#whump scenario

[defire]

Manhandling--especially done in silence.

Content: manhandling, humiliation, beating

Slammed into the top of a desk with their arm twisted behind them

Whumpee wincing and freezing under whumper's weight as they realize they're trapped; if they move any more their wrist is going to break

whumpee crushing their lips in their teeth to hold back cries of pain that they'd be punished for

Guards shoving in a manacled, stumbling whumpee before the king, kicking him to his knees and forcing him to bow so low his forehead hits the flagstones

Fist in the hair to yank whumpees head up

Or fingernails bruising into the cheeks for the same goal

Whumpee frustrated to rage that they aren't being allowed to just walk straight, instead they have to throw them into walls and slam them down into seats

Looking up with a livid glare at main whumper when they get there

Whumpee starting to speak, "wait, just--" gets yanked so hard the words catch before he staggers forward

"I can walk." Whumpee growls next time they come for him. Snarky guard--"well, you're to be dragged."

When the whumpers step away from whumpee, now tied up and gagged on the floor, panting through his nose

Humiliating punishments like whipping while whumpee is tied up like this, whumpee floundering awkwardly away with a muffled shriek at every strike

Holding whumpee's arms so whumper can punch them over and over in the stomach

A lineup of prisoners, but whumpee is the only one that gets thrown and kicked into position

[crimsons-whump-pile]

pinned whumpees are a greatly underutilized category of being. pinned by restraints, like cuffs or straps or chains? excellent! pinned by weaponry, like stakes or knives or swords shoved through them? even better! a cuff can be wriggled out of, if they try hard enough, but the only way out of a sword driven through their hand is to tear it out.

can you imagine how whumper would have to go about pinning whumpee up in the first place? holding them down as they struggle fruitlessly, shoving the blade through their skin as they cry out in pain, but if they struggle now, it’s only going to make the wound worse. if they’re left there long enough, or if they have some sort of healing factor, would the wound close around the weapon that made it? would it be just as painful to remove the offending object as it was to put it there in the first place?

[questions-about-blorbos]

This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[foundfamilywhump]

whumper who weaponizes whumpee’s insecurities to break them down emotionally, to make them easier to manipulate or even just for fun, to see them hurt. make them cry.

reminding whumpee of the parent(s) who hurt them. the friend who betrayed them. the team who kicked them out. dredging up the sources of their beliefs that they won’t matter to anyone, that their pain, their suffering, their life is nothing anyone would care about.

taunting them: who’s coming for you? even if you got away/told someone what’s happening, what would be the point? go ahead. we’ve already called them, they say good riddance. we could put an ad out in the paper, broadcast it online and no one would lift a finger in your name. you’re free for the taking. anyone could do anything to you. just face it: you’re a defenceless target.

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee looked tired, and lost. They sat alone with their back turned amongst friendly chatter. They seemed distracted and dissociated from the crowd.

Silently, a gentle arm rested around their shoulders as whumpee looked up and saw caretaker, sneakily sliding next to them at the table. Carekaker was taken aback when their typically-reserved whumpee suddenly gasped and clung to their neck tightly.

"I really needed to see you today." Whumpee's voice broke in a whisper against their shoulder. 

[whumporama]

Whumpee never truly fit in with the team. Sure, they are part of it, but they're never part of the conversation, they're around for it. They have to make sure to eat quickly, because nobody will wait if they are last. They get noticed when they slack, but not when they're doing good. Nobody asks them if they're okay after missions, nobody shares a room with Whumpee. They're part of the team, but they're not part of the team.

But then they go through something awful, and when they get out and back with the team, the team takes care of them. They get the help they need. Whumpee doesn't often get to be the one in the center of attention, so it's a bit weird, but not unpleasant.

Within days, Whumpee is forcing themselves to do things again, because the team stopped doing them. And that makes sense, really, they can do it, so why shouldn't they? They like doing things on their own.

But then, weeks later, another team member gets hurt, and Whumpee sees how differently they're being treated. They also get help, but people ask if they're okay, and if they need anything. They stay up with them to make sure they're okay, make sure they're never out of anything.

They... never did any of that for Whumpee. Even when teammember is back on their feet, people still help them out, not in an overwhelming sense, but just showing that they're there for them.

And Whumpee suddenly realizes again, ah, right. That's where I stand in the team.

How silly of them to think they were equally valued.

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Content: Living weapon, recovery, PTSD/trauma, violence, past conditioning, begging.

Whumpee who's so used of being used as a shield or a weapon that they won't hesitate to hurt anyone who comes near Caretaker. Friends have to be careful with what they say and do because Whumpee won't stop no matter how much Caretaker begs them to. They're not supposed to listen to the person they're protecting. They're supposed to just protect. Don't think about it, don't think about it, just protect.

But each time they look down at the friend they've hurt after finally made it out of their own head, they're hit with an immeasurable amount of guilt. They know this person. They were close to Whumpee, before everything that happened.

In the safety of their own home, Whumpee stumbles to the floor and begs for Caretaker's forgiveness. It's become a routine, at this point. Not one they want, but one they create for themselves each time they hurt someone.

In between their pleas, they weep into Caretaker's stomach about how sorry they are and how much they miss the person they used to be. Staining their shirt with their tears, gripping onto it so hard that there's pain in their hands when they let go again.

And Caretaker simply holds Whumpee's head to their stomach with a gentle hand to the side of their face, their free hand trailing continuously through their hair as they listen to Whumpee's cries.

They'll never admit that they miss the person Whumpee used to be, too.

[whump-galaxy]

“Please, please don’t hurt them,” the leader wheezes, desperately reaching out to the whumper through the metal bars. Even the whumper is surprised when the hand catches their shoulder. Their grip is gentle, and their eyes are pleading.

“…I won’t.”

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee tried their best to keep track of how many days it had been, but it was hard, as their cell had no windows. The only constant was the bit of food the whumper would give them, so they’d count that way. The whumpee tried their best to keep the number days in their mind, but slowly, they’d lose count, and eventually, it had felt like an eternity since they last knew how long they’d been under the whumper.

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumpee and Caretaker(s) visit Whumper’s grave, and while Caretaker(s) might not understand why Whumpee processes grief (and trauma) the way they do, they are there to support Whumpee through whatever they need, despite their own complicated feelings towards Whumper

@3-2-whump

Caretaker took a quick glance at Whumpee while they drove into the cemetery.

Whumpee cuddles a small bouquet of flowers closer and watches out the window.

Caretaker took in the visible scars that covered Whumpee's arms. They had just gotten a little more comfortable with showing their scars. Caretaker was so proud of them.

Caretaker sighed as they parked near the grave sight of the bastard who placed those scars on their Whumpee.

If it was up to Caretaker, Whumper would have been burnt to ashes and flushed down the toilet for what they had done. Unfortunately, Whumper's family made the funeral and burial arrangements. How they were able to live with the fact that the bastard had done horrible things to others and still give a proper burial was beyond Caretaker.

"Alright", Caretaker turned to Whumpee, "and you're sure you want to do this again? We can go get ice cream, or do something else even. We don't have to be here."

"I-I know, but I want to", Whumpee looked back at Caretaker, "i-is that okay?"

"Yes that is perfectly fine", Caretaker reassured, "I fully support anything you need to do for your recovery. Even if I fully do not like it, and will be honest on that. Your recovery is very important to me. If this helps you, then I will support you."

Whumpee smiles, "thankyou", they whisper.

Caretaker made their way to a nearby bench. It was close enough to watch over Whumpee, but they could stay out of the way.

Whumpee slowly walks to the grave. Caretaker always took in how cautious Whumpee was. Almost as though someone may jump out and startle them.

Whumpee stood at the foot of the grave for a few moments before kneeling down.

Caretaker wasn't close enough to hear what Whumpee said next. This is how it played out every time, like clock work.

After several moments, Whumpee would hold up the flowers as though they were offering them or showing them to someone. They would whisper one more thing before standing and placing the flowers at the head of the grave.

After a few more minutes, Whumpee would then walk back toward Caretaker.

Caretaker would then mumble something like, "Bastard", under their breath, then smile at Whumpee.

"Could we by chance get ice cream?", Whumpee smirked, "you said it, and now it sounds really good."

"We can get ice cream", Caretaker chuckled as they stood.

Whumpee enjoys their ice cream sundae on the park bench while Caretaker drinks a coffee.

"This tastes so good", Whumpee smiles.

"Yes the coffee is good as well", Caretaker agrees.

Caretaker studied Whumpee for a few moments before sighing.

"Are you okay?", Whumpee gives them a questioning look.

"I always tell myself what you do at the grave sight is up to you. It's none of my business, but I'm just curious why you want to go monthly to visit. Then also what you say", Caretaker paused, "you don't have to tell me, of course. Like I said, it's personal to you."

"Oh uh", Whumpee looked at Caretaker and smiled.

Caretaker frowned, "you don't have to tell me."

"No, it's fine. Just part of it is probably a little silly to most. Whumper was always afraid of death. It was their biggest fear. Though they were not nice to me, they deserve to have some sort of visitors. Plus, I can make sure the grave is still there. I can know for sure they haven't somehow came back to life. I know it's dumb, but it's a comfort to know they're dead and have proof of it. I always tell them that I brought flowers, then as I leave I beg them to stay there. For them to stay dead."

Caretaker smiled comfortingly, "I see, you use that as a reassurance that they are truly gone."

"Ymhmm", Whumpee nodded, "stupid, isn't it?"

"No, not at all", Caretaker chuckled lightly, "like I said. I fully support anything you need for your recovery. I fully assure you though. That bastard is dead."

"I know, and I might believe that....once they are gone from my nightmares at least."

Caretaker looked at Whumpee sadly, "I'm sorry you still dream about them."

Whumpee nodded, "thankyou so much. Also, thankyou for helping me. Your support for me has been so helpful."

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiled,"I'll always be here for you."

Caretaker watched as Whumpee took a few steps away to look at some baby ducklings swimming past. Their mind replayed those first few days after Whumpee's rescue. How traumatic it all was. The thing that kept them moving forward was the fact that their Whumpee survived it... all by themself.

Caretaker knew they would never experience what Whumpee had experienced, and they would work hard to make sure it never happened again.

That's why it hurt when they still had to visit that graveside.

Caretaker knew the bastard was dead. Caretaker killed Whumper themself. Unfortunately, the bastard still lived on and Caretaker had no way to quickly dispose of Whumpee's nightmares.

Caretaker just had to wait until the therapy started to work.

Caretaker whispered to themself, "only a matter of time. Everything will hopefully be back to normal. In a matter of time."

I am really sorry about the wait, I had a lot of requests come at me at once, and I got a little overwhelmed, so I needed a little creativity break. I know I'm apologizing a lot lately. So yeah. I really hope you enjoyed this story though. I will attempt to get the next two requests out for everyone. -MJ

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @ragin-cajun-fangirl

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown

[ghost-whump]

Shower Day

CW: kidnapped whumpee, defiant whumpee, sadistic whumper, waterboarding(?), hypothermia (mentioned), nudity (mentioned), let me know if I missed anything!

Whumper entered the basement with loud, clunking steps down the stairs. They flick the light on when they reach the bottom.

“Hh—” Whumpee hissed and covered their eyes, heavy manacles pressing coldly into their cheeks. “Fucking hell.”

“Rise and shine, fuckface.”

With a drawn out groan, Whumpee blinked until the light wasn’t so painful. They scooted farther back into “their” corner of the basement, drawing closer to the wall, as if they could be absorbed into it.

They turned to face the wall, the smallest act of defiance they could express, “Go away.”

“No can do, Whumpee,” Whumper’s footsteps grew closer, “It’s shower day for you.”

That perked them up. A shower? A real, honest-to-god shower? Hot damn, that sounded good! Whumpee managed the barest hint of a smile at the prospect. Their hair, caked with blood and grease and other various substances, grew unbearably thick and disgusting to even think about. And that’s not even mentioning their soiled clothes.

Rubbing at their eyes, Whumpee brought themselves to turn around. And their smile dropped.

Whumper held a hose and a bucket.

At their pained expression, Whumper chuckled, “Oh? You thought you got a real shower?” They put the bucket on the floor and took a step closer, “Sorry for the mislead, Whumpee.”

The water hit them suddenly. Frigid, icy water hit their skin like a jet — definitely enough force to bruise, at least. They cried out, futilely holding their arms out in front of them. The cold water sprayed onto their body like bullets, dousing their hair and clothes all in less than a minute.

Then, the water tapered off.

Whumpee spit some water out of their mouth. It tasted like shit, nothing like the refreshing hose water they’d had as a kid.

“Whoops.” Whumper smiled.

Then it started again. This time, with so much pressure, Whumpee was knocked back into the wall. The hose turned off.

Whumpee heaved, “Fuck yo—ACK!”

Over and over, the water turned on and off, on and off, on and off. Friction burns raised on their arms from where they tried to protect themselves. The chill of the cool, stagnant basement air started to seep into their skin, sending a shiver through their whole body.

“That should be good.” Whumper dropped the hose to the floor (much to Whumpee’s relief) and turned their attention towards the bucket. They pulled out a gray towel and turned back. “Give me your clothes now, Whumpee.”

They stood there, shivering. “What?”

“You heard me — give me your clothes. They’re all soaked now.” Though they spoke pragmatically, their grinning leer said anything but.

“Fuck n-no. I-I’m not getting n-naked in front of you.” Their teeth chattered loudly, telegraphing how cold they really were.

Whumper turned around, picking the bucket back up. “Fine, then. No towel for you, I guess.” They started back towards the stairs, “A shame, really. I had it heated up on the radiator and everything. It’s supposed to be even colder tonight, too. I’d hate to have my poor Whumpee freeze…”

Whumpee remained silent.

“Well, goodnight, Whumpee.” They flipped the lights off.

“W-Wait!”

The lights turned back on as quick as they shut off. Whumper turned, so so slowly. “What do you say?”

“Pl-please?”

this has been sitting in my drafts for SOOO long and i’ve never posted it. since i haven’t written anything in a while, i thought i might as well post it lol

thank for reading!!!

General Tag: @morning-star-whump

[defire]

Stoic whumpee pretending to be submissive, but slowly breaking

(pet/slave vibes, sarcasm)

Content: whipping, beating, nocon nudity

"I'll do anything, sir, I'm not going to make trouble," whumpee closes their eyes to roll them

"You're not going to ask why?" Whumper frowns. Whumpee quenches his sarcasm as he answers, "I never ask why, sir."

"Kneel." *Whumpee thumps down* "Yes, sir, I'll be the perfect highlight to the furniture down here, thank you for the opportunity to serve you, sir."

To see how far their obedience goes, whumper orders them to strip down in front of guests. They hesitate for a full 5 seconds and then just... Do it, smiling shakily

"You're hiding something, whumpee." "...I am?" Whumpee tries to look puzzled, but the corners of their mouth are twitching. "You're not going to be smiling when I'm done with you."

Adding punishments to force out some streak of defiance that whumper feels must be there

But every time whumpee is beaten/humiliated, it takes them longer to assume the submissive pose and force their eyes down

Whumpee losing bits of control as whumper catches them glaring, pausing to rest, or heaven forbid giving them the finger

Adding lashes and humiliations, each punishment worsens as whumper tries to get them "back under control"

Trembling lips as whumpee slumps to the floor after whumper leaves, realizing they may not ever escape, trying not to downright break down in tears

"What do you think you're doing, hm?" Whumper keeps trying to tilt whumpee's chin up. Whumpee doesn't have the strength to keep their voice submissive, so they don't answer.

Whumpee's attempts just visibly weak. "Yeah, yes sir, I know, i am quite an idiot sir," whumpee sighs as they plod away to follow orders.

Whumper deciding they're just not scared enough. Pulls out a whip and watches whumpee wince subtly.

When whumper orders whumpee to kneel in front of them, they stare blankly for just a moment too long before obeying.

One day whumper is being led back to the whipping post and they just, stop. "Whumpee? Walk." Whumpee turns on whumper. "Give me one goddamn reason why."

The punishments that land whumpee on the floor, curled in and sobbing for real this time. Whumper realizes in these moments whumpee seems like a completely different person.

"why do you suddenly think you can be defiant, whumpee?" Whumper toes their body after a particularly heavy beating. "I always was, man. I'm just... Tired of fucking pretending."

[crimsons-whump-pile]

I’ve been in a terribly whumpy mood lately, so please for your consideration, imagine a whumpee that’s been so heavily conditioned by whumper that they can’t really function without rules and orders, and now imagine a caretaker that will actually do that. I see so much where the caretaker tries to break whumpee out of that mindset, but what about a caretaker who just doesn’t have the time or resources to break the conditioning, and so their next best option is to just… go along with it?

whumpee won’t eat or drink or sleep without being ordered to? caretaker puts rules in place that require whumpee to do those things at set times, and the consequences for missing one of those times (because you know whumpee won’t accept that there are rules without punishments for breaking them) is to do that thing in the company of caretaker. whumpee misses their lunchtime? now they have to sit with caretaker to make sure they actually eat the food set out for them. it’s a consequence that doesn’t actually harm them, and one that will subtly reinforce that caretaker values whumpee’s wellbeing, without seeming like a cop-out.

caretaker knows that whumpee has been irrevocably changed by their experiences under the hand of whumper, and they know that the trauma incurred isn’t something that can easily be contradicted or fixed. they know whumpee is damaged, and they know it isn’t something they can help with right now, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to give up and leave whumpee behind, or expect whumpee to just bounce back on their own. caretaker wants whumpee to be safe and healthy, so they’re going to do their best to make that happen, even if they have to utilize the very conditioning that whumper put in place to make that happen.

[paingoes]

Rubies

Check In

this is the most living weapon its gotten in a while

(Content: living weapon whumpee, recovery, conditioning, past abuse, guilt, emotional whump, death mention)

Delta rolled over in the bed. He didn’t startle so much when he woke up anymore; the room had become familiar. Even weeks later, he still slept much more there than he ever had on the Thorn. He was still so tired all the time. They’d said it was okay for him to rest. He was grateful for that.

The only issue was how disoriented it made him. He didn’t know what time it was when he awoke, but the sky outside was bright and airy. He slowly rose up, about to brush his hair out of his face when he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. So weird.

He cracked open the bedroom door, doing his best to keep quiet. It was a force of habit. He slipped out into the hallway.

Levon was standing in the kitchen.

Delta dropped as soon as his eyes fell on him. Before Levon could even get a word out, he’d already gotten onto the floor, bowed down about as low as he could get.

He didn’t hear Kitty approach, but she was at his side soon enough, gently urging him off of the ground. He almost fought her. He didn’t want to. He reluctantly stood up, but he could not bring himself to look up. In his periphery, Levon leaned back against the kitchen counter. 

“Good morning, Delta.” He was unperturbed by the display, not upset with him for standing, as deeply wrong as it felt to do it.

It was the first time he’d said his name. Delta paid careful attention to the way he’d handled it. No contempt. No anger. 

Apollo stood back against the stove, staring daggers at Levon. He dropped the expression just as soon as he was caught doing it, but the discontent was still written across his face. A few bags were laid out on the counter.

Kitty’s hand still hung loosely in his own from where she’d picked him up off the ground. He found himself gripping it a little tighter. She bumped into him, nuzzling a bit like she was trying to mark her scent on him. He was already wearing her jacket.

“Thought I’d drop in to see how things are going. I brought you some clothes and some groceries. I’d have stopped by early, but I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.” 

Something changed in Levon’s voice on those last few syllables. Nobody else would have noticed, but Delta had become adept at measuring people’s emotions. Finding their tipping points. It’d been a matter of survival.

He resisted the urge to drop to the floor again. He wouldn’t beg for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it. But he was sorry. He knew what preoccupied meant.

“Things are going fine.” Apollo’s tone didn’t betray any of his enmity. “Maybe you’d like to give him a minute to get his bearings? He just woke up.”

“I’m okay,” Delta said weakly, surprising himself. Surprising them, clearly. 

He clamped his hand over his mouth just as quickly. He hadn’t been given permission to speak, not in front of Levon. He wouldn’t have normally. He didn’t like to object, but he had an override: Levon didn’t need to give him anything.

“It won’t be long.” Levon rested his elbows against the counter. “You’ll have the rest of the day to yourself, I promise. Just a talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Delta confirmed cautiously, since he hadn’t been punished for speaking the first time. 

Kitty leaned closer against him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her wink.

~

They went outside. Levon had obviously wanted to talk alone, but was not so audacious as to kick Apollo out of his own house. Delta pulled on a pair of blue and white tennis shoes he’d recovered from the den before stepping out into the morning light. He hadn’t come out to this side of the house yet, certainly hadn’t ventured as far as the dirt road that led up to it. 

Levon’s ship was parked in the yard, nearly the same size as the house. It was a bright, electric purple, reflecting the sunlight out at harsh angles. His leather boots paced unbothered through the grass of the yard, getting dust on their edges as he walked out into the road. Delta followed after him. It was a bit hard to keep pace when Levon was so much taller. Levon slowed down to accommodate the difference.

It was warm out. Delta studied the trees of the forest around him — mostly Arecaceae. They were further South then he’d realized. Bright birds moved upwards in the canopy.

The wildlife was much easier to focus on than the figure beside him. He couldn’t help himself from tensing as Levon spoke.

“How’s your arm?” He cast a glance at the cast. Delta held it up for him, the way he would’ve under examination. If nothing else, Paris had at least made a clean break. It didn’t hurt much anymore. 

“It’s better. Thank you.” Delta blushed for some reason. It was hard to accept concern from Kitty or Apollo. It felt stranger coming from Levon. More taboo. He didn’t know why.

“You cut your hair,” Levon observed.

Delta flinched. 

“They…said I could,” he defended weakly. He shouldn’t have. He should’ve just left it alone, he didn’t know why he had even said anything in the first place. He started to apologize.

“No, it looks nice,” Levon said, “Lot less heavy, I’m sure.”

It was.

~

The road eventually led up to a tributary, which led up to a large lake. It was cooler by the edge of it; the wind carried off of the water.

“I wanted to check in to see if you were adjusting okay. I wanted to make sure that you were ready to come back,” Levon admitted, toeing at a stone with his boot. He cast Delta a sidelong glance. “Are you ready to come back?”

Delta stared at him blankly. Levon nodded; of course he didn’t know. Nobody had bothered to explain it to him. 

He passed him a smooth shaped stone. He didn’t know why. Gesture of moral support? Delta took it anyway.

“There’s going to be a trial. Nothing big. We just need to catch some of the council up to speed on your situation and establish a plan going forward.” He paused.

Delta had returned to staring at the ground. The thumb of his good hand turned anxiously over on the stone; he gave no other indication he was upset. Everything else remained perfectly neutral.

“This is only in the interest of security,” Levon tried to reassure him, “It won’t be punitive — though that may come up in conversation, nobody will go for it. I’d veto it before they could. I gave you my word that you wouldn’t be harmed and I mean that. Still…it may be a difficult experience for you. And your friends are concerned it may be too early.”

~

Delta blinked. They’d said that?

They’d been concerned about him. That strange, dull ache started up in his chest again. They’d defended him.

Not punitive, he’d said. Why not? He’d have deserved it. Amnesty was a promise they had made to him; it was never anything he had asked for. All he had wanted was to get out. Whatever they decided to do with him afterwards was beyond him. He’d have accepted it gladly. It was the least he deserved.

What plan, then?

The answer came to mind nearly before the question did. How best to utilize him. What targets to hit. How he’d need to be disciplined — not punished, disciplined — and how he’d need to be re-trained.

He’d do it. If Levon asked him to, he’d do it.

He thought of Lemuria. He thought, funnily enough, of the seagulls he’d once vaporized midair when they’d been in proximity of the target ship. What had the gull ever done wrong?

“I’ll go, sir,” he said, though he didn’t feel ready. By the end of the month, he’d be closer to it. He didn’t want to delay it. He didn’t want to be difficult.

“We’re still preparing,” Levon nodded, “You should be, too. It’d be nice to have a clearer view of what your desires are for the future. It’d give us something to work around. I don’t know if you’ve given it any thought, but I’d be remiss not to ask.”

A large waterfowl descended from the sky, landing noisily just at the edge of the water. His attention was drawn away for a second. He was still looking at it when he answered.

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.” He found himself gripping the rock tighter.

He could only read the question as a probe, something to get caught on. But he didn’t get the sense of Levon trying to trick him. He couldn’t untangle it.

“Would you want to stay onboard Galatea after all this? Or do you want to be done with it? I can’t make any promises, but we’d take it into consideration during the ruling.”

Oh. Oh.

They don’t need you.

The realization hit with both relief and devastation. The devastation won out. He couldn’t stop himself.

“I can still operate,” he said. He had never once had to fear obsolescence. It was a brand new terror. “I’m not at full capacity anymore, but it’s still viable. If you wanted me to. Sir.”

His hands traced the collar unconsciously. 

Levon had been standing with his hand on his hip, his head cocked to the side in a post that made him look younger than he was. Rebel heartthrob — he’d never forgotten how to act like it. As the offer, his posture dropped, his expression turning much more serious. 

Delta flinched from the way his face fell, the minute shift of his shoulder. But the hit didn’t come, again. 

“Delta,” he spoke calmly, but there was a sternness beneath it, “Do me a favor.”

“Yes, sir.” His fingers twitched. Anything.

“Don’t ever suggest that again.”

He shut down.

They didn’t want it. All his life he’d been indispensable and now they didn’t even want it. In that instant, the thousand discreet instances of indiscriminate killing came secondary to his desire to be needed.

Levon’s expression softened, his lips parting slightly as his eyes searched.

“Is that what you want?” he asked quietly. “To keep being a weapon?”

There was no good answer, no right one. To his horror, he realized his eyes had started watering again. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Oh, oh, no,” Levon’s eyes widened in surprise, all his harshness leaving. “Okay. Easy.”

“Sorry.” He wiped at his eyes frantically. “I didn’t…mean to.”

Fuck.

“You’re alright. So, more time then?” 

He hated to ask for it. He didn’t answer.

“Okay. More time,” Levon confirmed.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

It was his thousandth time hearing that. It never sank in. He’d never be sorry enough.

~

It was a somewhat awkward walk back to the house. Kitty hopped off the porch as they approached, making grabby hands. Delta took the one of them, letting her slide into place beside him. He appreciated the proximity. She glanced at his eyes, still a bit inflamed from crying, and leveraged herself in between him and Levon.

“Whaddya talk about?” she purred.

“The future,” Levon answered.

“Oh no.”

Delta pressed his forehead against her shoulder. He’d just woken up, but he was tired again. It was the kind of exhaustion sleep wouldn’t fix.

“I can extend the grace period if you really need it. Not by much, I’m afraid.” he cast a cautious look at Delta, “But you’d have more time to think it over.”

She moved up onto the porch. Delta hovered between her and the front door, unsure if he was being dismissed. Levon leaned against the railing at the bottom of the stairs, his hand returning to his hip.

“Really?” Her voice was bright, pleasantly surprised. “You’re gonna be able to hold up without me?”

“I know you’re still working,” he leveled. 

She giggled in response, the edge of her tail flicking back and forth, “I thought you needed the help.”

“There is no overstating how much help we need.”

Delta still hovered by the door, overcome with the strangest feeling of loss. He felt like he was witnessing something alien, the way people spoke when they did not have daggers drawn.

Levon pulled off of the lawn. The engine’s cacophony broke up the quiet morning, then was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

“It was nice of him to drop off clothes,” Apollo managed, the picture of civility. Delta slid into the chair by the pass-through, leaning his arms against the counter. He flinched as Kitty passed behind him, interpreting any movement he could not see as a threat. She just hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs a little.

“What’d he say to you?” She asked, a bit of the levity gone but none of the gentleness.

Delta bit his nails; it was a worse habit than the hair-twirling, but his hair was too short to do that now. He shrugged.

“…Asked what I wanted to do.”

“Oh,” she paused, “What do you want?”

He shrugged again. It was disrespectful. He should’ve stopped. It was just hard to speak.

“Hadn’t thought about it,” he mumbled. 

Because he hadn’t. He didn’t think it would matter, that anyone would even bother to ask.

He wanted to be useful, if he had to pick one. And he didn’t really want to kill again. Those two seemed at odds with one another. 

~~~

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @flowery-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem

[geode-crystal]

Fantasy whump I never see enough: the moment the shield breaks.

A magical shield cracking like glass under a powerful attack, shattering into thousands of shards.

Metal being cut or burned straight through.

The one thing that was supposed to protect you just not being enough.

Bonus points if the character was trying to shield someone else. And maybe they get hurt instead.

[the-bar-sinister]

Whumpee's primal scream of rage, and pain, and helplessness tearing ragged out of their chest just before they sink to their knees and sob.