#ear whump

[deluxewhump]

the bahkauv: part three

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CW: hurt, more hurt, no comfort yet but a glimpse of it. Brief verbal threat of noncon, pliers as torture device, muzzle, broken bones, ear and hand whump, nonhuman whumpee, burning alive, immortal/quick healing whumpee, slight language barrier, brief thoughts/ideation of death and mortality, multiple whumpers

Hunters camp (before):

At first, the hunters thought the Bahkauv was a vampire. It made sense, in the confusion of the moment. Vampires were far more common than its kind was anymore. That and it had fangs.

At the camp, they soon realized the Bahkauv was not a vampire. This revelation did nothing to protect it. Close enough, they said. It was still a non-human creature, and had a long history of attacking, robbing, and even killing humans.

The first day in captivity, nothing happened. The Bahkauv twisted and pulled at its restraints, trying to no avail to find some give in the ropes that bound it hand and foot. How naive it had been. It had no idea the depth of the hatred these humans had for it, and for the vampires they didn’t kill outright.

One of the hunters caught it trying to manipulate the knots and beat it with fists and boots before putting its first muzzle on its face. At first it had been angry, hissing and spitting at the hunter’s hands that were wet with its own blood. That got it a backhand that made its ears ring and its head ache. The bit was sharp and huge, shoved to the back of its throat so it gagged and secured so tightly it thought it would choke. Humiliated, it had shrunk against the clapboard wall and sulked.

Pride would soon be a forgotten luxury.

The next day, two hunters came for it, dragging it stiff and sore from its first beating out into the yard along with a couple of screaming vampires. The sun was climbing in the sky, which was why the vamps were screaming and carrying on so. It felt an intense gratefulness that it could not burn from the sun as they could. One of the hunters grabbed its muzzle and turned its chin to force it to look.

“You see that? You think you’re better than them, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

Another hunter joined the first. He had a mocking, self satisfied grin. “Let’s teach it a lesson in humility then. What are we waiting for? It was going to tear Byron’s throat out before we netted it.”

“Look at these. Is this fur?” the first hunter stroked one of the Bahkauv’s ears with the pad of his thumb. It shuddered at the unexpected touch. It was not affectionate, or kind, but it happened to be very gentle, and its ears were as highly sensitive as its sharp canines. It recoiled in disgust from the hunter’s hand— and its own reaction to it.

“It appears human when it’s not attacking. Except for a few details. The fangs are one. The ears. And of course it’s utterly vicious, despite being relatively intelligent. Can’t teach it a thing.”

“I bet I can teach it something,” grinned the first. It took the Bahvauv’s fur-lined ear between its forefinger and thumb again, this time pinching so tears sprung to its eyes and it bit back a surprised gasp of pain.

“Don’t be shy. Let’s hear a pretty little whimper at least. You’re going to make a lot of noises here.” The hunter pinched the sensitive skin and cartilage harder, his nails breaking skin beneath the soft layer of orange fur. The Bahkauv grit its teeth as best it could around the bit, and would not make a sound.

“No?” The hunter took something from the belt at his waist. Cold metal replaced fingers. Though the Bahkauv didn’t know it yet, it would come to know the word pliers very well. Such a simple tool, and so effective. Humans love tools— pliers and muzzles and fire. The teeth of the pliers bit down.

The Bahkauv screamed around the bit. It tried to pull away, but the hunter had it firm by the muzzle.

“There we go.” He gave the pliers a few sharp tugs, eliciting high pitched yelps. Its delicate ear was caught between the mean metal teeth like a fishhook.

“That was a healthy scream.”

“It’s an angry scream,” said the second. “That will change. If you take that thing clean off, you can dry it out and send it to your kids for good luck. Like a rabbit’s foot.”

It made an indignant sound, half-scream and haf-growl, saliva tinged with blood dripping from its muzzle.

“Well shit, that’s a good idea. I already ruined this one for now, it’s got a hole in it. I’ll get the other one.”

The hunter had been right that its silence wouldn’t last. It screamed as it was parted from its left ear.

—

It did not take the camp of hunters long to figure out that it regenerated itself quickly. Its ears grew back slowly, as did its fangs when they were later pulled. Everything that had a human appearance healed faster, though all the more painfully for it.

The first time they burned it, they didn’t know if it would survive. Neither did the Bahkauv. When it did, and its skin began to immediately repair itself, they were delighted. The Bahkauv was horrified. If that could not end its suffering, what could?

It was put back in its cell at dusk. It was unnatural for a creature like itself to dwell on death, but after being burned alive all morning and afternoon, over and over, with no more than an hours’ reprieve in between, it began to despair.

“Don’t cry,” crooned one of the hunters from the door of its cell. It scrambled into a sitting position, startled. It had thought it was alone.

“You were a favorite today. We all feel so much better for having played with you. A real morale boost. Look how quickly all that pretty hair has grown back. Your nature works hard to protect your disguise as human, doesn’t it? If I cut myself, the blood would clot and the skin would eventually knit back together. But not like you.”

The Bahkauv pressed its back tight against the wall as the hunter approached. This man was one of its torturers earlier that day— a younger one, not twenty five, tall and broad chested, with colorless blue eyes and close-shaved pale hair. He slipped a pair of pliers from his belt— the teeth were thick and blunt, not sharp like the ones they used to cut its ears. “And who knew you could speak? Do you understand, or did you just learn a few words like a talking parrot?”

The hunter squatted in front of it. Its heart pounded wildly, the staggering, paralyzing fear from the day returning and overriding its exhaustion. He took one of the Bahkauv’s hands in a strong grip. The pliers covered the first knuckle of its pointer finger, still pink and healing from the fire. It crunched down, shattering the first knuckle so it felt like gravel inside its skin.

It wailed, wildly trying to wrench its wrist from the hunter’s grip. It was so weak— like in a dream where it could not run or fight back. Healing and burning and healing again had sapped all its strength. Its anger at the hunters had long been replaced by desperation. Why did they want to hurt it so badly? How could it get the pain to stop? When it couldn’t, it stopped wondering why. It knew why. And this hunter was about to remind it.

“God, you sound like a person. You look human. That makes them hate you more, do you know that? It’s uncanny. Except for those devil eyes, you could be a boy of twenty summers, or less. Some of them even wonder if you’d be worth fucking. I think a lot of them wonder, and who could blame them? But no one wants to be the first to try it.” The pliers traveled to the next knuckle and perched there, waiting, on its freshly formed skin.

“No,” the Bahkauv whispered, tears flowing, saliva dripping from the corner of its mouth, raw and chafed from the bit that was always shoved to the back of its throat. “No. Pl-please.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Do you know those words? They’re the only ones you used all day. All goddam day, even in such unfathomable suffering. I could smell it every time your flesh melted, and still you only said no, and please. But do you understand?”

It was beginning to. Its own mother tongue was not human. But it had the same capabilities for language as the humans. More, even, and could infer with greater accuracy things the humans thought and felt as they spoke, which helped decode the words.

“A thing like you shouldn’t beg, anyway. It won’t work. You don’t deserve our mercy.”

Muscles flexed in the hunters thick, tanned forearm as he squeezed the plier handles together. Another crunch, and a second knuckle was destroyed under their powerful metal bite like glass broken inside a cloth sack. It shrieked so it thought its throat would tear open, pounding its foot uselessly against the wooden floor. The hunter narrowed his blue eyes as its scream tapered off into raw sobs, shaking its head no, over and over.

The pliers retracted and settled over its middle finger, on the first knuckle. The Bahkauv keened in dread, looking into the hunters face and finding not a flicker of regret or a glimpse of mercy. It knew hurting it entertained each hunter in different ways, but it pleased them all none the less. Each crunch of the tool was cataclysmic, and it was hard to imagine how at any point today it would have chosen this immediately to get the fire to stop, because now it did not think it could handle another crushed bone. And it had many more knuckles.

“Either way,” sighed the hunter. “Tomorrow we will burn you again, and see if you know any more words, little parrot.”

__

After they made camp, the three friends slept around the dying fire in their bedrolls. Francis tied a rope to his own waist and looped the other end around the Bahkauv’s collar so it slept six feet away from him. No more escape attempts. If it moved, he would feel it, and they both knew it.

The men slept. The Bahkauv tried to lie awake and alert, but its exhaustion was too great, and soon it slept too. The howling of wolves woke all of them in the wee hours of the morning. Disoriented, it leapt awake, scrambling along the length of its rope. In the hunters encampment, this would have led it to a solid wall it could press itself against, but now it led to Francis. It bumped into him and whimpered, waiting for a backhand or a cuff to the ear.

“Hey. It’s alright,” Francis told it gently in the darkness. Why were their voices so soft and blameless when they spoke to it? It had been waiting all day and now all night for the first blow, the first violence or pain from its captors, and still it had not come. It was like waiting for the pliers to crush another bone.

“They won’t come much closer. You’re alright. You’re safe with us. They sound kind of beautiful, don’t they?”

Stephan and Arthur got up out of their bedrolls to settle the horses, who were stamping their hooves and whickering nervously.

It hadn’t meant to crawl so close to its captor, but once again it was not punished for doing so. Something was different about them than the hunters, but it didn’t know enough about humans to assign much meaning to this observation. It was true the unmistakable sounds of the wolves had frightened it awake, and made the fine hairs on the back of its neck stand up. But it wasn’t afraid in the way it understood fear now. That kind of fear was reserved for humans, with their tools and fire and deliberate malice. But what a strange thing to say. Safe with us. Like they would protect it. It could not imagine humans as protectors.

Still, it slept closer to Francis til first light, with three feet of slack in the six foot rope.

-

Tags

@paperprinxe @whumpsday @i-eat-worlds @handsinmotion @stormchaser819

@annablogsposts @clickerflight @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud @scoundrelwithboba, @blood-and-regrets

[abhainnwhump]

Piercing a perfect circle hole in Whumpee's ear cartilage in order to loop a price tag in there.

[onlythegoodpretzels]

"I hate to see you like this."

"I thought I would enjoy your defeat after all this time, but really it's sad, isn't it? Once so powerful, and now I can't even chain you properly."

Rauru's ears twitched, which was still a mistake. The Demon King's gloom stung cold and heavy where it smeared his face. Trying to leech in, sicken him.

Rauru bared his teeth. Even without his secret stone, the light in him seared the gloom back. Not enough to banish it. But enough to keep it from taking him. "You...have done nothing. Too weak to approach, perhaps? Your beasts' skills...do not impress me, either."

He focused on the slow hot pulse of energy from his missing right arm. Link was there, somewhere. Fighting. Using his magic. Listening?

"You, lecture me on weakness?" Ganondorf flicked his hand. In a flurry of gloom another small monster snarled into existence, standing menacingly over Rauru.

Provoking the Demon King, immobilized and surrounded with his foul creatures. Somewhere out there, Zelda was very cross with him.

Rauru pressed his elbow back against the rock. He thought vaguely he could feel a sword in his hand. Link's hand. The sword that seals the darkness?

He smiled. "Maybe...you will find where my power has gone. And we will see."

____________________________________________________________

Loosely a follow up to this post -- Rauru survived sealed with Ganondorf and shares the arm with Link (which means at some point it'll pop back in and all hell will break loose here! :D).

Been imagining this restraint option with his ear piercings forever. So fun to finally put it together.

_____________________________________________________________

Slight alteration of @juneofdoom day 12's dialogue prompt. So much of this prompt list is so inspiring for me! Thanks for putting it together!

[whump-or-whatever]

Head and Face Injury/Illness List

Black eye

TWO black eyes

Bloody head wound

Slash across face

Bloody lip

Bloody nose

Broken nose

Split bridge of the nose

Split lip

Bleeding from eyes

Bleeding from ears

Ear cut/ripped off

Hair ripped out

Busted eyebrow

Bruised cheekbone

Bruised jaw

Broken jaw

Concussion

Lightheadedness

Ringing in ears

Burst eardrum

Ear infection

Runny nose

Red puffy eyes

Knocked/pulled out tooth

Bit tongue

Something in eyes (dirt, mace, etc.)

Skull fracture

Blinded by bright light

Add any others y'all can think of!

[whumperofworlds]

Whumper puts ear plugs on Whumpee with blaring music that's so loud it hurts Whumpee's ears or worse.

[shywhumpauthor]

I feel like ear pains are underrated in whump. I only ever really see it mentioned, but never elaborated on. There’s so much you could do there, also

Like after an explosion, there will be a casual mention of the Whumpee’s ears ringing, but then it just like. Goes away? No, give me more. Give me the aches and the difficulty hearing for weeks to come, give me the pressure headache and the phantom buzzes.

When a Whumpee is out in the middle of a blizzard with howling winds, why does no one ever mention how much the cold really hurts their ears? Seriously, there’s so much potential and nothing they can do to ease the pain, even for hours after they go inside and there’s still the cold feeling deep in their head.

Give me more ruptured eardrums and partial hearing loss. Please.

[stagelightwhump]

Does it have to be a blorbo from my shows or can it be MY blorbo? Because I kind of want to know what they'd do to Mal https://www.tumblr.com/distracted-obsessions/750327129941639170/knock-knock-mal-groaned-at-the-knock-at-the

You can absolutely submit home-made blorbos! And I must say, this one is very interesting!

First of all, the ears would need to be stretched and molded into shape, which, thankfully, is rather easy, as ears are made of cartilage. Next, even though no tails are mentioned in the story, a retractable cord tail is still installed, so that the Unit can be charged. If requested, a wolf tail cover can be added.

Next, barring the presence of something like pawpads on the hands or feet (in which case, depending on how divergent it is from the human bauplan, they would either be fatty silicone implants, or the hands or feet would be replaced entirely), the Chip is then installed, and memories of the source timeline are implanted, as well as a weaving program.

Finally, in order to avoid issues with improper or unregulated voltage, a shock collar is installed directly and permanently onto the neck, integrated with the C6 vertebrae. This is to ensure that any voltage administered is low enough not to damage either the organic system, or the electronics within the Unit's repaired systems. For higher voltages, the Chip manually simulates the damages instead, resulting in the same mental effects and physical pain as a normal shock collar, without causing unnecessary damage or stress to the internals.

Once the Unit is fully repaired and functional, it is placed back into the crate it arrived in (or given a new one, if the crate is somehow missing or damaged), secured in place, and shut down until delivered to the purchaser.

Thank you so much for the ask! I love doing these :D

[whumpsday]

I want to either cut up or burn Kane’s eyes and ears until he can’t see or hear and then just… shove him around. Trip him. Push him and make him stumble and fall. I pull him to his feet every time, just to find a new way and direction to send him to the ground again. All of the attacks are unexpected since he can’t use his sight or even super hearing to know where I’m at. I push him down at random times. Even when he’s too tired to keep himself up, I can still just kick him and hit him unexpectedly. No rhyme or reason to it, all of it random.

I just want to leave Kane waiting, the anticipation killing him, knowing an attack is coming but not knowing when. I want to take away what little he still has.

(gonna make a slight edit to this- you'll also have to fuck up his nose, since sense of smell is a major sense for vampires, much moreso than for humans. he will definitely be able to smell where a human is in relation to him. so i'll assume you've taken care of that as well!)

-

Kane stumbles to the ground again, pushed by a hand that seems to come out of nowhere.

He can't even hear his own voice as he cries out, can't even tell how far away the ground is to accurately stop his fall with his hands. The falls are nothing compared to the overwhelming pain on his face: his eyes burned, his eardrums mangled, his nose broken to the point of non-functionality. It's agony. But the falls make him scared. Any moment, someone could come at him with something much worse, and he'd have no idea.

Kane is pulled to his feet again, his ever-present anxiety spiking. He tenses up, awaiting the next push.

[skinnamon39]

The Fennec

Content: restraints, gags, some violence, dehumanization, kidnapping/trafficking/poaching, dragging across the ground (briefly), nonhuman whumpee, ear whump

-------------

The rainforest is warm and muggy even in the autumn night. There’s little wind, yet the leaves and grasses flit and rustle in the distance. The animals come alive in the dark.

And here you are, scouring the ground for mushrooms. You’re not entirely sure how to tell them apart; you would strain your eyes trying to look at your flora guidebook now. You let your intuition guide you, picking out plain, inconspicuous samples that remind you of the white, portobello…and whatever other mushrooms you ate from back home.

It’s not like you can ask anyone. There’s no one to be found for miles.

Or, at least, there shouldn’t be.

Something races past you, making you jump on reflex. All at once, the rapid pace stops-

“Gnh-!”

-and a heavy weight falls to the ground. You’re frozen within the underbrush.

“I think we got ‘im!” a gruff voice says in the distance.

“We better have,” whines another, his voice getting closer as he speaks. “My feet are killin’ me!”

“Shut yer yap already,” says a woman. You can hear their footsteps now. “You’ve been complainin’ since yesterday.”

You haven’t heard anyone with their accent in years. What were they doing here?

Creeping forward, you brush a leaf away from your face and catch a glimpse of a prone figure on the ground with bolas wrapped around their shins. The three strangers quickly surround them, blocking any further details from your view.

The woman reaches down towards the person’s head. “What a catch! Not many have this red color.”

“Get off!” the person shouts, a fairly young man by the sound of his voice. “Let go of-!”

A choked scream cuts off his words as the woman pulls up, letting you see the large vulpine ear in her hand. The young man’s face, just barely visible in the dim light, is twisted in agony.

The woman unceremoniously drops him back on the ground, and you involuntarily suck in a breath at the thud of the impact. The young man groans, hands automatically moving to soothe his right ear. You think you can see a tail wrap around his legs.

“Get out the ropes,” she says. “It’s gonna be a long three days ahead of us.”

The woman’s two lackeys get to work, tying his hands and feet. One of them takes the bolas and returns them to his belt. Any resistance from the fox-eared man is met with a kick or a twist to the ear. You swallow, unable to look away.

His ears faintly twitch, and then he’s looking at you. He mouths something to you.

“W-what?” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

His eyes widen. He opens his mouth again, but one of the men sets a cloth gag between his teeth. The young man is left intently staring at you, as though hoping to communicate by telepathy.

“Man, I don’t remember, where did we leave the wagon again?” the whining man asks.

“Well, Andrew,” the woman snaps, “ how about back where we came from?”

Andrew fumbles over his next words as the other man sighs, grabs the young man’s ankles, and starts walking.

“And be careful with the cargo, Gideon,” she continues. “That’s our money you’re risking.”

“We can clean ‘im later.”

“Gideon.”

Gideon mumbles and hoists the young man over his left shoulder, uncaring of his desperate struggles. The boy’s tail bristles.

You don’t process their conversation as they start their trek. The fox-eared boy’s eyes are filled with wild panic as he tries to keep his gaze on your position.

Help me, they silently say.

Help me, he had tried to say.

You have no weapons. It’s a day’s walk to the nearest town. Unease jittering in your fingers and dread sitting in your stomach, you follow from within the shadows of the rainforest.

[urlocalwhumper]

living weapon whumpee who's never known anything but pain and violence.

their existence hurts. they were made to be effective, not happy, and their masters decided that keeping them in constant pain provided better results. they're wilder, more unpredictable, and the pain keeps them from thinking straight enough to question anything.

they're only given painkillers, only allowed a respite from their seemingly endless suffering, after a successful mission. it keeps them loyal, and most importantly, teaches their brain to associate acts of violence with relief and rewards.

everyone they've ever met has treated them as a tool, a monster, or both. they don't know how to be anything else.

that is until they're rampaging through a village, destroying, killing, whatever their masters demand of them. whatever will give them a few blissful hours of numbness.

one of the villagers steps out of a ruined building and looks them straight in the eyes. whumpee expects fear, hatred, disgust, the things they see in the faces of every person who's ever crossed their path. but they see something completely different.

compassion.

whumpee is so stunned, they don't think to move or do anything at all as the villager steps closer, gently reaching out a hand to cup whumpee's face.

"oh, poor thing." they murmur, taking in the creature in front of them - part human, part animal, part machine. "they've done a number on you, huh?"

whumpee blinks at them. pain continues to course through their body, but the gentle hand on their cheek distracts them, even if just a little. all the indistinct noise in their foggy, addled mind finally goes quiet.

caretaker had stepped out in front of the being destroying their home with the intention to get through to it or die trying, and the expectation to absolutely die trying.

they did not at all expect the seemingly feral mishmash of metal, fur, and flesh to lean so heavily into their touch that they nearly collapsed into caretaker's arms.

[futurealchemy]

with the amount of times hiccup has had dragons scream directly in his ears at a very close distance, it would be surprising if his hearing wasn’t at least a little impaired honestly.

[whump-side]

Being an elf living for hundreds and hundreds of years doesn't mean you're immune to colds

[letthewhumpbegin]

Baby Driver (2017)

[quitealotofsodapop]

First off, love your aus and all the monkie and shadowpeach goodness/angst. Now my questions!

a few of your aus, Mac is often the one that takes a lot of blame for stuff, most due to his actions and fair, some a horrid accident and miscommunication, but he always get poked and dog piled by Wukongs family and friends.

Being hated on by everyone, or feeling like it, even as you work through it for forgiveness, i always wondered what would happen if all the pokes and comments by others, and his own mind, got to Mac, who is a insecure mess in general, and he just... gave up?

If alive/revived:

After revived, or listening to all the hate stuff thrown at him, macaque fully believed he didnt deserve to be in Wukongs or the cubs lives, that he brought shame and pain to those he loved, that his being there was making it all worse. And decided to never darken their lives again?

Maybe he just disappears or states he will never trouble wukong again? Or thanks him for being one of the only beings in the universe to love this lowly shadow of a warrior?

If dead:

What would happen if Macque revived, and had a full reincarnation? How would Wukong even react to seeing the soul of this person he both loved and was hurt/angry with... wasnt that person anymore and never would be? Bonus angst if this Mac is like with someone that is so much like wukong but isnt him >:3

Love to read your aus, wukong and macaque are my fav characters and you stuff is awesome!!!!

I feel like I sometimes jump on Macaque in my aus cus both canon and fanon tends to forget that he legit did a lot of wrong before he became a "redeemed" in the story's eyes.

Macaque *does* have his defenders in my aus, its just that they're overshadowed by his critics.

The issue with having him "give up" is that Macaque *doesn't* give up. This man is still simping on Wukong in canon, sleeping in the tree they used to meet up. He ain't moving. Also he's too proud to let Wukong get the final word.

But I could see a scenario where Macaque does have his own breakdown over his mistakes - causing friends and family to realise that they've gone a little too far.

The Noodle Gang/Pilgrims eventually step in to provide a listening ear for Macaque, and later convince Wukong to offer his - cus while Macaque has done wrong, Wukong isn't 100% in the right either. Therapy and Marriage counselling activated.

Wukong would realise just how much his love meant to Macaque, since he himself was convinced Macaque had discarded his lover with their fight under the mountain. And Macaque would be given assurance that Wukong forgives him for so so much, and wants him to stay and make mutual amends.

We like healthy partner communication here.

Bonus; I feel if Macaque ever reincarnated after his death, Wukong would try his best to stay away. Wukong only ever loved one man once, and that's it. His mate's new form can love whomever they want. However if the Reincarnated!Macaque sought Wukong out, the Monkey king would find it very difficult to turn them away.

[whumperofworlds]

Rules here!

(Suggested by @snares-and-tears ! Screenshot due to the answer being in the ask. Thanks so much!)

What piece of media does this whumpy scene come from? Tell me via replies here, reblogs, an ask, etc! You have 24 hours!

[whumpetywhump]

Begins ≠ Youth - Ep. 12