 growled, pulling Whumper 2 closer. The two were in a standoff.

Whumpee, who was just waking up still, managed to push themselves away a little bit. They were honestly relieved that the two were fighting—it took the attention off of them. Meanwhile, they couldn’t imagine being left alone with one of them. They balanced each other out. Whumper 1 could kill them just with their fists if they were alone with them too long, and Whumper 2 would make them wish they were dead with the psychological torment. They didn’t know which they hated most.

Slowly, they scooted themself to the corner to get away from the two as silently as possible. Upon doing this, Whumper 1 turned their head and dropped Whumper 2. “The fuck you think you’re doing?”

Whumpee whimpered and pressed themselves against the wall. They should’ve just stayed where they were.

“Listen…I think we should compromise here,” Whumper 2 said with a grin. “You do what you’re good at, and I’ll do what I’m good at. It’ll be so much for the poor thing. They’ll have to confess what we need eventually.”

Whumper 1 crossed their arms, thinking on it for a moment. “…Fine. But you don’t get to touch them. I want all their bruises to be mine.”

Whumpee shrunk in terror as both tormentors approached them.

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whump writing #whump scenario #creepy whumper #tw torture #tw beating #tw drugging #tw cursing

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digenerate-trash · 6 months

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I desire yan!Whitney, him beating the shit out of people for just looking at what's his.

I would expect nothing less to be honest with you. you know that one scene in math where one kid looks at you in math and Whitney goes nuts??? I made it worse (this is gonna veer off into violence hope that's cool. also gonna trigger tagging this for blood/yan antics/gn pc/Whitney shenanigans.)

Whitney is always a menace. He has just been getting steadily worse. Usually, he's a big fan of whoring you out when he can for cash or approval from his less-than-stellar friends, but even that's come to a rather strange halt. He's more interested in spending time with you alone now. He even started to ditch school taking you with him.

You’re actually starting to worry about him. He's barely the same guy you met at the start of the year. He's still an asshole sure. But he is /different/. More people are starting to avoid you. And they whisper Whitney's name when you walk by, even when you're alone. People don't dare touch you or even talk to you anymore. Even some of the teachers have started ignoring you. You can't shake the feeling that this is all by design somehow.

It all comes to a head in the middle of math, however. River gets called away to attend to something, but you're not sure what, You weren't listening as you lean into Whitney's shoulder. He plays with your hair gently and zones out. He's not in the mood for chaos today. He likes the feeling of you relaxed against him.

When you look around the room just for a brief moment you tense. A boy is staring at the two of you. This seems to jolt Whitney back from his daydream and he immediately spots the boy. His face contorts into a scowl as his grip on your hair tightens.

“Why are you staring at them?” *his voice is loud though he doesn't yell. His gaze is locked on the boy and the class goes silent as they look over at Whitney. Then their poor classmate as Whitney waits for an answer.

Everyone knows there's no correct response. He's doomed. He's been caught /looking/ at something that's Whitney’s.

The boy stutters a bit. But no comprehensible words come out. Whitney pushes you back into your own seat and nods to one of his friends before he charges the poor student. It’s not long before the boy starts to cry out for help. At first, people are laughing or cheering. It’s fun when it’s not happening to them, but soon The screams and cracks of Whitney's fist against the boy only get worse as time goes on. Whitney's friend guards the door making sure no one leaves. The cheers die out the class watches as Whitney goes far beyond a regular beating.

You can see it, Whitney is still enraged. He's biting down on his own lip so hard that its started to bleed. His fist is dusted with bruises and his victim's blood. His forehead is covered in sweat as he finally pulls back. The classroom is still silent apart from the haggard breathing of the boy. whitney straightens out his shirt and looks down at the boy before spitting on him before returning to you. He pulls you up by the arm dragging you out of the classroom. No one tries to stop him as he leaves.

You don’t know what to say to him as you're pulled to the front gates of the school. Should you say anything? Should you have stopped him? Could you have stopped him? Whitney's grip tightens on your wrist as he takes you down into the alleys near the school. He shoves you up against the wall before leaning down and kissing you deeply.

You can taste the blood in his mouth he seems to want you too as he holds you still against the alley wall. When he pulls back your panting, Whitney finally smirks. It's that cocky playful look that you haven't seen in weeks. He seems to have finally relaxed a bit as he brushes his hair out of his face with one hand the other still holding you still.

“We should probably skip the rest of the day. I doubt anyone is going to rat on me, but I don't feel like answering any questions right now.” Whitney says before he rubs his bloody knuckles off on his shirt, It wasn't clean before but it looks worse smeared with blood. He tilts your head up slightly grinning “But it's worth it” he promises. “No one is going to ever look at you again.”

#dol #whitney the bully #yan whitney #tw blood #tw fight #tw beating #tw violence #trash fic #pc/whitney #yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #yandere tropes #gn reader #x reader

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toonztown · 1 month

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Mafia husband! x (GN) reader Part 2

It has been about 3 days since you've moved into the mansion, your 'fiancé' is constantly busy with work so to your delight you hardly see him. You still couldn't believe it just a few days ago you were a normal high schooler, average grades but now your staying in a house you couldn't afford in your lifetime to be married off to a member of the mafia.

You sat up in bed, you spend most of your days in your room, sleeping the day a away, hoping that this is all just a bad dream; only to find yourself disappointed every time you wake up.

just before you were about to go back to sleep, there was a soft knock at the door. "excuse me mr capone has requested you come down for breakfast at once." the voice on the other side said. you made an audible groan and you make your way out of bed, the last thing you wanted was food much less breakfast with Mr. capone. You knew denying would be a- foolish decision, he could kill you in a heart beat. You open the closet and are stunned by the amount of expensive clothing, not a single one of them looked worn, could it be? he bought them for you? You felt your heart warm ever so slightly at the thought, you shook your head. You pick out something that you liked and changed into it, not bothering to fix your hair, maybe if he finds you unappealing to the eyes he'll let you go? its a small chance but it gave you hope. now here you were, seated at a large table full of various foods you've never tried before and across from you was the man who brought you to this hell, Mr capone. Maybe this is a good time to question him when the time was right? you picked up your glass of wine, you didn't take a sip just stare at it then back at him. You gather the courage to finally ask him "so why me." you asked, your cold gaze fixed on him. your question seemed to catch him off guard for a moment, he tilted his head in confusion with a sly grin. "i have no idea what you mean dearest." he replied, downing a glass of wine, his voice had a hint of playfulness, he was totally taunting you.

now he was playing dumb? who does he think he is. You clench your fist into a ball before slamming it down on the table "dont act dumb! why did you chose me! why did you bring me here instead of just killing me! why do you want to marry me?!" through all your questioning and ranting he just stared at you silently, tapping his fingers on the table. He was going annoyed, maybe going on a rampage was not a good idea. once your anger died down you were filled with deep regret- ohh why did you do something so stupid, you sat back down. You grabbed the bottle of wine and drank it, if your going to die, might as well die intoxicated. Mr capone got up from his seat across the table and made his way over to you.

your cheek was met with a harsh slap that would have your face stinging for a while, he grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head back forcing your eyes to meet. Oh he was pissed.

"let us get one thing straight you little bitch. Firstly i didn't 'chose you' your father just didn't have the ability to have more attractive offspring, second if i wanted to kill you i would have."

his grip on your hair tightened. He then slammed your head onto the table, you could feel blood drip down your nose from the impact, you struggle to get away but this only made him do it again but harder.

" Finally, marriage is the ultimate way to have claim over you. this isn't some dumb little fairy tale where i 'fall in love with the innocent damsel.' your my slave, im the master. If you EVER, have that attitude with me again, i will send you home to your old man in a fucking body bag you worthless whore."

His words and the buzzing pain in your head made it hard to do anything but nod, he threw you to the floor and gave you a beating that you would never forget. you dont remember what happened next or how you got to bed. When you woke up, you found that your wounds were treated and a bouquet of expensive looking flowers on your bed accompanied by a note. you did not have to open it to know who it was from, i guess this was Mr capone's twisted way of apologizing after injuring you to the point of you having to passing out.

inside the note was the basic im sorry, please forgive me, i do it cause i love you and how he promises to never lay a hand on your ever again, you scoff at the thought, that was a obvious lie, did he think you were that stupid?

you crumpled the note and toss it across the room not caring where it landed, your head still hurt from how hard he grabbed your hair. If he was willing to beat you that badly for just questioning him, you fear what he will do if you try to escape. you lay back down in bed, silently cursing your dad and his stupid gambling addiction, if it wasn't for him you would be in school right now, even the worst of your bullies were better than being stuck with him. you turned and faced the wall, holding your now bruise ridden body. Pulling the covers over your eyes you drift off to sleep, dreaming of being back home with your parents, even your dad. ignoring the fact that you were to be wed, in just 5 days.

#domestic violent relationships #toxic love #mafia x reader #sold to the mafia #x reader #tw bruises #tw beating #manipulation #fanfic #gore #toxic relationship #spicy language

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scratchandplaster · 1 year

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FEBUWHUMP DAY 1 - Touchstarved

CW: Intimate whumper, beatings, blood, injury, defiant whumpee, death, delusion, captivity, obsessive/yandere whumper

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Oh, you think you're clever, huh? Don’t think that I’ll be all mellow now, just because you got roughed up a little."

Whumper’s foot meets their captive’s hip, still unresponsive as they lay on their stomach, just as he left them last evening. Nothing new really, it’s been weeks since they made any meaningful progress. Countless hours of screaming, biting, scratching and whatever else that little shit keeps coming up with to resist settling down.

A sigh echoes through the small basement while Whumper squats down to inspect the person in front of them further. Laying face down and with closed eyes, they are sleeping peacefully for the first time in a while, a fact Whumper doesn’t like to remind himself of. It shouldn’t be like this for both of them, it’s not fair.

"You know what I expect of you, dear. Try to put a little effort into this, and I promise that it will be worth it; just three little words and all of this ends today." Whumpee doesn’t turn to meet their gentle words, they don’t even flex a muscle. Maybe I really overdid it, Whumper ponders as his hand slowly starts to stroke over the greasy strands of hair, clumped together with dried up sweat and dirt.

"Come on, I know it’s hard for you, but I can be reasonable if you let me. The moment we met back in that lousy fucking bar. I knew there was a spark, one you can only find once in a lifetime. We can’t give that up just because of some bickering."

The dim light above starts to buzz, as Whumper settles down to his knees, gaze still fixed onto his little treasure. The first week after he brought them home was the hardest. Whumpee not realizing that he was doing all of this for them, to allow them both to get what everyone deserves: a loving home, a partner who will always care for them, hold them, love them. But it takes two to make a couple, and Whumper’s patience never was unconditional.

"Sorry if I hurt you, honey," he murmurs, still expecting any kind of aversion towards his touches gliding through their hair, down to the small of their neck. "Say the words, so I can patch you right up and forget about all of this. You know I hate eating dinner by myself, so don’t let me go to bed hungry." The corner of his mouth twists into a sad smile, knowing that without yesterday's brutal beating, they would never be this sweet with him.

Not yet, at least.

Typically, they would just twist around in his grasp and try to bite the hand that has nothing but adoration for them. A hand that needs them as much as they need it, yearning for the soft intimacy to fill an otherwise empty house.

As Whumper’s fingers begin to tingle with the electric warmth he oh-so waited for, but only rarely grasps, Whumpee lies still, deaf to everything their keeper could and would offer them.

So dramatic today, Whumper thinks to himself, still expecting the wild passion - the fire - inside his counterpart to ignite any second. They really shouldn’t sleep this long, especially in the cold and damp basement. His anger already replaced with forgiveness, he slides one hand under their torso to turn them around onto their back, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss them awake slowly.

Whumpee’s face is illuminated in the yellowish hue of the lights above, and any fairytale fantasy gets snuffed out in an instance. They stare, eyes finally sliding open with nothing but a dull reflection, framed by long red streaks of crusted blood, which cause lies just inches above their eyebrow.

It’s not just a split that drags over their forehead in an angry line, it’s a horrible veil for what lies beneath. The upper portion of the skull starts slowly dragging itself backwards, exposing splinters of bone that shift against each other with a harrowing crunch. Looking at the stiff muscles of their face, the etched-in desperation of the final blow he was responsible for, Whumper can do nothing but stare back.

"Dear?" he finally breathes, breaking the overwhelming silence of the room. Nothing.

"Whumpee, come on!" His voice is getting louder, begging for something that he already knows he is too late for.

"WHUMPEE, PLEASE!"

Any other begs drifting through his mind die right in his throat, breaking up into silent sobs to wreck through his chest. Each wave carrying regret and desperation, which only add to the rising pressure in Whumper’s ears. Deafened by the blood coursing through his veins, he brings the ice-cold hands of his love up to cup them around his face, holding them up by the wrists. There is no comfort in it, just cold flesh against hot tears. Any remnants of the touch he so desperately craved following them down Whumpee’s hands, lost like the life they were supposed to have.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," The mantras keep on ringing through the room where Whumper remains, alone again.

"Please, Whumpee, please. Let me make this right." Where he tries to bargain with nothing but a memory of the person he longed to create.

"I love you, I love you, I love you so much..." Endlessly continuing to whisper the words Whumpee refused to utter, even till the end.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

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ravenzeppeli · 2 months

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You Dare Disobey Me, Girl? |Silva x Reader Angst|

Warning: brutal spanking, language, nudity, humiliation, sexual themes/discussions, physical abuse.

Silva stood in front of you, his huge 6'6 form towering over you like a skyscraper, his blue eyes hard and menacing, body ripped with muscles. He made you feel so small and fragile- he could tear you apart if he wished.. that was the exciting part about working here- the rush of always being just so close to death. "I don't like when you act out Y/N, I found you nine years ago trusting you and taking you under my wing. Treating you as my own. Why would you dare to break my trust? Look at you now, in deep shit."

You were completely naked, humiliation being apart of the punishment as your hands were tied above. You looked up at the metal bar, a sigh escaping your lips as you studied the rope. "I wasn't breaking your trust, I was just overwhelmed that you wanted Illumi to marry me. I didn't mean to run

away, I was going to eventually come back once I had time to think." You didn't like Illumi at all, he had no personality. You sound much rather marry Milluki, at least he speaks kindly to you.

"You dare disobey me, girl? In my own damn house, acting so keen about everything. You are going to pay," he snapped, taking his thick leather belt off. He shook his head, silver hair resting on his broad shoulders. "You will marry Illumi and you will have my grandchildren. You knew that I would seek that in you, you knew Y/N. That is why I trained you so brutally for all of these years." His bright blue eyes traced down your body, staring at your womanhood with intensity.

Your cheeks flushed red at the utter humiliation of all of this, knowing that he stares on purpose to humiliate you. Ever since you turned 20 he had begun a new phase in your punishing.. it was painful and embarrassing but in a way you liked it. The pain that once made you go insane was now turning you on wildly, making you grow wet with anticipation for your beating. "I'm sorry I disrespected you."

His eyes traced up your body, full focus now on your breasts. "You're going to be very sorry once I'm done with you. I was generous enough to allow you a warning the first time but that came with a promise that you wouldn't run away again. You broke that, so now I am going to beat your ass. Do you understand me?" He questioned, his black shoes padding against the hard ground, now standing in front of you. The leather belt was at his side, taunting you.

"Why do you have to stare at me like that? What's the reason of staring at someone you will never have anyways? I belong to your little son, shouldn't he be the one to do this since I'm being forced to marry him?" You questioned, tone sharp.. you quickly regretted smarting off to him by the look in his eyes. Suddenly, you were fucking terrified.. your heart rapidly skipping a beat.

"I could have you and take you right now if I wanted, my wife and I would use your body up.. separately and together. We would break you and next time we will, rather you are Illumi's wife or not. You will be handled," Silva snapped, slapping his large palm across your face with force, a snap gasp escaping your lips as your legs went weak. If it wasn't for the chains that tied your hands you would have fell to the ground. "You will marry my son and you will have our grandchildren. Or you will have mine, and I won't treat you well. Illumi will, do you see how well I treat my wife? I've never put my hands on her unless she asked."

You shook your head weakly, "how could I marry a man that I don't love? At least give me more time to love him Silva, he hardly speaks to me. He hates me." You looked down, blood dripping onto the floor in front of you, the left side of your face throbbing. You wanted more.. why couldn't you just marry Silva or Kikyo? Damn it, this sucked.

"He will be back in a week, you will marry her next day. You had seven years, I refuse to wait any longer. Now it is time for me to punish you," he said, walking behind you, his hand resting on your back. "He will learn to love you and he is willing, I already asked him and he said that he would treat you well. You will live rich and you will never be out of work. You will have a great life, just as you do now. Stop being stupid, now apologize to me."

"But what if Illumi wasn't the one that I desire? What if the one I desire is someone else, someone that I owe my life too," you said, staring into his eyes. It was wrong to love Silva, so wrong.. but everything in this world was wrong. You were wrong. "I love you Silva, please let me be with Kikyo and I promise that I will make the both of you happy," you begged, tears falling down your face. You haven't cried in so long. "I love you so much, please love me back."

Your desperate and lonely heart clung yo both him and Kikyo those seven years ago and you've been in love with Silva and slowly falling in love with Kikyo ever sense. You usually spent every waking moment with Silva.. how could not fall in love with him? It was impossible to avoid, now you are stuck marrying his stupid son who has the personality of a fucking plank. That was why you ran, you had to escape all of this but instead of letting you go he had to find you. This just wasn't fair at all.

Suddenly a whip sound filled the air, the hard leather belt crashing on your ass with such force that it knocked the wind out of you, a loud sob escaping your lips, your legs trembling. The motion repeated two more times, the two harsh smack causing your entire body to tremble, a harsh burning sensation lighting your ass on fire. Again. Again. Again. He wasn't letting up, leaving your confession unanswered as he beat you, a low grunt escaping his lips.

"W-why?" You sobbed out, your legs finally collapsing and giving out. You were hanging by your hands, that being the only thing keeping you up. Despite how uncomfortable it was you couldn't stand.. you were in too much pain as the leather whoosh began to attack your spots.

"I don't love you in that way, Kikyo and I love you but we have no romantic feelings towards you. Illumi does and he is who you will be with- a man your age. He's my son, if you love me then you can love him," spoke Silva, continuing to harshen his blows. You felt the welts forming on your ass, the bruises that wouldn't heal for a month.. this was your reality. "Apologize and I'll stop. You're bleeding, it is only going to get much worse for you."

"I-I apologize!" You cried out, causing the leather belt to finally drop. You sobbed, entire body now shaking.. it hurt so bad, your ass throbbing, hands cramping.. you shouldn't have said anything. You should have never ran away.. you knew that this was bound to happen sometime.

"Good, I'll come let you go and clean up in a few hours. For now just think about rather you want to wear white or another color next week. Perhaps red, it compliments you" he muttered, walking out the door and leaving you alone to suffer in pain.. just as he always did.

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ikamigami · 2 months

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Today's episode was hilarious xD

I liked the fact that Lunar was chill and Solar should've expected that Lunar would send Jack after him 😭

But the phone call and the things that Sun said were hilarious 🤣

Though.. I need to say this that I can't blame Sun for not cleaning the bottom of the ballpit.. like he said he didn't want to screw up any machinery down there.. cause that's where the portal stuff is. And we all know that if Sun did something wrong, accident or not, Old Moon would beat him...

New Moon might be angry but I doubt that he'd beat Sun up.. New Moon has his flaws but I'm so glad that he didn't raise his hand on Sun unlike Old Moon...

On lighter note.. Monty part was also extremely funny ^^

Today's episode was a good breather :)

#sun and moon show #sams #sams spoilers #sams solar #sams sun #laes lunar #mgafs monty #sams jack #tw beating

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serickswrites · 7 months

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"You Better Pray"

Warnings: captivity, torture, sadistic whumper, broken bones, beating, physical violence, blood, restraints

Whumper cackled with glee as they struck Whumpee once more. Whumpee couldn't contain their muffled squeal of pain as they lost their balance in the standing cuffs and began to swing again, their shoulders aflame once more with unbearable pain.

"PLEASE!" They shrieked.

"Oh, you want more?" Whumper smirked. "You asked so kindly, I must oblige you." And they punched Whumpee in the ribs once more.

Whumpee could feel the skin split around Whumper's brass knuckles. Could feel blood run down their side. It had been like this for the last few hours. Whumper pummeling them to a pulp. And Whumpee suffering all through it.

Initially, they had tried to be stoic. Had tried to not give Whumper that satisfaction of their cries. They knew they would be bruised, but they could handle it. Until Whumper began to beat them in earnest.

Whumper, it seemed, had only been warming up. They had struck Whumpee in the face hard, breaking Whumpee's nose in the process. That was the first time Whumpee had cried out. Cried out around the blood that dripped down their face. Cried out around how difficult it was to breathe. And cried out because that was when their pain began.

So as Whumper raised their hand once more and Whumpee desperately tried to grip the ground with their toes to keep from swaying, Whumpee began to beg and plead. "PLEASE! ANYTHING! I WILL DO ANYTHING! JUST STOP! PLEASE!"

Whumper paused their motion, a wicked smile filling their face. "Oh look, it's broken. How precious." Whumper circled Whumpee with predatory grace. "And now all the fun can really begin." And they jumped onto Whumpee's back and pulled with all their might.

#serickswrites #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw torture #tw broken bones #tw beating #tw physical violence #tw blood #sadistic whumper #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 5 #“you better pray I don't get up this time around”#prompt: “it's broken”#queue

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sharkboywrites · 25 days

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“Transmascs don’t get beaten like trans women do!” “Transmascs don’t get punished for cutting their hair like trans women do for growing it out!” “Transmascs don’t get raped like trans women do!” “Transmascs pass so easily unlike trans women do!” “Transmascs get respected so much unlike trans women do!” “Transmascs don’t have issues with their family like trans women do!” Okay so we’re just making shit up now?

#sharkboyrambles #trans #transmasc #trans man #trans ftm #ftm #trans awareness #trans issues #trans visibility #transmasc erasure #tw rape #Tw transphobia #tw beating #tw physical violence

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whump-mania · 1 month

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Hello :)

I know it’s been like……..almost a year since I’ve posted here! But I’ve been very busy (I promise I’m not dead!) I’ve also been generally unmotivated with whump stuff lately, so that’s the major reason I haven’t been posting.

However, I did have a little spark of inspiration lately, and I did want to get one little story out. It doesn’t necessarily mean I’m back: I might pop in and out now and again.

Anyways, here’s my one-shot (maybe two-shot) under the cut! Hope you enjoy!

(tw: beating, mugging, blood, very slight homophobia, cursing)

The ring wasn’t all that pretty, Nicky thought. It could be cheap costume jewelry, for all he knew. But apparently, this thing costed a fortune, and that’s why he had it in his hand.

Nicky McAllister had a few bad habits. All of them were to provide for his family, of course—if his little sister Penny and sort-of-friend, sort-of-lover (he had no clue anymore) Ivan counted as family. How else was he supposed to get cash in their situation? Stealing and trading was all that was available for a young man with no other connections in this city.

Nicky threw the ring up in the air and caught it a couple of times in his hand. The gem was bright red, probably a ruby (he didn’t know, nor care), and the band was a matte gold. The one thing that interested him about the tiny thing was the engravings around the inside of the band. Little vines with leaves and thorns. He wondered about the ring’s possible history absentmindedly as he strolled to the agreed-upon meeting spot. Soon, that little ring would be exchanged for a wad of money. Enough to feed himself, Penny, and Ivan for a month. He needed this.

Nicky stopped at a corner in the alley, reaching into his pocket to examine the crumpled up sheet of notebook paper once again. He was in the right place, that was for sure—the alley on fifth street in the abandoned town next to the city—but no one was there. Nicky rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. He waited, staring at the yellow sky, for minutes on end. For how urgent the letter had been about the trade, he didn’t think the buyer would have the nerve to be so—

“Late! I’m late! My bad, kid!” A voice broke through Nicky’s thoughts. He lifted his head to see a man jumping the fence nearby, followed by two other, larger ones. The man, who looked about ten years older than him, didn’t seem at all bothered by his own tardiness—he was carefree as ever, hands stuffed in his pockets as the other two men flanked him.

Nicky shoved the paper back in his pocket. “Took you long enough,” he muttered. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the other men with him, gesturing to them. “What, you scared of me or something?”

The man laughed. “Nah, just precaution. I don’t believe we’ve met—I’m Marty Hughes.” Marty held his hand out, and Nicky shook it hesitantly. He wanted to get this deal over with, not make a friend.

“…Nicky,” he replied shortly, ending the handshake as soon as necessary. “Anyway, I’ve, uh…” He reached in his pocket, holding the ring, but not removing it just yet. “I’ve got the ring.”

Marty smiled. “And I’ve got your money. Look at that! All the two things we need for a trade.” He held his hand out and one of his bodyguards put a small satchel in his hand. He opened it and revealed a bundle of money.

Nicky’s eyes went wide. A break from stealing and bartering, even if only for a little while, was extremely enticing. Trying to keep neutral and hide his anticipation, he removed the ring from his pocket and held it out.

“Here.” Nicky stepped forward a little, eager to get the trade finished. “I’ll hand it to you, and you give me the money at the same time. Standard practice.”

Marty chuckled. “So serious. Talking like it’s the end of the world or something.” The other men laughed along with him as he shook his head and stepped forward.

Nicky tried not to roll his eyes. For him, not getting this money WAS the end of the world. Biting back his annoyance, he stood across from the older man with the ring.

He expected the trade to go agonizingly slow or straight-up wrong, but surprisingly to Nicky, it went smoothly. Marty handed him the money just as Nicky handed him the ring.

“See? Easy as that. No need to be all worked up, Nick. Pleasure doing business.” Marty patted Nicky on the shoulder a couple of times. Nicky cringed at the gesture, but he brushed it off and began counting his money.

“Yeah. Pleasure,” he muttered. He was just glad to have his money and be out of there.

Except, something was wrong.

Nicky turned around, having counted his money. “Hey,” he announced, stopping Marty and his men. “This isn’t the amount we agreed upon.” He held up the bundle of cash. “This is 250. We agreed on 400.”

Marty, still with his infuriating grin, turned around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did you go to school? Don’t you know how to count?” He taunted.

“This isn’t a joke!” Nicky yelled, finally fed up with the man. He approached the three again. “You may have the money to fool around like this, but I don’t! I have to feed myself with this!”

“Then 250 should be just fine,” Marty replied calmly. “Look, kid. You seem new to this business. How many trades have you done? Two? Three?”

Nicky didn’t humor the man’s conversation. “Give me my money. I don’t have time for this.”

“This happens all the time!” Marty continued. “Every good barterer knows that whatever the agreed amount is can…slip a little.”

“I’ve been trading for months,” Nicky bit back. “And this has never been an issue. You’re just a crook.”

Marty raised an eyebrow and snorted a laugh. “I’m the crook?” He took the ring from his satchel. “How do I know this isn’t a fake, huh? You’ve been in the business for so long, how do I know you’re not the scammer?”

Nicky stared at the ring in Marty’s hand. A million thoughts and possibilities ran through his head. He could hear Ivan reprimanding him, and Penny egging him on. What consumed him most, however, was his anger. Whatever rationality he had went out of the window.

He swiped the ring from Marty’s hand, shoved it and the money in his pocket, and ran.

Nicky almost tripped as he turned the sharp corners of the alley. He bolted for the streets of the abandoned town, praying he didn’t forget the route out of the alley. He heard three steps of footsteps behind him. He didn’t dare look back.

Nicky faced the fence that led him to the streets and quickly hopped up to climb it. His foot got stuck for just a moment, sending a jolt of panic through his body, but he got it loose and jumped down. He heard the rattling of the others climbing it soon after, followed by the thuds as they hit the ground. Shit—they were faster climbers than him.

Nicky dashed through the streets, heading for the road that would lead him back to the city. At least with more people around, he’d be able to save himself somewhat.

As he ran, he felt something small hit his back. “Ow!” He yelled out, and quickly looked behind him. Marty’s bodyguards had rocks, picked from the cracked asphalt of the street. A jagged piece nearly missed his head. Nicky cursed and kept on running.

Another piece hit his back, then his shoulder, then his neck. They slowed Nicky down, but it didn’t stop him. At least, not until a particularly large chunk of concrete hit the back of his knee. He yelled out and his legs buckled, sending him to the ground.

“Months as a trader, and you pull something like that?” Nicky heard Marty’s voice approaching. He scrambled to get up, but his bodyguards were too quick. They held each of his arms, holding him at eye level with Marty.

“See, rats like you are why I bring backup,” Marty said with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t have taken it if you were a fair trader!” Nicky spat, struggling and pulling against the men. “You’re the rat!”

Marty looked Nicky up and down for a moment, his smile faltering a little. He sighed and decidedly stepped back. “Beat him and take his things,” he ordered.

“Wait—” Nicky had no time to prepare before he was thrown roughly back to the ground. The two larger men began kicking him, leaving no part of his body unharmed. One of them knelt down to use his fists instead. Marty watched, the smile having returned to his face.

When Nicky was bruised and bleeding to Marty’s liking, the men stopped. They handed Marty Nicky’s belongings—the money, the ring, and his wallet. The two men held Nicky up again.

“There’s nothing in there,” Nicky croaked weakly, trying to keep his head up. The sound of blood dripping from his nose sickened him. “Please, my wallet, lemme have it back, t-there’s nothing in there.”

Marty ignored Nicky’s pleas and filed through the pockets of the old leather, finding no money. “Huh. You’re right, you’re dead broke. You really did need this cash, didn’t you?” He kept skimming through until he found a small, grainy photograph. He raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“Don’t touch that!” Nicky yelled, as much as he could. “It ain’t yours. Leave it!”

Marty examined the picture. “Well, isn’t this a nice little photo? That one in the middle looks like you…and who’s this pretty little thing?”

“Give it BACK, you maniac!” Nicky wanted the man’s eyes off of Penny. Off of the whole photo. It was his. It was private.

“And this other boy…sure doesn’t look enough like you to be a brother.” Marty smirked and peered up at Nicky.

Nicky swallowed. “He’s my—a friend, he’s a friend, just—just give it back, it’s no use to you!” That photo meant more to him than money. Those two were his world.

“Must be a real good friend to have a picture of him on ya.” Marty chuckled dangerously and stuck the picture back in the wallet. He threw it at Nicky’s chest, and the men dropped him.

Nicky crumpled to the ground, quickly grabbing his wallet and holding it close to him. Before he was able to stand up again, his hair was suddenly grabbed and his head was wrenched up. He only had a moment to see Marty’s face before he punched him back to the ground one more time.

Nicky groaned, holding back tears as he listened to the three men walk off with his money and the ring, laughing to each other at their success. He should have just taken the money, he thought. He’d be going home with nothing. Tasked with stealing some other expensive artifact.

Slowly, he made his way home before dark—as much of a home as it was, anyway. He lived with his family in a small portable shack they’d found in a trashyard. It was shelter enough for them.

He knocked a specific rhythm on the door and waited for the door to open. He heard footsteps quickly approach, and the door opened to reveal his sister, who gasped at the state of him.

“Don’t ask,” Nicky grumbled, pushing past her and collapsing on one of the mattresses.

“Of course I’m gonna ask, idiot!” Penny retorted. “What happened to you?!”

Nicky stared at the ceiling, saying nothing. When he felt himself tearing up again, he sighed and rolled over. “Where’s Ivan?”

“Not important. What happened?” Penny demanded, sitting on the mattress next to him.

Nicky swallowed and tried not to let his voice waver. “I fucked up. They skimped on the cash, I got mad, and I tried to take the ring back.” He sat up and gestured to his beaten face. “This is what I got. They took the money, too.” He slumped back down, ashamed of himself.

Penny looked down at her brother. “We…we’ll be fine. We’ll live,” she told him, trying to stay optimistic. “You stood up for yourself, right? That’s good. You wouldn’t—” She paused to cough. “…Wouldn’t let them cheat you.”

“But they did,” Nicky muttered, his voice muffled by the mattress.

“Well fuck ‘em,” Penny said back, crossing her arms. “I would’ve done the same if they tried scamming me.” She put a hand on Nicky’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Ivan’s out trying to get some food.”

Nicky sat back up. “Buying, or stealing?”

Penny looked to the side. “Um…well, we’re broke, so…”

Nicky groaned. “Ivan’s horrible at stealing. Why didn’t you go?”

“He insisted!” Penny threw her arms up. “He thinks I’m still sick. I mean…I am, but I’m well enough to go get food.”

“Whatever…let’s just hope he doesn’t get as banged up as I did.” Nicky lied back down and closed his eyes. He ruminated on his failure, still hating himself for letting the man get away with the money. Someday, he’d get back at him. Until then, he waited for Ivan to get back, coming up with a way to explain his face once again.

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whump writing #whump scenario #tw beating #tw blood #tw homophobia #tw cursing #tw mugging

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guys-in-distress-database · 7 months

Text

Whump prompt:

A Whumpee is beaten so badly that their entire face is covered in blood — except for the lines on their cheeks washed clear by their tears.

#whump prompt #tw: blood #tw beating #whump #whumpee #tears

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whumped-by-glitter · 27 days

Text

Day 5: Scream / Captivity / “NO!” Bonus Alt Prompt: Mouth Stitched shut

⚠️ CW: Needles, Piercings, Non-Con Body Mods, Creepy/Intimate Whumper, Nudity (non sexual), Drugging, Mild-Moderate Gore/Horror, Mouth Whump.

Day 4 Here < > Day 6 Here

This is an especially TW heavy entry, feel free to skip it, I will provide a summary of the plot important parts next time we catch up with Whumpee! some of these themes even squick me out!

Story Under The Cut

Days had passed since the horrific photoshoot. Whumper was true to their word and had provided them with a little food and copious amount of water, as much as they wanted after the session.

Whumpee sat ruminating, sitting against the wall they were once again chained to. A dim spotlight above them was their only source of light. They shifted uncomfortably, trying not put pressure on any of the still healing cuts and bruises that decorated their skin.

They winced at the word ‘decorated’, now they were sounding like Whumper apparently. They had no other word for it though, Whumper had carved an intentional pattern of shallow stabs and deep slashes across their entire body, front, back sides everywhere.

They plunked their head lightly against the wall, the sound echoing through the torture chamber hidden in the darkness ahead of them.

Their stomach rumbled loudly; they had not been fed again since that day. Whumper said it was to ‘keep them pretty for the masterpiece.’ Whumpee shivered at the thought, the person who held them captive was deranged. They desperately hoped the team would find them before it was too late. Their wounds weren’t healing right, likely due to the stress and lack of food. Many weren’t scabbing over and were oozing a clear watery liquid. If Whumper didn’t do something to kill them first, infection was likely to finish the job, they thought in despair.

All at once there was an echoing thunk-click and the room flooded with harsh light, blinding whumpee.

Whumpee knew this meant Whumper had finished the planning for their ‘masterpiece’. Whumpee cowered as best as they could in the chains, trying to make themselves small, trying to protect themselves from the inevitable pain that they knew was coming.

A knot formed in Whumpee’s stomach when they saw a bag of supplies. The knot grew tighter and tighter as Whumpee watched Whumper unpack the bag. NEEDLES! SO MANY NEEDLES!!! Whumpee started to hyperventilate. They were terrified of needles and there was a table full of the me being unpacked.

“NO! NO! NONONONONO!” whumpee wailed, visibly trembling. Fear was threatening to drown them.

“Oh, come now, sweetheart, we haven’t even started yet,” Whumper chuckled. He finished setting up some paints and strode over to their prisoner. Whumper stroked Whumpee’s face, running his thumb under Whumpee’s eye, across their cheekbone. “before any of that, you need some color,” Whumper said softly, almost lovingly, a tone that made Whumpee feel physically sick.

Whumper proceeded to unchain Whumpee from the wall, not even bothering to handcuff them, they were too weak to fight in any meaningful way. He led them to a St. Andrew’s cross in the corner. Once Whumpee’s hands and feet were secured, they could hear Whumper skipping across the room for a moment before, skipping back to them, humming.

Whumpee craned their neck but before they could look…

Crack!

The noise split their ears seconds before their brain registered the searing pain. Whumpee cried, jerking in their bonds.

More and more lashes came.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The noise, the fear from the needles, the pain, it all got too much for Whumpee. They soon passed out.

When Whumpee came too, they felt a strange coolness being smeared on their back. It wasn’t unpleasant at first. It soon started to register that It was burning in the fresh whip wounds. Then the smell hit them, paint.

Whumpee tried to weakly struggle, to no avail.

“shhh, shhh,” Whumper crooned, “I’m almost done laying the background, blue looks gorgeous on you sweetheart.” Whumper wiped the access paint off, leaving the pigment just in the wounds, “now baby, its time for the real art.”

Whumpee started to feel panic welling up as they thought of the needles. Their breath quickened as they heard the table be drug closer to the cross. When Whumper unwrapped a needle and brought it to their back, Whumpee lost it.

Everything went black, their body burned, the burning soon became a feeling of being enveloped by white and it traveled up their body, centering at their throat. Whumpee gave a scream, an unnatural scream that shook the room.

Whumper crumpled in pain for a moment, trying to shake the ringing from his ears.

It took what felt like a lifetime to Whumpee for time to move again. ‘what had just happened?’

“My information said you didn’t have any powers!” Whumper growled angerly, storming to the table, grabbing a syringe. “No matter, you won’t be doing that again.” Before Whumpee could react, they felt a stab in their neck and a cool liquid flow into them. It only took a few minutes before they basically collapsed in the restraints.

To Whumpee’s horror, they realized they couldn’t move, at all, they couldn’t talk, they couldn’t even move their head. They started to completely lose their mind; fear coursed through them like a tidal wave. Every cell of their lizard brain was telling them to run, urging them to run, but they couldn’t move. Their tear ducts worked and that’s about it. They wanted to scream again but couldn’t. for the first time in their life Whumpee felt true Terror.

Whumpee felt themselves be detached from the cross and lifted. They were laid across the bench, the same one Whumper had drawn on them with a knife with. Whumpee would have winced if they could, the leather material touching their freshly wounded back stung.

“Now let’s fix that mouth of yours before the drugs wear off,” Wumper almost gleemed. “I wasn’t planning on this, but now the thought is there, this is going to add so much extra dimension!” Whumper was positively giddy. He disappeared for a moment but soon returned, standing over them.

Whumpee expected a gag, or tape, or….. they didn’t exactly know what they expected, but nothing could compare to the horror of what they saw…..

WHUMPER WAS STANDING OVER THEM WITH A NEEDLE AND FUCKING THREAD!!!!

“hold still,” Whumper gave a deranged smile.

The tears flowed freely from Whumpee’s eyes, as they tried to mentally brace them self for what was coming. They could do nothing but watch as Whumper threaded the thick purple thread onto the needle, inches from their face.

Whumper pinched Whumpee’s lips together and in one smooth motion pierced through both their top and bottom lip. Whumpee’s mind was screaming in terror, this couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be real. Maybe this was just one of those sleep paralysis episodes they read about. they tried desperately to think about something else, of Caretaker. Trying to picture every detail of their face, of leader, of everyone.

Pain continued to prick across their lips, the thread burning as it was pulled through. The pulling sensation was causing waves of nausea and despair to wash over them.

They again tried to distract them self. ‘what was youngest doing right now?’ They wondered to them self. It was no use though; the fear gripped their chest hard. Darkness edged their vision then, mercifully took over.

When Whumpee came to again they were on their stomach, they were immediately hit by sharp piercing pains. ‘the needles’ they realized in horror. They felt the skin on their shoulder blades be pinched then pierced through, again and again. Each time it pulled and agitated their lashes. They tried to move but still couldn’t.

“Almost done, my beautiful fallen angel,” Whumper sung. This lunatic was singing!

Whumpee felt more and more needles go into their shoulder blades, being pressed under the skin and out the other side. They started crying again, their lips were throbbing, their back was burning, stinging, and throbbing. ‘this can’t be real.’ They thought weakly, as the prolonged panic was beginning to shift to mental and physical exhaustion.

Whumpee felt themselves be lifted once again. This time they were being carried up the stairs, to their surprise and dread. What was going to happen to them now?

On the way up Whumpee’s head lulled and they were horrified to see rough, distressed feathers sticking out of their back like wings. They began shedding fresh tears anew. They were terrified the team would never find them and that they would just die here with Whumper.

Whumper carried Whumpee through what appeared to be a twisted art museum. He brough them to a huge glass case in the middle of the room. There were cables with hooks hanging from the ceiling, ‘sharp hooks’ Whumpee observed fearfully.

Whumper stripped them of the rest of their clothes then placed their limp, still paralyzed body on the floor in the center of the glass chamber. Whumpee looked on in helpless horror as Whumper lowered the hooks with a button.

The panic whumpee felt as the first hook pierced through the upper right part of their skin was indescribable. The pain was horrible but the fear, the horror, being unable to do anything but watch, that was so much worse.

A second matching hook went in and out of their skin. They could feel blood trickle across their bare skin. Then whumper got another deranged grin.

“we should get the difficult ones; the succinylcholine will be wearing off soon doll.” Whumper was still humming that sickening tune.

He brought two hooks to his face and put the first one through the skin on their cheek bone, just inches below their eye. Whumpee’s fight or flight instincts once again started to uselessly kick in, serving only to heighten their terror. They could hear the gross sound of the skin being pierced.

“so gorgeous,” Whumper whispered softly, stroking Whumpee’s hair before placing the next hook in the same place on the other side of their face.

This processed over and over again, two through their chest, two more on either side of their lower stomach. The final 2 went through the skin just above their knees.

If Whumpee had had anything in their stomach they would have vomited.

“Now the final touch!” Whumper exclaimed exuberantly.

Again, terror flew through Whumpee as Whumper pressed a button and they felt themselves lifted by the hooks.

Again, merciful darkness overtook Whumpee, it was all too much.

Event Prompt

My Event Masterlist

@whumperofworlds, @pigeonwhumps, @whumpsandbumps

#tw noncon bodymod #tw beating #tw needles #tw syringe #tw drugging #whump #whump community #wow birthday whump day 5 #wow birthday whump #scream #captivity whump #no!#creepy/intimate whumper #tw body horror

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whumpflash · 1 year

Text

Penumbra: Unless

for Angstpril, Day 22: Shadow of Former Self

cw: war/death mentions, beating, referenced broken bones

prev ///// masterlist ///// next

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There was much to be done within the central city, even after Cerus was taken care of. Rebuild, relieve, reform. It was months before Tansy started looking toward home, and the journey there would be longer still, but eventually, as the summer came to a close, they turned to the road. It was time to do their own rebuilding.

The first sight of the coast filled them with a mixture of joy and sadness. How young they'd been, the last time they'd seen the ocean. A glance over their shoulder as they ran, blurred by tears.

Gone were the days when they'd spend all afternoon on their father's fishing boat, when they'd come home to their mother cooking, when they'd chase their siblings through the tide, splashing and looking for seashells.

Their grief for everything that could never be again wasn't as sharp as it had once been, now replaced with something hollow. An emptiness in their chest that could never be filled.

Tansy still had family in the little coastal village; people to come home to, which was more than some of their fellow soldiers could say. Their great-uncle's house was smaller than they'd remembered, but wasn't that how it always was with childhood memories?

Now that the war was over, it was time to try and settle down and remember how life carried on. Realize how many slow, small moments there really were in a day, so much more noticeable when you weren't just trying to stay alive, so much more beautiful.

Great-Uncle Aldon had managed to keep a fishing boat safely out of the reach of the war, and despite being well into his seventies, tended to the nets day in and out. Tansy mostly kept to the house; mending torn nets, cooking, and keeping things tidy. They weren't ready to climb aboard the vessel without their father just yet.

One evening, a fortnight or two from the day they'd returned, they picked up a parcel of clams from the market; a meal they were looking forward to, as the central city had been too far inland to receive any fresh seafood. It was dusk when they started the long walk back to the house, and a freezing, late-fall rain had begun. Tansy's cloak was heavy, but not waterproof, and they did their best to keep under the awnings of the merchants.

As they passed the shipyard, they paused to watch half-constructed vessels bob in the stormy water. Beautiful as it was dangerous. Were they not eager to get home and cook dinner, they would've found a better spot to watch the rolling of the dark waves.

They started off, but a figure near the ships caught their eye; stick-thin, in soaked clothing that didn't look at all appropriate for the weather, struggling under the weight of several wooden planks.

Odd. Most of the shipwrights knew the climate well, and wouldn't be caught in a storm without adequate layers. They watched as the figure stumbled, scattering their heavy load across the pier. Tansy started forward to help them, but another dock worker got there first.

A shock ran through them as the worker began to beat the person on the ground, shouting words that were drowned out by the storm. For a moment, Tansy was frozen in place. They'd never seen cruelty such as this, not in their village. Had the war really changed the people so drastically?

"Stop!" they shouted, their clam dinner forgotten as they charged out into the rain. The worker froze, looking more surprised than angry as Tansy moved to stand in front of the fallen figure.

"Leave them alone."

The worker shook their head, turning to leave. "Too cold out for this shite. Get a move on! Weather's no excuse." The last command seemed directed at the person on the ground, but the worker didn't wait for acknowledgement, disappearing into the dockside shack.

Tansy turned to kneel beside the person, who was still curled tightly on the ground, hands balled into fists, covering their face protectively. With a start, they realized what they'd assumed to be gloves were actually the person's bare hands, black as coal and crooked, like the bones had been broken and healed improperly—

"Cerus?" they said, barely able to hear their own voice above the rainfall. The man on the ground seemed to catch the name anyway, flinching away like it was a weapon Tansy wielded.

Oh gods, it was him. The Shadow King, the tyrant, trembling before them on the ground. The catalyst of the war, the thief who'd stolen Tansy's family— they wanted to run, forget they'd ever seen him here, but they couldn't bring themselves to turn away.

Because it was clear to them now that the Council had indeed sentenced Cerus to death. A slow, drawn-out death, to be carried out in silence, with no ceremony, no recognition. Tansy doubted the fallen ruler would live through the winter… unless he had help.

And who would help him? they thought, even as they knelt. Who would help him, if I turned my back?

"Cerus," they said again, taking a great effort to shape their tone into something resembling gentleness. A single gray eye peered warily at them from beneath dark hair. Someone had cut it, they realized, and not with a careful hand.

Tansy sighed. "Do you have a place away from the rain?"

The response was a rattling breath, an almost inaudible, "I have nothing."

Those words, hollow and hopeless, pierced Tansy like an arrow. In that instant, it didn't matter who he was, who he'd been. In that instant, Cerus was just another human who was suffering, and Tansy was so tired of watching people suffer.

"Then come with me," Tansy said, holding out their hand.

Without a word, perhaps because he thought he had no choice but to obey, perhaps out of desperate hope that someone cared whether he lived or died, Cerus took it.

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@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles

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