saintwhumpolas - Tumblr blog

[saintwhumpolas]

Boy, this is bittersweet.

Hey all! Been a while, hasn't it? For those who don't know, I lost my cat, then my blog, and then I took a break from Tumblr for a bit. And by the time I came back, I had forgotten all about this event. I also changed my name. (And I got another cat.)

l'm bringing it back this year, with a nice update and a name change and all the trimmings. I considered changing this blog's name, but...I kind of want to just start fresh and leave Saint Whumpolas as it was. Despite all that happened in December 2021, this was a good part, and I want it to stay that way.

So it's time for me to say goodbye to this blog for good, and let it serve as Christmas Past for this version of the event. There's some amazing things that happened on this blog that you all don't even know about, and I'm so happy that I got to do this even just one year. l'm also excited for the new version, which you can find over at @seasons-beatings! Thank you, everyone who participated in this while it lasted, and I hope to see you on the sign-ups for the new iteration!

So long from Saint Whumpolas!

[saintwhumpolas]

Hey, this is CutWhipBurn's main. I've noticed you might be struggling, especially with things about your cat and just life in general. If I'd make it easier for you, I'd be happy to take on one or two of the other secret Santas that still need to be completed (Besides my own) if there are any left that have to do with writing. I could also maybe make a mood board.

~CWB

Yes, that’d be great! I do still have a few gifts left- sorry, guys, I know you’ve been waiting way too long. We’ll call them Valentine’s Day gifts and next year this definitely won’t happen.

[saintwhumpolas]

Hello everyone!

Sorry about the absence the last few days- I did try to be online, but it…yeah, it didn’t end up working out.

I know there’s still a couple people who haven’t gotten gifts! I’m going to get working on that again tomorrow and hopefully get them going! So sorry about the wait.

Happy New Year! If you’d like to reveal yourself, you can do so now! (Officially, I mean- plenty of people already have revealed themselves and that’s totally fine too.)

[saintwhumpolas]

Guys, I’m so sorry, I have a little more work to do on this event, but my mom called me- my cat just died. I don’t think I’ll get to it tonight.

[saintwhumpolas]

Yes, I forgot to mention- if you’d like to reblog/repost your pieces on your main blogs once you’ve been guessed/revealed, you can absolutely do so!!

(Okay, now time to switch to my other account and go freak out over my own gift!)

[saintwhumpolas]

Merry Christmas, @a-series-of-whumpy-events! (Wow, this is awkward.)

Moodboard for Sir Myles

[saintwhumpolas]

Merry Christmas, @rizzamacka-whump!

Ronald circled the man slowly, taking note of the bruises already starting to blossom in hues of deep purple and bright blue across his face and chest, like a map of the scattered blows he had endured after they’d thrown him down the basement stairs and tied him to the cold, metal chair.

He smirked at the way James let his head fall back as he groaned in pain, wondering if the torrent of blows to his ribs had cracked anything. It was impossible not to appreciate the trail of blood that ran from his nose and down over his lips, to enjoy the way the older man’s eyes crinkled at the edges with the sharp stab of pain that followed every slight movement. It was perfect, almost enough to make him forget his betrayal, the hot waves of fury that moved under his skin and kept him focused on beating the truth out of James.

“Are you ready to talk yet?”

James shook his head, cracking his eyes open so that Ronald could see the bright red of a burst blood vessel peeking through a quickly swelling black eye. “I didn’t tell them anything,” he wheezed through a painful breath, “I’ve always been loyal to the family, I swear -”

A swift punch to the stomach stole the breath from his lungs and James choked on a desperate breath, gasping at the pain and yet still unable to get any air.

“You really think that you can betray the mob and no one is gonna rat you out?” Ronald laughed, almost legitimately entertained at how foolish this man obviously was. How he had made it into the family in the first place, how he had lasted more than a month without being taken out, was a mystery to him. But it didn’t matter, because here he was and Ronald was more than happy to have his fun before taking care of the rat himself.

“I would never,” James croaked, letting his head fall back in an attempt to open his lungs to breathe easier.

The smirk that he was met with was deadly, James and Ronald both knew it.

Ronald’s reputation was well known, and very few in the family were willing to cross him. His cold, calculating eyes were almost urban legend, something that the men whispered about in the corners of half lit rooms over their booze and cigars, an asset that the bosses used strategically to make their enemies cower at the thought of betrayal. James knew what that smirk meant, he knew the cruelty that Ronald was happy to dole out, and yet he was the one that had shared family secrets and gotten the boss’ son kidnapped and ransomed back for an obscene sum. There was no doubt it was him for Ronald, it didn’t do any good to question the intelligence when the boss had already given the order. There didn’t need to be an intelligence at all. The boss wanted it done, and Ronald was nothing if not an expert at carrying out orders. That’s how he had risen through the ranks so fast, becoming a trusted right hand at only 21 and commanding men decades older than him.

He turned away from James, thrilled at the whimper that he finally let slip when Ronald’s navy eyes were finally off of him, and stood staring at the table covered in his favorite “tools.” It was another thing he was famous for within the mob; Ronald didn’t have a signature method of achieving his goals, he liked variety. He made sure to bring his specially packed suitcase to every job, took the time to lay everything out where everyone in the room could see it, it heightened the fear and sharpened Ronald’s senses, like a predator getting that first whiff of their prey and preparing to strike.

Slowly, almost reverently, he ran his fingers along each of the items, carefully considering the damage they could do, deciding what marks he wanted to leave, how much he wanted James to scream. The power drill was always fun for a good scare that could be dragged out, a ball peen hammer for the most accurate and damaging strikes to bone, a thin leather whip with metal tips to shred the skin and make even the toughest men beg for mercy when the first layer of skin has gone and the metal is ripping through open wounds. A heavy oak paddle just to screw with their heads and cause a bit of humiliation when the job warranted it, a ring gag and pliers for removing teeth, bamboo shards to be shoved under nails, a wide variety of hunting knives that he was all to skilled with, even a taser and a handgun for when time ran out and he needed something efficient.

But none of that was what Ronald wanted that day. Instead, he picked up his favorite implement. A sturdy, heavy, custom made purplewood cane that had his initials seared into the side. He stroked it fondly for a moment before lifting it from the table, making sure that James would see it, that he would know immediately what was to come.

“Get him off the chair and strip his shirt off,” Ronald said, his voice completely void of emotion as the two other men moved to obey.

James struggled, begging and insisting upon his innocence, but he was unable to deter or stop them. It was only a few minutes before they had him kneeling on the concrete floor, hands cuffed in front of him and anchored to a loop in the floor that had been used for countless people before him, yanking desperately against the metal as panic flooded his brain and he fought to get free.

“There’s no use fighting it,” Ronald said quietly, turning to look at James. “I’ve been told that the faster you simply…give in to the pain…the less it hurts. Something about your body relaxing and your mind going somewhere else. I’m not sure how accurate it is, everyone screams throughout regardless of if they fight or not.”

James shook his head and muttered what Ronald thought was a prayer, his eyes squeezed shut so that the wrinkles at the edges were more prominent and tears streaked through the dirt and blood on his skin.

He stood behind him for a moment, considering the unmarked skin of his back as he decided where to strike first. Ultimately, he decided it didn’t matter and brought the cane down hard on his back, grinning at the way it landed with a sickening, dull thud.

James was silent for a moment, the shock paralyzing even his nerves for a split second before he finally screamed, his voice immediately hoarse with the force of it.

This was what Ronald lived for, it was the moment he looked forward to with every assignment from the boss. He took a deep breath, inhaling the potent scent of fear and anguish that radiated off of James as he writhed against the cuffs with every blow that Ronald brought down over him.

He hit him over and over again, aiming for the deep purple stripes where bruises were already forming, ensuring that the pain would settle deep beneath James’ skin and linger for years. The cane had always been his favorite at doing lasting damage without the risk of death, pulverizing muscle and damaging nerves so that traitors and rats would long remember the lesson that came with behaving so foolishly.

When he finally stopped, James was slumped forward with his forehead pressed to the concrete, barely conscious as he struggled to breathe against the agonizing pattern of bruises left by Ronald’s calculated striping up and down his back with the cane.

He fell to the side when Ronald kicked his ribs, unable to do more than wheeze another silent plea for mercy, and Ronald laughed.

“Pathetic old man,” he chuckled. “Go get the boss,” he said without looking up at the other two men, “I think he’s ready to talk.”

[saintwhumpolas]

Merry Christmas, @crimson-wrld!

How did he get here?

When Espen is left alone, he can do nothing but think. He thinks about how his life could have changed now if he didn’t go to that bar, or if he hadn’t followed Grayson out. Where would he be right now, on this date? At home, sitting on his couch, watching a cheesy television show? With some friends, hanging out at that fateful bar?

“Espen! Come here, boy!” Gray calls in a voice, sounding like he’s talking to a beloved family dog.

That was all he was to Grayson at this point. A…A dog.

It made him feel sick.

“Espen! Did you not hear me? Come here!”

No. He won’t, he can’t give in any longer. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t supposed to be his life. He was sick of doing what Gray wanted.

He hears footsteps and he braces himself, ridding his face of fear. He couldn’t be scared. He couldn’t give in to what Grayson wanted, not anymore.

Maybe, if he was defiant enough, he would be let go.

“Espen!” Then Gray is at the door, and his thoughts melt. “What do you think you’re doing, ignoring me? Do you think it’s going to change something?”

Trembling, Espen turns himself away from the door, looking at the wall in front of him.

Footsteps come even closer, he feels himself being pulled around harshly. A backhanded slap comes towards him, but he jerks away just in time.

Gray grunts angrily, and in response holds Espen’s face in place, slapping him with his free hand.

“You take your punishment. There is no exception.” Gray angrily growls.

Espen stays silent, streak of defiance broken completely. There was nothing he could do for himself at this point.

“Y’know what… I have something for you. Maybe it’ll finally put you in your place.”

Before Espen can speak, his hands are grabbed and he’s dragged along to who knows where.

——

He’s in the basement again. It’s never a good sign.

It’s dimly lit, but he can see a tripod. That’s…weird.

“Sit down.” Grayson barks.

Instinctively, Espen complies, sitting in a crossed leg position on the floor.

Grayson sets his phone up on the tripod, and there’s a constant flash now in his direction.

He’s filming. The realisation hits him like a truck. He’s going to film whatever happens to him and possibly share it to who knows who.

“There.” Gray’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Now stay.”

He closes his eyes to avoid the camera's bright flash.

Before he can crack them open, the first punch rings across his face.

He opens his eyes with a gasp, but before he can speak the second one is on his shoulder. He clutches it in pain, but then another hits his neck, causing his breath to leave him momentarily.

More and more, all over, until his beating is all that is happening in the world around him. It’s all he can think about, not focusing on it, but drifting off slowly.

There’s blood all over Grayson’s clothes, and his knuckles are bruised, but he keeps going.

It hurts, it’s excruciating, and he can’t suppress the tears rolling down his face, no matter how hard he tries. Soon he’s in full sobs.

After… What feels like forever, it’s over. He’s left, broken and bruised and bloody in that room.

Once more, he asks himself:

How did he get here?

[saintwhumpolas]

Yeah, guys, if you want to reveal yourselves you absolutely can!

I’ve gotten a couple more gifts too, so I’ll be posting those and then getting to work with the standby ones today.

[saintwhumpolas]

🥰 You’re welcome!! It was really, really fun! I loved seeing all the gifts pour in, and I’ve been having a blast watching you guys react to them! I’m definitely doing this again next year!

I just wanna publicly thank @saintwhumpolas, a.k.a @a-series-of-whumpy-events for coming up with the whump secret santa event on a whim and then going through with the entire thing!

Thank you for organizing this and making it a great event for all of us!!

[saintwhumpolas]

Okay, that’s all the gifts I have for now! I have eight people left- three gifts are on their way and will be a little late. As for the other five, I will put y’all on standby tomorrow and get you gifts as soon as possible, hang tight!

[saintwhumpolas]

Merry Christmas, @newbornwhumperfly!

Morja and co.

[saintwhumpolas]

Merry Christmas, @itsleighlove!

“Leave him alone!” Morgan shouts. “Can’t you see he’s had enough?!”

Azari chuckles darkly, undeterred. His fingers dance back and forth between his two weapons of choice.

One is a long, thin metal baton. He’s already used it countless times, cracking it against August’s skin, covering it in dark bruises that streak across his back like comets. August lies on the ground at Azari’s feet, far too weak to move.

He was strong when he first put himself between Morgan and Azari, shielding the other from harm with a sudden fierce protectiveness of the younger vampire. Morgan had stumbled back out of fear of their attacker, and then stood in frozen shock as Azari easily took the other down and began to beat him.

And now - now Azari reaches for the second of the two weapons. It’s much smaller, a handheld device with a button on the side and metal prongs at the top. When he clicks the button, sparks shoot from the prongs and it makes a crackling sound that makes August flinch.

“Enough? I don’t think so. We’re just getting started.”

August shudders at the words. He’s clearly struggling to stay conscious. And yet, with gritted teeth, he props himself up onto one arm to look at Morgan.

He looks weaker than Morgan has ever seen him; trembling, hair disheveled, damp eyes clouded with pain. It’s an awful sight. Morgan wants nothing more than to rush to his side, but they know that won’t end well for them or August. Azari is stronger, quicker, and has August completely at his mercy.

“W-what part of - ah - r-run - don’t you under - ngh - stand?”

The words are so typically August, but lack their usual bite. That, more than anything, terrifies Morgan. Sometimes August seems so tough, so…invincible…but here he is breaking right before their eyes.

The thing is, Morgan could run. They aren’t restrained, nor are they injured or trapped in any way. But they remain glued to the spot, held in place solely by care and concern for their friend.

“No,” Morgan replies, “Not without you.”

“I m-mean it! Go!” August tries to sound angry but only looks hurt and scared. The sight strengthens Morgan’s resolve.

“August…”

August’s head had started to dip forward with weariness, but it snaps back up at the sound of his name. Their eyes meet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Morgan says firmly. “Once, you could have left me when I was hurt, but you didn’t. So whatever happens…I’m here.”

August stares back at them, processing the words. When he realizes that Morgan is serious, that they won’t abandon him, his face softens almost imperceptibly. He even seems to relax slightly with relief. Morgan offers him a gentle smile.

But the relief is short-lived. Azari, though briefly amused by their moment, grows impatient. Without any warning he hits the button on the taser and it buzzes back to life. Before either of them can react, Azari leans down and presses it between August’s shoulder blades.

The electricity hits him like a punch to the spine and his whole body jolts and seizes up. The shock alone would be painful enough, but the way it wracks his already sore, beaten body must be agony.

“S-stop it!” Morgan shouts desperately. “STOP IT! I’ll do anything!”

But their pleas are drowned out by the sound of August's screams and Azari’s laughter.

[saintwhumpolas]

Merry Christmas, @sorbetwritings!

Holidays in captivity

It left like he was in the elevator that just started to go down. Like he was lighter for a moment, but this moment, then Das felt the movement - maybe it was him who was moving in every direction or maybe everything around him started to push against him. Then he felt the softness of his bed - dog bed - and he realised where and who he was.

“Uh” he groaned “what did you give me this time?” he asked annoyed.

“Good morning, Master” Cyrus corrected him

“Yeah, and to you too,” Das answered, annoyed. He needed some water

It looked like Whumper didn’t like his answer, because the next second Das was curling up on himself, desperately gasping for air after a kick in the stomach.

“Let’s start again. Good Morning”

Das sighted

“Good morning.” he said defeated “...Master” he added under the cold gaze “Wasn’t that hard was it?” Cyrus said, “Now let’s not ruin this beautiful day!” “Hm?”

“It’s December 25th! Do you know what that means?”

“Uh... I got a gift?” Das shrugged

“Correct!” Whumper exclaimed

“Wait, really?” Das asked, surprised. He didn’t expect to guess correctly.He didn’t even try to guess anything, just wanted to meet his daily snarky comment quota

“So... “ he asked carefully “What did you prepare?” It could be anything, from nice things like a soft blanket, to not so nice, like another whipping session. Thought Das couldn’t tell which one he would prefer.

“I prepared something to help with ... the holiday spirit” Cyrus pointed at the wall where colorful fairy lights were hung. It was a rather sad view, lonely cable on the naked wall. In his eyes, one end unattached from whatever was holding it and dangled miserably “I’m gonna work on it later. But that won’t be our main decoration today, no”

Das looked at him confused

“You! you’re gonna be my prize, my sweet sweet decoration and...” he walked to a box nearby, taking out another light cord. “You will look so pretty”

“So you want me... to help you put those on?”

“Oh, no. Well, yes actually. But no,no i’m gonna put them on myself” Das just raised his eyebrow at his explanations. “You just stand still” Cyrus added

“What do you plan on...” Das started, but then Cyrus grabbed his hands and pulled them back. He hissed in pain.

Then he felt cord bonding his wrists together behind his back. “You’re serious?” Das asked when his eyes teared up.

“Deadly serious” Cyrus wrapped the rest of the cord around him a few times and took a step back “Just look at you. You’re beautiful”

Future Comfort (with bit of angst)

Caretaker paced around the room. He was so nervous, not knowing if his friend would want to celebrate with him. Since he came back he wasn’t the same... not that Caretaker blamed him, he was through a lot. Whumpee hid a lot in his room, not going down until Caretaker directly asked him to. It was so different from what Caretaker had to deal with until now. He felt like his world,so stable and safe until

now turned out to be made out of toy bricks. And now it all fell apart, leaving Caretaker in the middle of the mess, and he didn’t even know where to start cleaning all of it.

He sighed and made two cups of coffee. Maybe celebrating Holidays will bring Whumpee back? Or at least make him feel loved and cared for.

______

“Hey Das I thought we could maybe...” Caretaker opened the door to Whumpee’s room. He expected to see him in the dark, lying on his bed with empty eyes. He was not prepared to see Das with one arm bleeding, and glass shard in other one “What... What did you do?” He yelled, more shocked than angry.

“Ah! Sorry! Sorry!” Whumpee cried out, dropping the glass and curling up on the ground “Sorry, should have waited for you...” He said with the tears in his eyes “No, no! You shouldn’t - look, Das I’m not angry just... why?” Caretaker asked helpless

“I... I needed it” Whumpee said, shaking.

“Oh, love...” Caretaker said, dropping to his knees “You don’t have to do that anymore. I... I don’t what exactly happened to you but you don’t need to hurt yourself anymore”

Whumpee cried, but let Caretaker hug him.

“I wanted to celebrate Christmas with you,” Caretaker said after a moment of silence, “would you be okay with this?”

“Uh, sure” Whumpee responded. He didn’t dare to go against Caretaker, not after his slip-up earlier

[saintwhumpolas]

Merry Christmas, @aseasonwithclara!

Moodboard for Jack

Moodboard for Victoria

Victoria doodle

[saintwhumpolas]

Merry Christmas, @sweetwhumpandhellacomf!

[saintwhumpolas]

Merry Christmas, @maracujatangerine!

Coriander shuffled aimlessly through the house, still shaking off sleep as it walked. Once, the idea of waking up so long after its master would have sent shivers down its spine, but Miss Lydia didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she even seemed to like it - maybe it was wrong for it to take advantage of her clear lack of knowledge in handling a pet, but it felt nice to be able to lie in as long as it wanted. Almost like it was a person.

It walked into the living room, where Miss Lydia was sitting on the sofa, a blanket loosely tucked around her and laptop resting on her lap. She gave a weary smile as Coriander entered the room, her voice thick with exhaustion.

”Good morning, Cory. Did you sleep well?”

It blinked momentarily to process the question, before responding promptly.

”Yes, Miss.” It moved over and sat down by her legs hanging down from the sofa, wary of sitting down beside her when she hadn’t asked. She looked so tired, it was best not to disturb her.

Cory leaned back slightly, trying to look at the laptop, but it couldn’t quite make it out. Lydia, noticing this, smiled at it weakly.

”I am just doing some work.” She replied, to his silent question, “I had to wake up very early for it, and I am not sure if I will have time to do much else today.”

Coriander’s heart beat slightly faster at the chance to do something for Miss Lydia - this was what it had been hoping for when it woke up this morning, a chance to make up for taking advantage of its new owners lack of knowledge in handling a pet.

”I-is there anything it can to do help while you work, Miss?”

”I could maybe use a hand with some work around the house, although you do not need to do it now. You only just woke up - and you don’t have to do it if you don’t want, either. I can handle it on my own.”

While Miss Lydia had acted as if it was a choice, Cory knew the real order behind the words. It had been told to help around the house, and it must get on with it as soon as possible - especially if it wanted to make up for being such a bad pet.

”It can do it now, Miss, it doesn’t mind.”

She surveyed him skeptically, before slowly nodding. “Very well, then. Maybe you could wash the dishes just in the kitchen for me? I didn’t get to do it last night, and soon they’ll just stack up. Once you are done, you can come sit with me again.”

Cory stood up immediately, hurrying into the kitchen where yesterday's dishes were waiting. The job started off well, the pet washing dishes as fast as it possibly could, already imagining how pleased Miss Lydia would be to see everything done so fast.

Then, a glass dropped. The soap it had been covered in had just made it too slippy and it had slipped right out of Coriander’s hand, scattering the floor with frighteningly sharp shards. The sound of the crash made Cory’s heart shatter too - Miss Lydia was going to come in, and she was going to see, and she’d be so mad, and she’d finally take the chance to punish her disrespectful pet.

After hovering in silence over the glass for a few moments, it came to the conclusion that she somehow hadn’t noticed the noise. Now, there was a new threat - Miss Lydia could still find out it had broken a glass. All she had to see was the glass on the floor, or the cuts on its hands, or just notice that one was missing…

The most Cory could do was handle each of the little problems the situation had caused. It scrambled, picking up the shards as quickly as it could, causing more cuts to form across it’s hands, some even scraping its lower arms in its hurry. Every time it thought it had picked them all up, it noticed more in the corner of the room, or behind the bin, or right by the leg of the counter and it felt itself choked by sobs as it pictured it’s owner walking in as it searched the floor, or worse - standing on a glass piece and finding out in the worst way what her clumsy, clueless pet had done.

Once Coriander was finally satisfied with the clean floor, another thought entered its head. Wasn’t not telling her lying? It was her right to know, and even punish it if she wished - sure, she hadn’t yet, but it couldn’t be so sure there wasn’t a tipping point where she finally got sick of her useless pet.

Or maybe she’d be happier if she didn’t know, as long as she didn’t notice. Yes, it wouldn’t tell her, and as long as she didn’t ask about it Cory wouldn’t have to lie.

The final problem was the glaringly obvious cuts on its hands - it’s fine, she just couldn’t see it until they’d began to heal. Coriander, still feeling slightly uneasy about the situation, returned to washing up, wincing and whimpering as the soap stung its hands.

When it finally returned, Miss Lydia was still sitting in the same position working.

”Are you all finished already, Cory? Come, sit with me and take a break for a bit.” She gently patted the sofa next to her, and the pet obediently squirmed in beside her. It rested it’s head on her shoulder, curling one hand and pressing the palm of the other to its side so that the cuts wouldn’t be visible.

It went back to trying to make sense of the work on Miss Lydia’s screen, feeling slightly exhausted by the difficult task of the dishes. That, in combination with it’s owners warmth and the rhythmic sound of her typing, pulled it into sleep resting on her side once more.

When it woke, it saw Miss Lydia sitting more upright above him, her laptop moved slightly to one side and a slightly concerned frown on her face. Cory followed her eyes anxiously, finding out they were lying on a small smear of blood on his shirt - his clean, white shirt.

“Where did that come from, Cory?” She answered her own question by moving her gaze to the hand it automatically clutched close at the question.

She softly took it’s hands in her own, taking Coriander by surprise - it had expected her to be angry, or rough with it, but instead she was taking care to be as gentle and kind as possible as she brushed her thumb around the cuts on its palm.

”I-It’s so sorry, Miss, it… it dropped one of the glasses, and it broke, and it had to pick everything up, and it’s so sorry it didn’t tell you…”

Gently, Miss Lydia placed her free hand on its shoulder. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about. Just wait here, and I will get you some bandages.”

When she returned, she was holding a roll of bandages and an antiseptic wipe. It was so kind, so caring of her. It was more than it deserved.

She passed the antiseptic wipe over each cut, responding in hushed apologies and thank yous for being so good whenever Cory winced at the pain. Then, she wrapped the bandages neatly around each hand, softly explaining to it that it needed to be careful with them, because they could easily get damaged because of where the cuts were.

As much as Cory tried to listen to what she was saying, it struggled. Its owners touch being so kind, and so soft, and so gentle… that was enough for it to tune out of any conversation.