#non-binary whumpee

[syncopein3d]

Part 16: The First Lesson

M for mature themes overall. Tropes/content warnings: vampire whumpee/caretaker, male whumpee/caretaker, non-binary whumpee/caretaker, morbidity or thoughts of death. There will be a lot of play with, and discussion of, the concept of consent in this series, as it applies to many topics. Mostly we're talking about consent to be bitten, but being bitten in this universe varies from "mild discomfort" through "multiple climaxes" and I don't know where the story will end up yet, so I think it's important to be clear.

In this episode: angst, unrequited thirst.

If you would like to be added to, or removed from, the tag list of this series, please let me know! I'm back after a long hiatus due to a death in the family, and I thank you all for your patience. I will link the last episode, but also the index post in case you are brand new and want to start from the first.

Part 15: Glass of Water

Masterpost

When Arden was out of the shower, Tolly wordlessly handed them a nutrition bar, white big hand sliding into view as they opened the bathroom door. Arden lay sitting against the headboard eating for a couple of minutes, silent. Tolly sat on the end of the other bed with a wool thread he had shamefacedly folded into the duffel bag, playing at cat’s cradle with it as he watched Arden sideways.

After a while, Arden said, “Aeolus says I don’t deserve my body.”

“Well, he deserves it far less,” Tolly said. “Can he hear me?”

“Yeah. I can see him sometimes, too.” Arden described the man in the black suit with his pointed beard. “To me it looks like he’s standing by the window, glaring at you. Now me.”

“Behave, spirit. Arden’s health is your own. No one else will have you, or you would not have come so quickly when called.”

“He doesn’t like that,” Arden reported, a little smugly.

“Good. If he wants to stay, he’d better earn his keep.”

“He says he can teach me something simple now, but it won’t be powerful because he used me up so easily. Should I, Tolly?”

“Yes,” Tolly said.

Arden was silent for a while, their eyes moving left and right as if reading. They held the wadded up foil wrapper on the flat of their hand, gradually refocusing on it. “Leyline, right,” they muttered.

Tollt sat up slightly straighter as he felt hairs stand up along his spine. The wrapper lifted gently from Arden’s hand into the air, hovered there for a few seconds, and then plonked back down. They exhaled as if they’d dropped something heavy.

“Great. If we get attacked by litter, we’ll be fine,” they said.

“Was that you, or him?” Tolly asked.

“Me. He says you’re doing the Soldier’s Bed wrong.”

“He would,” Tolly said, unperturbed. His fingers worked, hooking the string and shifting it to make the Candles.

After a long minute or so, Arden said, “Tolly, I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

“No,” Tolly said calmly, unwrapping the round of wool thread to coil it neatly. It smelled like his rug. That should not have been calming, but it was. “I will not allow it. This coven –“

“The Coven of the Black Rose, for all of Washington and part of Oregon within the intersection of the Rocky Mountain and the Columbia River lines,” they recited distantly.

“This Coven of the Black Rose tried to have you killed without knowing a thing about you except that you are related to Nicholas and might have his ring. That offends me. It’s crude, stupid behavior,” Tolly said. “They also had the effrontery to shoot me, which I also do not appreciate.”

Arden’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “And you like me, just a little,” they said.

“We hardly know each other, child. But I recognize a debt. No, I do, don’t laugh,” Tolly protested, leaning over to carefully stow the wool thread. “You have been remarkably kind to me. I expect that will change as you gain greater understanding, but you have a generous soul.”

“I’m not a child, Tolly.”

“I was born when your great-grandfather was not even an idea. You will never not be a child to me,” Tolly said. His tone was light, mildly amused. It wouldn’t help to say things like I have known lusts and corruptions that would whiten your hair and I think of you carnally even though I am immeasurably older.

Best to distract himself from that line of thought, too. The Arden whose ecstatic end he craved, teasing, insinuating creature, wasn’t real. It was the ghost of Nicholas. He had been thirstier than this voluntarily, and for longer, and he could hold his teeth in if he made an effort, Tolly told himself.

“I’m surprised you knew how to use the sink,” Arden said. “Do you need me to explain the lights, or did you just assume ghost magic?” Thank God for sarcasm, Tolly thought. It was a caustic blanket to wrap his sanity in, but it was better than nothing.

“Hilarious,” Tolly said. “I’ve been in a room for twenty years, not 600. Even Aeolus knows what electricity is.”

“He disappeared. I think he’s sulking.”

“Or he can only manifest for short periods,” Tolly said. “He wasn’t constantly distracting Nicholas.”

“That’s a relief, anyway.”

“Try to sleep,” Tolly said. “It’ll help you recover. We’ll keep on East tomorrow night.”

Part 17: Painmother

@fleur-a-whump, @bitchaknso, @valravnthefrenchie, @thewhumpcaretaker, @currentlyinthespiral

[tendertenebrosity]

I have no idea what made me want to return to Lian after all this time, but draft 4 of the novel is driving me batty so here we are. I wouldn't get your hopes up for more of it though.

Masterpost here. This ask might also shed some light on matters.

Once the Elven representatives, and Kite’s own lieutenants had left, it was only Kite and his Ruler in the tent.

Ruler Lian looked younger than Kite had been expecting. Dark hair pulled back with a flower-shaped clasp, the fabric of their robes dyed in an Elven pattern even though the cut was traditional.

I hope I didn’t make a mistake backing you, Kite thought. His second had urged him not to - why do we need the old family lines, she’d hissed, screw tradition. The old Ruler was fine, but this kid? They weren’t here when it counted.

The rebel army would follow Kite, had followed Kite this far, and they’d back him on the throne. Kite didn’t doubt it. But that wasn’t why he’d done any of this. And he needed the Elven help this dainty soft-skinned monarch had brought.

They killed the Empress, he’d reminded his second. There’s got to be SOME steel in there. It’s just very well hidden. And she’d laughed behind her hand.

The Ruler was looking at Kite’s scar. It was ugly, pale shiny skin stretching up his wrist and disappearing into his sleeve. When he caught them at it, they flicked their dark eyes up politely and pretended they hadn’t been.

“Lost the fingers at the docks,” Kite said, lifting his hand and waggling its crooked three fingers. “But the scar, that’s from earlier. A battle we call Sorrow’s Ridge.”

The Ruler nodded in understanding.

“After we lost your father, the remnant of the army retreated south to the ridge,” Kite said. “Held out for two weeks until we made the decision to abandon it, escape in trickles through the rural Southern villages. About half of my original band have scars from that week.”

“I do, as well,” the Ruler said, their voice soft. A quiet pretty pampered little voice, like the gentle colours on their robe and the twist in their dark hair held up by the clasp. They inclined their head. “It was… a nightmare time. I didn’t know that you were there.”

Cold washed over Kite.

No. No, we’re not doing this.

Kite stood. The Ruler was fairly tall, but they were a slender reed of a person, and Kite still had a few inches on them. He brought his height and breadth looming over the table, and was satisfied to see the Ruler swallow and lean back in their chair. He leaned over, resting his hands on the table.

“I’m sorry, your highness,” he said softly. “Were you there? At the Ridge?”

Those dark eyes flickered, dropped to Kite’s hand, its ruined fingers spread out in front of them. They took a deep breath, squared their shoulders under that pretty fabric.

“No, honoured sir. I was not.”

“You were safe in the capital, weren’t you? In the palace?”

“I was in the palace, yes. I wouldn’t - ”

“So, how is it you have scars from a battle at which you were not present?” Kite took a deep breath. “Maybe you don’t know how that battle’s spoken of out here among the people, so let me just tell you, that statement was very unwise. I’m not speaking metaphorically here, your highness. I’d advise you not to either.”

The Ruler’s face was very still. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Listen, your highness,” Kite said bluntly. “We were going to have this discussion at some point, so now’s as good a time as any. You were in the Palace being made a pet of by the Empress for most of the occupation. And you weren’t here for the uprising, either; you fled to the Elven lands.”

Their eyelashes flickered slightly, at that; but they didn’t interrupt.

“Now, I’m not exactly criticising you for the choices you’ve made. We’d be in a pretty tight spot if you hadn’t talked them around. It was the right decision to go.” Kite took a breath and forced himself to be fair. “And I’m sure being with the Empress was frightening, and I don’t doubt you were very upset to hear about the battle of the Ridge. But you heard about it. You were not there.”

Ruler Lian met his eyes. “It wasn’t my intention to claim pain that isn’t mine. But I can see how…” They bowed their head, slim shoulders drooping for a moment. “I’m sorry. Please accept my heartfelt apology.”

They were either very sincere, or very good at pretending it. But Kite liked that they’d made no attempt at excuses.

Kite considered for a moment, and then sat down again, bringing himself to the Ruler’s level.

“Accepted,” he said. “Your highness, please be careful how you speak when my fighters can hear you. I had to work hard to get them to accept you back as the rightful Ruler. If you aren’t mindful of the people who’ve done that actual fighting and dying for the past five years, they won’t follow you.”

“Thank you,” the Ruler said. Their fingers twisted on the table in front of them. “I appreciate your support. And your… candour.”

Kite still hadn’t seen any ‘steel’. He suspected that he would not.

But he could work with what was here.

[coffeeangelinabox]

Febuwhump #16: Came back wrong

Tears stream from Caretaker's eyes. "No!" he cries out, desperate, frantic negation.

Whumpee's expression doesn't change, their eyes reflect nothing of the person Caretaker had always loved.

"You can't do this! Don't you understand? I gave up everything to bring you back-" and I'd do it again goes unspoken.

Whumpee lunges. The hands they had once maintained so fastidiously with nail buffer and lotion to stave off weapon calluses are clawed, ash blackened. A line of drool dribbles from slack mouth. There's a red tinge to the eyes where the capillaries have burst. The bloody colour all the more horrifying against the grave-pallor of their skin, purple-blue bruises still on their throat like the flowers Caretaker should have left, should have mourned them with dignity and respect instead of turning them into this with ill understood magick.

"Whumpee," Caretaker tries to push them away. "Just- just listen. Come back to me."

Their lips pull back from teeth. They are not sharp and that's almost worse. It won't make any difference anyway. A human can do just as much damage with a bite as some mythical monster. The mouth is pale and dry. The air that escapes it with a wheeze stinks of rotting meat.

Caretaker manages to shove them back a few paces, buying himself a sliver of time. Just enough to look into his lover's face, worse now than when he had stared at it, lifeless and slack and dropped on the doorstep by Whumper.

"Whumpee," he whispers one more time, and raises the gun.

[shattermind-8]

Mutually assured destruction

Containment

CW: Kidnapping, Drugging, Unexplained cause of pain, Firearms, Defiant Whumpee, Cold/distant Whumper, Superpower Whump, Medical Whump (there is an Ambulance)

Burst: "Did we do it? Did we win?"

Burst stood in the rubble of what used to be a building, the now prior headquarters of a local gang.

Firefly:" Yeah, we totally did it. They are completely done for. I can't believe it, you completely leveled that entire building back there."

Firefly, who was observing the action from a safe distance, was now taking to Burst on the phone.

Burst:" That'll show them not to mess with us! I'm getting more powerful by the day!"

Burst raises an arm to inspect the blue glowing energy of force pulsing through the veins.

Suddenly a vehicle that appeares to be a completely white ambulance stops in front of Burst.

A group of three masked individuals in some kind of white uniform exit the back of the ambulance and quickly have Burst surrounded, two of them were armed with modified Fn P90s, aimed straight at their target.

The third unarmed member of the group, who was wearing more of a coat, still in the same style of the uniform as the others, clearly higher ranking in whatever organization they belong to than the other two.

???: "Funtime's over, kiddo. You are hereby under arrest."

Burst:"Firefly, I'll have to dip. Here are some punks that seem to want to get some. We'll catch up later at our spot tonight."

Burst ends the call before Firefly has the opportunity to reply and puts away his phone. Now focusing on the leader of the attackers.

Burst:"You want to arrest me? Good luck with that!"

Burst raises both arms, ready to fight, the blue energy flaring up. After that short display, Burst rushes towards the leader of the group.

???:"Luck won't be needed"

With a quick unassuming gesture the mysterious person removes his mask to reveal his rather pretty face. The Irises of his eyes glowing with a snow white shimmer as he intensively focuses his sight on Burst.

???:"Indivials like you are my specialty"

To the surprise of the now unmasked individual, Burst suddenly begins to scream in horrible pain, feeling like every single bodypart was being ripped apart from the inside. The blue glow was almost completely gone as Burst collapses to the ground, barely able to maintain consciousness through the pain.

Burst:"Who.. the fuck... are.. you..?"

The mysterious person kneels down next to Burst, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

???:"You can call me ZERO. I'm sure we'll have a lot of time to get to know each other."

As ZERO got up he gives a signal to his companions and they pick up the struggling Burst before carrying and restraining Burst on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance.

Burst tries to fight them off but remains unsuccessful as the pain was just too debilitating and Bursts powers just didn't want to work for some reason.

ZERO:"I want to clarify that the agony you're in currently isn't my intention. I honestly don't know what is causing it. It is certainly not caused by me directly. This should help for now."

ZERO grabbs an oxygen mask and places it firmly on Bursts face.

Burst didn't really react to ZERO, it wasn't really clear if Burst was paying any attention to anything other than the pain.

ZERO proceeds to open a valve on a small gas cannister that was connected to the oxygen mask with a tube.

ZERO:"Try to relax, deep breaths!"

Burst follows the commands given without thinking about it much at this point, breathing in the sedative gas and slowly drifting away into unconsciousness.

ZERO:"Just like that! Good kid!"

[whump-polls]

(what gender do you prefer for a whumpee, not just generally in whump)

i know that this is simplified and doesn't include all possible combinations of preference and attraction, you can't explore a lot of nuance in this format but this is probably the most complex i can get within the poll options, feel free to pick other/nuance and elaborate in the tags or discuss in comments/reblogs!

e.g if you prefer female characters in whump and arent attracted to anyone (not women or anyone else) or multiple genders excluding women, pick the 4th option if you prefer female characters and are attracted to multiple genders including women, pick the 3rd

(of course male/female characters also include trans characters)

[whumpyourdamnpears]

I’m bored, so I’ve decided to make a game for building your ideal whump series!

to start:

reblog for reach ❤️❤️

[syncopein3d]

Part 18: Weight of Dawn

Tropes/content warnings: M for mature themes overall. Tropes/content warnings: vampire whumpee/caretaker, male whumpee/caretaker, non-binary whumpee/caretaker, morbidity or thoughts of death. There will be a lot of play with, and discussion of, the concept of consent in this series, as it applies to many topics, but mostly biting.

In this episode: Recovery tropes mostly, semiconsciousness

If you would like to be added to, or removed from, the tag list of this series, please let me know!

Part 17: Painmother

Masterpost

Tolly had his taloned hands on the silly little wheel of the Kia Soul. He was over there to Arden’s left in the dark, bars of light passing over him every now and again, making the whiteness of his flesh blinding. Aeolus’ voice was almost there, dim and far away, coldly angry, out of reach.

Sometimes Tolly said something, too. Sometimes he had a hand on Arden’s shoulder, cold, heavy, but better than just the constant all-over ache. He had such huge hands. Vampires were supposed to be fancy and thin, weren’t they?

“God, you shouldn’t be driving.” That sounded like Arden’s voice, except worse.

“One of us must, and you are in no condition. We can worry about renewing my license later.”

It was darker and darker and lighter. The rumble of traffic felt louder. Someone was moaning about the extra vibration, because it made the ache worse.

“I know. I’m sorry,” that was Tolly again. “We still have an hour to go, but no more, I promise.”

It probably was about that long. Probably. They hadn’t heard Aeolus in a while. Maybe he’d given up. There was kind of a ringing in their ears they hadn’t been able to hear earlier, so it must be quieter outside the car. They should probably open their eyes to check. It felt like a lot of effort.

Car door opening to their right. Cold arms gathering them up, like they weighed nothing.

“I have you. Just try to relax.”

“Tolly?”

“Yes, still. Shhh, now.” Air moved past them – was he running? There was a sizable THUD, like he’d run right into a wall, then a grind and screech of old machinery. Light and dark and light again passed behind Arden’s eyelids.

Sound came and went. At some point hands were pulling their shoes off, then, against their fuzzy protest, their pants and socks. It felt too cold, but a reassuring voice sent them sliding away from sounds again.

This time, they stayed gone longer. When they came back, the ache was still there, waiting. Arden groaned into something warm - pillow? They were lying on their side with their cheek on something that didn’t seem very soft. Arden squinted their gluey eyes open slowly. A gently glowing dial on a cord lay not far from their face: an electric blanket.

A few facts slowly began to show notifications on the lock screen of Arden’s brain. The room around them was mostly dark, lit by the glow of the blanket control and the screens of two phones that looked to be sitting about three feet away. They might be on a table. The dim shape of cords said they were plugged in. There was a faint smell of bleach and maybe dust. A nest of blankets and sheets surrounded them.

When they stirred slightly, something heavy around their shoulder became an arm, limp fingers brushing their chest. Arden’s eyes popped all the way open. They were lying on Tolly. Tolly’s shirt. They were in bed with Tolly and they had no pants on. They sat up hurriedly. The arm slid off with a slithering little thump and no seeming effect on the heavy body beside Arden otherwise. Tolly was not breathing. Arden’s heart jumped in their chest for a second until they remembered.

It must be daytime. Arden peered under the sheet suspiciously. Tolly had sweat pants and socks on, and a gray tee shirt. That was a small comfort in the cold light of the realization that Arden had only their dark red boxer briefs on, but it was something. They groped across Tolly to get their phone, trying not to elbow him in the chin. The undead didn’t move or react, eyes shut. Not ashes. Not dead, Arden reminded themselves.

Arden ducked all the way under the covers, hidden in a small warm world as they unlocked the phone. 2 p.m. on Saturday. Okay, they’d left the lodge Friday night, before –

A shudder ran through them. They remembered power running through them, hot and cold like sticking your finger in a light socket, burning as it went. They remembered Aeolus hissing instructions, demanding they use some spell they couldn’t make work, swearing at the one they did use – fuck. They’d torn someone apart. They’d torn someone apart. They remembered too clearly what it had felt like to intrude fingers of power into a living body and then just separate them from themselves. They were sure they’d killed another woman, too, not just the Painmother, but the image of what had happened to the second one was vaguer.

“I told you to disintegrate them, you thundering idiot. Now there are bodies.” That was an irritatingly familiar voice. He couldn’t see Aeolus currently, but the source seemed to be outside the blanket, muffled. Aeden received a fleeting impression of the man in the black suit standing at the end of the bed, leaning forward with his hands resting on it.

“Go fuck yourself, Aeolus,” Arden mumbled into the mattress. “We were lucky I could do anything at all. You’re the worst teacher in the universe.”

“Miserable, ungrateful little wretch. I saved your life!”

“No, you tortured me inside my own brain for three weeks. Tolly saved my life.”

“You’ll learn how real the outer world is soon enough,” Aeolus said, a sneer in his voice.

“Maybe. I know you weren’t doing that to Uncle Nick all the time. And I think you would’ve if you could’ve. So he stopped you. I can, too.”

“For that, you’d have to actually learn, whelp. And not these clumsy flailings and tearings. Control. Wisdom. Thought.”  

Now that the connection was weaker, Arden’s body empty of power, the connection that bound them to Aeolus was a constant small irritation, easier to identify, harder to miss, like a splinter in their head. They could touch it, almost, if they shut their eyes. What would happen if they pulled?

It hurt. It hurt like someone pulling on the end of a severed muscle anchored into their soul. But it must have hurt Aeolus more, because his scream rattled on for long seconds after they let go.

STOP! He wasn’t able to simulate sound in Arden’s ears now. Pain twanged between them.

This hurts you more than me, Arden told him.

I don’t have to stay and give you power, Aeolus said sullenly. I can just leave. I can break the summoning bond and return to the place between.

Yes. But you don’t. Whatever being attached to me does for you, you want it bad, Arden said. Maybe you’re just waiting on another chance at possession, I don’t know. Right now, I don’t care. If you want to stay, you can teach me, but you’re not going to hurt me. Or I will hurt you back.

You MUST learn disintegration. For our safety.

Later. Arden crept out from under the covers, wincing. The movement seemed to tweak every muscle in their body, like they’d run a marathon and then been beaten with tire irons afterward. Tolly hadn’t moved, still a corpse for all intents and purposes. Arden shined their phone light around the room. There was the night stand where the phones had been, a door standing partway open into a walk-in closet, a door standing all the way open into a small bathroom with a standing shower, and a door that was closed.

They went to look out Door Number Three out of curiosity. The floor underfoot was hard and cold, and a glance down with the phone said it was hardwood or maybe pergo. The door opened into a room with a couch against one wall facing a flatscreen TV. The other half of the room was taken up by a kitchenette with all steel appliances. It was all empty and stark, a small print of the ocean above the couch just emphasizing how little else there was in the way of decoration. Nothing in it was personal, like – Arden’s mind ran back over the elaborate artistic designs Tolly had carved into the wall of his cell. This wasn’t a place he would live, just a place to hide.

They couldn’t see anything that looked like a front door. Maybe there was a secret lever somewhere or something. There was a sort of distant rumble all around, like maybe traffic, but it was too faint to tell. Arden went into the bathroom and shut the door, then turned the light on. It took a minute for their eyes to adjust. Then they remembered that they’d unlocked their phone, and their messages had shown a notification.

Arden opened the message app. It was a text from Tolly.

I’ve done my best to make the place presentable, but the weight of dawn is growing heavy again and I must sleep. Please don’t leave without me. Please wake up. Please read this.

They stood there reading and re-reading it for an embarrassingly long time. Then they set the phone down carefully on the steel sink and –

There was a little cupboard to one side of the sink that was made of wicker. A folded pile of Arden’s clothes sat on top of it. They hadn’t packed them nearly that neatly. Tolly had taken them out of the spinner and re-folded them right here so that Arden would find them.

They showered and dressed and brushed their teeth quickly, tied their hair back sloppily, and went to sit on the edge of the bed by Tolly, leaving the bathroom door open a little to see by. The indentation they made in the mattress didn’t shift the vampire’s larger weight. Arden picked up his cold hand and held it to their chest.

“I’m all right,” they told him. “You don’t need to worry.”

The deep-set eyes slitted open a very little under the heavy brows, the gleam of the light reflecting from the backs of them like it would from a deer or a cat. Arden heard him inhale. It felt loud.

“Arden,” Tolly whispered. The hand on their breast flexed slightly, pressing closer to their heart. They swallowed.

“Yeah. You can sleep, I just wanted you to know I’m okay.”

Tolly turned his fingers to clasp their hand, then withdrew back under the covers, shutting his eyes.

Part 19: Underground (Coming Soon!)

@fleur-a-whump, @valravnthefrenchie, @thewhumpcaretaker, @currentlyinthesprial, @jumpywhumpywriter

[chokedraven]

I like to delve into the psychological part of Whumper's actions. You know, there are different scenarios, different faces and emotions that Whumper would try on themselves or with the help of our dirty little hands (with all tenderness and respect <3) — so of course, I am very interested in the basis of an (in)voluntary infliction of pain. I recently saw a similar idea in one show — a person, the Whumper, moves away from what is happening with another one, the Whumpee, puts on a mask, tries on a role. It's not them who cause pain, as long as they play the image.

It may be a literal mask, an image that Whumper created for themselves, perhaps in order to separate and secure safe and benevolent part of themselves from sinful and sadistic thoughts — those that began to creep in recently, or maybe they always haunted them, until Whumper finally decided to create this binary being out of themselves. They separated their tendencies to enjoy destruction from themselves and endowed them with a face.

And so it happens for a certain period of time. They can remotely control the life of Whumpee and spoil it in every possible way, they can use their acolytes — perhaps these acolytes are the personification of their dark self — however, as long as their hands remained clean, they were unshakeable in their innocence.

But surely this turning point can happen, the moment when Whumper will be forced to realize all that they have done. That all of it wasn't because of some fictional persona they created — they had to face what they had done.

It could be in a courtroom. Someone had followed their trail by threads, and now Whumper was seeing their Whumpee in person— so did Whumpee — they were sitting face to face, both realizing the gravity of this discovery. One of them might cry. It will be followed by a cry from the second one. How sweet. But you can't flood justice with tears.

Or perhaps, at some point, Whumper will forget about their own scheme of non-involvement — or perhaps they themselves will want to push it aside in order to become stronger, merge with their more powerful and cold side. But, here's the problem. They didn't think that their lighter part would take the lead instead.

They didn't think that seeing the results of their actions in person wouldn't be as fun as watching it all through the camera screens. Perhaps, after seeing the extent of the injuries they inflicted on their Whumpee, they will finally look at their hands and be horrified to see the blood pouring over them. However, no amount of tears of remorse will be able to clean the copper smell from Whumper's mind, as well as their victim's.

[featherlovesrobots]

➔ “Hey. Mind playing for me for a while…? It helps me sleep.” ➔ “Any chance to dazzle you with my skills. Got a request?”

It’s quiet here. The gentle, nighttime kind of quiet Whumpee used to love. Before his life was turned upside down. Before he was snipped and cut and probed until he was new. Before Whumper.

There are differences. He tries to focus on the differences.

The clothes hanging on his body are cotton — one of Caretaker’s big t-shirts over a pair of worn lounge shorts with looped strings. So unlike the heavy chains and suffocating gags and robes Whumper had him wear. The room is bigger, but more full. Couches and bookshelves and tables with checkered clothed draped over them. Fuzzy rugs and soft-colored paintings. And the air is warm, much warmer and clearer than his cell.

But it’s quiet. A different kind of quiet, pierced by owls purring outside and the whistle of the tea kettle and the humming of the air heater, but still quiet. Similar enough to the silence that dragged over the atmosphere there, burrowing into Whumpee’s brain and spiraling him to what felt like destruction, like his eyes bleeding out and dribbling down his chin, like his fingers ripping and tearing and splitting at his still thin, patchy hair. But now he’s here. That eyes nightmare — it never even happened. And the hair, it’s growing back, it’s even soft now. But the silence… oh, the silence.

“Caretaker?” He calls out, lifting his voice as high as he dares. He’s been feeling better about being verbal lately, even though Whumper’s no-talking rule still sticks like tar.

Caretaker’s voice filters in from the kitchen. “Yeah, hon?”

The soft pattering of liquid being poured fills the thick quiet — the tea must be done. Whumpee curls tighter into the corner of the couch. “You gonna be in there much longer?”

“No, I’m almost done. One teaspoon sugar, no milk?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

They twirl to the couch, skirt flaring and that crooked sunswept smile splashed on their face. They extend a white ceramic mug towards Whumpee, and he takes it in both hands, careful and easy. He’s gotten better at that, too. Being given things.

As he lifts the rim to his lips, Caretaker plops down next to him, sitting cross-legged and sipping their own cup. “How is it? Good?” They probe, tilting their head.

“It’s great. I don’t know how you do it,” Whumpee answers, returning that smile of theirs. It’s true. The sage-tinted, lightly-sugared water runs hot down their throat. It always feels good to drink something warm, but somehow Caretaker’s tea is always the best.

Caretaker chats with Whumpee for a while, even after tea is done. It’s sweet of them to put so much effort into making him comfortable. They’ve always been so cheerful and patient and talkative around him, even though they’re naturally a pretty quiet person. They probably know it makes him feel safer. To be away from the quiet.

It’s probably midnight by the time Caretaker starts yawning. And Whumpee dreads it, the same way he does every night. It helps that Caretaker’s there with him, but it’s when it starts feeling like he’s running. Running fast and far but the silence always catches up and twists its way into his mind again.

Caretaker stands and offers him a hand. Gingerly he takes it, lets himself be pulled to his feet and guided to his bedroom — the guest room, a cozy place with a square TV and a soft bed with star-patterned sheets matching the glow-up lights on the ceiling. The stars, they help too. But they’re quiet too.

“Okay, well, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning, dear.” Caretaker turns around and steps towards the door, but Whumpee catches them by the wrist.

Caretaker pauses, slowly turning back to look at him. “Whumpee?”

“Hey. Would you mind playing for me for a while?” Whumpee licks his lips, eyes darting to the floor. “It helps me sleep.”

Caretaker grins. “Any chance to dazzle you with my skills. Got a request?”

That’s how they end up sitting at his bedside, playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on their cello. The silence melts away like ice on a pond, first night of spring. Music pours out into the air, warm and soft, and fills Whumpee’s head with cotton.

It’s not a real solution. He knows that. And eventually, he’ll need to stop relying on Caretaker so much.

But for now, this is home.

"Hey. Mind playing for me for a while...? It helps me sleep." + Musician!Caretaker

"...Of course."

"It'll take me a second to get the guitar, are you okay if I leave for a second?"

"Yeah. But you'll have to let go of my hand, first."

"Any chance to dazzle you with my skills. Got a request?"

"I haven't sung in a while, but I'll do my best okay?"

[sickfictropes]

(Content: Non-binary caretaker, lady whumpee, living weapon whump, injury whump, superhuman whump)

Here's an idea. A living weapon whumpee who's the sweetest person Caretaker has ever met.

Caretaker built up their first meeting so much in their mind—they were told to be careful, don't get too close, don't make eye contact, keep your voice low, let us know if anything goes wrong, call for help if you get hurt... when they actually find themself in front of her, they're shaking from nerves. But she's so... kind. The first thing she did was ask in a soft voice if they were alright. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Don't be scared. You can stay over there if it makes you more comfortable, okay? I'm tied up, see? I can't even reach you—no reason to worry."

Everything Caretaker was told about her was wrong. They can barely even bring themself to believe she's all that powerful any more. If she was, what reason would she have to be so timid?

Over time, they get closer and closer, even to the point where Caretaker is okay getting into Whumpee's reach. Caretaker makes a habit of tending to Whumpee's wounds after what she calls "training sessions." They chat, they laugh, they tell each other stories and find silly things to tease each other about. Sometimes, when Whumpee is with Caretaker, she can feel—just for a little bit—like she's somewhere other than a cell. She tries so hard to make sure she doesn't seem at all threatening, especially since she's already got such a tall, muscular frame. She dips her head, speaks quietly, gives her most reassuring smile.

Caretaker feels terrible for ever being scared of Whumpee, even though it wasn't their fault they were fed nonsense about her. It's heartbreaking how obviously lonely she is with how her eyes follow them, how she opens her mouth ready to protest when they say they have to go, only to snap it shut and cast her eyes to her lap.

She's Caretaker's best friend and they love her. They don't understand why everyone else who handles her is so afraid all the time—but they irritatedly chalk it up to the preconceived notions people tend to have around superhumans. She's stronger, faster, more durable than them, so they fear her. That's all it is.

One day, they're excited to see her—excited enough that they pick up a gift for her, something to decorate that dreary cell they can't stand that she's locked in, and they show up for a visit early.

"Whumpee!" They chirp, striding in and shutting the door with a flair. "Good morning! I got you a—"

"Go away."

It's then that Caretaker gets a good look at her. She's curled into the corner of the room, knees hugged tight to her chest. And she's got a cut on her eyebrow, open and bleeding in a dark trickle down her face.

"Oh... oh, Whumpee—here, I should help you with that. I brought my supplies in case you needed any first aid. Just hold still and I'll take care of it." Caretaker sets the gift down gently on the floor and approaches slowly. Whumpee doesn't seem to hear them, but she hasn't protested. Well, not since the initial go away.

Whumpee flinches when Caretaker's footsteps get too close. "I said go away. You said we were done today. We're done today."

"I— Whumpee, I don't know what you're talking about. It's okay, it's me. Caretaker."

They kneel down in front of her, and slowly, gingerly, they place a hand on her shoulder. Her head snaps up and her hand flies to their wrist, clutching hard. The pain pushes out their mind and they hear a horrific snap before she jumps to her feet and flings them over her shoulder. They crash to the cold metal floor and their breath rushes out of their lungs.

It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts.

They can't help the primal cry that shoots out of their mouth. That must be what brings Whumpee back, because she blinks twice and then her hands cover her mouth. "C-C-Caretaker? Is... is that... you? Oh—oh, oh, oh no, you're... you're here so early, I—I thought..." She drops to her knees over them, and she's back to herself, a minute too late.

"Whumpee... I'm—" They hiss, clutching their injured—broken?—wrist against their chest. "I'm okay. I'm s-sorry, I should've asked if—if it was okay to show up like this."

"Caretaker, I... I think you should go. Now, please." Whumpee shakes her head. "I can do some r-real damage when I'm like that. If you can walk, go get some medical attention."

"No. No, I'm fine, I promise, I just... Whumpee—"

The door clicks open, and a guards flood in. Hands guide Caretaker to their feet, and they're dizzy from pain, so they lean on the nearest body. Voices overlap. Caretaker squints up at Whumpee before she's obscured by two guards holding tasers. "No," they gasp, "don't— it was my fault, please don't hurt—"

Something sharp presses into their neck, and the world goes black.

They never visit her early ever again.

wow, i don't even have any contribution i could make for this!! no notes!!

[gh0sthands]

blog intro

hi! you can call me ghost. im 23, nonbinary, asexual, pronouns they/them

i have ADHD, GAD, and autism (though the knowledge of autism is relatively new to me), and im open to questions about any of those! whether its just curiosity, for writing, whatever, feel free to send asks :)

im mostly into whump for the hurt/comfort, and this blog is mainly to save stuff i like

stuff i like:

whumpee x caretaker

protective caretaker

neurodivergent whumpee and caretaker

fantasy settings

magic whumpee, magical exhaustion

nblw (non-binary loving women, like wlw or mlm)

non-male whumpee and caretaker

comfort, rescue, recovery

stuff that makes me uncomfortable/i avoid posts about:

whumper turned caretaker/carewhumper

bbu

yandere

whumper x whumpee

pet whump

bad caretaker (when its caretaker literally being an asshole, caretaker making mistakes and being a human doesnt count as bad caretaker to me)

will edit this post from time to time as i think of things

[lifblogs]

4, 12, 13

4. What do you wish you saw more in this community?

I wish I saw more understanding for queer and disabled people, if I'm being honest. I feel like so many non-binary/genderqueer whumpees are blank slates to be used for torture. Like, please, give them a personality! Please! And I feel like also when a disabled person speaks up about their experiences that they should be listened to. I also wish our input was a bit more valued. Because of being disabled we have a wealth of knowledge that others don't exactly have. I also want more understanding of PTSD. You'd think the whump community would be great about PTSD, but I don't know, I see people have a hard time making the symptoms come alive in the characters. I could be way off about all of this, but I would just like more understanding.

12. Favorite type of whumper?

Oh, hehehehehehehehe. I want a confident whumper. They're fine with what they're doing, they actually might think it's normal. I want them to be A okay with what they're doing. I mean, I've loved reluctant whumpers like I've seen in The 100, but right now I want that stone cold confidence. I want them creepy. I want them to get up in the whumpee's personal space at all times, not even as just a sexual thing all the time, but as a power move. I want them to use their body to remind the whumpee who is in charge. Yes, you know who I'm thinking of for this, and I love him.

13. Favorite type of whumpee?

I love whumpees who fight back, who fight with the pain, who don't want to give in. Because when they do fail it hits so much harder, and then there's so much to unpack. But with the fighting back, that back and forth between them and the whumper is amazing. I want both of them to be struggling during a torture scene. I want the whumper to have a hard time getting what they want, and we need stoic/strong whumpees for that.

WHUMPER-DUMPS ASK GAME

[spookyboywhump]

I don’t want to tag lady whump because I understand the points of people who said it’s kind of shitty since we don’t tag for male/non-binary whumpees but I also don’t know if I Should tag for a lady whumpee so that people who enjoy that can find it easier since it’s not as prevalent

[nickcmedina]

Update about my life as a whumpee pet.

I wanted to share with you about my new relationship, which started right after the "Whumpee has a Wish" experience that I abandoned here. Spoiler: everything went wrong, the guy didn't know how to play the role, I had to teach him everything and it wasn't satisfactory.

But I didn't give up! I went looking for someone to date and by accident, I swear I wasn't looking for it, I found a sadomasochistic person with a fetish for pet-play!

In other words, I, an avowed sadomasochistic whumpee pet, am in a relationship with this non-binary person who I treat like a goddess/god and who treats me like a submissive puppy! I'm living a dream!

I don't know, I wanted to share it with you here, it's the only social network where I feel comfortable sharing this kind of thing.

In fact, I intend to report our games here, if my owner allows me, of course.

[susiequaz12]

Whumptober 9

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

Day 9! Posted a bit later than I wanted but that’s okay. Part of Lo’s story with Allan. CW: immortal whumpee, non-binary whumpee, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper, possessive whumper, noncon touching.

- - -

Lo was lying on Allan’s bed, dressed in a silk nightgown that fell right above their knees, thin straps over their shoulders keeping their chest covered, but nothing more than that.

They were cold.

Lo fiddled with the chain around their ankle keeping them secured to the bed as they heard the shower shut off. Allan stepped out a few moments later, a soft robe wrapped around his body.

“Well good morning darling, sleep well?”

Lo simply nodded, moving themselves further under the blanket to try and achieve some more warmth. It had been a few days since Allan let them out of that closet. A few days since they had been here, dressed up like their pet, like a trophy for him to stare at.

“It’s about time I show you something I’ve been working on.”

Lo didn’t resist as Allan pulled them into his lap, putting an arm around their waist, his thumb padding over their rib cage.

Allan pulled out a small binder out of the top drawer of his nightstand, setting it on Lo’s lap, and opening it to the first page.

Inside was a news article, titled “Young Man the only survivor of train accident.” Dated 1937. Below was the faded image of a figure with dark curly hair, dressed in an old tan suit, being pulled out of the ruckage.

Next page was another article- accompanied by some of Allan’s own handwritten notes. “Mysterious young woman pulled out of a burning building.” 1974- the image- a figure standing in front of the ashes, the same dark hair, longer now. And a burnt, ash covered dress, falling just below their knees.

The pages continued on like this, news articles, research, notes- Lo’s heart pounding further and further in their chest. They came to a page with a few Polaroids on it, and Lo flinched instinctively as Allan’s hand curved up to the back of their neck.

“These, darling, were taken by my grandfather. He was something of an artist.”

Lo’s heart dropped. They recognized the pictures immediately- remembered the face of the man who took them. They were different then, it was a long time ago- but it was most definitely them.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Allan purred. “The way he positioned you in the light, the way the fabric drapes over your skin-“ Allan gripped Lo’s thigh tighter with his other hand, crawling his fingers upward underneath the edge of Lo’s nightgown.

“That’s- that’s not me-“ Lo whispered.

Their eyes paced back and forth over the Polaroids, the images they’d pushed away. He had offered them a large sum of money- just to be photographed. Lo at the time was desperate, but they didn’t fully inspect everything it would entail.

Allan flipped the page- there were more.

Lo lying on a bed, their legs up in the air, a sheet carefully draped over their stomach, arms above their head.

Marlowe on their stomach, their hair spilling onto a pillow, knees bent, back arched, positioned high in the air…

Lo closed their eyes tightly but felt Allan’s grip on their face pulling their attention back towards the images.

“Look at yourself darling- see how lovely you are.”

“I- I don’t want to- that’s, that’s not me.” Lo whispered. But they knew the truth. Their eyes scanned over another image.

It was a close up- their hands were tight in their own hair, long, dark curls spilling across the bedsheets. The hand of the man behind the camera locked around their throat. You could see every expression on their face, their eyes closed tight, mouth parted open- Even though it was in black and white you could sense the flush in their cheeks, the tremble in their breath.

“That one’s my favorite-“ Allan whispered, his breath tickling in Lo’s ear.

Lo jumped, closing their eyes tight as Allan pulled them tighter into his lap, burying his head in their neck, whispering into their ear.

“See- I’ve been waiting for years to find you- just like my grandfather did. I did all my research- I took my time- and so when I saw you in that bar, I knew it was my chance. To make you mine.”

Lo shook their head, trying to pull away but Allan’s grip was too tight around them.

“That’s not me. I don’t know what- what you’re talking about.”

Allan pulled away suddenly, giving Marlowe a harsh slap to the side of their head. They fell backwards onto the bed, rolling over onto the soft sheets.

“You’re a liar!” Allan screeched, stalking towards Lo on the bed. “You lie! The articles- the photographs-“ He positioned himself carefully above Lo on the bed, straddling their hips, pinning their wrists down into the mattress. his eyes scanned up and down Lo’s figure as he spoke. “I’ve seen your body- every curve, every line. I know it’s you in the photographs, there’s no mistaking it.”

“Please- you- you don’t understand- I-“

“No- I understand perfectly.” Allan shushed them with a hand over their mouth, the other pinning both of Lo’s wrists behind their back. He leaned forward, pressing his whole weight against Lo’s small form, lips tickling at the shell of their ear. “I understand who you are. I understand why you are here, and I understand-“ Allan nipped at Lo’s skin, flicking his tongue into their ear, relishing in their squirms. “-I understand who you belong to now.”

Lo let out a panicked breath as Allan pulled away from them, moving to place the book back into the nightstand. Their eyes grew wide once more as their wrists were grabbed, tied delicately with a ribbon above their head.

Allan moved back onto the bed, untying the knot of his robe, letting it fall loose around his body. His hands moved up Lo’s thighs, pushing up the hem of their nightgown above their waist as he let his body press into Lo’s once more.

“Please- don’t- don’t do this-“ Lo whispered, as Allan’s fingers began to dig into their thighs, his lips nipping and sucking at the skin of their neck.

“No, my darling Lo. You need to learn who you belong to.”

- - -

Tag List: @imagination1reality0 @thecyrulik @whumpsday @termsnconditions-apply @spectral-whumpy-writer @raddyscoops @whumptober-archive

[whumpsoda]

I have a ramble.

For the heavily thralled whumpee, I’m imagining something very similar to Vander from arcane but a little shorter and a tad younger. This is a man who works his ass off in manual labor and has the body to prove it. Perhaps metal working or something? Idk BUT STILL

The idea of the thin as a whip (lady??) whumper seeing the hulking figure of whumpee and being like “mmm. yes. that one” is so unusual in vampire circles. I mean think about it, you want to be able to maintain control over your thrall and one of the ways to do that is to get one smaller or similar to your height.

LAST BIT OF THE THOUGHT I give you, perhaps whumper got to know whumpee organically. Maybe they didn’t set out to abduct him, but became charmed by him. becoming obsessed with spoiling the otherwise humble man who’d never touched a precious gem that was meant for him. Or smth, I’m not sure

(Just a note cause I’ve seen a couple people possibly confused, the whumper to my heavily thralled whumpee is non binary! :)

Also I’ll just say here that I named those two as well, Whumpee 1 is now Malak and Whumper 1 is Adrastus!

Now my turn to ramble :3

YES I definitely envision him as a very large man, definitely muscular and a little pudgy :D (I have an addiction to large whumpees) He probably did some kind of physical labour type work as you said, but I don’t have anything specific!! I’d say he’s probably in his early to mid twenties as well!

And I didn’t even think of their pairing as possibly unusual in that society, but I can definitely see it!! Adrastus is for sure a vampire who views any human as easily trained, and doesn’t mind any sort of a challenge.

Also I can TOTALLY see that for them. Since they’re completely one to look down on a lot of people, they probably just saw him- a large, quiet, sweet guy- as a cute little pet :3 They definitely stalked him for a while, and maybe ended up talking with him a few times, just becoming even further enamored. I just know they were heartbroken when he was especially uncooperative after his kidnapping, but they quickly fixed that >:)