#shapeshifter Whump

[whump-queen]

A shapeshifter whumpee transforming into the image of someone their whumper has lost—a deceased family member, a long-lost lover, a dear friend they haven’t seen in years—in hopes it might get them an ounce of mercy

A shapeshifter whumper turning into whumpee’s lost loved one before hurting them, just to make everything hurt that much worse

[painful-pooch]

The Belanger Masterlist

The Making of Beasts and Atrocities

In a world where animal shifters are beginning to be seen as second class citizens and ostracized for being different, street musician Cassiel Ohazia Belanger finds out in the worst way possible what happens when one is discovered to be a shifter. What hardships will the loving dire wolf shifter face and will he be able to change how the wold views those with an animal inside of them? Can Cassiel be able to fight the Beast that he holds within him without destroying everything he has ever loved and cared about? Will the world change for the better or will there be a war waged between humans and shifters? What truly makes a beast and what turns those to monsters.

CWs for the series (each post will be individually tagged): pet whump, slavery, inequality of race, long term captivity, dehumanization, team whump, death, fighting rings, forced drugging, and a lot of brutality from those in charge of the system, possible bbu adjacent themes

~~~

The Beginning/Training:

A Musician's Morning Routine

A Chilling Reality for the Musician

The Ring of Fangs and Blood:

Beasts Can't Love Anyone

Branding of the Beast

A Road to the Meadows

Colors of Symphony

~~~

Other Writings, Asks, and Extra Information!

This is where I am dumping writings where it’s either an AU or an ask. Some of the asks are actually writings and part of the story and will have already been sorted out above. This is mostly for extra information and what not that you would like to know.

~~~

AUs:

Cas and the Lamb (BBU Collab with @ocean-blue-whump)

Across the Stars and Through the Meadows (BBU Collab with @ocean-blue-whump)

Reference Pictures:

Character Sheet and Art

Asks:

Cas and Strangers // Cas and Verna // Cas and Arthur //

Cas and Tom and Runa // Insulting Cas (prompt) // Are you Smart //

Taking Advantage // Cas Meadows // Scream in the Bar (Prompt) //

Worst Thing to Ever Happen // A Secret Kept // Color of Screams //

What Are You Thankful For? (Prompt) // Cas Tells the Truth

[pixelpalettesofficial]

Warning: This is whump. For my regular followers, if you don't want to see this, I might make a side blog for whump. But I had some ideas that I wanted to put out there so y'know.

First off, this is my first time writing these types of prompts, so if they're wonky, my apologies.

Secondly, this is all based off my own Shapeshifter lore that I don't think I've shared here, so if it doesn't make sense I might post my own original Shapeshifter stuff at some point.

(Btw I am a minor so don't interact if you're a purely nsfw blog thank youuuu)

Contents: Shapeshifter Whumpee, Pet Whump, Isolation, Dehumanization, (Non-sexual) Nudity (god this makes me sound horrible lmao)

General

Shapeshifters being sold as pets in pet stores

Shifters shifting away wounds and fucking up their physical forms

New Shifter owners keeping only one and unknowingly making them lonely and depressed

Shifter owners not providing their pets with sufficient materials to make nests

Being captured as trophies for hunters

Being refused clothes due to being "less than human"

Alternatively, Shifter owners dressing up their pets in embarrassing clothing

Forced to wear a collar that suppresses their abilities (thus preventing them from escaping easier)

Species-Specific

Animal Shifters being forced to stay an animal for long periods of time

Species Shifters being forced to change what they look like for art references

Object Shifters being forced to be lamps/tables/chairs/etc for their owners

I don't know if this is any good but I thought I'd try my hand at this!

[rookthebird]

Would they be sad about having to kill him, or only sad that he’d lied to them so much? If they could touch him gently before he died, when he wasn't half-asleep or insensible with pain, if he could be awake to enjoy it…. He would be all right with that.

Rescued by the Married Monster Hunters

by Ennis Rook Bashe 

(conditioned whumpee, traumatized whumpee, whumpee convinced caretakers are going to kill him if they find out he’s not human, non-human whumpee)

[whumpypepsigal]

@whumpgifathon | Day 25: “Period Drama”— “Involuntary Shapeshifting”

Lord Guildford Dudley in My Lady Jane 1x08

[oddsconvert]

Whumper is a shapeshifter. Throughout Whumpee’s captivity, they morph into Caretaker’s form to trigger, manipulate and test Whumpee. It breaks Whumpee down and crushes their spirits - but at least they don’t fall for Whumper’s games anymore.

Until one day, it IS Caretaker that rushes to their rescue. When Caretaker bursts through the cell door, Whumpee refuses to believe it’s real. Whumpee even tries to go back to sleep and ignore them.

“N-No... please... not - just not today, Whumper. I’m too tired.”

“Whumpee-” Caretaker’s voice wobbles, their hands shaking as they reach out, “It’s me- I’m here to save you-”

“I-I’m not stupid. I won’t try to escape anymore - promise...please don’t hurt me.”

“Whumpee, just look at me, please. It’s caretaker. We’re going home-”

“You’re not caretaker... It’s never caretaker... It’s always you.”

Whumpee fights and thrashes as Caretaker releases them from their restraints and tries to carry them to safety. When they’re home, they’re resistant to the care and attention they need. Pushing helping hands away, screaming and kicking. Whumpee is hysterical, crying out in anguish. Rambling promises to be good and swearing they’re not disobeying Whumper, they still think it’s all a test. They won’t look at Caretaker, they won’t stop begging to go back to their cell.

Whumpee truly believes that caretaker isn’t themself, that it’s Whumper disguised. What will it take to snap them into reality?

[whump-galaxy]

The Whumper using magic to make themselves look like the Whumpee’s friends, family members, or teammates when torturing them. Eventually the Whumpee refuses to believe anyone coming to save them is real. They can’t get the cruel voices of their own loved ones out of their own mind.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Rich White Men Parties

Summary: Reader feels sick and Tony makes her go to the gala anyway. Pepper comes to your rescue.

TW: vomiting, swearing (once), fever, illness, not being believed, semi-nudity (consented)

Pairing: Pepper x Reader (platonic)

Words: 2k

A/n back at it with the marvel fics again!!!

You needed to show face. It was a fact, one tony had been reminding you of, all week. He knew you hated the gala, thats what you had skipped the last three of them. And now Tony had put his foot down.

On Tuesday he enlisted steve. The two of them had stated that if you skipped this gala, you would be benched from missions for a month

On Wednesday you had been feeling a little off. Chalking it up to a restless nights sleep you drank some more water and took a nap.

Thursday was when things started to go down hill. The water you drank had done nothing. Well … it made you need to pee more but that was it. You had a headache that would have probably taken down Thor.

By Thursday evening you felt like shit on a stick. Your head hurt, your eyes hurt, and your body ached all over. You had decided it was too much. Which was what led you to this point.

You were stood on the threshold of Tony’s lab, debating if this was worth it. You flipped the idea over in your mind like an omelette and decided to just bite the bullet.

You cleared your throat and stepped into the lab. However, that just made your throat hurt.

Tony’s eyes snapped up from his work bench. Peter was sat down on a stool nearby doing homework and his head lifted slowly to watch.

“Mr Stark?” You said timidly.

“Yes?” Tony responded seemingly already annoyed.

“I… I don’t think i can make it to the gala.” You began but he cut you off.

“I don’t wanna hear it L/n. You know the consequence, benched or gala.” He said and turned his eyes back to his work.

“But sir-“ you pressed, and he cut you off again which made you huff quietly.

“Parker? You don’t hear excuses, do you?” Tony asked peter childishly.

“Well sir-“ peter started.

“Never mind kid. Y/n the answers still no.” Tony said.

“Sir she doesn’t look so good.” Peter said taking in your sickly appearance.

“She can shape-shift Pete. If anyone can fake sickness, it’s her. Now finish your homework.” Tony said before turning back to face you.

The flush on your cheeks may have been from anger, embarrassment or the start of a fever, you didn’t know, but it was there.

“L/n, get yourself together. We all hate the media. Press conferences suck. Galas are a step up from that. You, as an avenger, have shown face the least of everyone. It’s impacting your funding, the teams funding. If you want to keep getting missions, you need to give SHEILD a reason to have you in the field more. And on top of training, you need people to like and respect you. Get yourself cleaned up and put your big girl pants on. You're coming to the gala tomorrow night or … like steve said your benched for a month.” Tony said before turning back to his project.

You knew it was over, with a pitying look from peter you nodded to the kid and slunk off down the hall.

You had spent the rest of your day wasting away in your bed. Nausea began to grow in your stomach and despite your body’s protest you forced down a meagre dinner of white rice and chicken.

You called in for an early night and hoped it would all be over tomorrow.

When you woke you felt like shit. Your eyes were tired and sore as you opened them. You dragged your gaze over to the bedside table and almost jumped out of your skin. It was three in the afternoon. You had maybe two and a half hours before the gala started.

Your bones ached, your skin ached, your eyes and your head ached. And more than anything you wanted nothing to do with the gala. But you couldn’t be benched for a whole month. But even now as you felt like hell had frozen over, did it begin seeming like a little less of an awful fate. It was better than throwing up on yourself in front of a room of rich white men in stuffy suits with models hanging off their arms and every word. God, you hated galas.

You pressed a palm to your eye in an attempt to dull the pounding ache in your skull. It did nothing to stave off the persistent form of torture.

You willed yourself to get up, taking at least three spoons to get out of bed.

You stumbled once you were on your feet, steadying yourself on the wall as the room spun and your stomach lurched violently into your chest.

You took carefully calculated wobbly steps to the bathroom before crashing to your knees and heaving. It was unpleasant to say the least. You spat out the foul taste and stood to flush the toilet. You brushed your teeth and inspected your reflection in the mirror. Lifting a finger to make sure that sick and tired looking person in the bathroom mirror really was you.

It was.

You checked the clock and decided to just start getting ready no matter how much you just at wanted to sleep despite having done nothing but sleep all day.

You grabbed the first dress you could find. A tight black number with a slit in the side that almost was something to write home about … almost.

It dipped low on your chest to show off your debt to god otherwise known as perfect boobs. It hugged in the middle to accentuate that snatched waistline and thighs.

You put it on and shivered. It was cold in the thin fabric, or maybe it was too warm. Who knew.

You sat down harshly at the vanity and put on a thick layer of makeup to cover the exhaustion and pale sweaty skin complete with deep purple eye-bags.

You slathered it on thick and fast before checking the time again. You swallowed back the growing pit of sickness in your stomach and began to tame your wild hair.

By the time you had slowly managed to look alive again it was past time for the gala to start.

You summoned your remaining strength to drag yourself up out of the chair. You looked in the mirror once more and fixed your long curly hair.

Sighing you tried to smile like you weren’t dying of a headache what was most likely the initial stages of the flu.

Deeming it good enough you stated out of gala.

When you entered the well-lit room of stuffy rich people your head wanted to split open. And you were ready to let it if it helped.

The music hurt your head, the lights hurt your eyes and the stuffy rich men hurt your soul which was fighting valiantly to leave your body.

You trudged over to a seat in the corner and sat down trying to hide from it all.

The avengers plus pepper were spread across the floor mingling. You watched them from your perch and brooded. Stupid tony and his stupid ego. He could fund the avengers single handedly and still run stark industries.

You fought to keep your head up as exhaustion rolled over you in waves of crushing fatigue.

You groaned quietly and turned to look out the window.

After a few minutes you felt the nausea returning. After a few more you knew there was no stopping the next onslaught of vomiting.

You stood and shivered, heading for the women’s bathrooms, knowing there was no time to find some real privacy.

You hurried across the floor and into the bathroom. You beelined for the largest stall, not bothering to lock it and sunk to your knees.

Your head hovered above the bowl as you gagged and tired to fight it off.

In your haste you had missed that one of the stalls was occupied. Now as you fought heart and soul to not empty your stomach into the toilet, someone was quickly washing their hands.

Then a small knock sounded on the bathroom stall.

“Are you ok in there?” A voice asked and in your fevered haze you failed to recognise its owner. You wanted to respond but you knew if you opened your mouth, it was all over.

As there was no response the door began to open as you turned around again in time to throw up.

Peppers gentle hands scooped your hair off your collar and up out of the way. She used her other hand to gently rub circles on your back.

“It’s ok Y/n/n. You’re alright. Get it out.” She hushed and when you were done you turned to face her with a weak smile.

“Thanks pep.” You rasped.

“Too much to drink?” She chuckled and you didn’t respond, instead spacing out looking at her high heeled shoes. “Y/n/n?” She prompted a frown marring her lips and a wrinkle in her brow. “Earth to Y/n.” She said and still without a response she brushed a curl from your eyes before quickly retracting her hand.

After a second, she replaced it, laid flat against your forehead.

“Oh honey.” She said looking sad. “You’re sick. You have a fever darling.” She cooed and you looked at her with tears on your waterline.

“I know.” You pouted trying not to cry. “Tony wouldn’t listen.” You sobbed.

“Oh sweetie. He’ll listen to me. You and I are going to head to bed, and I’ll look after you. You’re not well and need rest. Whatever Tony thinks, he has another thing coming. Now can you stand up?” She asked softly.

You nodded and slowly stood, swaying on your feet slightly as you did. Pepper put an arm around you and leaned over to flush the toilet.

Then she gently guided you out of the bathroom and over to the lift.

It was a slight blur but before you knew it you were sat on your bed as pepper gently used a cloth to wipe off your makeup.

“For someone who’s hands haven’t stopped shaking, you did a great job on the makeup.” She smiled and you nodded, too fevered to really register the compliment from the queen of galas herself. She looked at you sadly and headed to the bathroom.

She disposed of the washcloth and picked up a thermometer. Coming back to the bed she put the thermometer into your mouth and gently guided you out of your dress. Leaving you in a bra and panties. She slipped on a large T-shirt you slept in and braided your hair.

Then she took out the thermometer and frowned.

“Tonys a deadman.” She said and popped out two fever reducers for you.

She laid her hand on your forehead again to gauge if it was higher than before or not and clicked her tongue. “Defiantly getting these meds.” She said to herself and deposited them in your hands.

She helped you have some water and the medicine and tucked you into bed.

“I’m going to go change but I’ll be back later to check on you. Don’t worry honey, we’ll make sure you get well in no time. I’ll look after you.” She said and Jarvis turned down the lights as she sat down, promising to stay until you fell asleep and to be there when you woke up.

Pepper was like the mum you never had, and it was everything and all your little heart could handle or ever need.

[whumperofworlds]

Whumpee, when a shapeshifter!Whumper pretending to be Caretaker says or does something out of character:

[scumashling]

Shape shifting Whumper who changes into loved ones, Caretakers, or previous worse Whumpers to mentally torture Whumpee

[riacte]

so hey guys i finished dungeon meshi yesterday and i'm still thinking about it

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

a shapeshifter whumper would always shapeshift into caretaker every time they hurt whumpee.

when whumpee is finally rescued and is back with the real caretaker, they helplessly scramble away into the corner whenever caretaker tries to touch them, whether it be to offer them a comforting hug or to tend to their wound, or to carry them back to their bed, because it was caretaker’s face and body that had hurt them in the past.

and it doesn’t matter if whumpee’s lucid enough to understand that it was shapeshifter whumper who hurt them, not caretaker — whumpee will always see caretaker’s face torturing them whenever they close their eyes.

[livingfast04]

Monster Au? - Part 8

one two three four five six seven II nine

Tw: Body Horror, mentions of disordered Eating, anxiety, dehumanization, refences to past child abuse, refences to emotional abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, biting, vomiting, blood.

---

Eddie wasn’t sure what the hell, he thought this was going to go, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. Mrs. Josie, talks to Eddie more than she talks to Steve as she stitches up his arm. The bite marks are deep, they look like something else did them to Steve, as if Steve hadn’t done them to himself. Muscle ripped open, the small amount of fat- scraped down to show off the white of bone. 

If March had never happened, Eddie thinks he would have puked along with Steve.

Glancing down, his shoes were covered in bile and blood, his pants too- it was on his hands, from grabbing Steve’s face, his arm- from wiping at the younger's blood covered face. Steve’s heart pounds in his ears, slow, and thick. The spark of adrenalin that ran through the other when he’d tore through his own skin. 

Eddie’s stomach rolled.

“I think both of you are going to need showers.” Eddie nods a little numbly, and a change of clothes- and new shoes. She wasn’t as skeletal as her son, her face a little fuller, she wasn’t as unnerving to look at, but it still made his skin prickle just a bit. She gave him a slight smile, showing off her own dangerously sharp teeth.

Eddie fumbles as she starts to stand her son up, Steve dead weight and mostly limp, falling forwards against Eddie’s chest. Mrs. Josie looks him over for a minute and Eddie refuses to squirm, no matter how much he wants to. “I have to clean this up, help give my boy a shower?” Blinking a few short times, “I- I, I can? But- why?” “Because I trust you not to drop him.” I trust you not to break him. Eddie sucks in a deep breath, getting a mouthful of sick smelling blood and layers of distress sticking to Steve’s skin. “Not that, that really matters- you need a shower as much as Stephan does.” Eddie’s kind of used to smelling a little like blood, comes with being a vampire- Uncle Wayne would however lose his shit, if he went home like this. It’s a little much, even for him. Eddie holds on to Steve a little tighter, “You should know where Steve’s bathroom is.” There it is, the sting, the anger, rightfully placed anger. Mrs. Josie goes back to mopping up the puddle of blood on the floor. Steve lets out a pitiful whine as Eddie shuffles to move them towards the stairs.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but we gotta get you cleaned up.” Steve didn’t make another noise, but he did press further against Eddie’s chest at his words, as if making sure he was still there. Eddie pressed his nose into greasy hair. Steve desperately needed a shower. Not just because he was covered in his own blood. 

Eddie stared at the stairs, and at Steve who was basically trying to bury himself in Eddie’s chest. Eddie shifted his hold on the other, cursing the Party with every mean but at least a little soft remark that he knows off the top of his head as he lifts Steve up. His heart aching as Steve lets out a startled sound, moving his limbs for the first time to cling to the back of Eddie’s shirt. 

Bracing for more weight than he thought he would be taking on, Eddie’s stomach tied itself into knots. Steve hardly weighs anything. Pressed this close together, he could feel almost every one of Steve’s bones. He whispered apologies into Steve’s hair as he climbed up the stairs.

Eddie had been upstairs a handful of times, most of the times had been in March. When the pack bonds hadn’t been as strung out, before adults got involved. Eddie doesn’t want to think about that- about the fact that they all had been fine. 

For the most part. Carrying Steve down to his bedroom, the room had been ransacked for most of the blankets, but clothes were spread all over the floor. Eddie breathed in a mouthful of stale scent of Steve. 

Eddie pushes open the attached bathroom with his foot, he shuffles things around, mostly definitely knocks things off the counter, and into the sink. It’s not exactly the picture of clean in Steve’s bathroom. Which is fine, Eddie and Wayne’s shared bathroom isn’t all that clean either. 

Steve grumbles when Eddie moves away, Eddie turns the shower on and pulls the curtain to. His socks are soaked, and it’s starting to drive him nuts. Wiggling them off getting more blood on his hands. Glancing up at Steve he jerks a little, those dark brown eyes are not brown. 

They are about six shades lighter and green. 

Not that Eddie spends time studying what color Steve’s eyes are or anything. But they are 100% not green. Steve makes an uncomfortable noise before the color changes again, back to his own brown, and Eddie just stands there. 

What the fuck. 

Shaking himself off, Eddie steps over his bloody socks and reaches out to tug Steve’s sweater off. Steve makes a clicking noise at him, but lets him pull it off. Eddie gets a good look at Steve’s bat bites for the first time since March. Holy shit. They are black around the edges, the skin that is healed or at least not basically missing, is raw and gnarled.

The little scabbing there is discolored and sunken in. Eddie’s brain screams to fix, fix, fix. They shouldn’t look like this, they shouldn’t look like that at all. Drawing his gaze up to meet Steve’s eyeline he catches the state of the younger’s back in the mirror. It’s scared over there better on his stomach, the back of his arms- 

Eddie’s going to be sick.

He goes through the motions of getting himself and Steve undressed as the mirror steams up. He doesn’t think about it, can’t think about it. Steve is like puddy, moving where Eddie wants him too, and he’s so light. 

The shower is fast, Eddie turns the water down so it's not so hot against Steve’s skin. Eddie tries to mimic at least somewhat of a hair routine, this is his second shower today; Steve leans into the soft touches, almost cat-like with the way he was pushing into Eddie’s hands. 

He was making soothing noises at himself too, and clicks- which were borderline terrifying sounds. Eddie wants to know how Steve’s avoided making them around the Party. Because they seem almost like second nature.

Steve “wakes” up as Eddie finishes washing his own hair. The water had long stopped running red. It still smells like blood, but it’s no longer one of the only things he can smell. Steve puts a little distance between them while Eddie washes his hands and arms, trying to get the scent off of him.

Eddie keeps his eyes off of Steve for as long as he can without making it awkward. “Did- did you wash my hair?” Steve’s voice startles him, taking a step back he didn’t have in the small space, his heel catching on the drain. Slipping slightly, he jerks out a hand to hold himself up on the wall. 

Steve lets out a small laugh, it’s bitter, and a little lost- but it’s a laugh. “Fuck- ah, okay, that- could have been worse.” Eddie straightened himself up, rinsing off, and turning the water off. The cold leeches back in. “Uh, yeah. It- it looked like you needed it, and you got blood in it-” 

Eddie trailed off, twisting around to open the curtain. “I puked on your socks.” Steve’s voice is quiet, Eddie hums softly in response, pulling the towel on the hook and turning around to hold out a hand to help Steve out of the tub. 

“You did.” Steve hesitated before curling his long spindly fingers around Eddie’s, he gave the younger a weak smile. Eddie wraps Steve in the towel, turning around to get another one to hand to him for his hair.

He opens the cabinet under the sink in search of the extras, four blue towels stare back at him. Eddie takes two, curling one around his waist and kicking the door shut with his foot. “I- I’m not, I’m not sure what we are doing.” Eddie looks back at Steve, he looks lost. “Drying off after taking a shower.” Simply easy, that is what they were doing. Steve furrows his eyebrows, with his hair plastered to his forehead Eddie could see all his features. 

“I know that. But what are we doing?” Eddie knows logically that Steve hasn’t accepted his apology, nor does he ever expect the other to. So the other’s words don’t sting. They hurt sure, but they are deserved. “I don’t-” “Let's get dressed and then we can talk?” It feels like a cop-out, Eddie feels gross about it, but this isn’t a conversation he wants to have naked. 

“Uh, oh right, yeah-” They shuffle out of the bathroom as a set of clumsy limbs into Steve’s room, there’s two sets of clothes and a pack of bandages on the bed. Mrs. Josie must have came in while they were in the shower-

Eddie finishes drying off his legs, before grabbing a pair of underwear off the bed. He gets dressed faster than Steve does, he watches the younger out of the corner of his eye sluggishly tug on his clothes. He watches Steve touch his fingers against the marks on his sides, the hiss of warning creeps out of Eddie’s throat without warning. 

Steve’s hands jerk away from his wounds, and Eddie quiets the noise. He doesn’t reach to touch the bites again. 

Before Steve can tug on his shirt, Eddie digs through the small box and gets out the bandages. Holding them up with a question on his lips. They stare at each other for a long moment, before Steve steps up into Eddie’s space, his heart beating nervously in Eddie’s ears. 

He wraps the bits on Steve’s stomach, taping down the edges of soft pads to his pale skin, then wraps soft cloth around his full center. The spots on the younger's back aren’t in a good spot to wrap up, but Eddie still looks them over. It’s almost intimate.

The closeness, the feeling of Steve’s breath against his wet hair, the chilliness of his body. It’s all in Eddie’s face. And he’s not sure what to do with the way his brain buzzes. Mindlessly as he sets down the bandages on the bed he picks up Steve’s shirt, the other doesn’t even reach out to take it from him-

Just lifts his arms to slide them into the armholes when Eddie straightens back up. He does it without complaint, Steve doesn’t step away when he gets his shirt on either. It’s quiet, Eddie tilts his head to the side. Drops his eyes down to stare at the scar on Steve’s neck. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie looks back at Steve’s eyes. The other looks away, stares at the otherside of the room, “I meant what I said, you don’t have to forgive me. You don’t have to give me the time of day, but I’d like to make it up to you. If you’d let me.” Eddie’s voice is hardly above a whisper. 

Steve’s eyes filled with tears, “I hate you.” it comes out broken and wet and Eddie wilts on the inside. Steve turns back to look at him, his chin wobbles, and Eddie’s heartbreaks a little more. Part of him expected something close to vicious hate to be festering in Steve’s eyes. 

But they just look sad.

“I hate you.” It comes out even quieter, and far more wet, tears trace down Steve’s cheeks- and the whole room smells like distress, loneliness, and heartbreak. Eddie’s own eyes well up tears, Steve smells so fucking sad, and it’s Eddie’s fault. 

Eddie opens his mouth, just slightly- working his jaw, “I know.” I’m sorry, empty words, they don’t make anything better, Eddie feels terrible but it's probably a fraction of what Steve has been feeling.

Taking a small Steve back trying to give the younger some space. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you for what you did to me, I hate you for what you’ve made me.” Eddie nods, whispers out I know again, and again- I know and I’m so sorry Steve. 

Steve’s sobbing, it shatters the quiet, it catches Eddie in the chest. It aches, “I want you to go away, I want you to leave and never come back- I want to forget you ever existed. I want you to never speak to me again. I hate you,” Steve takes a stuttering breath, hardly sucks it in as Eddie steps back, ready to leave. He ducks his head slightly, reaching backwards to grab for the door handle. Steve lets out a wounded noise, high and keening- “Please don’t leave me.” Eddie jerks his head back around, there’s tears soaking the younger’s cheeks, panic and desperation written there. Steve’s sinking down to sit on the floor, harsh sobs wracking his tiny, thin frame. 

Eddie’s moving before he can stop himself, crossing the room is long strides- his knees hit the floor with a heavy thump, the force of it rattles through his bones. It doesn’t matter, arms reaching out to curl around Steve’s form. Steve lets out a heartbreaking sounding noise, clinging to Eddie’s shirt, pulling him towards him- his nails digging into his skin, the fabric does little to drown out the pinch. “Oh sweetheart- I’m so sorry, I won’t, I won’t leave you, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you can’t stand me anymore.”

“I hate you.” Steve sobs the words into his shirt, his whole body shaking, rattling at the force of his sobs. Eddie tucks his nose into Steve’s freshly washed hair. “I know.” They sit on the bedroom floor for a long time.

---

Ayyy, this was on the brain, so it got done instead of me studying :D. This ones got some of that Ao3 editing on the end, because I wrote it, basically went through the motions for the last scene and then added and moved stuff around. So- with the proper motivation I'll probably be doing that to the first portion of the Fic I want to post on ao3 first soon! I apologize if the formatting is weird. All of it's been a little funky lately- !! All of you are amazing, I still have no idea where you all come from, but you are here!! So That's nice :) I crave validation it is The motivation <3

Tag list:

@theghostinmymachine @sadcanadianwinter @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @bisexualdisastersworld @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @estrellami-1 @raysreads @knightofthieves @sassysleeplord @gezell-igg @ledleaf @haluton @h0n3y-dw @thegingerrapunzel @finalmoondragon @warrior-616 @lexyvey @thesuninyaface @whalesharksart @two-faced-biatch @plasticcrotches @xtkxkrzrizir @minjintea @potatofist18 @just-a-tiny-void @selune2 @hellomynameismoo @princessstevemunson @plantzzsandpencilzzs @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @dbquills @pheonixashtree @sharingisntkaren @gregre369 @chaoticlovingdreamer @obliosworld @littlebluejane

[whumpshaped]

shapeshifter whumpee making themself look like whumper / whumper's loved ones to avoid getting hurt

tw nonhuman whumpee, shapeshifting, identity theft (but in self-defence), dehumanisation

Whumpee stared up at Whumper with wide eyes, hoping the transformation had been successful. It had to have been, since Whumper wasn't hurting them yet, and they even backed up a little to allow them some breathing room. Whumpee didn't dare breathe.

"What are you doing here?" Whumper asked, concern palpable in their voice. "And why are you… wearing this cloak? I almost hit you, I thought you were–"

"I know," Whumpee rasped. Their voice sounded odd; it always did whenever it wasn't their own. It was the voice of Whumper's spouse, or as close as their memory could get them to it. "I know, I– I was looking for you everywhere! That thing took my clothes, then gave me their own… I was running around town, hoping to find you before they did… They're definitely planning on tricking you. I, I don't know what I would've done if they'd reached you first, you would've never believed me–"

Whumper brought them into a warm embrace, and Whumpee hoped that the frantic beat of their heart was going to be chalked up to reasonable nerves and panic. "Shh… Of course I would've believed you… Do you think I only know you from your clothes and face?"

"I hope n-not…"

"Of course not."

Whumpee would've laughed at the irony if they hadn't been so terrified. Being cradled by a person who wanted to kill them was not something they'd ever thought they'd go through.

"Let's go home," Whumper murmured. "I'll keep looking for them once you're safe."

Whumpee nodded, the fear almost paralysing them. If Whumper's real spouse happened to be home, well… they'd cross that bridge when they got there.

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty

[whumpypepsigal]

Nancy Drew s04e10: “I will find a way to fix it. Come hell or high water.”

[whumpwillow]

shapeshifter who makes themselves look like whumper in the hopes that it dissuades whumper from hurting them, but whumper tortures them anyway because their self-loathing is just that strong