#escape attempt

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee escapes whumper in the dead of night. They managed to steal whumpers phone on their way out; now all they need is a signal before they freeze to death in the rain.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Riot Kings, page 163

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[whumpasaurus101]

"If I knew better," Whumper cooed, leaning in close until their lips brushed against Whumpee's ear, "I would be thinking my little birdie is trying to run away..."

Whumpee froze, their breath catching in their throat as their hand instinctively tightened against the doorknob, "I- I swear I ca-can explain..."

The flick of a switchblade made Whumpee flinch, followed by a whimper, "Ple- please, I se-swear I'll be good-"

The tip of the blade was pressed against the small of Whumpee's back as Whumper leaned in, voice a low whisper, "Oh darlin', I think it's a bit too late for that, don't you?"

Whumpee closed their eyes, mouth opening but only a whisper escaped. Tears began to stream down their face and their body shook, "'m s-sorry..."

[a-whumped-tea]

Got caught trying to escape by your captor? Gaslight them!

"And where do you think you're goin-"

"Oh my god, Whumper, I've been looking for you everywhere!!"

"...What?"

"You had me worried sick!! Do not make me worry like that again, Whumper. Do you realize how hard it was to get out of those chains?? Do you?? I scraped up my hands getting out of them!! Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn't gotten out?? I could have died from worry and it would have been all your fault!!"

"......Huh?"

"I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed."

[demondamage]

CW: Bomb/suicide bombing

"You kidnapped me to make you these, how the fuck does this surprise you?" Whumpee howled with laughter, arms spread and revealing their pieced together bomb vest. "You should have counted your inventory better!"

It felt- good- powerful- no... EUPHORIC to see the color drain from Whumper's face as they stared back, jaw slacked in shock to the point their own cigarette fell on their lap, burning them out of their daze.

"Whumpee... Let's talk about this..." Whumper slowly started, standing from his seat at the poker table only to stop as Whumpee shook the detonator remote in their hand.

"Move again and I press it."

For once, Whumpee held the high ground, forcing Whumper back into their seat.

"I want every gun on the table." Whumpee commanded, high on the power they held in their hand. "No sudden movements or we are all dead."

Whumper's henchmen stared at their boss a moment, only moving when Whumper gave a small nod. Pistols, bullets, and rifles piled on top of cards and chips no longer needed. Now they gambled in lives.

"You know I can't let you escape." Whumper kept their hands in the air, head turned to stare at Whumpee. "You've seen to much."

"Oh you have made it VERY clear I am not leaving this place alive." Whumpee cackled. "And I've come to terms with that. But now I have the chance to take all of you fuckers with me."

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #14: Time Flies

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content: lab whump, captivity, sleep deprivation, escape, derealization, gore, gruesome murder, death, needles, mind control, defiant winged test subject whumpee, creepy scientist carewhumper

YAY!! YIPPEEEE!!!!!!! 😈😈😈😈

— 

Tonight was the night, Dew decided. Tonight was the night he’d finally escape.

Earlier that day, he and Sasha silently communicated that they were ready. All Dew had to do now was wait until the snake slithered through the vents and into his room once Anton had gone to sleep. And then… Escape. Their plan was flawless: Crawl through the tight, dark and claustrophobic air ducts, as quiet and quickly as possible, all the way up to the surface.

All he had to do was exit the vents into Anton’s cabin, a place he was only somewhat familiar with, and steal that mind-controlling device from the scientist, then make his way outside as quiet as he’d ever have to be. All he had to do was not be seen, or heard, or caught, or hurt. All Dew had to do was escape, and then he would be free.

Dew had the relatively legible map of the air ducts memorized by now, but Sasha knew it best, so they would lead the way. Dew wasn’t going to bring anything with him. As much as he loved his music, and his sketchbook, and his ghost light, and his… chicken, it was all too much of a liability. All Dew would have with him were his glasses, clothes on his back, and his wings that made the whole escape possible.

He didn’t care if Anton found his plans in that notepad; he’d be long gone by then. He didn’t care that, technically, he’d have no evidence of ever being friends with Sasha, except the memories to hold on tightly to. Dew wished he could bring his sketchbook, wished that it wouldn’t be doomed to be buried deep underneath the ground in the lab forever. Dew’s art was a part of him, does that mean a part of him would always be stuck down there too?

…Dew supposed that whether or not he brought his sketchbook with him, it was true. A part of Dew would always be stuck in that lab. But the rest of him deserved to be free. He wouldn’t let himself be stuck in the past and let the scientist continue to ruin his life.

So that night, after Dew had fallen asleep on the couch and was carried back to his room by Anton after a surprisingly fun birthday party, Dew woke up. He lay awake waiting for Sasha to show up. And as it turned out, they slithered through the vents a lot faster than Dew thought.

“Ssspp!” Sasha hissed, getting Dew’s attention from the vents. “This is it, Dew! Are you ready?!”

“Yeah,” Dew whispered, more determined than he’d ever been. “I’m ready.”

“Sweet! Anton’s sound asleep, so this should be easy!”

“Sasha,” Dew whispered, voice shaking. “You really sure this will work?”

“Of course it will!” Sasha unlatched the vents with their tail, and peaked their head through. “Now hurry up, the sky is waiting for you!”

“O-okay! Let’s do this!” Dew took one last drink of water from the sink, and looked around the room he’d spent the last few months trapped in. He glanced out the window to the dark and empty lab and shuddered. He wouldn’t miss this place. Dew flew upwards, through the vent and into the air ducts.

The journey to the surface was simple and familiar; it was what Dew and Sasha had been practicing for the past few weeks now. They knew all the twists and turns and dead ends and drops and exits. They knew the way out, so they made no detours. They kept going.

Dew ignored that feeling of dread deep in the pit of his stomach, like something bad was going to happen, because it didn’t matter. He couldn’t go back now, and he wasn’t going to.

Dew couldn’t wait to see his friends, especially after his birthday yesterday. They were all probably so worried for him, wondering where he was. But he’d surprise them tonight!

They made it to the exit after about an hour of crawling through the cold metal tunnels. Dew never knew how claustrophobic he could be, especially with the hope that he’d soon stretch his wings and fly through the sky.

Sasha opened the latch with their tail and slithered through, letting Dew into the living room of Anton’s cabin. They were both silent, as if they rehearsed this situation countless times in their minds, and knew that any sort of talking would only reveal themselves. But that was okay, because Dew knew exactly what he had to do next.

And he was more terrified than he had ever been in his life.

Dew tiptoed to Anton’s room, taking anxious glances at Sasha on his shoulders every few seconds. He passed a few large windows, but held back from hopping out just yet. He didn’t want this to end exactly how it did last time. Sasha told him Anton was not a light sleeper, and that if they both kept quiet, this would be easy. Just in and out, quick and easy, no need to get worked up about it.

Dew twisted the doorknob, and pushed the door open with a creak. He winced, but peaked his head into the scientist’s bedroom. It was too dark to notice anything; the blinds of the window were closed, letting in very little moonlight.

Sasha slithered down Dew’s body and onto the floor, quietly moving across the light green rug and climbing onto Anton’s nightstand. They gestured with their tail to what drawer the scientist kept the mind-control contraption in.

Dew nodded and started tiptoeing closer, as quietly as he could. Dew could tell the carpet was soft, softer than anything he’d touched recently. The thought made him want to snuggle up under the covers, safe and warm with no fear of being caught. But instead, he was walking across his captor’s room— while the man slept just a few feet away from him— planning to take back what was his.

Dew arrived at Sasha, who had opened the drawer that held the device. Dew swallowed thickly, glancing at the scientist sleeping next to them. Anton was facing away, curled up in a ball under the covers. The blankets shifted up and down as he breathed, blissfully unaware of what was happening next to him.

Dew reached his hand into the drawer and pulled out the device. With a click of a button, the chip in Dew’s brain would be activated, allowing Anton to control his every action with a small murmur of a command.

He held it in his hands, close to his chest as if any wrong move would activate it and wake up the scientist, leaving Dew frozen in place, caught red handed, in Anton’s own room.

Sasha saw the fearful look in Dew’s eyes and slithered up his arm and onto his shoulders, beckoning him to get the hell out of there. Dew turned around and began to tiptoe across the floor, too afraid to look back.

There was a shift, a sound of something moving behind him, and Dew all but had a heart attack. Stomach dropping, assuming he was done for, Dew peaked over his shoulder.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Anton had only rolled over in his sleep. Still, it was enough to make him book it out of there. He shut Anton’s door and raced to the front door, flinging it open and stepping outside.

“We-we did it,” Dew cried happily. “We did it!”

“Not yet, destroy the thing now!” Sasha hissed.

“Right.” Dew held the device tightly in his hand, raised his arm, and smashed it into the ground. Pieces of metal and wire exploded beneath him in every direction. It was completely destroyed. Just like that, Anton couldn’t mind-control him anymore.

Dew smiled, and looked up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and Dew didn’t remember the last time he saw so many stars. He giggled, looked back down and kicked pieces of the device across the grass. He took a deep breath of the cool, fresh autumn air and stomped on the pieces, jumping up and down, laughing happily. He missed the sound of the fallen leaves crunching beneath his feet, and kicked them in the air like confetti. It was the middle of the night; the moon was full and bright, allowing Dew to see everything in the darkness. Dew loved full moons. It was beautiful.

Once he was calmed down, he turned to Sasha, who was coiled around the porch railing. “I can’t believe I really did it,” He said, smiling and sniffling.

“Please, Dew, fly away! Be free!” Sasha exclaimed happily.

“I… I will.” Dew took a glance at the sky, and looked back at Sasha. “I-I’m gonna miss you so much. Th-thank you. Thank you Sasha.”

Sasha giggled. “You’re welco—”

The front door suddenly slammed open. Anton stepped out, hair disheveled. He raised a tranquilizer gun.

Dew jumped, his wings taking full control. Sasha sprang towards the scientist, coiling their body around Anton’s face and briefly blinding him. Dew’s wings flapped rapidly through the air, mimicking his terrified, racing heart. Sasha grabbed Anton’s gun with their tail, flinging it away into the grass. Anton took a few steps forward. Dew was flying. Sasha coiled around Anton’s head, muffling his calls before he could yell out.

“Fly Dew!” Sasha cheered, ignoring Anton’s attempts to pry them off his face. “Fly!”

Dew blinked his tears away, and darted off into the sky.

. . .

Dew never looked back, scared that if he did, he’d wake up, and all of this would turn out to be a dream.

But it really was real this time, wasn’t it? Dew was flying. Dew was finally, finally free.

He cried for what felt like forever, fueled by adrenaline as his wings did all the work on spreading as much distance from him and the lab as possible. It was the fastest he’d ever flown before, and the highest. After an hour, he flew higher, away from the trees and into the clouds. The further he flew, the more clouds there were and the darker it got. Was it going to rain? Dew was giddy at the thought. Flying in the rain. How much fun would that be?

Dew soared through the forest, doing loop-de-loops in the sky. He loved the feeling of wind in his hair and space all around him. There was a flock of nighthawks, and Dew flew with them. He giggled as the birds squawked at him, as if he was one of their own.

Anyone walking through the forest would have heard loud laughter from above them, cries of happiness through the trees. Dew was celebrating his freedom with his fellow winged friends, and he couldn’t be happier.

Dew never got tired, and he never stopped. He wanted to look at the sky, at the bright full moon, but there were clouds. So he flew above the clouds, higher than he ever had, until he couldn’t see the ground. Dew looked around himself and was surrounded by complete nothingness; a vast abyss; a void. He was completely alone up there. It was only him, the beautiful moon, and the infinite stars above him to keep him company. It was the most at peace he’d ever felt with the universe. Up here, he was truly free.

Dew fell down into the clouds again, getting misted by the water droplets inside, and fell towards the trees. Catching himself at the split second, Dew did it again. And again. He was ecstatic! He was flying! This was the best day of his life!

As he soared through the sky and took in the amazing sights of everything he’s always wanted to see, always wanted to experience, Dew realized he was getting thirsty. He was still in the woods, so there was surely to be a river down there he could drink from.

Dew dropped down to the ground and landed gracefully into the dead autumn leaves. The second his legs touched the ground, he stumbled, grabbing a tree to balance him.

Oh. He was tired. As the adrenaline of escaping started to wear off, the events of the night started to catch up to him. Dew was tired, hungry, and his entire body was sore after flying that much. His wings were burning, begging to rest. His entire body was begging to rest after barely getting a few hours of sleep the past few days.

Dew walked through the forest, listening to the sounds of the wilderness. He missed the summer, having gotten it cut short. But fall was his favorite season. And hey, at least he’d be home for Halloween! Maybe he’d even get a costume in time.

He heard rushing water, and knelt down next to the creek. Dew cupped his hands and lapped up as much cool water as he could, then stood up.

Even though he had never been anywhere near this place before, he turned to a direction and started walking. And after a little while of gaining his energy back, he flew.

. . .

After what felt like forever, Dew had spotted civilization. He realized very quickly that there was a problem.

He couldn’t let himself be seen. Not by anyone. Not yet.

He’d been missing for months and would suddenly return with giant wings. No matter what sort of attention he’d get, none of it would be in his favor. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that scientists all over the world would kill for a chance to study his wings. There’d be no point in escaping just to be sucked back into another hell. Dew kept close to the clouds, hoping that if anybody looked up, they’d think he was just another bird.

Dew couldn’t believe how amazing flying felt, he almost didn’t want to stop. In the back of his mind, he’d thought about eventually having to convince his friends to move out to the countryside with him, so that way he could fly all the time without being seen. He was giddy at the thought that maybe, he’d eventually find a way to bring his friends into the sky with him.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t even know where he was, after all. But he followed the birds, and continued on his journey.

And then, high up in the night sky with the autumn air flowing through his wings, Dew spotted it: his house. His home. Where his friends would be waiting for him! Dew cried in joy as he soared downward, racing to the ground like a meteor, like a shooting star. Once he landed on trembling legs, he stumbled up to the front door.

Dew couldn’t believe it! He was out! He was back! He was home!

It had to be around 3 in the morning by now, so nobody was around to see him and his wings. Dew looked at the house; the place he’d been dreaming of coming back to for so long, and it didn’t feel real. Dew tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

Of course it was; his friends knew how to keep themselves safe, unlike him. If only he knew of the dangers of the night, maybe he never would have been kidnapped by the scientist. But it was no use contemplating the past. Dew instinctively checked his pockets; empty, of course. So he fished out the spare key from under the doormat, and unlocked the door. Dew didn’t bother knocking, or ringing the doorbell, or even announcing his return when he opened the door and peeked inside. He lived here too, after all.

Dew was still standing in the doorway. He took a deep breath, and then a careful step inside as if the floor would drop out and he’d fall into the vents back at the lab, as if he was still crawling through them like he’d been doing every night and all this was just his mind playing tricks on him.

But that didn’t happen, so he took another step. And then another. And then he whipped around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud noise it made, but quickly locking it closed. There! The scientist couldn’t get him in here! He was safe!

Dew laughed quietly, wiping the tears from his eyes. He was really home. He was home!

Dew wanted nothing more than to collapse in his warm bed and snuggle with his friends and pets in the comfort and safety of his home, because god, he was so fucking tired.

Dew took a few more steps though the house until he smelt something strange. Cake? He sniffed into the air. That was odd, but he ignored it. He walked down the hallway, not bothering to kick off his shoes he no longer had, so he didn’t notice his old pair lying next to his friends’. Dew entered the kitchen, and stopped in his tracks.

All around the room was a mess of colorful streamers and confetti. There were balloons littered around the floor and some floated to the ceiling. A half eaten birthday cake sat on the counter. Dew tripped on a piece of stray wrapping paper as he walked up to it. Written on the cake in light blue icing were the words, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY…” and he was sure there was supposed to be a name on the other side, but it had been eaten.

Right away, Dew realized there was something wrong. He expected to find his friends waiting for him, excited to finally see him after so long. He expected a reunion filled with tears of joy and happiness. But he instead got birthday party decorations, and his friends were nowhere in sight.

Dew walked further inside his house until he entered the living room. The TV was still on, playing episodes of his favorite show— the same one he had watched last night— but the volume was turned down so it could hardly be heard. Hanging on the walls was a sign that also said happy birthday, with balloons in the shape of a two and a three floating next to it. 

Dew frowned, racking his brain on what all this could mean. Sure, his birthday was yesterday, but Dew had been gone— missing— for months. Surely his friends weren’t just celebrating his birthday without him. That wouldn’t make any sense. And why do all this when they could be looking for him? Why waste time with cake and… a pile of opened birthday presents… when he wasn’t there with them?

Dew’s mind raced. What the fuck was happening? Who was this all for? Why was his birthday celebrated without him? Who had opened his presents? Eaten his cake? Who did they sing to? Who made his wish?

His head pounded. He had been awake for… a very long time. Dew hadn’t gotten a full night's rest in who knows how long. Was he hallucinating? Had his sleep deprivation finally caught up to him?

Dew looked down, and his eyes widened. Sleeping on the couch, snuggled up close in a warm blanket and Sir Bonkles sleeping between them, were Dew’s best friends Hayden and Layla.

It was the first time Dew saw his friends in months, and all he wanted to do was hug them. But now, Hayden and Layla looked so peaceful sleeping there, he didn’t want to wake them up. So he didn’t. Dew was so tired now, maybe he should just ignore all of this. Maybe he should just go to sleep and pretend everything was back to normal. Besides, he didn’t feel like explaining how he got his giant wings right now. He’d rather sleep in his own bed, and rest now that he was home and safe.

Dew numbly walked to his bedroom and shut the door. Everything felt like a haze. He slid down the wall and curled up on his soft carpet. He couldn’t bring himself to cry, he just wanted to sleep.

Dew pulled himself from the floor and walked to his bunk bed. He climbed his ladder, and was just about to collapse into his soft bed when he froze— almost falling backwards onto the floor and needing to flap his wings to keep himself from losing balance.

“W-what?” He breathed. The blankets in front of him were clumped up as if there was a body underneath. As if he was sleeping there already. Dew raised his arm and poked at the lump, then shook it, then squeezed his hand and ripped the blanket from the sleeping form.

For a split second, Dew thought his friends had replaced him. Let a new friend move into their home and take his place, take his role and name and identity and birthday. But they would never do that. They loved Dew.

…But apparently not enough to tell apart the real one from the fake.

His sleep deprived brain must be making him hallucinate; that was the only explanation. Dew blinked a few times, wiped his eyes, and even pinched himself. He was still there. He wasn’t hallucinating, and this wasn’t a dream.

“Hey,” Dew said quietly, voice cracking. The body stirred, but didn’t wake up. “Hey!” He said, loud enough to wake himself up but quiet enough for his friends in the living room not to hear.

There was a sleepy murmur. The blankets shifted again as whoever was there rolled over and opened his eyes sleepily, just waking up from a peaceful slumber. And then he noticed Dew, and his entire body went rigid.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, both frozen in time taking in each other's identical features. The person in front of Dew had his same brown eyes, his same wavy brown hair, his same dark freckles, and the same look of pure terror and confusion on his face.

But there was something different. Dew looked at the man and saw himself, sure, but before. The person he saw was full of innocence and obliviousness. He did not know the horrors that Dew had faced during the last two and a half months. He did not know the pain and agony and fear Dew had to endure. He did not know the escape attempts and homesickness and how much he could possibly miss his friends. He did not know what Dew had fucking gone through.

“W-what? What the fuck? Who are you?” The fake Dew asked, sitting up and wincing as he hit his head on the ceiling. Dew was frozen, staring back in disbelief. His stare must’ve been intense, because it caused the person on his bed to back up into the corner, afraid. He was scared of Dew.

That’s right. Dew probably looked much different, didn’t he? Eyes tired and sunken from his lack of sleep, and face filled with months worth of constant fear and pain. The giant white wings protruding from his back, along with a strange blue sweater. His pants and socks were now muddy and torn from hours spent trekking through the forest.

Looking at the “Dew” on the bed was like looking into a mirror of the past. A past so far gone that Dew could hardly recognise himself. It was as if nothing had changed. As if nothing bad had ever happened to him. As if the past two and a half months were completely erased.

Dew caught himself staring— almost similar to how Anton always stared at him— because there was no fucking way any of this could be real.

“Who are you?” Dew asked brokenly.

“What? I– I’m Dew!” The man exclaimed, looking even more confused. “Who are you? What the hell are you doing in my house? Why do you look like– like… What’s going on?”

Dew ignored his questions and hopped off the ladder onto the carpet, wanting to get some space to think. He looked around the room numbly, ignoring the other Dew who had started crawling closer to the edge of the bunk bed, watching his every move.

Laying on the floor was his old hoodie, the one he recognised instantly because of the patches that were sewn into the fabric. It was the hoodie he was wearing when he was taken to the lab, the hoodie that Anton had to “throw away” for an unknown reason and replace it with hospital gowns and blue sweaters.

Dew turned his gaze elsewhere in his bedroom. There were new polaroid photos hanging up on the walls, likely taken by Layla. Dew walked closer to inspect them, noticing that he, Layla and Hayden were all in them. But Dew never remembered getting those photos taken. And he knew for sure they had never gone to whatever amusement park they were at in those photos.

He looked so happy, they all looked so happy. There were no photos of just Layla and Hayden, it was all three. Even in some love boat ride, it was the three of them. Dew’s stomach turned.

Dew ignored the sound of movement from behind him, the sound of somebody slowly and carefully crawling out of the top bunk and down the ladder. He ignored the fearful and curious eyes staring directly at him, staring at his wings. He ignored the other man standing there silently, unmoving and afraid.

Sitting on the nightstand was Dew’s old headphones and MP3 player. He could tell because they still had old, faded minecraft stickers on them, unlike the ones Anton had given him. The only thing that was different— new— were the glasses sitting on the nightstand. Anton never had taken Dew’s glasses away.

There was a card on the nightstand as well; a birthday card. Dew reached for it, and looked inside.

“Hey!” The clone said, marching closer to him and snatching the card from Dew’s hands. “That’s– that’s mine…” His voice trailed off once Dew snapped his head in his direction, silenting him with his gaze.

“What does it say?” Dew demanded.

“It– It doesn’t matter! What even– can you just tell me what’s going on? Why are you here? Who are you?”

“I’m you!” Dew exclaimed. “Can’t you tell?! Can’t you fucking recognise me?! Or did Anton take away every sense of self when he made you?!”

“I– I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You’re– You’re a clone of me! Y-you have to be! Probably made by the scientist after he took me! This is my house! This is my room! These are my things! This is my fucking life! You can’t just– you can’t– just pretend to be me! Pretend to feel how I feel, and act how I act! You can’t!”

Dew exploded in pent up tears and rage. He felt like this must be a dream, because the other Dew looked so scared, and Dew only ever looked like that when Anton was around. But he wasn’t here, because Dew was home.

“Am I dead?” The impostor asked. “Are you an angel?”

“No,” Dew spat. “We’re– we’re not dead. Everything’s fine.”

Nothing about this situation was fine. Not only was Dew sleep deprived, tired, anxious, confused and afraid, but he was also standing face to face with some sort of clone that had taken his place.

It was silent for another moment, and then, “Are those wings real?” The clone asked.

Dew’s eyes shot up, glaring at him. “It doesn’t matter,” He gritted between his teeth. This person– this thing had no idea what Dew had been through; the pain getting those wings had caused him. And this man was staring in awe at something he would never begin to understand, as if Dew was just some animal to gawk at.

"Are you real?"

Dew wasn't the only one wondering that, then. “I’m not sure,” He said blankly. Because it was true. For all he knew, this could all be a dream— hell, it felt like that more than reality. Dew would be more surprised if this was real.

“Are you me? Like, like from the future or something? Really, what’s going on?” 

The questions didn't cease, and when the clone reached out to touch Dew's wings, he finally snapped.

“NO!” Dew exclaimed, slapping the man’s hand away. “Don’t you fucking dare touch my wings! You don’t know anything! You don’t know what I had to go through to get here, to– to get here and find you in my place!

“You’re not me! You’re nothing like me! You’re just– just a lie! Just a fake! You’re– you’re not su-supposed to be here! You’re not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to- to be free and with m-my friends an-and—” Dew’s words trailed off into sobs.

“...Are you okay?” The clone asked softly. Dew looked up, not realizing he was sobbing uncontrollably until his wings wrapped around his body in a tight hug. He was asking him if he was okay. After everything, after stealing his life, his clone was asking him if he was okay.

Dew’s sobs came to a stop in disbelief. He looked up, and saw the clone standing there with a thoughtful expression, someone who was trying to be nice. Pity.

“Do you want a hug?” The other Dew asked, so so gently that Dew forgot about everything and decided that, yes, he did want a hug, a hug from anyone else that wasn’t the scientist. It had been so long since the last one.

Dew nodded, wiping his tears as best he could and opened his wings. The clone stepped closer tentatively, and wrapped his arms around the other. He squeezed him tight, and Dew hugged him back, his wings wrapping around them both in a comforting embrace. Dew sobbed into his own shoulder, hugged his own body, and felt his own heart beating in a chest that wasn’t his.

But this wasn’t real comfort. If this was real, Dew couldn’t go on like this anyway. The world wasn’t big enough for two Dews; his friends wouldn’t be able to adjust to being friends with two of the same person, much less while having to adjust to… everything that had happened to him. Like having wings, for starters.

And Dew couldn’t forget what this impostor did. He stole his friends, he stole his life. He was the reason nobody was looking for him, and probably never had been. He was the reason Dew was trapped in that hell for so long, filled with a false hope that eventually, somebody would find and rescue him! But because of this clone, nobody even knew Dew was gone in the first place.

Dew’s eyes opened and drifted to his nightstand. He reached towards the drawer, and opened it quietly. There sat a small pocket knife, one he had always kept for self defense, in case anyone ever broke into his room during the night.

He never thought he’d be using it against himself, as the person who had broken in. But he also never thought he’d be experimented on by a mad scientist for two and a half months straight, and yet here he was.

Dew didn’t hesitate. He stabbed the knife into his clone’s back, making him gasp out in pain and push his arms against Dew’s body. Dew tightened his grip around him, turning the hug that had just been something comforting into something that would lead to his demise.

“St-STOP!” The clone shrieked, and Dew twisted the knife deeper into his back. The clone hissed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and flailing under his grip.

Dew pushed his clone to the ground and pounced on top of him, planting a hand over his mouth to muffle the screams. The clone let out more strangled grunts as Dew pulled the knife out from underneath him, causing blood to spray all over them both. He stabbed him again. Tears and blood painted both of their faces until they couldn't tell who was who or what was what anymore.

Dew dug the knife into his chest and stared into those identical, wide and scared brown eyes until the light behind them went out, and he was once again the only Dew left in the world.

Dew didn't realize he had killed the man until he found his room eerily silent. The body lay still on the floor, limbs sprawled out in what one can only imagine as a desperate but futile struggle to get away. Dew sat in shock on hands and knees over his own body, tears dripping onto his own face until his sleepless brain started to register what had just happened.

Dew stood up, rapidly trying to get away from the corpse when he forgot he was still holding the knife to his chest, pulling it out of the body as he stood. Blood sloshed out and around the corpse in a pool or red.

Dew dropped the knife to the ground in disgust and horror, terrified about what he had just done. The knife clattered to the floor, laying neatly in the bloodied carpet glistening in the moonlight that shone through the windows.

Dew collapsed to the floor in despair, curling into a ball and staring at his own corpse for what felt like forever. Time and space blended together in a haze and Dew clutched his pounding head in his hands, wishing for his suffering to finally end.

He killed him. He killed him. He never wanted to kill anyone! This wasn’t supposed to happen! He wasn’t a murderer!

Dew was so lost in his own mind that he hadn’t heard the footsteps making their way through the house and to his room.

“Well…” Dread panged in Dew’s chest when he heard a familiar voice coming from the doorway. “I see you’ve met the clone.”

Dew’s blood ran cold. There was nothing else he could do.

“Dewey, Dewey, Dewey…” A dark chuckle. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” Dew tearfully looked up to see Anton, standing in his doorway.

“No,” Dew choked out, hyperventilating. “No, no no no no!” He backed up with frantic pleads, all in a hushed tone as to not wake his friends in the other room. “No, g-go away. Plea-please go away.”

Anton didn’t stop walking, and Dew was quickly backed into the wall. He pressed his back against it, ignoring his wings’ protests, just wishing he could disappear and never come back. His hysterical sobs didn’t cease, and Anton was now standing only inches away.

“L-l-leave me alone,” Dew cried between sobs. “Ge-get out, go aw-away. Please please just go away.” Dew saw Anton’s hand move from the corner of his eye, and he slid down the wall in defeat, expecting a needle to be drawn.

Instead, Anton knelt down and put his hands over Dew’s mouth, hushing his cries. Dew looked up in surprise, his wide eyes filled with fear and desperation, silently pleading up at the scientist.

“Shh,” Anton cooed. “Wouldn’t want to wake up your little friends.”

Dew blinked heavily, more tears falling down his cheeks and all over Anton’s hand, but he didn’t pull away.

“Nice room you got here.” Anton spoke quietly, almost gently, but there was a venom in his voice. He clicked his tongue. “Too bad everything’s covered in blood. Do you realize the mess you’ve made?”

Dew sobbed harder into Anton’s hand. He squeezed it tighter. “Be quiet, Dew.” Anton warned. “If your friends wake up, they won’t get out of this. Behave. You can do that, right?”

Dew squeezed his eyes shut, more tears falling, and nodded his head.

Dew felt more terrified than he had ever been in his life, which made his next moves strange. He slowly brought his hands up and put them on Anton’s wrist, slowly pulling the man’s hand down from over his mouth. Anton let him.

“P-please,” Dew whimpered. He spoke as quiet as he possibly could, leaving his voice as nothing but a small squeak. He was completely covered in blood, both his own, and the other’s. “Please, An-Anton. Please don’t hurt m-my friends, I’ll– I’ll do anything.”

Anton sighed. “What am I going to do with you? I won’t. Let's go back to the lab, I'll clean up your mess later.”

“...Back to the lab?” Dew whimpered.

“Yeah? Where else would we go?”

“I-I can’t go back there. Please.”

“You can. You will.”

Dew didn’t have the energy to argue with the scientist, and he didn’t know if he ever could again.

Anton patted his head. “Good,” He said, and smiled. Dew looked to the ground in utter defeat.

The scientist stood up and stretched. “Your sense of direction is astounding, I'm surprised you found your way back.”

Dew stood up on wobbly legs after him, sticking close to the wall. “...How- How'd you get here so fast?”

Anton shrugged, “Doesn’t matter.” He looked down at the dead body in curiosity and amazement. “Man, you really did a number on that guy, huh. Oh well. I can always make another one.” Anton chuckled.

“You cloned me.” Dew’s voice broke, face full of betrayal.

“I did tell you nobody would be looking for you, didn’t I? I know you have a lot of questions, and I don’t blame you. But I’ll answer them when we get back to the lab, alright?”

“...What are you gonna do to me?” Dew whimpered.

“What do you mean?”

“I– I escaped.”

“Ohh.” Anton sighed and ruffled his hair. “I knew about the vents, Dew. I know how hard you two worked on your little scheme, and I didn’t wanna ruin the excitement.”

“Y-you…” Dew felt sick to his stomach. “You knew?”

“Of course. I decided to play your little game. I wanted to see what would happen if I let you have some control.” Anton chuckled. “I didn’t think it’d be murder. I can’t say I’m not impressed. But you had to leave right after I threw you a whole birthday party? That hurts.”

Dew didn’t know if this could get any worse. His life was over, in more ways than one. Anton knew he was lying the whole time. There was absolutely nothing he could hide from him. There was no point in fighting anymore, Anton would always win. This was the worst day of his life.

“Like I said, I’ll answer your questions later. Let’s go.”

Dew tried to walk out his bedroom door, but just thinking about walking past his sleeping friends made him feel sick. He leaned against the doorframe, trying to gain his balance again. Anton noticed his struggles and walked up to him.

“You must be exhausted, huh? C’mere.” Dew didn’t resist as Anton picked him up into a bridal carry. The scientist walked out of Dew’s bloody bedroom and passed his friends on the couch. Dew sobbed louder when he caught sight of tranquilizer darts sticking out of their necks.

Oh. That’s why they didn’t wake up from all that screaming. Oh. Anton had been there the whole time.

“C’mon man,” Anton sighed. “I thought I told you to be quiet? Your friends are fine. I’ll get everything cleaned up before they wake up, promise.”

“Okay,” Dew squeaked. He hoped, with every ounce of hope he had left, that Anton was telling the truth.

Anton looked down at his test subject and tilted his head. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” Anton asked, though he already knew the answer. Dew nodded numbly. “...I can help you sleep. If you let me.”

Dew looked up. “Just– Just make it stop. Make everything stop.”

Anton nodded thoughtfully, pleased that his test subject was finally on the same page. “Sleep, Dewey,” Anton whispered into his ear, and continued walking.

And just like every other time Anton decided to control his mind, Dew started to succumb to sweet unconsciousness. His eyelids were growing heavy, and it was hard to keep his head up as he was carried out the front door. Dew’s frantic thoughts began to disperse, and his breathing grew slow and even; relaxed. His head lolled to the side, resting on Anton’s shoulder as he felt rain pouring down on them both. He looked to the sky, the stars, the moon, knowing he’d never see them again.

Dew could hardly keep his eyes open when Anton arrived at a car, which was parked on the street in front of his house. He couldn’t move his body when Anton laid him down on the backseat, and covered him with a blanket. The only noise he could hear was the rain pouring down as they drove into the night. And then, Dew finally fell asleep.

. . .

Sawyer had spent all night thinking about what Dew had told him earlier, at the surprise birthday party he and his friends had thrown for him. Sawyer missed him too, more than anything. Sure, Dew was happy now, with Hayden and Layla. He had confessed his year long crush on them only a few weeks ago at that amusement park they went to, and they took it as well as they possibly could. Dew was happy now, and he didn’t need Sawyer.

…But that didn’t mean Sawyer couldn’t still try. They were all polyamorous, surely they’d have room for one more, right?

Sawyer would tell Dew how much he means to him, like Dew had told him earlier. It would probably be awkward– because Sawyer was probably the most socially awkward person ever. But he couldn’t stand to hide his feelings any longer, even if it did ruin a lifelong friendship with his favorite person in the world. But knowing Dew, he’d never let that happen anyway! There was really nothing for Sawyer to worry about.

Sawyer ran through the streets back to Dew’s house, choosing to wait no more. If he wanted things to change, he would make them change himself.

Sawyer arrived at the front door, but hesitated when he heard talking coming from the other side. Sawyer wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but the voices sounded… off. He recognised Dew’s in an instant, of course, having spent his entire life listening to him talk about anything and everything. He knew Dew like the back of his hand, which made what he was hearing horrifying.

His friend sounded utterly terrified. He was crying– no, sobbing. Sawyer hadn’t heard Dew cry like that since his parents passed away years ago. Something terrible was happening and Sawyer was ready to break down the door just to comfort his best friend. But then he heard another voice, this one unfamiliar.

Sawyer put his ears to the door, trying to listen in. But the words were hushed and muffled. His heart sped up. What did this mean? What was going on in there? A very intense gut feeling stopped Sawyer from opening the door to find out. He backed away from the door when he heard the footsteps and voices getting closer. And when the doorknob started to twist open, Sawyer leaped into the bushes.

He cursed at himself. How anti-social could he be? To hide in the bushes at his friend’s house to avoid confronting him– while he was obviously going through something terrible, no less? Fuck, Sawyer wasn’t ready for any of this. It was best to just go back home.

He started crawling out of the bushes, heading towards the back of the house when he stopped in his tracks. He noticed the voices had stopped talking, but they were outside. Shit– did he get spotted? Sawyer cringed. How embarrassing…

Sawyer peaked over his shoulder and saw somebody facing away from him, walking towards the street. He crawled forward to get a closer look, stomach dropping in horror at what he saw.

It was Dew– it had to be! But he was drenched in blood and had two giant wings sticking out of his back. He was crying. But he looked so tired, resting his head against the shoulder of the person carrying him– someone Sawyer didn’t recognise.

Something was very, very wrong. Sawyer decided against confronting them, or going inside and making himself known to whoever else could be in there. He had to get out of there, or he felt like his blood would be added to the mix. Sawyer ran through the rain, back towards his home.

Sawyer and Dew had been best friends since childhood. Sawyer still remembered the day they met on the playground during recess. He couldn’t imagine a life without Dew. But now Dew was in trouble, and he was the only person who could save him. Sawyer knew something had been off with his friend the past few months, but he didn’t know what. Now, his suspicions were confirmed, and he was terrified.

The only thing Sawyer knew for sure, was that no matter what it took, he’d get his best friend back.

— 

fun fact: this was one of the first Dew and Anton scenarios i ever came up with, way way back before they even had names! hahahaha! anyway i think this is like the best thing i’ve ever written i hope u all liked it hehehe :)

taglist: @whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole @sorry-i-spaced @theelvishcowgirl @catnykit @tettlod @delicateprincepaper @rejectedbytheempty @mijajaj @anothertawogsideblog @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox @parasitebunny @bottlecapreader @thecareandkeepingofwhumpees @inkwell-and-dagger @vidawhump

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[painsandconfusion]

Off Guard

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Thirty-eight

(tw: electrocution, escape attempt, concussion, torture, death mention, murder mention, plotting murder, handcuffs, stun gun, blood, beating, unintentional self harm (bloody knuckles)) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Ethan’s fingers tingled as he walked, flicking them against each other by his side to stave off the sensation as he moved down the hall. 

He didn’t want to be too loud. Not tonight. The light was off in Nate’s room, so the bastard must finally be getting some half decent sleep. No reason to wake him and have the idiot trying to take over the scene. Again.

He shoved open the workshop doors, ignoring the slight grinding whine the hinges gave off - though still subconciously noting to add some kind of oil or whatever the fuck you do with hinges later. As the lights snapped on, the pitiful lump of a man in the middle of the room curled into his chains, a small sound of displeasure coming off of him.

“What, were you sleeping? I’m sorry-” Ethan stepped up to him, almost delicately pressing a foot down onto a dried slurry of blood that gashed over Crawford’s thigh. 

“Hnn-stopstto-”

“Hmm… I dunno, maybe beg a little more and see if it puts me in a good mood?” The edges of his mouth seemed to shift, tugging like curtains pulled by a string on the other side of the room to coax a smile out of him. 

Getting there, at least.

It was an almost completely forgotten sensation. Smiling without meaning to. It pulled an entirely different set of muscles than the simple, polite curve he gave to people he wanted to shut up or leave him alone. Different than the ruse he put on or the sarcastic toothy grin he threw in Nate’s direction in place of a verbal response. This was something different entirely. Like a little parasite had carved up inside his cheek and gnawed at the thin strands of muscle until they tightened like strings of a violin, ready for the steady screech of rosin to truly set them alight.

“Y’mdnr-”

“Hmm~?” Ethan’s foot ground in further, leaning in to see Crawford’s face as the man squished it against the cement. 

Another incoherent slurry of sound pressed from the man’s throat, still curled into a ball around the spot where the shackle lashed him to the ground. 

Ethan rolled his eyes, pushing off the man with a small kicking shove before crouching down and squirming his hand into the knotted ball of a man to grab his jaw. Twist him round. Hear his neck crackle with the fresh movement after nights sleeping on cement.

“Use your words,” he prompted, forefinger alone relenting the grip to taptaptap on Crawford’s jaw.

.PaiN.

Pain.

Ethan knew pain.

Close friends as they were for so many years, it was strange he found himself at a loss for its name when it reared its ugly head once more, overwhelming his mind in a single snap of blank, processing emptiness.

Ethan felt the echoing crack as his head hit the concrete, remnants of what he was finally recognizing as electricity buzzing down his twitching legs.

Some strangled growl ripped up his throat as he tried to right himself enough to grab for the man who was shoving on top of him, but his arms were slow - groggy from sleeplessness, shock and lost, aimless electrons trying to find their way underground. 

He shoved at Crawford only to feel the prongs of the stun gun shoved hard into his collarbone, burning agony through the skin and crackling as if eating through the bone itself as he thrashed to shove the searing pain away.

My name is Ethan Scott. The mantra lit up the back of his skull without prompt or ask. It was just there.

It begged him to fall stoic. To sit still and take it. Be tough. Be a good b-

No.

No-

NO.

My name is Ethan Scott and you cannot break me.

He won’t sit still- he can’t. Taking it isn’t strength right now, taking it is defeat.

Crawford was the one in chains today. 

Ethan’s hands scrabbled for Crawford’s arm, finally knocking the thing off of his flesh with a roaring gasp, shoving the other man off of him as best he could. 

Knuckles snapped against his nose, crunching it back. Some dull part of his mind calculated that that wasn’t even half the force of Crawford’s normal blows, but it locked up his mind anyway, pushing his gaze hazy and blurred as heat snapped across his sinuses and exploded behind his eyes. 

There was blood. He could taste it.

Shoving numbly, he was barely keeping up enough to track the bastard’s fingers knotting into his hair and slamming his head into the ground. Again. Again. Again-

And it stopped.

The weight lifted off of him in a blur of white and charcoal grey, sound muffling to the side. 

Ethan shoved back, hand moving to his face to press against the bleeding and squeeze his eyes shut to will vision to return to him. His head was spinning, like he was about to tip over and crack against the ground again. 

He shoved it back. Forced his eyes open and made them focus on the sounds and movement to his left as he shoved himself up on an elbow to squint at the unknown blur.

It took a moment to process exactly what he was seeing. 

Nate was a cheerful kind of bitch. The asshole whose smirk you could never wipe off. The life of the party. Class clown. Charmer. No matter how many screams he ripped out of Ethan, he did it with a gentle, almost seductive tone, grinning, smirking, or smiling almost fondly. He’d only seen Nate angry the once. When they’d met for the second time. 

But this savage blur in front of Ethan’s bleary eyes had him wondering if he was knocked into a dream. Blood splattered up Nate’s face from the sheer force of his hits as he drove his fist into Crawford’s face again and again, snapping it back and forth against the unforgiving cement. He didn’t even have to pin the man down - the welp on the floor couldn’t do anything but try to throw his arms up in front of the blows, shielding his face. 

Nate didn’t seem to care. He hit them too. Silent yet somehow screaming a rage tha echoed through Ethan’s skull.

Ethan sat there for several long seconds, trying to blink away the mirage in front of him before it slowly sharperned into clarity. It was really happening. 

A dull thought finally graced his addled mind. He’s going to kill him.

Immediately a panic pressed up through Ethan’s veins like acid, snapping him to attention and the closest thing to lucidity his star-studded mind could handle. He shoved up to his knees and flopped forward to tackled Nate off of the man. “St- sstop- STOP!”

Nate shoves at Ethan, trying to throw him off enough to get back to Crawford. Ethan could practically see the red smeared over Nate’s eyes as he shoved the man’s hands away, fogged body easily ignoring the nails slicing blood from his arms in their desperation to return to their proper target.

“NATE STOP.” Ethan finally just grabbed Nate’s face, forcing it toward him. 

Nate’s eyes stayed on Crawford, but he did slow, chest heaving and teeth barred like some kind of animal.

“..that’s enough-!”

Nate tried to shove off the words along with his hands. “He w-”

“I get to kill him. Me. Not you. Me.” 

Nate’s breath stuttered off its ragged rhythm, and his jaw set, lips pinched tight as a glare snapped to Ethan’s eyes at last. 

In a surrendering kind of huff, he shoved Ethan off of him again. This time Ethan let himself roll to the side, lying with shallow, echoing breath on the ground as Nate shoved out the workshop doors at a brisk walk, sticky hand leaving a smear of blood like claw marks over the edge of the door.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

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[whumpster-dumpster]

Smol Whumpee flailing and stumbling and being practically dragged along by Tol Caretaker's vice grip on their hand, barely keeping up with their longer legs as they make their escape

[unforgivenn]

WORD COUNT :424

CW: Failed escape attempt, pet whump?, beating, captivity, abuse, power dynamics, creepy and intimidating whumper

In the dimly lit basement of an old, dilapidated house, a figure huddled in the corner, trembling with fear. Whumpee trembled. They should've never tried running away. Everything was going so good and they-.. they just had to ruin it.. Please oh god I cant take this.. Whumpee curled up in a ball, their heart pounding with dread, they knew there punishment would be sever.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the basement, signaling Whumper's approach. Whumpee's breath caught in their throat as the door swung open, revealing the towering figure of their tormentor. Whumper's eyes glinted with malice as he advanced towards whumpee, a sadistic smile curling his lips.

"You thought you could escape from me, didn't you, boy?" Whumper's voice was low and menacing, sending shivers down Whumpee's spine.

"I-I'm sorry," Whumpee stammered, their voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to disobey you."

"Sorry isn't good enough," Whumper growled, grabbing whumpee by the collar and hauling them to their feet. "You need to learn your place, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

Without warning, Whumper lashed out, his fist connecting with Whumpee's jaw with a sickening thud. They cried out in pain, feeling the metallic tang of blood fill their mouth as their head spun from the impact.

Blows rained down upon whumpee, each one more punishing than the last. They cried out in agony, their body convulsing with pain as Whumper's rage consumed them. Bruises bloomed on whumpee's skin like dark flowers, and tears streamed down their face, mingling with the blood that trickled from their wounds.

Again and again, Whumper struck out with brutal precision, each blow landing with the force of a sledgehammer. Whumpee cried out in pain, their body wracked with agony as they tried in vain to shield themselves from the onslaught.

The whumpee's cries of agony echoed off the cold stone walls, each hit leaving behind a searing trail of pain. With each strike, they felt their spirit breaking, the weight of their disobedience bearing down upon them like a crushing weight.

Eventually, the onslaught ceased, and Whumpee was left lying on the cold concrete floor, bruised and bloodied, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Through tear-blurred eyes, they saw Whumper looming over them, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Remember this moment, boy," Whumper sneered. "Remember who owns you, and never dare to defy me again."

With that ominous warning, Whumper turned and left Whumpee alone in the darkness, his words ringing in the air like a death knell.

[averyy-rae]

Dear God,...

Yandere Story/Scenario

Part 1 (here) Part 2

Summary: The darling is trying to escape from their yandere boyfriend's and is currently being chased through the woods.

Warnings: Violence, chasing, escape attempt, obsessive behavior, toxic relationship, (sorta) yandere harem, wounds, mentions of emotional abuse.

Note: This is from the darlings perspective, let me know (if anyone reads/likes this) if you want a second part or the boyfriend's perspective. Please give me feedback, this is my first publish on here. :)

Have fun reading.

Darlings POV:

I just ran.

I'm still running.

...

As I'm running, I'm already out of breath. Everything passes by me in a blur. I cant feel my legs. Hell. I cant feel anything.

My mind is too clouded with adrenaline and fear to care about all the scratches and wounds I've collected on my escape so far. I keep tripping, but I stand up on weak, wobbly legs, forcing myself to keep running. To keep going. My whole body is aching, as every fiber of my body is begging me to stop running and take rest. To just lay against the next tree, or even on the dirty floor.

I wish to just stop.

I wish to just collapse on floor and be swallowed whole by it. Not having to worry about anything..., not having to worry about th-

Suddenly my mind goes blank.

as I'm, what feels like being thrown to the floor- I got knocked off my feet mid run. The air gets knocked out of me. Everything happens in a blur and time seems to stop. The only thing I can feel for a moment is my heart stopping.

Only for a split second- I'm outside of my body.

Only for a split second- I'm not myself.

'How I wish that was true'.

The next thing I know is- I'm on the floor, trying to gather my senses. My adrenaline rush seems to wear off. I can hear again, but it's not pleasant, I can hear ragged- enraged breathing.

My heart beats faster, my fear growing as I realize...

He-.... I cut myself off. No... I know better.

They caught me. I feel dread starting to consume me at the thought. Too scared to confirm, I just lay there.

I can suddenly feel every single wound ; every single scratch on my body. All the hasty running and panicked tripping wore me out. As if that wasn't enough, my mind plagues me with horrid thoughts. 'I don't want to be proven right, not this time dear god. I beg you' My mind screams. I know.., the moment I open my eyes.

I will see those eyes. Those eyes I learned to fear. Those eyes I was supposed to obey.

Their eyes.

I can feel them on me. So many pairs of eyes. Roaming my face.. my body, longing to get a look into my deepest thoughts. I know they are waiting-

They want to search my eyes for regret, remorse, anything to stop them.I can feel their enraged stares, accompanied by their breathing. 'Danger' my subconsciousness screams.

I had learned to respect them. I crossed the line before, I tried to run. They've  never hurt me.. 'Physically' my subconsciousness reminds me. 'But this time...I've gone too far', even I realize that. But it's too late.

They want my regret, they want me to beg ; but I can't get myself to regret my decision right now. And my pride still stops me from begging for forgiveness. So I fear what will happen to me when I open my eyes. As much as I wished that I could, I can't lay here forever. I know their patience is growing thinner by the second. I fear I will anger them so much, they won't forgive me this time.

For the first time I fear for my well-being in their presence. I fear...

for my life.

So I take one last shaky breath, stopping my seemingly endless train of thoughts and open my eyes. I immediately wish I didn't. What I'm seeing... I wouldn't have been able to imagine.

'gruesome-'

My thoughts immediately get cut off as he raises his voice to speak. I think at this point, I'm as pale as a corpse. I can hear him trying to suppress the rage in his voice as he says ; a little too sweetly...

"Tag you're it, sweetheart.. "

[whumpsoda]

Escape - Malak & Adrastus

WOHEO Masterlist

This takes place right before the straight jacket part!

cw: vampire whumper, vomit, escape attempt, recapture, choking, conditioning/brainwashing

———————————————————————

Open.

The door was open.

Eyes wide and mouth agape, Malak couldn’t tear his tinted glassy gaze from the front door of the manor, wind carefully inching it ever so farther open by the second.

He wasn’t restrained. He was crawling about on his hands and knees, yes, embarrassingly so, but he wasn’t restrained. In the extravagant kitchen mere feet away the vampire bumbled around marble counters, preparing him food he wouldn’t eat, too sick over the idea of eating from their wretched dead hand.

He could run. He could. Sure, he was already aware he would be unable to open the door himself, they’d already placed a thick blockade of nausea in his mind at the thought, but the exit was already open. Waiting for him to run right through it.

Malak’s burly fingers curled over the wooded flooring, legs steadily making their way to his feet. Even with a dizzy mind, sending him swaying as he made his way to a crouch, Malak refused to let the chance of escape go to waste.

If he didn’t at least try, choosing to ignore the obvious sign to run, Malak was going to die there.

He would never make it out of the creature’s all powerful grasp, already having begun to succumb to their brain boggling abilities. They would force him under their thumb until they saw fit. Keeping him around as a living ragdoll, swaying his mind to do whatever entertained them most.

Swaying gently up on two feet he swallowed, a thick and juicy load of saliva that gradually slipped down his throat. He swiftly pushed off with one foot, beginning his venture to the front door.

Malak slipped right through, although begrudgingly wobbling uneasily with dizziness, pushing past the wave of nausea that accompanied. Deep in his mind was the irritating blockade the vampire had placed, violently reminding him of a strict rule they had implemented in his brain.

Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t-

As soon as his foot hit the porch Malak lurched forward, slick, hot sludge crawling up his throat in seconds, just before he could attempt to push it back down. He gagged, head piercing with the strike of intense pain accompanying.

Malak continued moving even as a slurry of acidic bitterness dribbled from his quivering lips, gripping his pounding head with one hand. The vomit was wretched and sour as vomit tended to be, but still was a shocking taste that stained and infected his mouth and warm tongue.

Still, he pushed forward.

Sharp strands of long and slick grass tore through his thin skin as he stumbled through the outstretched field that surrounded the manor, the same grass the only thing in sight as far as the eye could see. An uncomfortable observation that churned in his belly. Even so, he would not waste a chance as lucky as this.

Malak ran, and ran, and ran, until his body simply couldn’t keep up.

His breath soon began running short, quick and thin that didn’t power him for another step. His chest was shriveling dry, clawing at his insides to stop, to break for just a second.

Beyond better judgement his movement trailed to a skittish walk, swaying on his legs shaky with exhaustion, fingers burrowing into his knees. His chest heaved with each giant intake and exhale of breath, strikes of pain feeling like needles stuck through his abdomen.

Then, Malak perked up.

Footsteps.

Footsteps.

Closer, behind him, nearing footsteps, fast and constant, behind him,

“Stop.” 

The swift command reverberated inside his head, echoing and bouncing off the walls of his brain. His movement instantly obeyed, ceasing, leaving Malak unable to keep up his escape with his muscles compromised. 

He couldn’t see the vampire, still behind him and all, but he could hear them. Eerie, gradual crushes of crinkling grass, heavy heaves to catch their breath. 

Malak could do nothing but scream. Raw, guttural, and pained, tearing through the red flesh of his throat as he wailed, the danger of the situation finally settling in as Adrastus neared his front. Thick beads of sweat dripped over his brow. “Please, please!” 

Nimble fingers stroked his face, a clear cut path from his forehead down to his chin, a load of mind melting control accompanying the motion. Malak’s jaw fell easily slack, deep eyes rolling into the back of his head as if for a moment his brain was switched off by pleasure.

Even with his brain gone he still listened, ears wide open. Something clicked. Something metal.

Yanked back by a harsh jerk to the leash now attached to his collar Malak squealed, snapping out of the temporary trance. He was wrenched onto his backside, being brutally tugged by the vampire in the direction of their manor. “N- no! No! No!”

Paying Malak no mind Adrastus ignored his desperate hollers, continuing their intense stride with the large man behind them. “I’m- I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please! 

They were going to hurt him. It was common sense. In what world would they not?

Would they kill him?

Maybe.

A raw, strangled shriek scratched from the depths of his throat as he clawed with horror at the strings of thin grass around him, an action that made no difference. The collar tightened around his neck, effectively choking him as he wheezed for air.

Even with gripping fear trembling his tight bones, rage stirred from Malak’s belly, festering inside and infecting his mind as he took his exhausted muscles and fought back harder against the stronger creature. 

Malak made it back to his feet, unsuccessfully running in the opposite direction while still connected to the leather leash.

Who were they to do this? To decide they would hold the rest of his life in their hands, that they deserved to take him for themself? That he was somehow lesser than they were? “Get, off! Get off, get off, get offa’ me! Don’t touch me!” He screeched, bare feet slipping over mud as he attempted to run in the opposite direction.

An attempt that proved futile.

“Ple- ease!” They kept pulling.

“Stop, stop! Please, please, I’m sorr- y!”

No answer.

“Let me go!”

Adrastus jerked him forward by the neck with all of their vampiric might, knocking the wind out of Malak as he was sent hurdling down into the dirt once again. He whined as his back hit the rough ground, rocks and other material grinding into his flesh.

He wailed even more pitifully as they continued dragging him along, tears falling and his barren flesh getting repeatedly caught by sharpness. He gripped and pulled with desperation at the leather around his throat, trying with all his strength to not choke to death. “St- s- op!”

He was heftily pulled all the way back inside the house, curled into a weak ball of terror as to allow the rest of his body some safety, though his back stung and drooled rich red.

Adrastus finally dropped the leash, arms weak. They crouched over him with a tired grin, one met with a pitiful frown and pout.

“Hm. You managed quite the distance before I caught up to you. Remarkable.” They noted, looking him over with a spark of uncommon fury in their gaze. They reached out a hand to stroke his face, an action quickly rejected. “But, what else do I expect from my perfect little Malak.”

He cringed at the use of such a condescending pet name for an almost thirty year old, moist eyes squinting and blurring their face. It was something he didn’t expect to ever go away as long as he was captive. They appeared to enjoy his discomfort.

The monster chuckled. Laughed, condescendingly accompanied by an exhausted huff. “Naughty, naughty.” Their words twisted raspy and thick with bitterness, dropping the usual tone coated in giggles and saccharine. He swallowed rich saliva that slithered down the back of his throat. “Bad boy, love.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d deserve a punishment.”

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @mylifeisonthebookshelf

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[befuddled-calico-whump]

Riot Kings, page 164

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[3-2-whump]

Escape Attempt One

<prev next>

One of How Many?

Set five days after The Auction Floor

Reference floor plan here

TW/CW: minor whump, threats of violence, though if there's anything else that should've been tagged, don't hesitate to tell me!

Thud

Thud

Thud

Thomas groaned as he rolled over to the nightstand by his bed to view the alarm clock. It was 6:30 AM on a Saturday. He didn’t even get all that drunk the night before. So, where was that incessant pounding coming from?

Crash!

The sound of breaking glass launched the man from his bed as he ran to the closed door of Khaled’s bedroom. “Boy? You alright in there?” he called. No response. He tried the door handle, but it was locked. “Open the door!” Still no response.

This better not be what I think it is, he thought. Muttering a curse under his breath, Thomas gathered his strength, charged with his gathered momentum, and broke the door down.

The first thing he noticed after stepping into the threshold over Khaled’s door was the gaping hole in the boy’s broken window. Birdsong and faint noises of traffic filtered up from the street below as a gentle breeze blew through the room. He stepped past the broken glass and looked out the smashed window. A makeshift rope made of torn bedsheets knotted together hung conspicuously over the rooftop railing. "Oh hell no!" He ran out of the bedroom to the living room, threw open the sliding door to the rooftop, ran over to the bedsheet rope, and leaned over the railing to meet Khaled’s big doe eyes looking up at him in terror.

Honestly, if it wasn’t his slave pet companion whatever he was this was happening to, then the situation might’ve been funny. He schooled his face into a neutral expression and asked, “What do you think you’re doing?” Thankfully, the boy didn’t make it too far down. His bare feet rested precariously on the windowsill one story down, and he held the sheet in a white-knuckle grip. He let out a squeak as he broke eye contact and began to shimmy faster down the rope. “Hey, no! Get back here!” Thomas scolded.

Khaled shook his head, still climbing. Thomas got an idea. “Well, if you insist…” He grabbed a shard of broken glass and started cutting through one of the bedsheets. The boy yelped as he felt the tension slacken in the rope. He stopped his progress entirely, hugging the rope for dear life as he looked up to his master and pleaded in a language Thomas didn’t understand. “You’ve got a choice, boy; you either climb your ass back up here, or I will collect you from the pavement!” He made a show of sawing away at the bedsheet until it was almost cut in half. Though Khaled himself didn’t weigh much, the pull of gravity on the torn sheet served only to rip it further. “Either way, you’re coming back in here, you just decide whether you break a few bones along the way!”

Khaled lowered his eyes and faintly nodded as he slowly climbed back up. “Good choice,” Thomas muttered as he pulled him up and back onto the rooftop. He wasn’t nearly as careful about the broken glass scratching the boy as he helped him. “Are you okay?” The boy nodded. Thomas slapped him. Khaled staggered back from the impact, catching himself before he could fall. “Go wait in the living room until I decide what to do with you. Don’t move, don’t speak, just wait for me,” he ordered sternly. “Go. Now.”

The boy shuddered as he scurried back inside. Meanwhile, Thomas sighed as he gathered up the bedsheet rope and kicked aside the glass shards. What do I do with this boy? He hardly even wanted this kid in the first place; it was all Luca and Jaime’s fault for goading him to place a bid on the poor wretch! Yet, a tiny part of him –a tiny, sympathetic, haunted part of him –remembered why he caved. This was penitence, absolution, a way to show he could do more than just hurt and kill and destroy people like him.

If only my brat would make it a little easier on me, he thought to himself.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #12: Fever Dream

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content: lab whump, captivity, fever, drugging, comfort, electrocution, parent death mention, winged test subject whumpee, scientist carewhumper

— 

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more terrified.

The past week, he had been planning a real escape with his little snake friend. He and Sasha had been crawling through the vents every night, mentally mapping out every twist and turn, every exit and entrance, every dead end. It was hard without a flashlight, but they would make do. The two of them decided to take it slow; no use rushing something and risk being caught, having the entire plan ruined.

They weren’t in a hurry. They knew Dew’s escape plan had to be absolutely flawless, with no possible way of getting caught. So even if it took weeks, they would take it slow.

But after everything, lying to the scientist was taking a toll. Dew had accidentally constructed an intricate web of lies he had to constantly keep track of. If Anton confronted him on just one hole in his stories, Dew would be done for. He’d crumble, too scared for what would happen if he kept lying.

So Dew tried to avoid his captor growing suspicious at all costs with the only way he knew how. Dew hated talking to Anton like a friend, having friendly conversations with the scientist after experiments, talking about his life, laughing, smiling. But gaining Anton’s trust was a priority. Besides, if Dew did get caught in this web of lies, maybe his captor would go easy on him because of this.

It was about a week after he met Sasha, and Dew found himself with a terrible headache, right after waking up. The lights were off, so it must’ve been early in the morning. He rolled over and held his head in his hands, feeling the heat radiating off of him. His stomach felt like shit too. No. Was he getting sick? He supposed that made sense, considering how long he’d been here. But this certainly wouldn’t help things.

Dew laid there for hours, unable to fall back to sleep. Eventually, the lights clicked on, making him wince and squeeze his eyes shut. A little bit after that, he heard the sound of footsteps walking up to his room.

“...Dewey? Are you okay?” Anton asked, walking into Dew’s room and putting the tray of food on his nightstand. The truth was, Dew looked like absolute shit. He was racked with sniffles and coughs, with piles of used tissues littered around him. Oh. Anton’s lab rat must be coming down with something.

Dew only mumbled an incomprehensible response, curling into himself and moving deeper under the warm blankets, as if searching for a false sense of security. Anton walked closer, now noticing that Dew’s wings were trembling.

“Hey, Dewey? What’s wrong?” Anton’s voice came out soft, quiet, as if he didn’t want to scare the little guy more than he already was. “Are you sick?”

“What does it look like?” Dew hissed, but his voice came out groggy and strained. He sounded absolutely miserable. He looked miserable. “I’m sick, Anton, obviously. I probably have a fever or something.” The scientist tilted his head and reached out his arm to Dew’s forehead, trying to feel his temperature.

“Don’t touch me.” Dew flinched back and swatted Anton’s hand away with his wing. He turned his body to the other side and buried his face into his pillow. “Just leave me–” Alone. Dew shuddered. He didn’t want that either. His voice softened. “I mean… Can you um- j-just get me some water? Please? The stuff in the bathroom sink is gross.”

Anton stepped back, giving Dew space. “Uh, Sure.” When the scientist left, Dew had a sudden spurt of coughs and sneezes. He groaned into his pillow, wishing he didn’t feel like this.

“Here you go, Dewey.” Anton smiled and handed him the water.

“My name’s not Dewey,” Dew complained into his pillow.

Anton smirked. “What was that, Dewey? Your voice is all muffled.”

Dew immediately sat up and shot Anton a glare, then groaned in pain and held a hand to his head. Too fast. He sat up too fast and now the room was spinning and his headache was worse.

“Gimme the water,” Dew said, sniffling.

“Pfft, rude.” But Anton handed it to him anyway.

Dew flopped back down onto the bed when he was done, and rolled over. “My head hurts,” Dew said weakly. “Can you um, dim the lights a little more? It’s hurting my eyes.”

“Oh. Okay.” Anton turned the lights down until he saw Dew visibly relax.

“Thanks,” Dew said.

“Don’t mention it. But, Dewey. You can’t just stay in bed all day.”

Dew turned to look at him incredulously. “I… I have a fever I think. I’m sick. A-Anton, I can’t- I don’t feel good.”

“Well, yeah, but I can just–”

Dew squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He didn’t want to deal with Anton’s antics right now, whatever that man was planning. Dew took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking away. His eyes widened at something new. “...Wait, what is that?” He asked, surprised. He sat up and pointed to a bag that he noticed was sitting on the floor next to the wall.

“Oh,” Anton said as he picked it up. “It’s the night-light you asked for.”

Dew looked at him with a puzzled expression. “...Really?”

“Yeah, you wanted one, remember? I don’t understand all your silly fears, but whatever.” Anton tossed a strange object to Dew, and he scrambled to catch it.

The night-light in question was a little, round, white cartoonish ghost, made out of plastic with small LED lights in the middle. There were two little black dots for eyes and a small smile printed on its face. Dew turned the light on, and quickly squeezed his eyes shut at how bright it was. He turned it off, and rotated it around in his hands. It was cute, a bit silly, sure. But it was bright enough to light up the vents. It was perfect.

“Um, thanks,” Dew said. “I like it.”

“Cool. Oh! I got something else for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Anton smiled and pulled something out of the bag. Dew looked up, right as a blur of something fluffy and white was being thrown at him. He scrambled to catch it and get a look at whatever it was. Anton snickered, standing awkwardly next to his bed. “I saw it at the store and immediately thought of you.”

Dew looked down, and in his arms was a large, very fluffy and soft… chicken plushie? “What…”

“You both have wings! You’re like a giant chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken!” Dew said angrily, clutching his plushie in his arms anyway. He had to admit, it was really soft. He had a lot of plushies back home, and he missed snuggling with them. “What is this, um, for anyway?”

“I just thought you needed a friend. I suppose it gets lonely down here without me.”

“...Yeah,” Dew said quietly. “It does.”

Anton figited and walked closer, voice turning serious. “...Dew, how are you feeling?”

“Not good. I just wanna rest. …Please.”

“Hmm,” Anton hummed. Dew broke out in a burst of coughs. “I have an idea.”

“W-what kind of idea?” Dew asked miserably. “Can I just have some headache medicine or something?”

“Yeah yeah, hold on.” Anton waved him off while fishing something out of his pocket, seemingly not paying attention to what Dew was saying at all. The scientist pulled out a tape recorder, and clicked it on. “Alright,” Anton said. “The date is Saturday, October 12, 7:32am. Test subject seems to be sick with a fever. I’ll do some tests, and then–”

“Tests?” Dew asked miserably.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t feel good, Anton. Ca-can we just take a break? For one day?”

“You’ve had a lot of breaks recently, Dew. I wanna have some fun.”

“So do I.” 

Anton shrugged. “The experiments are fun.”

“They are not! They’re– They’re painful and traumatizing!” Dew wrapped his wings around himself and curled deeper into a ball.

“...What’s fun for you then?”

Dew furrowed his brows. Was Anton really asking what Dew liked to do for fun? Why did he care? “Um,” Dew began. “Playing video games, drawing, going outside, flying. Anything that, you know, doesn’t hurt.”

“Hm.” Anton sighed. He looked deep in thought, which never ended well. “There is this one thing I’ve been wanting to try out.”

“...Does it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” Anton shrugged. “If you behave.”

“Mmm,” Dew hummed anxiously, considering his lack of options. “O-okay.”

Anton smiled wide and ruffled Dew’s hair, who in turn, tried not to shy away from it. Behaving meant accepting Anton’s kind gestures, right?

“Okay, so I guess you wanna be healed from your fever, huh?”

“What? You can…?”

Anton rolled his eyes. “Of course I can.” He pulled out a flask of glowing fluid from behind his back, and held it out to him. “Drink this. You should go back to normal. In fact, you’ll probably even feel better than you did before.”

Dew eyed the flask warrily. It was no different from the other strange fluids the scientist makes him drink, but this gave Dew a weird feeling. It was a dark purple, with rivers of red and colorful specks flowing through it. It looked thick, with bubbles popping and floating upwards. Just looking at it made Dew more nauseous, the opposite effect it was supposed to have, Dew thought.

But he reached out to grab it anyway, like Anton said. But as he was about to grab the flask, Anton pulled it out of reach.

“Dew, your hands are shaking. I don’t want you to spill it.”

Dew glared at him. “What even is it anyway?”

“Medecine.” Not helpful. “I can’t let any spill and go to waste. This stuff is hard to make.”

The “medicine” became more and more unappealing the longer Dew looked at it. But whatever, he’d rather just get this whole thing over with. “Fine.”

Anton grabbed Dew’s chin gently, and brought the flask towards his mouth. “Open.”

Dew opened his mouth and allowed Anton to bring the flask to his lips. Dew drank it; downed it all in one go, despite the disgusting taste. Anton let go of his chin and blacked away, now looking bored.

Dew felt… wrong. The second he was done drinking it, he was hit with a wave of dizziness, and leaned back against the wall for support. His eyelids were growing heavy, and it was hard to stay upright.

“What’s… happening?” Dew asked worriedly, voice breaking.

“Shh,” Anton cooed. “Just relax. When you wake up, you’ll be back to normal.”

Dew blinked heavily and tried sitting up, but Anton firmly pushed him back down. “What–”

“Go to sleep, Dew.”

Dew shook his head lightly, trying to stay awake. But once his head hit the soft pillow, and he was wrapped up in cozy blankets, his eyes finally fluttered shut. Everything went black, and Dew drifted off into a short, peaceful sleep.

Anton stepped back and looked around the room. “Holy shit this place is a mess.”

. . .

Dew woke up to see Anton leaning over him, with his usual smirk on his face. Dew’s face scrunched up in fear and he turned his head away. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into this warm bed forever.

“How’re you feeling?” Anton asked.

Dew glared at him, but after thinking about it, Dew realized he felt better.

“Woah,” he breathed. “I feel… great.” Great as in, Dew wasn’t tired anymore. He didn’t feel sleep deprived at all, quite the opposite really. Of course, he wasn’t sick anymore either. His headache was gone and his temperature was normal. Besides the obvious, stagnant feeling of fear and dread that came with being kept captive, Dew felt okay.

“Told you.” Anton teased.

“Thanks for… helping me. Really. I felt like complete shit earlier.”

“Yeah yeah,” Anton waved him off as if it didn’t matter. “I need to keep you healthy, remember? And it’s no fun when you’re… down in the dumps.” Anton trailed off. “Just eat your food.”

Dew looked at the tray. Waffles again, an apple, and a banana. As he ate, the scientist watched him.

“So…” Dew thought about what Anton said earlier, giving the empty tray to him when he was done. “What are we gonna do now?”

“Follow me.”

They headed out of the lab and up the stairs, Dew following closely behind. The scientist said nothing as they walked, allowing tension to rise in the air.

Dew also remained silent, but his mind wandered. Whatever Anton wanted to do involved going outside again, which Dew was always thankful for. Although this time, his captor hadn’t put any restraints on his wings yet, like he always did when they went outside to keep him from flying away.

Dew looked at the scientist incredulously. What was going on? Did he forget? Was this all some test to see if Dew wouldn’t try to fly away and escape? Why?

Dew kept walking by Anton’s side, too afraid to question anything. Maybe Anton just forgot. That’d be unlikely, but still possible.

Once they entered the cabin and Dew got sight out of the window, his wings started flapping lightly, excitedly, apprehensively. He wanted to fly– he needed to fly. His captor was taunting him with this. He had to be.

“A-Anton?” Dew squeaked. He didn’t want to point out the obvious, but he’d rather Anton do something about it now, rather than find out when Dew inevitably tried to escape while out there. Because Dew already knew that he couldn’t escape with Anton around, not without being so easily mind-controlled. “You um, you for-forgot something–” He hated himself for this, but Dew already had an escape plan. This could destroy it.

“I didn’t forget anything, Dew,” Anton said smoothly. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

Dew stood, glued to his spot. “I’m not stupid, Anton,” He hissed. “The second I go outside, I-I won’t be able to resist flying away, you know this! I don’t want you to hurt me for trying to escape again! I don’t want to be mind-controlled or poked with a needle o-or never be allowed outside again, or worse, just because of a stupid mistake!” I don’t want this to interfere with the plan I already have.

“Woah, jeeze,” Anton laughed. “Relax. This isn’t a trick—”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Dew,” Anton grabbed his shoulders, making eye contact. “I can assure you, this will be fun for you. As long as you behave. You can do that right?”

“Y-yeah, I can.” But he really didn’t want to.

“I know you can.” Dew flinched when Anton patted him on the head, and then they walked outside.

When they hit the fresh, cool autumn air, Dew’s wings stretched out to feel the wind in his feathers. He wanted nothing more than to jump in the air and disappear into the trees, but he had to control himself. His wings fluttered lightly in the air, basking in the sun and savoring this new sensation of a fake freedom.

This was okay. As long as Dew focused on his sensations now, he could deal with being stuck to the ground. He could gain Anton’s trust, he could stick to the plan.

Dew followed Anton a few steps away from the front door, and then off of the porch and into the grass.

“Fly.”

The word hit his ears like a truck. It was as if the entire world stopped, and all Dew could hear was his rapidly beating heart.

“W-what?”

Anton laughed, stepping away from his test subject. “You heard me, Dewey. Fly!”

“You said this– this wasn’t a trick.”

“Not a trick,” Anton snickered. “I can assure you.”

The scientist motioned with his arms, a big grin on his face. “Go ahead, fly.”

Dew glared at him, but he didn’t waste a second. He flew. He jumped up into the air and flapped his wings rapidly, never taking his eyes off Anton and the sickeningly sweet smile on his face. Dew blinked back tears, knowing freedom was right there, in his grasp. The scientist was allowing him to fly outside unrestrained, but still, Anton would never let him go. Dew didn’t know what his game was, but he knew it wouldn’t end well for him. He knew he would lose.

Dew swallowed thickly, flying just a bit higher, expecting to be shot down by tranquilizer darts or told to stop like last time— those words flowing into his brain and controlling his movements as if he was nothing but a puppet. His heart sped up when that didn’t happen, and he flew higher. His captor wasn’t doing anything besides standing there and watching him, his figure getting smaller and smaller the higher Dew went.

Dew couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He couldn’t resist freedom being closer than it had ever been before. His wings flapped into the air with a hope that was almost too much to bear. Was he really doing this? Was this it? He reached the top of the trees, and was about to fly above the forest and into the clouds when he suddenly felt a sharp pain all over his body.

A faint “It worked!” could be heard from the ground, but that hardly mattered.

Dew screamed, his voice a shattering shriek. He grabbed at his neck– his arms– his head– but the feeling of every fiber in his body being on fire wouldn’t go away. His eyes widened as he felt himself falling, trying and failing to flap his wings and catch himself. His wings had stopped working, going limp in the air while he cried. He couldn’t fly. He flailed his arms as he plummeted to the ground, down and down and down.

Dew landed roughly on a large tree branch, getting the wind knocked out of him and scraping his arms while trying to hang on. His body stinged, splinters digging into his hands and panic rising in his gut. Dew’s grip loosened and he tumbled to the ground, with no way to soften the landing.

He laid there for a few moments, his head pounding with a terrible ringing in his ears. His wings twitched as his muscles gained control over them and his body again. Dew’s hands curled into the dirt and he scrunched up in a ball, not caring that his hair was getting tangled in the autumn leaves. He didn’t move from the spot.

“Shit.” Dew heard the scientist curse as he ran towards him. Lying there would do nothing, Dew realized. He felt his blood boil, this time in anger as he turned his head to face him.

“Wh-what did you think was gonna happen?” Dew spat, still struggling on the ground, trying to sit up.

“I didn’t think you would try flying away, since I specifically told you not to,” Anton sneered.

Dew felt venom rise in his throat. “How could I resist? You told me to fly! Why the fuck wouldn’t I try to leave?!”

“Because you should have known I’m smarter than just letting you go like that. And because you should know you’re never leaving.” Anton sighed. “Come here, I’ll help you.”

“No.” Dew blinked back tears. His arm that he landed on hurt, bad. He needed help. But fuck, he was angry. Dew huffed in frustration and crawled towards Anton, letting the scientist help him stand. Dew leaned against him as they walked towards the cabin.

“W-what even happened up there?” Dew’s voice wobbled as he spoke. “What did you do to me?”

“Oh,” Anton took out the device he used for mind-controlling him. “If you fly too far away, there’s an invisible barrier that sends a shock through your nervous system to stop you from leaving.” Anton spoke as if that wasn’t completely earth-shattering news to his little lab rat. He set Dew down on the stairs, and took out a first aid kit.

“A-Anton,” Dew began, voice wavering. “Please, p-please tell me there’s a way to turn that off.”

“There is,” Anton replied simply. “But we’ll never need to use it.” Anton started looking over Dew’s wounds. He had a lot of cuts and scrapes from falling through the trees, but nothing that couldn’t be easily patched up. “I just thought it’d be fun for you to fly outside for once, safely, without risking you escaping.”

Dew ignored what the scientist was doing and stared at him, eyes burning with hatred. He could grab the pen from his pocket and stab it into the scientist’s eye and take the device that controlled his body. He could destroy it and fly away before his captor could catch him. He could be free. Right. Now.

Dew shook those thoughts away. It was the worst idea he had ever had, and he knew it would never work. He tried to calm his racing heart, and stop the fire rising in his throat. The scientist was just toying with him. He needed to calm down before he made things worse.

He hissed back a whine as his wounds were tended to. Anton didn’t seem to care about his pain, and held Dew firmly in place.

He looked at the sky, needing a distraction. But the sun was so bright and it hurt his eyes, so he looked away. He caught a glimpse of Sasha through the cabin window, and Dew tilted his head. They were watching him. Of course, Anton had allowed Sasha free reign of his house, probably even the outside too. The two of them stared at each other. Sasha knew what he was thinking, and the snake slowly shook their head “no.” Dew knew what they meant. Don't try escaping. It’s not your time. Stick to the plan.

Despite his friend only trying to help, Dew felt himself deflate, all the hope and fiery spark of adrenaline leaving him. His only option really was to comply for now, despite being so close to freedom. It would be hard; Dew would have to force himself to fly into the cool air while not going too far away. Whatever that meant.

“What now?” Dew asked begrudgingly.

“You and Sasha done with your staring contest?”

“Uh– yeah?”

“Then keep flying out here.” Anton shrugged and sat down on the porch stairs. “It’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it?”

“W-well yeah, but—”

“I’m not letting you go. This is the closest thing you’ll ever get.”

Dew didn’t waste his time, he jumped into the air. He hovered in front of Anton for a few seconds, before darted away into the trees. Anton smirked and leaned back against the porch railing.

Dew flew over the cabin and landed on the roof. His heart pounded through his skull and he felt like it would explode. He wanted so badly to leave, fly away and never turn back. But he knew what would happen, so he would play Anton’s game. For now.

Dew sat perched up there for a few moments, looking around him. What were the limits? Dew questioned. Despite still being trapped, he wanted to make the most of this new development. How far could he fly without his entire body being electrocuted and cause his wings to momentarily stop working? Dew shuddered even thinking about it.

He wondered what his captor was up to. Dew slowly crawled across the roof and peaked over the edge directly above the scientist. Anton looked up, Dew scurred backwards.

…There always was the possibility of Dew being able to snatch that device away from him so he couldn’t be controlled anymore. He shuddered thinking about it. The chip in his brain that allowed himself to be mind-controlled, now shocked him whenever he went too far away. It was honestly impressive how much Anton could do to him now, just to keep him his.

But Dew knew that trying to escape would be futile now. He had a plan and needed to stick to it. But… Now there was a hole in their plan. Dew couldn’t actually leave. Shit.

He would have to tell Sasha about this new development later, and fit, “stealing the device connected to Dew’s brain chip from Anton,” into their escape plan.

So for now, Dew took advantage of his free time outside. He stood on top of the roof and spread his wings out, cherishing how relaxing and satisfying it felt to finally not have them restrained outdoors. He started flying again, careful to not go too high or far and hurt himself again.

He looked down to see Anton, nothing but a fleck of dust to him at this height. It felt so surreal, like a dream. Dew had dreamed a lot about days of flying freely, finally escaping the clutches of captivity and being kept as a test subject. This felt like those dreams, this felt too good to be true, even if he was still trapped. But it also felt so real.

…Because it was. Anton simply wanted to let Dew have fun for once.

“I’m going for a walk!” Anton called from below.

Dew stared at him, and then slowly made his way to the ground. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

“You can come with me, you know.”

Dew looked at Anton, then back at the cabin. “But–”

“The barrier isn't surrounding the house, it's around me. As long as you’re by me, you’ll be fine.”

Oh.

Dew walked up to him. “Same, uh, distance?” He asked.

Anton nodded. “Same distance.”

With that, Dew darted up into the trees, out of his captor’s sight. Anton walked the same trail they always had, but instead of walking, Dew was hopping from tree to tree, taking the high ground. It was oddly satisfying watching the scientist from above, like he was nothing but a bug that could be easily stomped on.

As Anton kept walking, Dew kept following from above, sometimes gliding in a circle above the scientist, like a crow surrounding a decaying carcass. Anton paid him no mind, just kept walking at a leisurely pace, letting Dew explore the woods around him.

Then Dew sat, perched on a tree branch, when a squirrel scurried up to him. He went ridgid, expecting it to run away. But it sat there with him on that tree branch, doing its own thing. Dew stared, confused, but content. He and the squirrel were both just… existing. At the same time, in the same space, doing the same thing, but in far different circumstances neither of them could try to comprehend from each other. And that was okay. Dew liked existing with this little squirrel.

Dew sat there for a while, forgetting that Anton was still walking. After a few minutes, Dew realized that he’d get shocked again if he didn’t keep following along Anton. But he didn’t want to leave his new friend. He’d never see them ever again after this.

“A-Anton,” Dew said quietly, not wanting to spook away the squirrel that had curled up against his leg. The scientist was far up ahead of him, down the trail, probably assuming Dew would be keeping up. There was no way for Anton to hear what Dew was saying. He sighed, and called out a little louder this time. “Anton!”

That got his attention. Anton turned, looking around in confusion on where Dew’s voice was coming from, until he spotted him very high up in a tree.

“What?” Anton asked.

Dew gestured to the squirrel. “I, I wanna sit here for a little bit. With, uh, with the squirrel.”

Anton stared. “You do that then!” He called.

“...Thanks!”

Dew sat up there for a long time, unable to tell if it was minutes or hours. But by the sun setting and turning the sky into bright hues of pink and orange, Dew realized that Anton had let him spend all day out there. He realized he didn’t remember the last time he watched the sunset with anyone. And now here he was, sitting on a tree branch looking over the forest, with his squirrel friend still by his side.

But he was getting hungry. Obviously, it must be around 6pm now. The days had been getting shorter as the weather got colder, but it wasn’t like that mattered in the lab.

Dew said goodbye to the squirrel once it became too dark to see it. He landed softly on the ground, and found Anton sitting in some grass under the tree.

Dew choked back a laugh. “What are those?” He asked.

“Night vision goggles?” Anton crossed his arms. “I don’t want to lose sight of you out here.”

“They look so stupid.” Dew snickered.

“Shut up,” Anton said. 

The two of them walked back towards the cabin, and Dew realized how cold it had gotten outside. Obviously, it was the middle of autumn. Dew shivered as he walked, socks getting wet from the dewy grass.

He walked inside without a fuss, wanting to warm up. As Anton kicked his shoes off, Dew took a look around his cabin, having never actually been inside this place much before.

And before Anton could escort him to the lab, Dew spoke up. “Where’s Sasha?”

“In their room.”

“Where’s that?”

Anton pointed to a door, “Over there.”

Dew nodded awkwardly and shuffled his way towards it.

“Woah, hey!” Anton stopped him from moving. “Why are you shivering?”

“...I’m cold?”

Anton rolled his eyes and stepped around the corner. He came back with a blanket and draped it around Dew’s shoulders. “You should’ve told me you were cold. I don’t want you getting sick again.”

“Oh. Okay. Can I go see Sasha?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The two of them spent the rest of their free day hanging out with Sasha in their enclosure. Anton had built a large enclosure, almost resembling a mini rainforest, inside one of the rooms in his cabin. It was a perfect habitat for his snake friend; their own little world to themselves. The scientist still gave Sasha free reign of the house, it was their home too, after all.

The three of them sat in a circle and talked for a bit. After a while, they sat in comfortable silence. It was peaceful, somehow. Dew felt safe.

. . .

It was getting late, and it was hard to believe that Dew had spent the entire day above the lab, without attempting any real escapes. It made Dew feel incredibly guilty, but he knew he had to wait it out. He had to gain Anton’s trust, and he had to wait for his plan.

Eventually, Anton took Dew back down the stairs. He said goodnight to Sasha, and walked down willingly. It was hard. Dew distracted himself by thinking of what’d it be like finally escaping this place, flying freely outside for real.

Soon, he thought. He’d get out of this place soon.

The lab was dark when they opened the door. As they were walking to Dew’s room, Anton spoke up.

“So, today was… fun. I suppose. I’m proud of you for not running.”

Dew’s heart sped up. “Um, y-yeah. Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t mind having one day of the week as a free day. As long as you keep behaving, I don’t see why not. I prefer to just always work on my experiments, but your needs need to be met as well, since you’ll be here forever. How does every Saturday sound?”

“G-good. Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Great.” Anton smiled. They arrived at Dew's room, and Anton opened the door for his test subject. Dew walked inside timidly, eyes downcast. He really was getting used to this routine.

“Goodnight, Dew.”

“...Night.” The lights flickered off and Anton was gone. Faint sounds of the scientist's footsteps could be heard walking through the lab and out the exit.

Dew sighed and laid down in bed. It was so quiet. Dew missed the sounds of the birds chirping, of leaves rustling in the wind. Dew missed existing in the same space with others in a way that felt safe. Dew missed flying outside. Holy shit, that was the best thing that had ever happened to him, despite falling to the ground and getting hurt.

It was surreal, the whole day. It would almost feel like a dream. His captor had not only agreed to give him one day a week free for him to do whatever he wanted, free from experimentation and pain, but allowed him to fly outside. Sure, there was now the threat of… being electrocuted every time Dew left the area around Anton’s cabin. That was bad. But it was progress. Flying outside was something Dew had always wanted to do since he got his wings, and he did it, just like that!

The only thing that would make it better was to fly freely. He’d get there, of course, once he escapes.

Speaking of escape, Dew sat up in bed when he heard the familiar rustle of the vents above his head, signifying Sasha was there. They were a better escape artist than he was, having already found a way down here from up there. Dew supposed that made sense; snakes were escape artists in nature.

“Hey!” Sasha said, opening the latch with their tail.

“Hi,” Dew said. He grabbed his new night-light and held it up to them. “Look what Anton got me. It’s a little ghost light.”

“That’s cool. What’s a ghost?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know, huh? Okay… Ghosts are spirits. Like, like the soul of a dead person, they don’t exist in the physical plane. Nobody can see or hear them, but they can haunt people. And they’re not real– obviously. I used to believe in ghosts and then… then my parents died. And uh, if ghosts were real, my parents would have probably found a way to contact me. But they’re gone. But that doesn’t matter!”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just hope I can get outta here before Halloween. This little ghost would be perfect for that.”

“You’ll get out in no time, Dew.”

“Yeah.” Dew turned the light on, surprising them both with the brightness of it. “And look! It’s really bright so it’ll be perfect for mapping things out up there. You might have a good sense of direction, but I don’t.”

“Good idea!”

“Let’s go, it’s kinda chilly in here.”

Dew and his escape artist friend hopped up into the vents, using his night-light to make a windy and swirly map that was somewhat beginning to make sense. Their goal was to find the quickest possible route to the surface and map out a real exit. The steps after that, well… Dew just hoped he could finally get out of this torment, mostly unscathed.

Not to mention, they now had to find a way to get that device away from Anton. Escaping the cabin is useless when Dew can’t even leave without being shocked.

But they were sure they could do it, if they kept working together. Exploring the vents had been fun with Sasha. Sometimes Dew would bring his blanket up there and they would use his night-light to tell stories. Dew was thankful to finally have someone he could trust here, to finally have a friend he could talk to.

And that filled him with more hope, knowing that he’d finally be out of here soon. He would finally talk to his friends again, and spend time with his pets. He would finally sleep in his own bed and wear his own clothes. He would do whatever he wanted. He would fly, truly free.

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more excited.

—

This is Dew’s ghost light btw

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[justbreakonme]

Whumpee finally escapes from Whumper only to step in a bear trap as they’re running.

-trying to be quiet so Whumper doesn’t find them again, unable to stifle everything.

-cutting up their hands and arms trying to pry it open.

-trying to read the etching descriping how to release it, but they’re crying so hard that they can’t, which only makes them cry harder.

-trying to just lay there, to give up and let themselves go numb, just happy to have escaped. They could die happy as long as they knew Whumper didn’t have the satisfaction of killing them.

-being found by Whumper again, but Whumper can’t undo it either, and resigns to just leaving them there to die.

-being found by a Caretaker who assumes it’s an actual bear, and comes at them, gun loaded.

[suspensefulpen]

Whumpuary Day 12: Exhaustion

TW: Failed Escape Attempt, Implied Torture, Bad Caretaker

@whumpuary

Whumpee ran. That was all they could do. That was all they’d been doing for what felt like an eternity. They couldn’t stop. They wouldn’t. No matter how much their legs and feet were hurting. They refused to stop going. 

Their heart pounded painfully against their ribcage. They weren’t sure if it was because of adrenaline or fear. Or maybe even their creeping exhaustion. No, it can’t be that. They refused to let it be that. They weren’t exhausted and they weren’t stopping. They can’t. Their life depended too much on it. 

Whumpee glanced over their shoulder. Surely by now, they’d lost both Whumper and Caretaker. They’d ran through a forest, an open field, and maybe even Heaven and Hell. Who knows. They didn’t and they definitely didn’t care to think about it either. 

The only thing that mattered is that they got to something, anything that looked even remotely close to civilization. Some place where people who weren’t insane lived. That’s what they needed to get to. Where exactly was this place? Whumpee had the slightest clue but they were still determined to get to it. 

Whumpee’s foot caught onto a stone, sending them to nearly faceplant. They still didn’t stop. They began to crawl. Not once in their life had they ever crawled so fast. But it wasn’t long before their limbs began to slow down. Whumpee shook their head. No. Keep pushing. I can’t stop now. They repeated that to themself, over and over. But that didn’t help whatsoever as Whumpee’s body betrayed them, coming to a stop. 

Their chest heaved up and down as they collapsed onto the dirt. “No… I can’t—I can’t stop…” The tiny bit of strength they had left was only enough to lift themself off the ground. Their arms gave out, forcing them onto their side. Tears instantly filled their eyes as they shook their head. “No… I have to run.” 

Every muscle in their body burned with exhaustion. Whumpee felt weak just laying on the dirt. Dizziness overcame them as footsteps came close. Whumpee’s tears began to fall. It was too late. No amount of running could even get them close to being saved. 

“You really thought you could run somewhere?” Whumper stood over them with a smirk, Caretaker at his side. “You thought you could run away from me?” He laughed. Caretaker laughed along with him. 

“Did you forget Whumpee? You have a tracker attached to you.” Caretaker smiled. “No matter what you do or where you go, we’ll always find you.” 

“I’m sorry…” Whumpee apologized, too feeble to even let out a sob. 

Whumper smirk disappeared instantly. “Oh you will be sorry later.”