#its me im whumpees

[cepheusgalaxy]

Me, watching Castlevania Nocturne first episode: So, let's get something straight. This guy's not.

My brother: Stop saying everybody's gay

My dad in the kitchen, who's a huge Castlevania nerd and has already watch the series: No, no, she's right

[whumpwhumpwhumpwhump]

Living weapon whump but after the war the weapon was created for

What do they do now their purpose is gone? Do they go on loyally serving the people who made them, waiting for the possibility the threat will return? Or do they become a mercenary, driven by their desire to continue to be useful and live out their purpose for anyone who is in need? Or do they try and start a normal life, feeling like they've done their duty for the people who made them? And if they do choose to stop, are they resented for betraying their people, and not using their powers for the service of the group, country, race, species, that created them?

[pixelatedraindrops]

(≧///﹏ ///≦) 💦 💫

[triforce-of-mischief]

Trypanophobic Whumpee ✨

Whumpees who hide their wounds to avoid medical attention, out of fear rather than pride.

Whumpees who scream and sob and plead when Caretaker brings them to the medic/doctor/hospital.

Whumpees who are too quiet and submissive, terrified to act out.

Whumpees who are jumpy and completely snap at the first sudden move.

Whumpees who lock themselves in the bathroom to delay the inevitable.

Whumpees who want to be sedated but not with a syringe/IV, anything but that.

Whumpees who can't stop reliving the trauma of being physically restrained in the past.

Whumpees who try to flinch back, to run away, and find themselves in Caretaker's gentle but unyielding embrace.

Whumpees whose hands shoot out in self-defense only to be grabbed and held by Caretaker.

Whumpees who have to tell Caretaker, voice hushed, about their phobias, and watch the horror and sympathy spread over Caretaker's face.

Whumpees who only trust Caretaker to get anywhere near them, even if Caretaker is holding a needle, not knowing why they feel safe when they should feel scared.

****

Caretakers who can't decide if it's better to tell Whumpee where they're taking them or if it would be a mercy to keep the secret just a little longer.

Caretakers who know about Whumpee's phobias and feel the crushing guilt as they force Whumpee to live through their greatest fears for their own good.

Caretakers who don't know what's worse, the utter betrayal in Whumpee's eyes or the resignation once they stop fighting.

Caretakers who have to tell Whumpee to Don't look over there, eyes on me, you'll make it worse for yourself if you look.

Caretakers who know if they should stay quiet, tell Whumpee what's happening, soothe and distract with words, show them how to breathe deep and steady.

Caretakers who scream just as loudly as Whumpee when the medics/nurses have to hold Caretaker back from fighting the ones who are holding Whumpee down because Caretaker knows it's wrong.

Caretakers who apologize and praise Whumpee, even- especially- when Whumpee knows they were not brave, but they got through it anyway.

****

Please reblog if you like these, and tag me if you use them or have any recs that use them! I would love to read! 💜

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump,

@the-lone-youth, @will-o-the-wips, @catnykit, @granny-aaravos, @mj-or-say10

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

[whump-on-a-string]

Whumpee waking up absolutely drenched in sweat after having a string of nightmares based on their abuse.

Even though it's been a couple of years since everything had happened. Even though they know the dreams aren't real. But in their sleep they feel so much like recalling specific locked away memories of things they'd been through that they'd forgotten. Despite knowing they weren't actual memories of specific events and their mind has cruelly decided to make their subconscious experience new but similar events. Despite the source of the nightmares no longer being able to hurt them.

Confused, shaking and distressed in bed having woken up way earlier than they were meant to.

(MEGA Bonus points if whumpee has someone there to comfort them.)

[paingoes]

on the subject. my observation has been that a lot of peoples relationship w whump is a lot more fraught than typical forms of fandom engagement/creation. i think this makes sense intuitively because whump is all about pain and suffering and emotional involvement and on that level i think there is a lot of potential for emotional self harm and that seems to be a trap a lot of people fall into or have fallen into at one point. i dont really have a point to make here just take care of yourselves guys <3

[wolfeyedwitch]

Masterlist

Charles woke up the next morning, wishing he could put off visiting the vampire. He had enough on his plate as it was. He was in no hurry to help yet another person through their recovery.

But it had to be done.

Besides, the poor thing hadn't asked for this. It would be too cruel to abandon them just because he was busy.

He and Ollie ate their breakfast together as usual. Charles worked in the downstairs office for an hour but for very little done. He was mostly just trying to clear his mind and gather enough patience to give the vampire his best. He wanted to continue to show them what was probably the first acts of kindness done to them in a long time or maybe even forever.

He went to his second fridge and pulled out a blood bag for them, then hurried to their room. He knocked gently.

"Dear? I'm coming in with your food, aright? Please stay back from the door."

He waited a moment so they had a chance to here and act on his words, then he stepped inside.

"Greetings, dear. Did you sleep alright? You're looking better. More healthy, I mean. Here's your food, eat up, please."

He handed the bag over to them and then stepped back.

When its owner came the next morning, the vampire was ready.

It had thoroughly cleaned itself after the mess it had made the previous day. (Or, as thoroughly as it could manage with its hands' limited mobility, anyway.) It had dozed lightly on and off through the night, balancing its need for rest with its need to be alert should anyone come near.

By the time he knocked, it was kneeling respectfully in the middle of the room, trying and failing not to think of what the day might bring.

He kept speaking so strangely. Almost gently. Almost kindly. It nodded in response to his question; it had slept well, given the circumstances.

"You're looking better. More healthy, I mean."

It very carefully did not flinch at those words. Of course it was looking healthier; he'd fed it. Was that not what he wanted? No, he sounded. Pleased? It hoped it was hearing that tone correctly.

Why would he be happy it was healing, though?

What did he have planned that needed it whole before he could begin?

It took the blood bag gingerly as he held it out, crooked hands shaking as it kept itself in check. It couldn't be too eager, couldn't let itself make any moves that might be considered a sign of aggression.

With a meal within recent memory, it had enough self-control to eat slowly. Cleanly. It sucked every last drop of blood (human, human, who cared that it was dead-cold and plastic-stale when the blood was human) from the bag, not letting any escape to make a mess this time.

Finished, it set the empty bag aside and prostrated itself at its owner's feet.

Perhaps today it would learn how he wanted it to pay for his generosity.

[snaillamp]

JOD - Day 19 - Stay with Me

We had fluff on day 18, so day 19 is the complete opposite. >:)

**************************************************************

Masterlist

Day 19: “I’m not going anywhere” | Wound cleaning | Guilt | Chair |

Right-hand limped out of the forest, pulling someone behind them. Slung over their shoulder was the arm of Leader, who was barely able to walk. Right-hand  whimpered as they sank to the ground, Leader heavily dropping to the ground next to them.

Right-hand was breathing heavily as they rolled onto their back, staring up at the stars, they were still heading in the right direction. ‘We are so close to the bunker… we have to be. We have to keep going.’ they thought.

In the darkness, they looked over at Leader, who was lying still. They turned and shook them, “Leader?” waiting anxiously as they felt Leader’s chest rise and fall, barely. They felt cold. 

Right-hand pushed themself to their feet, pulling Leader’s arm back over their shoulder. Leader groaned, lifting their head slightly. “Right-hand?” “I’m right here Leader. Stay with me, we’re nearly there.” 

They adjusted their grip on Leader’s arm before continuing. Leader spoke again, their voice ragged, “What happened?” Right-hand felt gooebumps erupt over their skin, Leader sounded terrible. “I got us out of there. We’re-” Right-hand’s sentence was cut off as pain ripped through their leg. “We’re nearly there.” They panted, practically dragging their leg behind them. Leader moaned quietly, before slumping against them, sending them both staggering off course. Right-hand righted themself before grunting, pulling the arm of the unconscious Leader over their shoulder a little more, trying to carry their dead weight.

The trees sighed as they broke into the clearing, Right-hand collapsing again. They looked up at the sky, now clouded over, the light of the stars no longer a comfort to them. At least they didn’t need them to navigate anymore.

Leaning Leader against a tree, they limped out into the small clearing, uncovering the bunker door, hidden in the dirt and leaves, pulling it open. They hobbled back to Leader, picking them up under their arms and dragging them along the ground. Slowly, they managed to get them both down the bunker entrance, one agonising step at a time, before slamming the door shut behind them, plunging them into darkness.

They felt the cold, brick wall, pressing the light switch when their fingers brushed it. A dull yellow light flickered on, buzzing as Right-hand looked around. There were many bunkers scattered around the country for teams like them, secret places to remain safe until they were picked up by an evacuation team, a team that couldn’t come soon enough.

Right-hand felt the blood begin dripping down their leg again, swearing as they noticed. They lay Leader on the ground, before stumbling to a shelf and fumbling through the supplies. Finding what they needed, they bandaged their wound tightly, hoping it would be enough to keep them going. They popped out a couple of pills from a box and forced themself to swallow them, gagging at the taste of the chalky tablets.

Turning to Leader, they knelt down and checked them over. There was a large wound on their head and dried blood was all through their hair and down their face. Feeling their chest for breathing, Right-hand could tell that Leader had some badly broken ribs and their breathing was shallow as they took quiet, uneven breaths.

Right-hand grabbed more bandages, wrapping a large stab wound on Leader’s arm and a long gash on their stomach. Leader suddenly woke, hissing in pain as Right-hand brushed their hand against the raw skin accidentally. They let out a cry, scraping their fingernails along the concrete floor as Right-hand quickly tried to wrap the rest of the bandage. “Leader, I gotta fix you up, then we can sort your pain out.” Securing the bandage, Right-hand managed to lift Leader from the floor and move them to a small, low camping stretcher. They were both soaked in blood, not all their own, as Right-hand lowered Leader onto it.

Leader gripped their stomach, fighting back tears in their eyes as waves of pain and nausea washed over them.

Right-hand grabbed a wound cleaning kit and sat by their side, before leaning back and resting their head beside Leader’s shaking shoulders. Opening the kit they swore, trust the people who kept these stocked to cheap out and buy shit antiseptic. They pulled up their sleeves, giving their own wounds a clean until Leader’s shaking subsided. The antiseptic burned as they winced through clenched teeth.

When Leader’s breath became calmer, Right-hand began to clean their wounds. This caused Leader’s body to spasm and they bit back scream as Right-hand cleaned a particularly deep wound. Their eyes grew slightly distant as they gasped in pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Stay with me.” Right-hand was concentrating on causing the least amount of pain as their leader writhed in the stretcher.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Leader grunted through gritted teeth, trying to keep a scream back unsuccessfully when Right-hand dabbed a cut. Right-hand stopped as Leader’s breathing grew faster, their body drenched in sweat. Leader looked up at them, eyes unfocused, “They aren’t coming… Are they?” shaking their head Right-hand kept dabbing, “They will. They have to.” They had to right? Surely they would be found and get out of here?

Right-hand used some more antiseptic to wipe the dried blood off their bodies. The scent was overpowering, smelling like fake pine trees. Leader coughed as they accidentally breathed it in. “Don’t do that.” Right-hand smiled gently, removing the small gauze pad they were using to clean. “The fumes will make you drunk.” Leader let out a pained laugh, “Honestly, wouldn’t mind that right now. Better than this.” They shuddered in pain again.

Nausea ripped through Leader’s body, making them feel like they were on a ship in a storm. They felt the cool sensation of the antiseptic drying on their arm as Right-hand wiped a new gauze pad all over it. “I’d rather you be sober for this one.” Right-hand’s voice sounded slightly muffled. Another wave of nausea washed over Leader, making them groan as the room began to swirl around them, as a jolt of pain ripped through their body, white hot and agonising. Leader’s body arched as the pain ripped through their entire being, before their eyes rolled back and they landed heavily on the stretcher. “Leader?”Right-hand cried out, shaking them to no avail.

Right-hand felt their mind beginning to swirl too. They must have been exposed to the toxin at the facility they infiltrated. That was the whole mission, to blow up a lab that they had received intel on. It was supposed to be manufacturing a new, fast acting, painful toxin that could be used by anyone to interrogate any information out of them, without causing them too much physical harm. No physical injuries? No suspicion. Absolute agony.

Pain began to rip through Right-hand’s body too, soon enough. They were on the lying ground, writhing in pain when they heard a weak voice through the fog… “Right-hand… Stay with me.” Scared, Right-hand flailed towards the sound, “Lie down… You’re with me… I’m not going anywhere.” Right-hand’s mouth was dry, “Neither.” they found their hand being weakly squeezed by another cold, shaky one.

They lay together, sprawled on the ground, drifting in and out until a light broke through the darkness and brain fog. Muffled sounds echoed around them ad the barely conscious Right-hand felt themself being lifted up. The cold, limp hand of Leader dropped from their grip and they groaned, reaching for it again. They promised they wouldn’t leave them alone.

“It’s alright, Right-hand.” The sound of the extrication team around them began to become clear. “Leader…” They mumbled, reaching for them again. “Leader’s right here, they’re fine.” The disembodied voice comforted them. “We got here just in time. A signal went off saying that the bunker had been opened and it’s a good thing it did. You’re both quite lucky.” Right-hand couldn’t make words form in their head as they were carried to a large, black helicopter.

Leader was already being loaded in, wrapped up on a stretcher. Right-hand realised they were lying on one too, as they admired the soft, warm colours of the rising sun.

Once on the chopper, their hand fell from the edge of the stretcher, brushing Leader’s, who’s eyes opened slowly. They looked at each other, too tired and in pain to move, but they weakly smiled. They would get through this together, they weren’t going anywhere.

[physsting]

Take a whumpee who adores music and their instrument and destroy theirs in front of them

[whumpshaped]

tw gore

do the blood eagle to an actual fallen angel. give them back their wings <3

[brutal-nemesis]

Goretober VIII: Worming Their Way Into Your Heart

*emerges from the other end of the weekend wearing a suit covered in blood and corn kernels* do NOT go in there have a @coyotehusk goretober blurb instead

←Previous - Castys Masterlist - Goretober Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: parasites (in the mouth and under the skin), gore, gross wound description (i talk about pus!)

“Why do you have a worm?”

Kuro proudly held up the glass jar she was carrying so he could see the creature inside even better. “I just want to see what it’ll do to you!”

Castys shrunk back, stopped by the chain on the collar he was wearing again. “I think it’s going to make me very miserable. The end. Nothing to investigate.” 

She just laughed at that and pounced on him, pinning him down. Why did he bother, again? “I’m sure it will, but I want to know just how miserable.”

“Very.” 

“Really?” Kuro unscrewed the lid of the jar and forced his mouth open before he could attempt to close it. “Show me.” 

She dumped the fucking worm in his mouth. 

However, she was dumb enough to just cover it so he couldn’t spit it out, which didn’t stop him from biting down and-agh it was wriggling he hated hated hated the feeling of it squirming around in his mouth why wasn’t it dead yet he’d-

“The funny thing about this kind of worm is you can cut it in two and it just makes two worms. Maybe you have a breeding pair in your mouth now. We’ll have to see if they multiply.” Castys’s eyes went wide at that. She-she’d been expecting him to do that so that he’d increase the number of-or maybe she was lying, he wasn’t sure worms even worked like that, being able to reproduce with themselves, but he didn’t really know anything about worms, just that there were two in his mouth and they were wiggling all over and he didn’t want to swallow them but he knew he was going to have to or things would get worse somehow she might stitch his mouth shut again and he really really hated the feeling of them squirming, rubbing against his tongue and wrapping around his teeth and tickling the inside of his cheeks and he couldn’t take it-

He swallowed.

His entire body shuddered reflexively, as if that could erase what he’d just done. “Good boy, Castys,” Kuro praised, getting off him. “Don’t you dare try to throw them up. I’ll just make you eat them again.” Castys glared at her as he sat up, his mouth still tingling with the ghosts of the stupid worms which were hopefully just going to die in his stomach.

“Can I have some fucking water?”

“You know what, yes. You need to stay healthy and alive for your new friends.”

So he got water, he got food, and no more torture, so the days (well, what he assumed were days) flew by sort of peacefully. Just as he’d started hoping that the worms were dead after all, he started to feel sick. It started out as a fever, then itching on his left leg, the sight of something wiggling under his skin, and soon he started to get awful, painful blisters on his lower leg. The itch faded, leaving behind an excruciating burning feeling, so intense it was nearly maddening.

Soon enough, worms started to emerge from the blisters.

All Castys did was touch one of them, try to pull the damn thing out, and moments later he found himself on the stupid table again, strapped down tight. Kuro poked at his leg, her every touch only inflaming his wounds more. He’d glanced down at his leg a few times, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. The blisters were red and angry, the hair around them matted with blood and pus, each one crowned with a little white worm wiggling its way out. The process was slow, and dying didn’t speed it up. In fact, if anything, it seemed to make things worse, the skin around the blisters gaining a weird yellow hue, barely visible around the thick crusts of dried pus surrounding them.

Even when the worms were finally gone, every moment was agony, and death didn’t change a thing.

Next→

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion​ @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump​

[whumble-beeee]

Whumptember 2023, Day 23

“Is that blood?”

Passing out | Hyperventilating | New scars

The Bee's Whumptember Masterlist

~1010 words

CW: blood, cuts, medical suturing (with needle)

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

Blood spurted out from under Caretaker’s fingers as they pushed the curved needle through red and dirt-stained skin. They cursed under their breath and pressed into the fresh wound, squinting to make sure they were pressing in the right place through the blanketing darkness. Whumpee’s fliched and their head shot up.

“What, uh… what’s wrong?” they lulled with dull eyes.

“Shh, Whumpee, quiet please…” Caretaker whispered, wishing they could tear their gaze away from their work to look Whumpee in the eyes. “It’s nothing, just lay back down, keep your heart rate low.”

Whumpee blinked. “Caretaker… We ah, we gotta go. They’ll gonna… They’re gonna catch us.”

Shouting in the distance. A beam of light arked over their heads.

“I know, Whumpee, I know. Just gotta get you patched up first, okay? Then we can run.”

Whumpee nodded and slumped back down, satisfied with Caretaker’s nonsensical plan. As if Caretaker could fix the deep slash running across their calf with needle and string and hope. They’d need an extra dose of prescription-strength miracle for that… Caretaker busied themself with their sewing again as the shouting of their hunters grew louder, and they had to duck down further into the brush. 

"Ow!"

"Shh… It's okay Whumpee, it's okay, quiet..." Caretaker stuck another suture through the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but they only had basic training. The blood continued to gush down, down, down. Whumpee whimpered and tried to pull their leg away, a fruitless venture considering their current state. They barely even got a twitch in before they stilled again.

"What're… What's happening…"

Caretaker cringed. "Some bad people are looking for us.” They whispered, intentionally dodging the real intent of the inquiry. “They'll find us if you don't shush, so please…"

A small hum sounded from Whumpee's throat as they finally laid their head back down and closed their eyes. 

Another stitch. Another. Whumpee twitched and pulled under Caretaker's grasp, but they held their ward still. Blood gushed faster from the wound.

“Caretaker…”

Only the ruffle of the foliage and the light sounds of wildlife rustling about. Boots crunched leaves in the distance.

"Caretaker!"

"Shh!" Caretaker hissed. "Whumpee, it's so important that we're quiet right now, please!"

"What're you doing to me?" Whumpee's voice was suddenly so small. Caretaker froze.

"I'm, uh…" Caretaker stared down again at their blood-soaked hands, the maroon liquid dripping down and soaking into the forest floor. "You have a bit of a cut. We can leave until I make it better. So I'm making it all better."

Whumpeesuddenly shot up stock straight, and Caretaker nearly toppled backward. 

"I'm hurt?!"

"No, no, shh, Whumpee, it's okay, you're okay, you’re fine, lay back down!"

Whumpee clawed forward and grasped at Caretaker as the far away crunches of leaves started to close in, shouts ringing throughout the forest that they thought they may have heard something this way.

"Caretaker, I can't, I can't, not again, please don't let them–"

Whumpee's face blanched suddenly as they caught sight of their half-stitched together and gored up leg, thick sticky liquid gushing out between threads spreading tendrils down their entire leg and dyeing the pine straw surrounding them a deep crimson. Caretaker went to reach for Whumpee until they remembered their hands were too covered in the same gore.

Whumpee's breath shuddered. "Is that… is that blood."

Caretaker sat frozen, torn between demanding Whumpee shut up and freezing from all the sudden noises. The beams of light swinging above them were multiplying, slowly but surely lighting up the forest around them. Whumpee's breathing started to become shallow.

"...my blood?"

Caretaker lunged over to Whumpee’s and tucked their arms under their charge’s back to support them as their breathing started to get heavy and fast and loud, chest puffing in and out sporadically as all their muscles seemed to go tense at once and they kicked out as if they could shake the wound off entirely if they swung hard enough

"Shhhh, shh, shh, shh, Whumpee, Whumpee, look at me, look at me, everything's okay, it's okay, you're fine, you’re fine, I promise, you’re okay."

"Not fine. Blood. So much–. Blood! I'm dying! Help! Help me–! Caretaker! Ple-ease I can't– I can't– I ca-a-an't– can't die– I can't die– please don’t–!" Whumpee barely managed to get out the onslaught of words through their ever-increasing shallow breaths, their eyes darting around trying to find safety, only finding Caretaker for a brief moment before panicking away again. Their body trembled violently as they grasped to hold onto anything that they could, littering burning red scratches across Caretaker's arms and back as they pinned Whumpee down.

"Shhh! Shhh, Whumpee you'll be fine but I need you to calm down–"

"Caretaker! Caretaker– I don– I don't – can't– I can't–... don't– Wanna die– die-e-e-e-e please–... please let– lemme go–... please… ple-e-e-ease, please… Ca-aretak…"

Whumpee's eyes started to flutter shut as they stopped dancing around and struggled to focus on anything in particular. Their body fell limp in Caretaker's grasp before violently tensing wholly again, then relaxing again, over and over until Whumpee's body fell fully lax in their arms.

Footsteps crunched barely a rock-skip away, trailing a searchlight methodically raking the ground and waiting patiently for its moment to betray the duo's meager hiding spot. Caretaker gently slapped at Whumpee's face, barely earning a flutter from their eyes as their breathing started evening out.

They cursed softly once again and held Whumpee close to their chest, pushing back as far as they could into the perceived safety of the brush. The boots stomped at the ground just outside where Caretaker and Whumpee had first crashed down.

They set Whumpee back down onto the ground and softly slapped at their face again. No response. So they checked their pulse, their own heartbeat pounding loudly in their ears. The vein pulsed erratically under their fore- and middle-fingers. Caretaker heaved an unsteady sigh of relief.

They very carefully moved back to Whumpee's leg, eyes never leaving the methodical boots as they moved ever closer. 

And they continued to sew.

@whumptember

[pigeonwhumps]

🎶 for Lea and Theo?

Theo's colouring in Lea's room when she taps him on the knee.

He looks up to see her watching him hopefully. She points towards the CD player and signs, "Dance?" It's a request, and Theo nods eagerly. It's been well over a year since he last danced with her, danced with anyone really, and he's missed it.

Her face lights up as he climbs to his feet and holds out his hand. She takes it gently, her other hand touching his waist.

Lea leads, of course. She always has. She can hear the music, and she knows the steps better than him. He rests his free hand on her shoulder.

He thinks he makes some sort of noise as they start to move. Because he knows this dance, and it's not one she would've been taught. It's one they made up, the two of them, in secret, tired and scared and hurting, left alone for the night after their dance lessons at the facility. He steps with her, heart full to bursting.

Because this means she remembers. Well, she doesn't remember, not really, she doesn't remember him, but her body remembers their dance. That's more than he thought they'd get.

He rests his head on her shoulder, like he used to, and she does the same, stepping closer to tangle themselves together. She's soft and warm and oh, he's missed her. It settles something in him to have her here again. He closes his eyes, trusting in her, just stepping, stepping, stepping.

[whumpasaurus101]

Welcome to my gaybies being gay <3 an au where they acc are together. Awh tough they can never acc be together 🥰

Taglist: @likeit-or-whumpit @milk-carton-whump @yesthisiswhump @appy-polly-loggies @happy-whumper @hold-back-on-the-comfort @tears-and-lilies @whumpkinpie @scribbelle @whump-queen @whumpdreamz @thelazywitchphotographer

[painonthebrain]

Also, bonus question, does what role the character play affect how you feel about their death or if they were to die? For example, a whumper dying vs a whumpee dying or a caretaker dying