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whump-blog · 2 years

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i think nearly a year ago you wrote a drabble about a pet whumpee and their old friend caretaker. could you write a continuation of that? maybe there is some more progress in the recovery, maybe whumpee starts to recognize their friend… <3

Hello anon, thank you for sending this ask. I really enjoy it when someone is interested in something I write enough to want to read more.

I'm sorry I haven't answered sooner, I've been very busy these last two months. But I swear I started writing this second part the same day you sent me this request.

Thank you and I hope you're still around here to read this :D

CW: catatonic whumpee, low self-esteem, fear, angst, feelings of guilt, past pet whump, recovery whump

Part 1

The days in Caretaker's house seemed to affect Whumpee. Headaches and sudden flashes in the middle of everyday actions had been increasing over the last few months.

Today Whumpee had been tidying the house, cleaning as he did every Monday. Leaving everything perfect for the person who gave everything for him.

And then as Whumpee swept the floor looking distantly at Caretaker, something happened, the event was unexpected and sudden.

It was the light, maybe? The time of day? The smell? The atmosphere? Or something that Whumpee couldn't explain. But the sight of Caretaker standing there against the light of the window, just passing by, brought to his mind, something like a déjà vu.

But it wasn't just that, no, it was something stronger, the image that entered the retina of Whumpee's eyes stiffened him.

Everything seemed to come together. The flashes he had been having, the headaches and the disjointed images and sounds that came and went out of nowhere came together like pieces of a puzzle to give him the answer he hadn't been looking for.

It all seemed to make sense. And Caretaker, as usual, was quick to notice Whumpee's startled face.

"Whumpee?" called Caretaker.

The broom slipped from Whumee's hands, and he stared blankly. In shock. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, and the world seemed too much. Overwhelming. And then the information frenzy stopped.

Caretaker ran towards him, but Whumpee was no longer present.

-----

Whumpee had been catatonic after recovering his memories. During which time, Caretaker had had to care for him almost as much as the day Whumpee had arrived at his home.

Whumpee spends all day in bed, looking out of the window, but seeing nothing. He eats when Caretaker puts food in his mouth and lets himself be carried away so that his friend can give him a bath. It is not that he is not objecting; it is simply that Whumpee is not there.

Eventually one day, as Caretaker was putting Whumpee to bed, Whumpee reacted. He came back as suddenly as he had left. He grabbed Caretaker by the wrist as he was about to leave the room. Whumpee pulled him by the arm and hugged him, leaning his head on his shoulder. Emotions burning in his chest, he shed only a few tears that were enough to accept the forgotten truth.

Caretaker could no longer contain himself either, and decided to share the moment of release of long-held anguish with his friend.

-----

After that, life went on as before Whumpee regained his memories, almost as if nothing had happened. Whumpee and Caretaker went back to their routines. Only now, while watching TV, eating dinner or cleaning the house they could talk about the old days, their adventures together and the times they had shared before Whumpee was turned into a pet.

Anyone would have thought that the worst was over, now Whumpee had nothing to fear. His friend who had always been by his side would not let anything bad happen to him, and Whumpee knew that.

But there was something else, as the days passed a deep fear grew in Whumpee's mind. He knew that now that he had recovered his memories, he would have to leave. Go back to his old life. The thought disturbed him, and Whumpee could not accept that truth and face Caretaker.

How could he be so ungrateful? Even now that he had all the pieces of his life, he decided to refuse to do what he was supposed to do. Pack his bags and stop living off Caretaker's work, but instead of doing that he continued, like a parasite, to take advantage of Caretaker's kindness.

Then, like the cowardly worm he was, he began to do everything in his power to make sure Caretaker wanted him in his home. He cleaned every day, always cooked for Caretaker, ironed the clothes, made the beds and saw that everything was perfect.

Caretaker of course noticed this, but Whumpee brushed it off. He excused himself by saying that he enjoyed doing something in return for all that Caretaker did for him, besides, he was in the house all day anyway!

And things, for a while, seemed to be going according to plan until one day they weren't.

Despite all his efforts, the stress of what might happen in the future had been building up in Whumpee, causing him to make a mistake that day, a simple mistake, a stupid mistake that had resulted in revealing the secret he had wanted to keep from Caretaker.

He had forgotten to turn off the water in the sink when he had finished washing the dishes, and it had ended up overflowing. The floor was soaking wet and Caretaker was about to arrive home.

The situation reminded Whumpee of what had happened in the first few weeks at Caretaker's house, when Whumpee had not yet recovered his memories. And just as the day of the burnt dinner incident, Caretaker arrived in the middle of the disaster.

And at that instant when Caretaker crossed the threshold Whumpee burst into tears, kneeling on the wet floor, his tears mixing with the water that was spreading everywhere.

Caretaker lifted him off the floor and carried him out of the kitchen. Sitting him on the living room couch.

"Wait here," said Caretaker, leaving Whumpee, who was listening to the footsteps on the wet floor. Caretaker had returned to the kitchen to turn off the tap and once again solve all the problems Whumpee was causing.

When Caretaker returned to Whumpee's side, he was still crying, only now silently. His elbows on his knees and his face staring at the carpet on the floor. Caretaker knelt in front of him to gain access to his eyes, the entrance to what words could not convey.

"Whumpee, you know it's all right, there's nothing serious going on that can't be fixed. You know me, you know I'm not going to get angry or hurt you." Caretaker tried to explain as he always did, with simple, comforting words.

Whumpee cried harder after those words. Knowing that Caretaker deserved an explanation and not for Whumpee to add to the sadness he had already brought him since he came back into his life.

"It's…it's just…it's just… I… I… I-" Whumpee continued to sob, unable to utter his thoughts, "It's not perfect…" he finally admitted.

"It's okay whumpee it doesn't have to be perfect… everybody makes mistak-"

"No, it's not; you don't understand… you… if it's not perfect… now that I have my memories... there's no excuse, there's no reason for me to be here-" Whumpee broke down again as the cards were laid out on the table. Now he just had to listen to his destiny.

Caretaker said nothing, from where he was kneeling in front of Whumpee he just watched him with a perplexed expression. He stared at nothing for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, but when he looked back at Whumpee he did not say a word. His face showed understanding and no words were needed as Caretaker took Whumpee in his arms and the two shared a moment of a warmth that no person could have put into words.

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painsandconfusion · 2 years

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“Beg To Differ”

The Merry Whump of May - Day 2

[Denial | Confined | Eye Contact] (multiple whumpees, punishment mention, conditioning and gaslighting, self depreciation)

“I–It’s okay. I..I deserved it.”

Caretaker scoffs, “I beg to differ.”

“W-Whumper wouldn’t…have done that if I didn’t deserve it…” Whumpee took a deep, shaky breath. “Whumper l-loves me…” The way Caretaker stared made their skin prickle. Made heat rise to their face and made their head spin.

“Hey-” Caretaker said gently. “Hey, look at me.”

Whumpee hesitated, but let their eyes slide up to Caretaker’s, only shrinking back a little at the attention.

“You didn’t deserve that. Whumper does not love you.” They spat the word ‘love’ like it was coated in lemon.

Whumpee let their eyes fall back to the floor of the small cell, pulling their knees to their chest. “W…Whumper loves me. Whumper loves me.” They squeezed their eyes shut, whispering the refrain until its cadence warmed their bones, barely murmuring through the small room.

“Whumper loves me - whumper loves me - whumper loves me - whumper loves me - whumper loves me-…”

[Merry Whump of May Masterlist] Thanks @themerrywhumpofmay for putting together this event!!!

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @jadeocean46910 @villainsvictim @thecitythatdoesntsleep @heathenwhump @cryptidhongo @rainbows-and-whumperflies @cursedscribbles @whumpy-catfish @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @whumpsday @wingedwhump @ha-ha-one)

Lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

#multiple whumpees #confined #long term captivity #gaslighting #conditioning #punishment #low self esteem #self deprication #the merry whump of may #beg to differ

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kim-poce · 2 years

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Sidekick 18 - The Plan (1)

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CW: implied past emotional abuse and manipulation, hero whumper, sidekick whumpee, low self-esteem.

=-=

Ma’am Rose’s base was incredible doesn’t matter how you look at it, first of all it got a whole level for dormitories and recreation, and two whole gardens, which showed that whoever designed it had people emotional and psychological health in mind, most people think that as long as there is food and breathable air everyone is okay. Zen had met people who thought the latter was optional when people leaving on the base couldn’t be productive.

The base had also one thing Zen had only heard about in underground bases; sunlight. It was a mirror system or something, so only the light was coming and the toxic air was out. It was surprising in itself, also it makes sense why Rose —a villain— insists on staying in this base instead of changing it.

Zen took a deep breath, walking alone in the hallways as naturally as he could pretend, if he got his information right the duo wasn’t in the base the whole day today, which is usually worrisome, he hoped they weren’t on the superficie —too long breathing that air was bad even if they are healthy— but he wasn’t thinking about it today, no, not today.

Today he was glad Freya wasn’t around, after all, he isn’t smart, Freya would catch him red-handed before he could do anything at all, and he had to do something, he knows, for logic, that the team doesn’t like him, but on the other hand, who does? Who would even like him? At least they gave him somewhere to live, he can’t just let Rose get them, after all, they aren’t as good at taking pain as Zen is.

The first thing he did was to find the central room where the henchmen in charge of looking at the cameras’ footage were. The pattern of the base map was complicated, one thing was to find a way up and down the levels, another thing completely was to find a specific point.

Luckly, Zen had experience, the team rarely explained anything before ordering him into villain’s bases, he was good at finding his way and avoiding people’s eyes. But of course, there was still a big issue there; they were watching, whoever was in the footage was watching. He had to walk naturally, pretend he knew where he was going, pretend he was allowed to leave his room.

“Mini hero!” A voice called from behind and Zen swallowed hard before turning around to meet the unknown villain. “I knew it was you, mini hero!”

…Mini hero? “W-who…?” Zen tried, looking down, the person in front of him was wearing casual clothes, so they were either a high-ranking villain in there or they were on a holiday and decided to wander out of the dormitories. What a lack of luck…

“You are that Zen, right?” the person gestured up and down at him, “When I heard Ma’am Rose had captured a mini hero ‘Zen’ I wondered if it was you, and now looking at you there is no doubt you are the Zen Campbell.”

Zen swallowed hard. He knew what the villain was talking about, he knows he is easy to remember, his height alone was memorable, he was too short to be a hero, he was memorable even without the long silver hair and bright red eyes, he would be easily pointed out of a group even if that video wasn’t all over the internet.

The video of the torture, before the public knew he worked to Hero. Everything changed after that day, since then everyone knows he is Hero’s, anyone who recognizes his face knows who he works for, even here, in this city so so far away, people still know he belongs to Hero. They know he is weak too, they know that only Hero is kindhearted enough to pick him up. After all, who would want a brave but weak and idiot little boy under them? Since the video he became a brave young man, but a useless person no one wants.

“Y-yes,” Zen said in a low voice, his confidence in his plans going down the sink. “That’s me.”

“Of course, I doubt there is anyone who looks like you,” The villain said with a smile. “You got quite the look you know?”

“Y-yeah,” Why are they smiling? Why are they acting so friendly? What do they want from me? Why don't they mock me arealdy and leave? … Why did I leave my room?

“What are you doing here, mini hero?” the villain asked, and Zen did his best not to flinch and, of course, failed, flinching hard and taking a step back.

“S-sun,” he tried, he wasn’t so far from the area with natural light, it wouldn’t be weird to look for a little on warm light, would it?

“Alone?” The villain asked, forwing. “Well, I guess you do whatever, everyone knows you are Ma’am little protegee now.” Zen swallowed hard when the villain gave a few taps on his shoulder. “But, you sure you can go there alone?”

“I-I… Ma’am a-allowed me too,” he lied. Was it a too obvious lie? Should he confess and apologize?

“I didn’t mean it,” the villain said, still smiling. Why does everyone in that place smile at him so much? Do they want to hurt him this badly? “I mean, can you find your way there?”

Oh, right… Maybe this is about the video too, Zen was never in the spotlight after that, so they don’t know, they don’t know what he is good at and what he isn’t. Everyone must think he is stupid, idiot and useless. Hero said it wasn’t time to show him yet, but still, this question hurts. Zen tried, he tried really hard, he trained and put in a lot of effort, he is —was— a sidekick, a hero-to-be, yet no one knows it, right? No one knows he tried, no one knows how hard he worked, right? Will he always be the boy Hero took pity on?

“I-I can, it- I know where it is,” Zen said.

“Sure? The path can be tricky, tho,” The villain said, again patting his shoulder, “But whatever I guess, I’ll be going. Nice to see the mini hero around, you helped me win the bet, I knew it was you.”

Bet… Zen tried not to think about it while the villain walked out into the maze-like hallways, once he couldn’t see the person anymore he went to the path he was sure led to the cameras room, at least he had one thing on his side, if people think he is that much stupid he can just say he lost his way if he is caught where he shouldn’t be. That’s good.

Yeah, yeah, that’s good it doesn… it doesn’t hurt, it’s good that they think it, it’ll… It'll help me. He thought it to himself over and over while taking each step closer to his cumply and certainly stupid plan.

=-=

Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-blog, @wolfeyedwitch, @canigetanamenforbritney, @notyouradveragefarmgal, @extemporary-username, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @rose-pinkie, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @nicolepascaline

#whump #sidekick whumpee #hero whumper #low self-esteem #villain caretaker #Zen the Baby #unknown villain isn't mean #whump fic #Sidekick

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clickerflight · 2 years

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Resource L10#11 - Part 2: A dumpster fire of a day - Crestlen universe

Contents: waking in a dumpster, description of injuries, left to die, freaked out whumpee, resigned whumpee, whumpee who considers himself an object, mentions of past horrible trainings

I love Lionel. As I’m sure you can tell >:)

Part 1

...................................................

The underlying throbbing of his muscles on top of the ripping pain in his arms, legs, and nose was what Lionel woke up to. He tried to take a deeper breath, but only succeeded in choking on the blood that had dripped in to rest in the back of his throat from his nose.

He rolled his head and weakly let the blood slip from the back of his throat to his mouth before he dribbled it out between his lips. After spitting weakly a couple of times, he rolled his head back over the bumpy surface he was laying on to pry his eyes open and figure out where he was.

Blue grey skies and the sharp line of a building’s eave above him met his eyes, all within a greenish metal container. He blinked a couple of times and rolled his head to the side to spit again and found that he was laying on a bunch of trash bags in a dumpster.

Feeling a little grateful towards the blood in his nose that kept him from smelling whatever he was laying in, he looked back up and then considered his next move. He was injured, badly injured, but if he ended up getting treated in a hospital, he would be reprimanded and retrained for allowing himself to get captured and tortured. He sighed and closed his eyes. Training has been awful the first time, and worse the second time. He couldn’t imagine what sort of things they would make him do the third time to get the lessons to stick.

His best plan, at this point, was to get up, get back to the hero team’s base, and then give himself treatment in the med bay. He would probably be fine. He’d just need somewhere around 100 stitches on his legs and arms, straighten out his nose, put a brace on his leg and elbow and wait for his achilles tendon to heal up, and then try and rest for a bit. He hoped the hero team wouldn’t mind too much.

Lionel closed his eyes, preparing for the pain that would be sitting up. With a small grunt, he did so very slowly. He groaned and slowly started to find decent footing. Once he did, he used the edge of the dumpster to pull himself to his feet, ignoring the way the cuts on his arms stretched and broke open again. He took a shaky breath and then hauled himself over the edge of the dumpster as quickly as he could manage, his stomach swooping and his head throbbing. He landed on the concrete and took long, slow breaths before he worked his way along the dumpster to the wall. It was still really early in the morning and the cool air felt good against his raw wounds.

He limped along the alleyway and paused at the mouth. It was early enough that no one was on the streets at the moment. He looked up at the street sign and gave a shaky sigh. He was only 4 blocks away from the hero team’s compound and the relief he felt almost knocked him dizzy again. He leaned against the wall for a couple of minutes, resting before he would have to cross the street with nothing to support himself. He finally hauled himself up and limped across the street, his tendon threatening to snap the rest of the way at each step.

He leaned against the wall of the next building, resting his aching head against the cool concrete for a moment before forcing himself up and forward. Lionel was in so much pain that he practically blacked out for the next few blocks, suddenly coming to as his hands touched the door of the base.

Lionel choked on a small sound, trying to stay his shaking hands as he reached for the keypad. He just needed to enter the code, now. Then, sneak into the med bay and get patched up and take a nap and everything would be okay. Well, okay enough.

Except life didn’t even want him to have that.

85416* - Invalid

Lionel stared at the pad, his eyes tracing the numbers. He knew he put them in right. Panic was slowly starting to settle in his stomach.

85416* - Invalid

Lionel started to hyperventilate, staring at the keypad. He only had one more try. He looked at the door, becoming more and more dizzy as the panic really set in. He knocked out a rhythm on the door, gritting his teeth against the pain that every bump sent through his wounds.

He waited for a few minutes.

“Come on,” he whispered, knocking again. And then again.

He slowly turned his attention to the keypad. Entering the code again would set off an alarm, and the hero team would be so, so angry at him for waking them up or bothering them and wasting their time.

But it was either that, or dying on this doorstep.

Lionel reached out to the keypad, noting absentmindedly that there was a weird tingling in his toes. And then he collapsed. He gasped as his elbow banged against the step. He closed his eyes against the starbursts of static shooting through his body before trying his best to kneel up and put in the code.

85416* - Invalid

Lionel’s trained ears could pick up the sound of the siren from somewhere inside the building. He collapsed farther on the doorstep, blinking out black spots in his vision as the early morning sky grew brighter. He heard the cameras above him whir around to take a closer look at him.

“Leave,” Hero’s voice hissed, causing Lionel to jump.

“Please,” Lionel whispered, managing to keep his voice somewhat steady. “I’m hurt… badly.”

“They’ve probably slipped a tracker into you,” Hero replied coldly. “Get out of here and call the Resource manager or whatever.”

Lionel clenched his left hand, the one that wasn’t missing any nails. “Please, Hero. I’m going to die.”

“Good. Do it somewhere other than our doorstep.”

The video camera had clicked off long before Lionel managed to choke out a small, “Okay.”

He got to his feet, as slowly as he could manage, and walked around the building. Where was he supposed to go now? He could get to a hospital. Retraining was bad, but he wasn’t sure if it was bad enough to want to die over it.

Before he could decide, his legs decided for him and he dropped to the ground, the pain in his achilles tendon forcing him to blink involuntary tears back. He tried to get back up, but he was shaking too much. He carefully pinched the skin on the back of his hand and watched as it slowly sank into position, rather than snapping back like it was supposed to. He had been fairly hydrated up till last night, so Lionel felt it safe to say that he had lost an enormous amount of blood.

He slowly let his body relax, the aches and stabbing pain reminding him that he was still alive. He hoped someone would come down the alley soon and get him to a hospital. He couldn’t get up by himself and he was afraid that if he tried to call for help that he would exhaust himself too much or that the heroes may finally grow tired of him and come out to kill him when they realized how close he still was to their base.

Lionel closed his eyes and let the tension flow out of his body, no longer fighting the shock that had been begging to take over since the first moment that the collar burned into his neck. He drifted, not asleep, but not awake either.

Then, he heard footsteps. He was surprised by how many he could feel in the vibration of the ground, and that he was still alive to feel and hear them. He cracked an eye open, definitely not surprised by how blurry everything looked.

“Man over here. Looks like it’s target number 1,” a man’s voice declared.

“Thanks, I’ll get him. Take care of the heroes inside. I’ve had enough of this.”

Someone was beside him, rubbing his back gently. Lionel was too tired to even flinch. He wished he could lean into the touch, though. It was the kindest touch he’d felt in ages. Actually…. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a touch this nice.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. I’m sorry you had to go through this, but I’m going to get you healed, okay?”

Lionel slowly relaxed again. He doubted it was true, but it…. Felt really nice to have someone say that to him. He had always dreamed of hearing it during Resource training.

He hoped this new person wouldn’t leave while he passed out again.

……………………………

The next time he woke up, it hurt a lot less. He took a breath and shifted to feel out his injuries. He still hurt, and ached, but his wounds seemed to be wrapped up. He opened his eyes, clenching his hand in the sheets. He sat up, slowly, to make sure he didn’t pop any stitches. He was bandaged and wearing loose sweatpants, but his chest was bare to allow for the catheters and tubing. His arms, legs, and neck were swathed in bandages, and his ankle was raised slightly, pins sticking out from the back where his tendon was pinned in place to keep it steady during his quick healing.

He could tell that he’d been given some health potions too. He could taste it in the back of his throat. He looked around, taking in the room he was in. There were machines around his bed tracking his stats silently and he watched the heart monitor for a moment, entranced by the lines spiking up and down. Then, on to the rest of the room.

There was a window, the glass bubbled and fogged so no one could see inside and he couldn’t see out. It was just there to let in natural light. The lights in the room were all turned off, speaking of, but there was enough sunlight getting through that the room was easily visible and pleasantly dim in the corners. There were desks of things, many of which looked to be full of medical supplies, and other paraphernalia.

Lionel looked back at his leg and wiggled it in the straps holding it up from the bed. It didn’t hurt too much. He wondered if the healing potion was basically done with it in that case.

There was a soft knock on the door, startling Lionel. He hadn’t heard anyone approaching. He waited for a moment, but it became apparent that he either was hearing things or the person on the other side was waiting for him to give permission to open the door.

He cleared his throat softly and said, “Uh… come in?”

The door opened and a man with a huge grin on his face and features that seemed to shift and leave Lionel’s focus stepped in. Lonely tried to get a good grasp on what the man looked like, but couldn’t figure out who he was or even what his basic features were at all.

“Hey, there,” the man said, still smiling. “Lionel, right?”

Lionel recognized that voice. It was the guy who was sitting next to him when he passed out last.

“Who are you?” Lionel asked, pulling the blanket up a little and fighting the urge to cover his identifying tattoo on his collar bone. “Where am I?”

The man shrugged. “Well, I have a lot of names, as does this place, though I’m partial to the name Jay and you may have heard of the place being a home base for the Dragon Clan gang.”

Lionel hesitated, trying to process this. The gang was a quieter one, known for skulking about and not really doing anything to draw attention to itself, which only told Lionel that they were very good at what they do, whatever that was. He really didn’t know too much about them seeing as he was never assigned to try and deal with them.

“And what do you want with me?” Lionel asked cautiously, unnerved by how he couldn’t even figure out the length of this man’s hair.

Jay rubbed his hands together, like he was about to give Lionel the grandest news ever. “You’re here because I’ve decided I want you to be my new partner. You are literally perfect for what I have in mind.”

Let me know if you are interested in being tagged in future parts and future content in this same world of heroes and villains.

Part three

#whump #waking in a dumpster #crestlen #whumpee's low self esteem #left to die #whumpee treated as a resource #resigned whumpee #near death expirience #hero whumper #hero and villain whump

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rosewriteswhump · 11 months

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CW: Lady whump , recovery, past emotional abuse, past gaslighting, recovery, trauma, fear of trusting, repressing emotions, leaving abusive friendship, yelling, fairy whump, immortal whumpee, crying, low self-esteem, emotional manipulation, I can't think of anything else but please let me know if I missed anything. I will fix it asap!

Summary: Marlie finally tells Alice to stop hurting her. She's done with the emotional abuse and cruelty. Alice doesn't take it well and it ends in a fight. Marlie keeps her ground for once and successfully leaves Alice behind. Unaware it will cause unintended consequences.

"What makes you think you can leave me?" Alice's cold voice caused Marlie's pulse to skyrocket. She knew she had to leave Alice -had always known- and now she would finally do it.

Marlie inhaled a shaky breath of air, terror coursing through her veins. "I-i can't take it anymore. I'm so sorry, but I can't deal with the emotional abuse." The fairy slowly backed away, flinching when she hit the wall.

Alice scoffed, angry tears in her eyes trickling down her flushed cheeks. "I was a great friend! If you think I'm abusive, you should take a look in a mirror bitch." The human stepped closer and closer to Marlie, stopping when she had the fairy cornered in the back of the room. "You are a selfish, toxic, and lying monster! All I did was tell you what upset me. Yet, you continued to spend time with your family. You knew how I fucking hated that! Every second away from you made me think I had to eliminate threats. You broke down every time I yelled at you! Who's fault is it that you can't follow basic rules? Only I can talk to you. WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME?" Alice was screaming now, her voice shrill and words like knives. "YOU THINK YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! NO! YOU'RE AWARE I'M A YANDERE, AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO ACKNOWLEDGE OTHERS? YOU'RE LUCKY I DIDN'T KILL THEM!"

Marlie swallowed her fear, terrified tears quickly welling in her eyes. "I live with them. Dawn has known me my whole life and has always been supportive. She didn't gaslight me when I was hurt. I can't live like this. I-I'm sorry, have a good life!" Marlie used a spell to create a small smoke screen, taking her chance to escape.

----

A week had passed since the fight, Marlie hiding in her room and blocking Alice on every social media and chat she could think of. A simple question made Marlie tense and fumble for anything Alice accepted as an answer. She avidly avoided Cedar's and Bear's efforts to talk about anything she enjoyed, terrified of angering them-even if Cedar had the anger of a purring kitten-.

Harley was out on a mission and would return in a few days, causing more anxiety in the young fairy. While Dawn, worriedly, gave her space, still checking in on them.

Marlie had been trying to shove everything down, unprepared to face the trauma the friendship caused. Maybe she wasn't ready to admit it to herself, wracked with guilt over all the previous arguments. Marlie wondered how Alice was coping, wanting the girl to have a good life as long as Marlie could avoid it. She inhaled shakily, repeating a mantra created by her self-doubt.

I am okay. I won't get hurt if I bottle it up. I can't get yelled at if I shove it away. It's my fault.

Marlie looked in the mirror and forced a smile -it looked exhausted but good enough. Only a healer could tell how much pain she was in.- before opening the door to her room.

----

Dawn sat across from Harley in their room, eyeing all the prizes from competitions on the walls and shelves. Harley watched her nervous, fidgeting with a careful expression. "What's up, Dawn? You know Marlie better than the rest of us combined. So if anything's up you'd be able to tell and talk with her, right?" They asked, hesitating at the last word. Dawn's despair palpable in the room

"No, she hasn't. I asked how the talk with Alice went, and Marlie said Alice was gone. She left the human. But I know it's hurting her, and Alice is why she's hurting. I want to help her, but she's not ready to talk about it." Dawn's eyes filled with tears, and she removed her glasses to wipe them away. Harley sat beside the healer, her hand resting on Dawn's head as the shorter fairy looked up at them.

Harley gave a shaky smile. "If she's not ready, don't force her. Alice coerced Marlie to do many things. She's scared of that again, and the best we can do is give her the space she needs and offer her comfort." Alice was the cruelest human they had encountered in the half millennia they had lived. With a bit of hesitation, Harley hugged Dawn awkwardly, allowing the healer to sob into her shoulder.

A few minutes later, Dawn had calmed down and pulled away. "Thanks, you're right. I'll give Marlie space but still be by her side. You've got good advice; I think you know more about healing than most combat fairies." Smiling, she pushed some of the braids over her dark shoulder before heading to her room.

----

Taglist: @nullb1rdbones

let me know if you'd like to be added or removed

Ask box is open to any questions for me or my characters!

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petalsscribbles · 16 days

Text

For better or worse

summary: As a son of one of the wealthiest men in South Korea, Yn always knew he was going to end up in an arranged marriage. Moreover, he was sure his younger sister Wonyoung was going to marry Jay, the son of their father's closest business partner, who they knew since childhood. You can imagine the surprise when the one Jay plans to marry is Yn.

pairing: enhypen jay x male reader

featuring: enhypen members, Wonyoung from IVE, Yeonjun from TXT, Yuna from Itzy, ocs

genre: smau, fluff, humor, light angst, suggestive sometimes, arranged marriage, CEO! Jay, rich! male reader, Jay is filthy rich but not a dick like Goo Junpyo but his father kinda is, (Jay's also lowkey highkey down bad)

content warning: kms jokes, sexual jokes, cursing, alcohol consumption, low self esteem because I project, both Yn and Jay are also kinda emotional whumpees but only a little because I can never hurt my characters too much (says the bitch that wrote fics involving su1cide, torture, gore and child abuse haha)

status: ongoing

began: 11.4.2024

finished: tba

taglist: OPEN (comment/ send ask to be added)

@starchasing-cryptid @onementally-unstabel-kid @nootnootpinguuu @kkurbys @gnusihcom @silkentides @monstaxpuppy @bubblztaro @lavanderxamour @zzzavid

a/n: the people have spoken and I shall listen

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken seriously or as a representation of the idols.

navigation:

profiles:

profiles 1 profiles 2

chapters:

negotiations (written + smau)

engagement

wedding planning

wedding

company dinner

injuries

memories (written + smau)

#enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen x male reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen jay #jay x reader #jay x male reader #enhypen jay x reader #jay smau #jay texts #enhypen texts #enhypen jay x male reader #enhypen jay smau

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pigeonwhumps · 26 days

Text

Battle

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Angstpril: alt prompt 1: troubled mind

Inspired by these two prompts by @hurtmyfavsthanks and an anon ask she received. I saw the more recent one and just wrote this straight up within a couple of hours, unable to resist it.

CWs: living weapon, outcast whumpee, magical whumpee, low self-esteem, betrayal kinda, mentions of battle and casualties, mentioned past discrimination

Whumpee doesn't remember much of the battle.

It went by in a haze. They remember red, people falling, screams, unsure which side they were on. They remember the glee, the euphoria, of using their magic. The high of it all.

Now they're starting to come down from that high, and they can see the fear in people's eyes. The injuries, the casualties. Vaguely, they wonder who caused them. Was it them again?

Hands cup their face, gentle, calloused. The only ones that will ever touch them anymore.

Caretaker's.

"Hey. Look at me, now. Not the camp. Me." Whumpee looks up hesitantly, into their loving, warm eyes. One day they'll change. One day... one day they'll harden. Fear, hatred. From all the people they've hurt, on all sides. One day it'll be too much. They're afraid of the day they'll see that, of what will happen then.

But it hasn't happened yet.

Caretaker wipes their cheek softly. "It's okay. Come on, rest. Lay your head down. You're done for today. Close your eyes and rest."

Whumpee crawls into Caretaker's lap. They vaguely register being carried, head being lifted until it meets Caretaker's neck. Whumpee nuzzles into it.

"Shh. You did so well. You're doing so well, Whumpee. I'm proud of you."

Whumpee doesn't want to be. They want to grow flowers. But this is what their magic likes, this is what their king likes, this is what makes Caretaker say those words of praise in just that voice, so they can't stop.

(They ignore the small voice in their head that says that they have no idea what Caretaker's reaction to flowers would be. This is exhilarating, even if they feel an ever-growing bubble of shame at the endless, ruthless violence.)

Caretaker runs a hand through their hair, combing out the knots from the day's work, using a little water to clean the worst of the blood. Whumpee has been through this so many times that they know what to expect without even a glance. He won't hurt them with those eyes. They know his expression, his feelings, and they curl their arms and legs closer around him.

He's so warm.

"S'okay buddy. I'm here."

"Hmm."

Whumpee closes their eyes. It's so... so... they don't think they can sleep yet but they find themself drifting on the exhaustion the magical high always brings.

The next morning is... the next morning. As it always is with a new squad, it is very different to the first one.

And as it always is, Whumpee feels a sharp stab of hurt.

The soldiers know who they are, what they are. Have done since the very beginning .They've worked with Whumpee on the preparations, the journey here, for weeks. They know them. Sat around the campfire, shared meals, joked and talked and laughed. They'd been wished good luck yesterday morning, hair ruffled, smiles and reassurances in abundance. Soldier had even fixed their horse's saddle after the straps started to break. Now...

Now, they won't come within arms length of them. Soldier ladles out breakfast to the rest, leaving an empty bowl several feet from Whumpee, not looking them in the eye as he leaves them to fetch their own. He flinches along with several others as they approach the campfire, more whose hands jerk towards their swords. As if they're going to attack. As if they're so out of control that they'd attack their own side on purpose.

They reluctantly let go of Caretaker's hand so he can fetch their breakfast and the healing potion alone. At least he looks them in the eye. At least he sits with them, and talks, and touches them. Helps convince them to take the potion, even though it's bitter and rancid and no-one will improve it for the likes of them, and they won't need it once the adrenaline and euphoria of tomorrow's battle kicks in.

The kindness is only for now. It will change, sooner or later.

Nobody helps the pair of them take down their tent, or pack their saddlebags, and the Sergeant looks about to stop Whumpee from replacing the emergency set of daggers they carry in their boots at all times. A gift from Caretaker.

It's like they have the plague. Or the Devil's Touch, as their old villagers used to say.

They're pretty much alone in the clearing now, the rest of the squad staying as far away as they can without letting Whumpee out of their sight. Just in case they explode or something.

Without a word, Whumpee settles down on the ground beside the smoldering fire, Caretaker sitting on the log behind them. It's a sharply cold morning, dew dampening their breeches, but their leather armour keeps them surprisingly warm.

Caretaker braids their hair quickly and simply, just enough to keep it out of their face. Battlefields aren't the place for complicated hairstyles. Which is a shame, because Caretaker takes pride in that skill, and Whumpee delights in being allowed to display the results.

Whumpee dries their face with the cloth Caretaker hands them wordlessly. They need to get it together. It's not like it's the end of the world or anything. They try to summon the ease by which they sometimes prepare, the eagerness instead of dread that comes with a lot of battles.

It doesn't come. Today is a day for dread, then, and there's nothing they can do about it but pray for a miracle. And a break in the hatred and fear, the violence with which everyone rejects them.

They can't help thinking, though, that the amount of damage they've done, it's no wonder people want them locked away. They are a weapon, after all.

Yes. Definitely one of the bad days.

Caretaker's their handler. They try not to think about it but it's true. He's the only one who might see it, might offer them a brief reprieve. So they summon up all their courage.

"Please..."

Caretaker finishes the braid and kisses their temple. "I'm so sorry, Whumpee. I really am. But you need to do this. We need to do this. The kingdom needs you."

Whumpee nods. They don't blame Caretaker, not really. They need to win this war. And Whumpee needs to use their magic.

But gods do they wish they could stop.

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quietly-by-myself · 5 months

Text

An Earthly Cosmological Redshift - Chapter 12 - An Old Dog and New Tricks

Masterlist

No beta, we die like Fearon's dreams. This is angsty fluff.

CW: past domestic violence, referenced past noncon, consensual spice (with a little bit of kink), mafia whump, flashback, PTSD, cancer, addiction, relapse, vampire caretaker, human whumpee, low self-esteem

===

Fucking a fledgling vampire when Fearon was his sire was a strange thought indeed. However, Fearon knew that Jules was the same Jules he’d been ready to sacrifice anything for just a few months ago. This was the same Jules he’d fucked before.

Or rather, who’d fucked him before. Fearon was seldom the one on top. Jules seemed perfectly happy with that. Sometimes, though, Fearon found himself wanting to be the one on top.

He’d brought it up to Jules gently, knowing that Jules was sometimes sensitive about the subject. To his surprise, Jules had been open to the idea.

“As long as you stay my sub,” he’d teased, smiling. He’d been in much better health recently. Physically and mentally. “I don’t want you getting any ideas now that you’re my sire, too.”

Fearon had chuckled nervously. “I’d never forget, sir,” he’d teased right back, leading them both to laugh. After all - that stayed in the bedroom, at least for them.

Jules had given a smile that wavered.

So, that late night, when Jules and Fearon had gotten in bed together, Fearon had forced Jules to pick out a safe word. Jules, with all his humor, had said “blood, guts, and glory.”

“What, I’m a vampire now, aren’t I?”

Fearon glared at him.

So, they decided on glory. Why that word? Neither of them were sure, but it seemed to work well enough. It was a word that seldom passed either of their lips, no matter how counterintuitive the idea of glory as a safe word was.

It hadn’t taken long for that word to pass Jules’ lips, though. Fearon had been thrusting maybe a minute or two before Jules’ face had turned pale and his eyes had glazed over.

Fearon immediately stopped, pulling out. He wasn’t a dominant - he never did aftercare. However, as he looked at Jules, who now had tears in his eyes, he knew what to ask.

“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”

Jules wrapped his arms around his legs, tears flowing freely. Guilt swarmed Fearon. What had he done to Jules?

“I- It’s- I-” Jules forced a breath in his undead lungs.

Fearon didn’t lay a hand on Jules. He recognized the look in Jules’ eyes. Whether it was the bloodbags he fed from as a mafioso or the people he found himself working with, the straight-laced and unaware seldom found his old line of work. Trauma was all too common.

And that was the look in Jules’ eyes.

Trauma.

“It’s okay, Jules. I think you’re having a flashback. Do you know who I am?”

“Y-you’re Fearon.” Jules let out a long breath.

“Good. Where are you right now?”

“I’m in our bedroom.” Jules’ voice was faint and shaky, his eyes still distant.

“Jules,” Fearon looked his love in the eyes, “You’ve already survived whatever you just saw. It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

Jules closed his eyes, but nodded. It was true - nobody could hurt Jules as long as Fearon was around. Even as an ex-mafioso in exile, Fearon was a force to be reckoned with, one that most didn’t dare tempt.

Fearon got up for a moment and grabbed one of Jules’ favorite sweaters. He placed it on Jules’ lap.

“Can you describe your sweater to me? As much detail as you can.”

Jules went on to obediently describe what the sweater was like - its color, its material, its design, his guess at its thread count, even. The way he said it with no humor, no life scared Fearon. Jules hadn’t sounded like that, since, well, he was dying.

After a little while, the life returned to Jules’ eyes, but the tears didn’t stop.

Fearon knew that it was best not to pry. To allow silence and his presence do all the speaking. That it was enough to just be there for Jules.

However, Fearon couldn’t help but feel a little bit angry. Not at Jules - never at Jules. Fearon could see the fear, the look Fearon had seen countless times in his time under Galileo, and knew that someone had hurt Jules.

Vengeance was perhaps normal in the mafia. As an underboss, any slight against Fearon was returned tenfold, whether by Fearon or by one of his underlings. Fearon knew it wasn’t healthy. He knew it wasn’t right to be possessive. Yet, looking at Jules, coming down from some trauma, Fearon wanted to kill whoever had hurt Jules.

“Fearon, I can tell you’re angry.”

Jules’ words snapped Fearon out of his thoughts. Maybe he was the one who needed grounding. Going back on the pills to cope with Jules’ cancer meant that now Fearon was feeling that same withdrawal again. What was it? The third or fourth time Fearon had relapsed?

“They’re… old habits, Jules. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Jules laughed, but quickly choked on his tears. “Of course I’m worried. You’re withdrawing again. It makes you have those fucking mood swings-”

“I-I know, Jules.”

They both sighed. Silence filled the air, hanging awkwardly as the two lovers looked away from each other.

“I don’t let people fuck me because-” Jules swallowed, tears in his eyes. “I had a boyfriend who’d force himself on me. It went on for months. My boss- he’s the one who got me away from that fucker.”

Fearon was quiet, a little unsure of the right thing to say. He’d not known many mafiosos who treated their partners well. Fearon had somewhat overlooked it - Galileo and him were on-and-off and of course, Fearon had a never-ending string of boyfriends. He’d always treated them well.

But none of them were like Jules.

Fearon loved Jules. Fearon had never loved any of those guys he’d used to distract himself from his own misery.

“I’m so sorry.”

It was like Jules didn’t hear the words at all. “I was so worried that when I heard you were in the mafia, that you would be like him. That I was falling for another person who would hurt me. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Fearon. I’m so scared to lose you. I’m damaged goods.”

To that, Fearon felt every muscle in his body tense. “Jules, you aren’t damaged goods. I love you. I love you no matter what. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but it feels like it is.”

“Jules,” Fearon swallowed. “I’ve seen a lot of nasty shit in my days. I’ve been fucked by a lot of guys. Why would you be damaged? Because you have trauma? Because someone hurt you? I have trauma. People have hurt me. I’m not damaged goods. You aren’t either. You’re messy, but look at me. I’m a recovering addict, ex-mafioso.”

“There’s so much I’ll never be, Fearon. There are so many things I can’t do.”

“Jules, my dear, there’s so much you can’t see. You don’t value yourself enough. I want to show you all the things about you that are wonderful and amazing and that you should love yourself for. I want to be there for you, through the rough and the smooth.”

Fearon held his arms out. “Is it okay if I hug you, Jules?”

Jules nodded, grasping his arm. Fearon pulled the vampire into a hug, rubbing his back a bit as Jules cried.

“I don’t deserve you, Fearon.”

“No. You don’t. You deserve more than me. You deserve the world, my dear.”

“But you’re the one I love, Fearon.”

“Then you have me, my dear. You have me forever.”

Jules sobbed harder, but let go of his arm and grabbed Fearon. Fearon just sat there, allowing Jules to cry into his chest, rubbing Jules’ back gently.

“We have all the time in the world, my dear,” Fearon started. “And even if I didn’t have all the time in the world, I would still spend it all with you.”

===

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpsday, @pigeonwhumps, @oddsconvert, @sparrowsage, @darkthingshappen, @honeycollectswhump

#past domestic violence #referenced past noncon #consensual spice #mafia whump #cancer #addiction #relapse #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump fic #whump community #fantasy whump #vampire caretaker #human whumpee #low self worth

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a-crumb-of-whump · 7 months

Text

A New Beginning #21: Positive Affirmations

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Content: Self esteem issues, [mentioned] past child whump, recovery, pet whumpee, vampire whumpee, human caretaker, [past] parental whumpers.

I have been in such a slump recently, I'm so sorry for the lack of content </3 either the next chapter or the chapter after is when shit gets real.

“What’cha doin’?” Adam asked one morning as he sat down on the couch with his second cup of coffee. Carlos immediately glanced up from his new diary, a smile coming to his face when he realised that it was a genuine question rather than one asked out of politeness.

“I’m practicing positive affirmations with myself,” he told him. “Trying to write down three things I like about myself, or three things I think I’m good at, or… really, just three positive things. It’s… uh, harder than the people in the video I watched made it seem. I only have one thing so far.”

It was almost sad that he’d only been able to think of one thing in the hour that he’d been sitting here. Despite his humans’ constant flow of compliments and reassurances, his opinion of himself was still rather low, and it felt like there was something physically stopping him from seeing himself in any other light. Himself, perhaps?

Adam hummed, still looking half-asleep despite his attempts to wake himself up. “Can I see what you got so far?”

Obediently, Carlos rotated his book and pushed it towards the human, allowing him to see what he’d written. A single dot point, written in messy cursive that even Carlos found hard to read at times. He hoped that, with time, it would look better.

I’m good at being good.

“You are,” Adam reassured him. “You’re always good to us. What about your art, as well? You’re getting pretty damn good at that.”

The vampire considered that for a moment, thinking back to the last few things he’d scribbled down as of late. He’d certainly been getting better, but in comparison to the few pieces of art Rebel had been kind enough to show him, his was an embarrassment.

He sighed, setting his hands down in his lap as he slouched a little. “But what if I think I’m good at something, and it turns out that I’m really not?” he asked quietly. “I was gonna put down that I’m okay at cooking, or that I’m getting better at remembering social cues, but I don’t wanna do that if I’m really not. I’m scared that if someone sees that I think of myself like that, they’ll get upset with me for… lying? or thinking too highly of myself?”

“Buddy, if you judge your skills by how the people around you perceive them, then you’ll never get anything down. The exercise is to write down things you like about yourself, right?” Carlos nodded, eyes directed at the table rather than at Adam. “Then, if you like that you can cook or do art or pick up on social cues, it counts. Nobody has any right to tell you you can’t like a certain aspect of yourself.”

Huh. He’d never seen it that way. For so many years, any sign of self confidence was promptly beaten out of him, to the point where his entire life revolved around how the people around him viewed him rather than what he thought of himself. It was hard to imagine a world where he could be content with who he was without at least a little concern for the opinions of others.

He reached forward to pull the book back towards him again, idly tapping his pen against the open page a few times as he struggled to work up the courage to write down the things he wanted to be there. For a moment he looked up at Adam for some reassurance, and the man silently encouraged him with a warm smile and a nod.

“I’m… I’m good at cooking,” he murmured to himself as he wrote it down. “I’m good at my art, and I’m getting better at reading social cues. There… those are my three things.”

“Congratulations, man. Are you happy with it? Do you agree with what you’ve written?”

There was a small hesitation before Carlos finally nodded. “Yes, I think so. At least, I know that one day I’ll mean it, right? If I say it enough times?”

It made his heart warm to see Adam nod enthusiastically along with what he was saying. “For sure. You’ll get there eventually. Like most things, it just takes practice. Sort of a… ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ kinda concept. That’s how I did it, anyway.”

“You had to do this, too?”

The man shrugged. “Yeah. Both Ryker and I had to, in our own ways. I grew up being beaten horrendously for liking who I was. My mom and dad saw me as a burden and they hated when I didn’t see myself in the same way. You already know how Ryker was treated. That obviously had major effects on his self esteem, too, which… paired with his ADHD, put it at rock bottom for ages."

He took a sip from his cup of coffee, now staring down at his knees with them brought to his chest and his back against the arm of the couch. “We worked hard to build ourselves back up again, ‘n’ I’m so sorry that you’ve gotta go through that same journey. It fucking sucks.”

“The world isn’t so great,” Carlos whispered after some time spent in silence. His chest felt heavy now, sorrow and guilt having made itself more comfortable there with each word that left Adam’s lips. Humans lived such short lives. Why did so many of them have to spend it recovering from things they had no control over? It didn’t seem fair. “Sometimes I wish that I could create another one, just for Ryker. One where he could have all the friends and family he wanted but never get hurt. He’d have those guardian angels that I read about in a book once watching over him and people to keep him company when he felt alone.”

He adjusted his weight a little before finally glancing up at his human again. “You deserve to know that I would do the same for you, if I could. You protected Ryker throughout the years that I could not and gave me a real home to feel safe in. I owe you more than I can give.”

It surprised him to see a dampness to Adam’s eyes as he smiled over at him. Unlike the ones of reassurance or comfort that he usually gave, this one seemed to be caused by what he’d said. Something that indicated he was happy with his words. That made Carlos happy, too.

“You’re good at making the people around you happy,” he said after another sip of his drink. “Write that down on my behalf.”

Carlos instantly lit up, already pulling his book close again. “Yes, sir.”

@choppedflowermuffinchild @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @paniatheweirdone @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @whumpdreamz

#whump #whump stuff #whump things #whump thoughts #whump tropes #whump prompts #whump ideas #whump scenarios

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 5 months

Note

✏️

"what are your current WIPs about?"

A New oc with my same panic/seizure/trauma disorder

A prompt about whumpee with low self esteem

A new NSFW OC (technically for my other blog)

“Dylan having a breakdown” or just the Brody update

🫠🫠🫠

#pls feel free to pester about any of these to poke the rodent in my head that does the writing #please

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whumpiswonderful · 9 months

Text

Hello whump lovers!

I made a side blog! (@nerdygirl2023 is my main/fandom blog. Mostly about epic the musical. Go check it out!)

Anyway fell down whump rabbit hole and I wanted into this community immediately so- here I am!

So uh for pinned posts I guess I do all my favorite tropes? Right?

Nightmares

Used as bait

Kidnapped and rescued in general really

Ptsd whumpee in general too

Caretaker x whumpee (I live for wife comforting husband ok?)

Ummm I will come back and keep adding to this list as I find more tropes these are just my top favorites/ all I could think of right now

Ngl I kinda didn’t realize whump prompts were their own thing I usually think of fandoms when I do whump. So- list of fandoms i would love to do whump for? (Or just names of pairing I would do and small tidbits about them

Hamilton!! (Whumpee: alex caretaker: eliza tidbit: alex has war and childhood ptsd and Eliza low key has a pretty privileged life but she’s super sweet and caring so she does her best)

Epic the musical/ the odyssey (whumpee could actually go back and forth between Odysseus and Penelope actually. Ody has ptsd from journey and Penelope sorta has some from suitors. Also tell having self esteem ‘em issues can be thrown into the mix too-)

I would totally do whump for pjo but I’ve only read the first series I’m not caught up on hoo but I could try!

I think that’s it??? Of course I’ll do just general non charicter specific whump too. Fandom stuff mostly for hurt comfort really. 9/10 hurt comfort is for them But PLEASE ASK FOR WHUMP FROM MY FANDOMS IM BEGGING!!!

Oh oh! I do have another whump OC I could do too! I just uh- don’t have names for them. Lol send suggestions? They are a Spy x sweet girl that-secretly -has-a-past-of-her-own (she wasn’t involved in his past spy life… until whumper did the thing)

#whumpblr #whump scenario #hello tumblr #whump prompts #asks are always appreciated #send me asks #fandom

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luckyloo13 · 1 year

Text

Guess I should make some sort of introduction post...been some years since I used tumblr i have no idea how much the whump fandom changed haha

Hi I'm Lucky, I'm an artist and sometimes I write. 18, they/them

Things I like:

-RECOVERY/COMFORT!!!!!!

-Accidental whump

-Sickness

-giant and tiny whump

-Stubborn whumpees

-Whumpee x caretaker

-kidnapping

-Past abuse/trauma

-Mother caretaker and child whumpee

-Anxiety and panic attacks

-s*lf harm

-whumpees with low self esteem

-multiple whumpers

-multiple caretakers

-Hypothermia, anemia, fainting, ect

-heros and villains!!!

-probably other stuff i cant think of rn

#whump #whump intro #whump introduction #new here

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kim-poce · 2 years

Text

A Mean to be Good 9 - Missing

Tell me if the tag worked, please?

Hero = Indigo

Villain - Garra

Previous | Next

Masterlist

CW: low self-esteem, emeto, panic attack, fear of punishment.

=-=

Garra had left the house again, Indigo’s instincts screamed that he was up to no good; which, coming from a villain, is to be expected.

They found a way through the guilty coming from doing nothing to stop the criminal, telling themselves that they were never a proper hero anyway. So why try?

The immediate problem was Clara. It’s not his fault, I brought this upon myself. They thought again as the girl jumped over the couch they were sitting on.

“Alone again?” She asked with a mischievous smile on her face, drawing her claws already. “Don’t you have an annoying hero job to do?”

“I’m on a break,” they explained. When did their ‘get beaten up one day only’ plan become ‘surprise vacation in Garra’s place’? “You know this.”

“I know that your little team is looking for you, they have a search group and everything. Hmmm is it… how did they say?... ‘Indigo, a respected hero and loved friend, disappeared two weeks ago, we are offering a reward to anyone who has clues…’ clues on something, well, they want you back, you act all sad and lonely so I thought you were kicked out or something.” she said casually.

Indigo jumped from their seat, forcing themself quiet right away when Clara almost attacked them —she doesn’t attack if he gets quiet and doesn’t resist— “W-what? You-” deep breath “You are lying, right?” Yeah, she is lying, she lies a lot I shouldn’t believe.

“Holdup,” Clara said, reaching for her phone and handing it out after a bit.

Indigo felt their heart racing, looking at the images on the screen. Why are they looking for me? Well, they don’t.. don’t hate me, but I didn’t… I didn’t think they would truly- They swallowed hard, sweat covering their face. They will be so disappointed when they find out I’m here, find out I was just too… scared? Ashamed? to call… they don’t hate me yet but they will. I’m bad, I’m such an idiot, a traitor, a-

Clara got closer, making Indigo step back and lose their balance, falling on the carpet.

“N-not now please,” they begged, looking up at the girl standing in front of them.

They should have kept quiet, they should’ve been still and she will leave them alone, but their body had other plans; tears streamed down from their eyes, their stomach turned, the guilty, fear, anxiety, and gods-know-what-else were mixing themselves inside them.

They ran.

Indigo had barely reached the toilet when they let out all the contents of their stomach. Just then noticing their mistake; they ran.

Clara was just behind them now, and the words seemed to be broken; begging her to wait would be useless.

They flinched when her hands touched their back —not the claws yet, they were hoping she could just get done with it and leave— they steeled themself when she crouched down by their side.

“I really didn’t see this coming,” she said.

Indigo was unable to hold back another flinch, they were unable to properly breathe.

Clara frowned, “You think I’ll hurt you?”

“l-later,” Indigo managed, “p-please, I won’t tell Garra, I-”

“I won’t hurt you right now,” she said, almost offended. As if she didn’t play with their nerves the whole time in the past two weeks, “I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t hurt you while you are… panicking? I guess that’s what you are… doing?”

Indigo's head was a kaleidoscope of images of the ‘Missing person’ pamphlet, their teammates' declarations, their faces, the faces they will have once they find out the truth, and somewhere in there Clara, her “plays” and claws, and the way she wakes him up all the time and how she never allows their nerves a second of rest.

“L-leave me alone,” they said.

“You seem to need some help so-”

“From you?” They snapped, head buzzing, blood running way too fast, “You are making it worse! Oh! I see, you want to see this, right?” they gestured to the toilet and back to themselves, “You want to see just far you can take me? How hard you can humiliate me? Is that what you want? You must be pretty happy then!”

“I didn’t do this!” Clara argued, “I just show you the news, I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, didn’t you? Truly? Weren’t you trying to mess me up? To make me like this? You have pushed me to the edge this whole time, and now you want to act as if you care?”

“I didn’t mean to do… whatever this is!” Carla snapped back, “I was just having… fun…” her voice become low as if she had just realized the meaning of her words.

“I know! I’m sure you were having the time of your life when I was fucking panicking three days ago.”

Clara frowned, “I thought you were pretending I-”

“Leave me alone!” He shouted, the shower and the tap turning on, water raising around Clara. She stepped back, eyes wide.

It was the first time Indigo saw fear in her eyes, but they didn’t have time to think about it because Garra arrived, opening the door to the sight of the hero threatening his sister.

“G-garra,” their voice was low, the water fell down drenching everything, “I-I swear I wasn’t-” they glanced at the scared teenager in front of them and at the water around her, “I wasn’t- I wouldn’t hurt-” They swallowed hard, lowering their head. “I’m sorry.”

=-=

Taglist: @rose-pinkie, @wolfeyedwitch, @neverthelass, @insaneinthepaingame, @simplygrimly, @whumpy-writings, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @grizzlie70, @extemporary-username

#whump #hero whumpee #low self-esteem #emeto #panic attack #fear of punishment #A Mean to be Good #my writing #Indigo #Garra #Carla

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blackberry-bloody · 10 months

Note

"You still think your little caretaker will save you? How adorable!" With Rupert???

CW: Drugging (off screen), creepy/intimate whumper, implied future noncon at the end, whumpee's really bad self esteem

Let me know if there's anything else I need to tag!

This was a really interesting one!! /Positive

Prompt from here

---

Everything felt fuzzy. It was warm, inviting, familiar. Dayzel was lost in the haze of nothingness that weighed his limbs down. He was vaguely aware of the fact he was laying down in bed, tucked securely under blankets, and pressed against something even warmer. Distantly, he recognized it as a person he was pressed against.

A soft smile tugged at his cracked lips as he pressed closer, limply shifting to wrap his arm around his boyfriend's waist, and laying his head against his chest, cuddling up closer.

A hand brushed a strand of Dayzel's long hair out his face, before gently cupping his cheek. He chuckled and playfully tilted his head to kiss the hand with a chuckle.

"What time did you let me sleep 'til Mib? My body feels like it's been -" His voice trailed off as slowly he became more aware. And he heard a low laugh from the man he was curled against. It wasn't Mibium's laugh.

His eyes snapped open. Immediately regretting it as the lights hurt his eyes, making him squint against the harshness. He lurched back at Rupert's blurry face came in view. Though Rupert was much quicker, shifting to grab Dayzel's wrist and harshly pull him flush against him.

Sluggishly, Dayzel tried to yank himself away. But he couldn't budge. It didn't take him long to realize that Rupert had drugged him. He grit his teeth, his fangs glinting in the light. "If you don't let me go it five seconds I will tear your throat -"

"You still think Mibium is coming to save you?" Rupert calmly asked. As though he were simply asking how Dayzel had slept.

Dayzel froze for a moment, before giving another futile tug against Rupert's grip. He met his eyes with an icy glare. "Of course not... "

Rupert hummed as though thinking. Inching closer to Dayzel. Leaning in to whisper in his ear. "How adorable..." He was so close now, Dayzel's lips grazed his neck. As though daring him to make good on the threat. Both of them knowing he wouldn't.

Dayzel clenched his fists. "I... I don't. Of course I don't..." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Another hum from Rupert, Dayzel could feel it against his mouth.

"You say that... But you're subconscious seems to think otherwise." Dayzel doesn't even have to see him, but he can hear the smirk in Rupert's voice as he speaks.

He wants to protest... He does. But there's something in him that stops him. Something that still believes that maybe... Just maybe Mibium cared enough about him to come after him?

"Let's rectify that, shall we? I don't want you getting all confused. Or worse, mopey, when inevitably you're disappointed again." Rupert shifts again, shifting Dayzel along with him. To where Dayzel is laying flat on his back, pinned underneath the taller man. "Just to make sure we're all on the same page."

Rupert pulls back and Dayzel can see a wild hunger in his eyes and knows what's coming. He thinks for a moment to keep struggling. To kick and thrash and spit. But he's so... So tired. So he closes his eyes as Rupert leans down to kiss him.

"Why would anyone else put up with you?" Rupert asks, though he isn't expecting an answer.

Dayzel can only think to himself... "I don't know..."

#nightingale writes #nightingale sings #dayzel oc #rupert oc #dayzel pet whump au #(that's no longer an au at this point xd)#mibium oc #(mentioned)#tw implied noncon #(at the very end)#drugging tw

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