whumprince

[whumprince]

living weapons !!!!

a living weapon so heavily conditioned that they don't even talk (unless ordered to, of course.) bonus points if they're put in a mask or helmet or something, and it's ripped off in the middle of a fight to reveal their soulless blank stare. bonus bonus points if they're fighting someone they once knew

living weapons no longer used as weapons, but they're almost unrecoverable. they just don't recognize that they should have the ability to make their own decisions. they still have to be ordered to do anything, even sleep and eat

living weapons turned against people they once knew !!!!!!! now they're feral and unrecognizable but can they really be blamed for their actions when it's whumper puppeting them?

there is no relationship more intimate than that between a living weapon and their handler. it's about loving someone who would kill you without a second thought if ordered!!! someone who knows nothing but duty!!! seeing into the jaws of a monster and clinging rather than running!! you're in love with a living weapon in the same way you're in love with a fancy sword.. they're beautiful and do their job well but could slit your throat just as easily as anyone else's..

living weapons who treat their own inanimate weapons like people... hugging them kissing them biting them not letting anyone else touch or maintain or sharpen them.. mmmm

[whumprince]

whumpee being in distress for so long that they just stop feeling emotions. whumpees that are cold and apathetic and numb and as emotive as rock. whumpees that have retreated into the comfort of their own internal world, and it's going to be hard to get them back out. even after rescue they're still so.. still. bonus points if they were super bright and expressive pre-whumping

[whumprince]

Give me more shaking whumpees.

Give me whumpees who are shivering so much from their high fever that they can't even hold a bottle of water up to their lips, leaving caretaker to hold it for them like they're bottle feeding a baby animal.

Give me whumpees who've lost so much blood that they're pale and trembling violently, their skin cool to the touch. Their body is desperately trying to keep them warm, but with each new shudder they're just bleeding more and more.

Give me whumpees in shock- whumpees who find out something so emotionally distressing that they can do nothing but shake, eyes fixed on a single point, jolting away from any touch.

Give me more shaking whumpees.

[whumprince]

"i know how you feel"

"there isn't a person alive who knows what that monster did to me"

[whumprince]

Make your whumpees go into shock. Do it.

Symptoms of hypovolemic shock (e.g whumpee has lost a lot of blood):

Hyperventilation

Confusion/anxiety

Sweating

Passing out

Clammy skin

Weakness

Low temperature and blood pressure

Rapid pulse

Symptoms of distributive shock (e.g sepsis, severe allergic reactions, asthma attacks)

Rash

Rapid pulse

Hyperventilation

Warm arms and legs

Skin that starts off warm then turns clammy and cold

Fever

Chills

Stomach pain

Confusion

Cough

Shortness of breath

Nausea

Throwing up

Either way, whumpee is most likely headed to the ICU. ASAP.

[whumprince]

Ring

“Whumpee, where did you get that ring?”

Caretaker had gotten used to Whumpee flinching. It seemed they hadn’t stopped since they were released from the hospital. Or, maybe it had started even before that. Before Whumper had taken them, or even further when they had first gone to file a restraining order. But they hadn’t expected them to flinch away from the curious question.

That was all the answer Caretaker needed. “You know, Whumper is dead. You don’t have to keep wearing their ring.”

“I can’t take it off.” Whumpee’s voice was small. They kept their head down as they stirred the pot of soup nearing boiling on the stove. 

Caretaker blamed the fumes from the onion Whumpee had chopped up earlier for the tears forming in their eyes. “You’re safe now, Whumpee. I know I can never make it up to you for not believing you sooner, but I swear I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. You can take off the ring.”

“It’s stuck. I can’t take it off.”

“Oh.” Caretaker’s hands stilled as they placed the last spoon on the table. “Would you like some help?”

“Yes, please.” 

Whumpee held very still as Caretaker approached and guided them to stand beside the sink. They didn’t shy away from Caretaker’s touch as the ring was slowly worked from their swollen finger but curled in on themselves and took three giant steps back the moment they were free. The mark left on the skin where the ring had sat dragged a whine from Whumpee’s throat. 

The inside of the ring had been engraved. Imprinted into Whumpee’s skin were four letters: 

M.

I.

N.

E.

Whumpee fell to their knees, holding the finger away from their body. “I’ll never be free.”

Caretaker wrapped a bandage from the kit under the sink around the possessive letters. Kissing Whumpee’s knuckles, Caretaker whispered, “You are free. Whumper is dead. I killed them. I swear on my life, no one will ever touch you again.”

[whumprince]

Just an underrated trope, AVIAN WHUMPEES?? There is so much that could possibly happen.

Whumper having whumpee follow around behind them or sit on their shoulders— an extra set of hands

Whumper pulling out a feather whenever he needs to sign something ( make whumpee hold the ink pot)

Not allowing whumpee to stretch out there wings ( bonus : having them bound)

Whumpee scared to chirp even though their instincts scream at them

Whumpee staring at the birds outside the window wishing they could fly around like them

Whumpee stress picking at their feathers

Whumpee being shoved in a small dangling birdcage in whumpers room

Whumpee using their wings as a shield only to damage them further

Whumpee’s wings being clipped and put on display above whumpers bed

Being treated like an animal

Broken wings

The list goes on…

[whumprince]

Whumpee and caretaker finally face down whumper to take them down for good.

But what caretaker wasn't prepared to face was the way that whumpee completely breaks down in fear and shame and flashbacks just seeing whumper face to face again.

And caretaker finally has to come to terms with just how bad it really was.

[whumprince]

Recovering whumpee laying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

Recovering whumpee trying to find something to do to occupy their attention, but everything turns to static in their head.

Recovering whumpee who can't stop thinking about the things that happened, but doesn't connect to the feelings.

Recovering whumpee who dissociates through whole conversations, or whole hours of time before snapping back to sync with reality.

Recovering whumpee who notices they were crying without realizing it.

Recovering whumpee who is trying to get better but making no progress.

[whumprince]

An Alphabet of Whump

A is for Acid that's dribbled on flesh, B is for Bruises, fading or fresh.

C is for Captive who cannot escape, D is for dubcon, which isn't quite rape.

E is exsanguinate-- blood draining out, F is for Fear, when they scream cry and shout

G is garroting,  H– hanged by the neck, I– Isolation that leaves them a wreck.

J is for Jail with justice undone, K is for Killing which some may find fun.

L is for Lifeblood spilled on the floor, M is for Memory lost in the war.

N is for Nightmares, Nosebleeds and Nails, O's Overdose and all it entails.

P is for Poison that they're forced to take, Q is to Quiver, to shudder, to shake.

R is for Rescue which never returns, S is for Skinning, Stab wounds and Sunburns

T is for Torture, quite covered in blood, U is Unconscious face down in the mud.

V is for Vertigo, W for Whipped X for eXperiment– the subject is stripped

Y is for Yelling and begging 'no more'. Z is for Zip-tied and left on the floor.

Whump is for wondering, watching and writing an Alphabet of pain to give in, or keep fighting.

#I READ IT LIKE A MUSIC FROM DISNEY VILLAIN I LOVE IT

[whumprince]

Crack Prompt: Welcome to the Whumpee Store!

(aka totally not bbu what do you MEAN)

Whumpees stacked on shelves grocery store-style

Different aisles for different types of whumpee ("No ma'am, this is actually the conditioned aisle, the defiant aisle is on the other side of the store, aisle 9.")

Workers that are TOTALLY not whumpees themselves probably

Or maybe that teenager helping you really is just your average dead-eyed retail worker. Basically the same thing at this point anyway.

"Sir, that's the price for a fresh unaltered whumpee. You can mold them however you want."

"You want me to do YOUR JOB for you?! What kind of establishment is this?!"

On that note, whumpees made to order

You want a medium-sized defiant whumpee that'll start crying and freeze up the second you turn the lights off? Say less.

Tags on the more dainty and dewey-eyed whumpees that say "Torture with Care"

"Mx., you broke the warranty when you threw your whumpee down the stairs. The instructions clearly state they're meant for household chores only, you'll have to pay full price for a new one."

Whumpees in those sealed plastic action figure boxes, forced into a single pose for. however long it takes you to buy them please buy them they're begging you please PLEASE PLEASE THEY CAN'T TAKE--

Whumpees staring hopefully (or fearfully) at every potential customer that walks by.

BARTERING. RIGHT. IN. FRONT. OF. WHUMPEE.

Customers trying to get the conditioned whumpees to crack so they don't have to pay as much for them.

"I'm not sure this whumpee is trained as well as you say, I'm gonna need a demonstration"

Living weapon whumpees locked behind those stupid glass cabinets that you have to get a store attendant to unlock for you if you want to get at one

^Exotic/rare/expensive ones too

Thank you to all my friends on the Whump World server for all your suggestions and enabling me :) I probably have more too, but this was getting long lmao

@whumperofworlds | @randowhump | @kira-the-whump-enthusiast | @whumpninja

[whumprince]

whump enjoyers y'ever just get struck by like... bloodlust. like. you've got your usual levels of whump enjoyment. and then all of a sudden you're struck by the intense need to watch or read or write or draw something Extremely Whumpy. like I Need To Experience Someone Going Through Agonizing Horrors Right Now Immediately. y'know. the bloodlust comes upon ya.

[whumprince]

thinking about whumpees with tails again..

tails are just cool man!! but like i hardly ever see tails in whump and i think there's a lot of potential..

a whumpee whose tail is slowly, slowly cut off, a little at a time

a whumpee forced to eat their own tail

a whumpee having to learn how to move without a tail. it's hard to walk, hard to move, without the extra help in balance

a whumpee tied up by their tail, especially when they aren't restrained anywhere else. freedom seems so simple --- just cut it and run.

to elaborate on that imagine a whumpee tied up by their tail, but food or water or their addiction is just barely out of reach. how far will it stretch before it just snaps? will whumpee get so desperate they need to bite it off?

#hell yeah tieflings

[whumprince]

Whump Prompts 130: Lab Whump Aesthetic

CW: lab whump (obviously), blood, self-harm, psychological/emotional whump, magic whump

The lab rat uniform: loose, drab, hanging on whumpee's frame like it doesn't feel comfortable there

Bloodstained, soiled clothing, the result of experimentation

Whumpee left naked in their cell as their uniform is washed

Whumpee arriving at the lab facility as a new subject and realizing that whumper will be experimenting on them, not with tools and drugs, but with dark magic

Inhuman whumpees losing whatever shreds of humanity they might have had as time and experiments continue and they're treated more and more like animals

Or, conversely, inhuman whumpees that become more human and exhibit more human emotions as they're mistreated

Whumpee forgetting their own name because they're only referred to by a subject number

Disorientation from drugs/experiment aftermath

Whumpee's sleep, the only time they're alone, being disrupted by nightmares about what's been done to them

Or, a whumpee who's never left alone, always watched, always under observation of some kind

Whumpee's skin slowly turning into a scarred, chaotic mess from cuts/syringes/injections, etc.

Whumpee seeing their own distress and pain mirrored in the glimpsed faces of other lab rats in the facility

Whumpee learning to see themself as nothing but a test subject

Bandages, sterile gauze, sterile lights, sterile everything

Whumpee being overwhelmed when they catch a glimpse of life outside the lab when visitors arrive

Waking up after an experiment, seeing bloodied instruments and wondering groggily what terrible thing whumper could have done to them now

Learning to damage their own body to foil whumper's plans

Whumpee becoming desensitized to whumper's drugs and needing higher and higher doses for them to work

No longer recognizing their own body after recovering from whumper's last experiment

Whumper leading lab rat whumpee to a mirror, after intentionally keeping them away, and letting them see how pathetic they've become

Or, whumpee looking in a mirror and realizing that whumper has turned them into a monster

Whumpee deciding that it's too late for them and they might as well embrace what they've become

Feel free to reblog and add on!

[whumprince]

Torture with exposure to natural elements (sorta?)

Once i have read of a type of torture that become one of my fav tropes of whump.

It basically consists of killing a big animal (horse, cow/ox etc) and taking out all the inner organs, left only its carcase.

And then we put our already-half-beaten Whumpee inside it, hands and legs tied so they cant escape. Maybe nothing in their mouth so we can hear their screams and pleads.

With the Whumpee inside it, the carcase is sewed where it was cut open, and is left in a place with sposure to sun and rain and vultures and etc.

Then, whumpee might become little bit insaner each day that passes. They lost track of time, hungry and thirsty and in a terrible postion, their abused body aching more and more for days. The smell of rotten meat is suffocating, the flies and larvas starting to meet their body. They can feel the vultures beaking their putrid wrapping.

They scream for days. Until their throat is sore and their voice is gone.

But only what is left for them is madness.

When whumpers take them out of that carcass, after some days, they cant really tell anymore if they're dead or alive.

(Pls add more if you feel like so!)

#i love when wumpee starts to feel thir existence eroding #feeling the taste of a death that will never come #angst #whump #whump prompts #whump tag #whumpee #whump writing #whumprince writing #whump prompt #torture #dehumanization #dehumanisation tw #gore #animal death

[whumprince]

Hey, hey! Friendly reminder to make sure your supposedly “fearless” character gets their darkest fear revealed in the worst way possible so they break down into a vulnerable shaking mess in front of all the people they care about 

[whumprince]

That some good stuff here, can you add me on your taglist for more posts such as this?

Too Much

alt.: How to Break a Defiant Whumpee 101, cws in tags!

When the lock clicks and the door opens once again, the foreboding light cascades down in the form of a person's shadow onto him and he cannot hold in a moan of distress.

He jerks his hands down against the cold floor in helpless, terrified frustration. His blood trickles from under the thick cable wire tying his wrists tightly together, collecting in a puddle with the rest of his spilled life force on the floor. Those cuts barely had time to close over, now torn open again. It cannot have been more than a couple hours since the last visit; what had he done to incur this unbearable punishment today? Who did he piss off this bad?

He listens to the familiar, heavy footsteps nearing him, hoping desperately that they aren't here for him. Unfortunately, those steel-toed boots enter his vision and do not leave, slowing to a stop right in front of his cell, peeking through the bars curiously. He wishes that just once, they would walk right past him; that he would be ignored and left alone. Alas, today has not been the luckiest.

"Oh, just look at you. Always such a sight for sore eyes."

"F-Fuck off."

Leaning up against the cell door, they trail their eyes along every inch of his skin. Of all his captors, this one might just be the worst, if only for their creepy fucking mannerisms. It's hard to forget about those intense, dark eyes and that impossibly smooth, gross voice that makes his skin crawl and keeps him company even in his nightmares. Among all the other things he was hoping for just a moment ago, not having to see them today was quite high up on his list.

They click their tongue. — "You still have your tongue then. Could've fooled me. You look awful."

Their grin made the insult sound more like a twisted compliment. He forces out another weak reply. — "Wow. Thanks."

They pause, tapping their index finger against one metal bar. They are just standing there, staring at him. Their expression is infuriatingly pleasant.

He fucking hates this. Why couldn't they just leave him alone today? Why does he have to be looking up at this terrifying motherfucker from the coldest, most uncomfortable corner of his cell, already exhausted, beaten halfway to death, and be forced to go through yet another round of pain? This just isn't fair.

They take a deep, content sigh, seemingly done with their sightseeing. — "Right."

They back up to stretch, then fit the key into the cell door, promptly sliding inside once it's open. His foreseeable future has swiftly become his near future, and he is anything but ready for it to become his present.

"W-Wait, wait, don't come in, you can't be ser— "

"How could I not when you look so lonely, cuddled up to the wall all by yourself?" — they sing, watching him struggle to push himself further into the corner he was left in by the one before them. From this close, it's even more apparent how rough he had it lately.

If the numerous black-purple pools of blood under his skin weren't enough, the fresh pool by his hand and the splatter of red across the walls would make it more than obvious. Everywhere they look they find another cut, another bruise, another mark and slash and burn. The ever present rings around his wrists are deeper, and now a new one resides around his throat like a collar. His eyes are dark and crimson, looking at them like he might just burst into tears.

He pushes his back into the wall with a cry. A new desperation has morphed his voice into something truly delicious. — "Just, leave, leave me alone!"

They smile innocently. — "Oh, should I? I'll consider it."

"No, stop, please — !" — his throat rasps and breaks his words, but that is nothing new. What is new, however, is the begging. This one has to be forced to beg usually, and now here he is, already close to sobbing for them to just let him be before they could even set a hand on him.

With something between a groan and a whimper, he twists his body to be hidden, curling up to the side and squeezing his eyes shut as he cowers, shaking, shielding his face with bound hands before they could even reach him. He looks utterly pathetic, and that melts their heart — but then they notice something truly surprising, something deviously intriguing.

"Don't tell me... Baby, are you crying? Already?" — They do not even try to hide the grin in their voice as they kneel in front of him. He only curls up tighter, sniffling. — "Now you're starting to worry me. This is very unlike you. I expect insults and swearing, not weeping."

He doesn't respond with anything but a huff of air. They try to peer behind those twitching fingers — a couple of them are definitely broken — but their curiosity isn't sated. The thought of finally having broken him crosses their mind. — "What happened?"

Their question goes unanswered. This guessing game is already starting to irritate them.

They take a light hold of one of those fractured fingers, leering; only a threat for now. — "You know I prefer screams to silence."

"Don't," — he half-wheezes.

"Talk to me then. What's troubling you, sweetheart?" — they cut him off entirely, cooing like they aren't the very reason he's like this.

"I'm... I'm scared."

"I can tell."

"I just — please, I-I just —"

They say nothing. He swallows dryly.

"I just don't want to be hurt again," — he whispers miserably, — "I can't, again, I can't — "

They still don't say anything. They still hold onto that damn finger. He almost wishes they would just get on with the torture instead of whatever this is.

"What, what do you want from me? Just fucking leave! Please!" — he yells, pleads, loses his mind a little more. — "Are you blind? Do you seriously want me to explain to you why I'm, why I'm having a-, a fucking meltdown?"

"I've barely had a, a single minute to myself today where I didn't have to en-entertain any of you pricks, and when I think it's finally over, when, when I get just a second, a m-, a moment to breathe," — he takes a strained couple inhales, almost hyperventilating before harshly gulping down his anxiety again, fighting sobs, — "y-you fucking show up. Like you always do. And, and now I'm here, yet again, left on the floor tired and, and hurt and bleeding — and you're, you're — it always g—, it never gets better. It never f-fffucking stops."

Nothing more is said for a while. They just watch him cry in his little corner coated in fresh blood, breaking apart in front of them. This is an incredible, rare sight. An important moment. They see a precious opportunity and they simply cannot resist seizing it.

They let go of his hand, gently laying their palm on his head instead. The gasp and the flinch are wonderfully unexpected, yet so beautiful to see. — "How many of us came today?" — they inquire softly, almost genuine.

His fragile throat lets out the most raw, wretched sounds they have ever heard him make. — "Y-You were the only one who hasn't. Eh-everyone and their mother came to visit me. I was really fucking hoping you wouldn't."

Ah. The others all took turns today, huh. They did a fine job at whittling him down. They don't even know how all of them managed to get their round in in such a short period of time.

"All five of us?"

"Yeah," — he mumbles. He's furiously wiping at his eyes, starting to lose all hope of getting any rest now that they are this close, and clearly not leaving any time soon. He hoped this embarrassing outbreak would at least deter them somehow, but none of his hopes today came true. They aren't exactly a bleeding heart who would change their mind about torturing him just because he's a little sad. If anything, he thinks, being this pathetic might have just spurred them on. — "But it doesn't, doesn't matter, does it? You sadistic freaks don't care about anything but, but beating the shit out of me any chance you get. I don't know why I thought that you of all people would understand."

This is perfect.

They lean in close. — "Me of all people? What's that supposed to mean? Am I special?"

"Especially annoying." — Now that's more like him. Retorts and insults flying out of his mouth like bullets. They really wish they could have him confess that he finds them the most intimidating out of everyone, that the ‘annoyance’, as he put it, comes from the fact that his backtalk doesn't have any effect on them, and that they know him on a deeper level than any of the others and that scares him more than anything — but they recognise when the moment allows for a play like that. He's already building up his walls again; they can't let this moment slip through their fingers.

"Mmm. Well, I have a proposal for you." — They dig their fingers under his great mess of locks, not unkind. — "Look at me."

"That's not a proposal."

"I'll tell you once you look at me."

"No."

They sink their hand in deeper, twisting into his hair like the claws of a beast. — "Come on. Don't you want to hear it?"

He only lifts his hands higher to hide behind, now muffling his tone. — "I know that, th-that you only want to see me cry."

They smile. — "Yes. And I know you want to avoid more pain."

This thinly veiled threat does two things: it pisses him off, and it brings back that foolish hope that they will take mercy on him if he behaves as they like.

Just one more push. A soft, light order. — "Look at me, baby."

Ordinarily, this would never work. He might even laugh in their face or spit at them for asking, especially so sweetly. This time, however, he is just a lonely, sad little guy in a cell, desperate for sweetness. They wait patiently. He shudders uncomfortably, snivelling.

Silently, with a deadly glare, he finally looks at them.

His eyes are red, puffy, and so, so tired. His lips are bitten bloody, cracked, pouting. The scar over his right cheek has been reopened, enlarged to run down the side of his neck. A gorgeous purple bruise has nestled under his left eye, running like paint in water across his skin. His tears drew clean streaks along his face, sliding down the length of his neck. It's beautiful, mesmerising. They are mesmerised for a little too long, though.

"I hate you so fucking much, you're so gross," — he hisses, done watching their eyes rake over him like an object while having the most adoring, fond smile doing so. It always sends a shiver down his spine when they do this, and having them be so close just makes it even more unbearable. He can clearly see their eyes refocus and return to make eye contact at his remark and it makes him nauseous.

It's fascinating how little bite his voice holds now, with the tears still flowing freely and his throat closed up. So many thoughts of torment run through their mind, images of taking advantage of this weakened state he is in and breaking him until there is nothing left, until he is like this all the time; crying and pitiful and obedient and lovely. None of that makes it to the surface.

"My proposal is this;" — they say instead, — "we could go on with what I had planned for today. This option includes this high voltage shock collar I brought with me."

As they turn to get the collar he assumes they must be bluffing, but horrifyingly enough, they turn back with a thick, black loop of leather with a box attached to it and a remote in their other hand, grinning excitedly. He remains silent in shock.

"Or," — they say after a pause to let him simmer in anticipation, setting their toy to the side, — "we could forget about that for now, and let you rest instead. How does that sound?"

He can barely believe his ears. They actually care? This is a trick, it must be.

"You're lying." — His splotchy face must have betrayed his bewilderment, because they murmur a chuckle before they respond.

"I am not. I can tell you are in a lot of pain."

They take a gamble as they take his head into their hand gingerly, turning him towards them by one shoulder and one cheek carefully, fully expecting him to struggle. There is resistance, as always, but quieter, just a small weight put behind pulling them forward which might as well just be his tired body refusing to cooperate. He says nothing. His lip wobbles. His expression is less cutting than usual, the edge replaced by worn flesh and agony.

They make an effort to remove all malice from their eyes, looking at him with sympathy and love instead. They give him exactly what he has been craving for the weeks he has been trapped here. Someone who can tell him they know he has been trying his best.

They look right into his eyes empathically, and sadly sigh; — "You're just tired, aren't you?"

Those are the magic words to open the gates to his true anguish. Something about this awfully simple, assuring sentence whispered so knowingly — it breaks something in him, and his eyes fill with fresh tears, and he cannot help the sobs bubbling to the surface. Because it is that simple, isn't it? He is so, so damn tired. All he wants is some rest. The assurance that someone sees him struggling, and understands how badly he hurts, and how little he really asks for. Coming from his torturer, it should not feel so liberating. But he is far past rationalism, his want for a single kind gesture has long become a burning need he would do anything for in this moment.

He may regret it later, but for now he leans into their hand as he lets every sob he ever swallowed down free, letting them see how broken he truly is already. From under all that grit and animosity comes pure childlike, innocent suffering, so potent he doesn't know what to do with it besides letting it envelop him. Just the right opportunity and a couple pokes, and he has crumbled under all this weight.

They lead him closer, pulling him out of his defensive position against the wall slowly to embrace him. He is all but powerless to stop his fragile form from moulding under their touch, gasping wretchedly in their arms. He is shivering like a leaf. It's intoxicating.

There they remain until his sobs weaken, and his exhausted body slumps against them like dead weight. Somewhere along the line they had let themself slide down to the ground, inviting him to lie on something soft for the first time in forever, even if it is only their own body. The floor isn't exactly clean — it's quite disgusting in fact — but it is well worth it to have this ball of resentment tamed for even a small bit, even if they have to lie on filth for it. This one instance of kindness will have lasting effects on their relationship and him as a person, even if he doesn't realise it, or even if he does. He will find it hard to look at them the same way, and will find it difficult to keep up his defiance in front of them when he knows they have seen him truly at his wits end.

He may let them touch him more often without a word. He may find it easier to do as they say without fighting. He may grow more attached to them through this, having a closer connection to them than to any of the others. He may even ask them again, once the time comes, to have mercy on him again, and they will give it to him, letting him fall deeper and deeper. He will have to swallow his pride, and he will only swallow it for them. This small moment will be crucial in the future. Maybe they could capitalise just a little more on this by telling the others they can't see him for a day. They will visit him tomorrow and ease his mind again, let him heal, see how he acts after this humiliating exchange.

The unconscious man in their arms will learn to be theirs with time; he has already made so much progress. This one is theirs, just as soon as it becomes too much to bear again.

...

He didn't even yell at them for calling him baby.

~

Taglist: @morning-star-whump

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