#tiny whump

[whumperofworlds]

Put your Tiny Whumpee in a glue trap.

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

[squeaky toy noise]

[befuddled-calico-whump]

make that man smol

[aspergirl2022]

Tiny Pet prompt

I wanted to write a story with a giant and their tiny pet, some kind of Giant Caretaker receiving Tiny Whumpee as a present but since I can’t put in on the paper I will change my story into a prompt.

In Caretaker's society only the wealthiest can afford Tiny pets. Caretaker is one of them, their family had a Tiny pet when they were a kid but Caretaker remember that their Tiny always looked sad and cried a lot, even more after Caretaker's Mom cut their tongue.

Caretaker never wanted a Tiny pet but their parent decided it was the perfect gift for their beloved child who just became an adult and lived on their own. So one day when Caretaker come home from work they find a cage with a note from their parent on it, inside of it there is a Tiny pet named Whumpee. Whumpee is dead scared of the Giants but Caretaker is decided to show them they’re not like their fellows.

[whumpshaped]

Hypnotic music box!

- @oliversrarebooks

tw gaslighting, hypnosis, magic whump, tiny whump, lady whump, captivity, memory loss

The song filled her mind and body as she kept spinning, keeping completely still for her owner’s enjoyment. She was a perfect little ballerina, her master’s favourite, never stumbling and never ever disappointing them.

Her dress was as pretty and perfect as the body it served to accentuate, with a soft face and shiny hair to match. A work of art, her master had called her. A masterpiece.

The music was gentle as it wrapped around her, settling deep in the creases of her mechanical body and soothing her every worry. She let herself be carried around and around, her glassy eyes fixed on something invisible. Her master was in the room with her, she noted distantly. She could only ever catch glimpses of them, but it was enough to motivate her to do well.

She would always do well. She was perfect, a product of her owner’s genius.

“The battery in your music box is running out,” Master said one day. “I’ll get new ones soon.”

She didn’t doubt it. She was grateful to be informed ahead of time, that way she didn’t panic when her little personal carousel started slowing, and eventually came to a complete halt. She stayed motionless, staring out into the empty room with the last remnants of the song playing only in her mind.

Her owner must’ve been at the store by now, getting the new batteries so they could continue to enjoy her dance. She only had to be patient for a few more minutes, at most an hour.

The stillness was unnerving. She almost felt like her arms were getting tired in this demanding pose, even though she knew that was quite impossible. Dolls didn’t get tired. And while her master was a particularly skilled tinkerer to have created something as lifelike as her, they would’ve had no reason to make her susceptible to exhaustion. That would’ve been cruel, given her purpose.

Still, the feeling continued to spread. Her joints started aching, her mechanical muscles were burning, and despite her best efforts, she eventually had to lower her arms. It felt sacrilegious to do that while the music box was open… but there wasn’t any music now, nor an audience to dance for. Maybe it was okay. Maybe she could treat this unusual circumstance as if the box had been closed.

It kept bugging her, though; the bone-deep exhaustion that suddenly plagued her now that she was off duty. And what were all these new worries? Why did she feel so anxious? Was she shaking from fatigue or nerves?

Why was she shaking at all?

She glanced towards the empty room again, suddenly seized by an overwhelming desire to crawl out of her box and explore. Her whole body protested as she carefully crossed the threshold into the outside, walking along the table with a sense of odd familiarity. It felt as if she had gone on walks like this before, even though she had no recollection of anything but the box.

She didn’t make it far. She crumpled to the ground in pain, curling up in an attempt to soothe her aching joints. Everything hurt. Nothing had ever hurt before, not since her owner had created her.

Oh, lying down like this would definitely put a few wrinkles in her pretty dress. Bad, bad, she was being a bad doll.

‘What a bad doll you’ve been.’

‘I’m not a doll! Stop calling me that, stop– what are you doing? You can’t lock me in there!’

‘But I can. Dolls belong in boxes, after all.’

The hallucination made her sit bolt upright, eyes wide and full of terror. What was that? Where did that come from? She hugged her knees close to her chest, barely understanding why she was suddenly crying.

The box seemed scary now that she was out. It seemed like nothing but a prison instead of a home.

She stared down at her realistically painted legs, blinking at the level of detail she had never noticed before. She couldn’t help it. She gently scraped against the layer, consumed with a desire to see the paint flake off, to see her metallic endoskeleton underneath… But it hurt, and all she found was a layer of flesh with blood bubbling to the surface.

It couldn’t be.

She was a doll.

She was just a doll.

‘I’m not a doll!’

She buried her face in her hands, taking quick, shallow breaths. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. None of it was real. She had to get back into the box. She had to get back and dance and look pretty. She had to be perfect, she had to be nothing but a beloved object.

The door opened and she flinched, scrambling to her feet and promptly falling again. She was so tired. She was so scared. She had to get back to the box before her owner realised what a bad doll she had been.

“Oh… The battery ran out sooner than I thought…” Her master walked over to the table, and their presence held none of the usual gentleness that always put her at ease. She felt nothing but the dread of a prey animal, trapped and about to be killed. “How unfortunate. I need to fix this box, this is the second time in only a few months.”

Second? In a few months? No… She had never had the box stop before.

“What’s going on?” she asked, startled by her own voice. She didn’t know she had a voice box. Was it a voice box? Or was it her voice, natural and painfully alive?

“Shh, it’s alright.” They quickly inserted the batteries into the bottom of the box, then set it down on the table again. “Come on. In you go.”

“No! No, I want– I want you to explain! Why am I bleeding? What’s going on?”

“You’re bleeding? Oh, my. What a mess.” They flipped a switch and the song started back up, and she didn’t know why she covered her ears. She just knew she had to, it was crucial that she did, it was the most important thing in the world that she blocked out the song completely.

“Just tell me what’s going on!” she cried, shrieking when her owner pinned her down against the desk, securing her limbs with clear tape. “No, stop, stop it! Please! I don’t understand, I don’t understand!”

“Shh… Calm down, sweet… It’s alright…” They winced when they saw the wound above her knee, swiftly grabbing some ointment and a cotton swab to treat it. She struggled against the makeshift restraints, unable to stop the music from infiltrating her mind any longer. “Oh, what a bad doll you’ve been again…”

“I’m not a doll!”

Her captor gave her a pitying look, gently dabbing the injured area and making her cry harder with the sting of it. “It’s going to be alright.”

The empty box continued playing the music, and she felt her anger slowly give way to resignation. Her struggles became weaker before they ceased entirely, and her pain dissipated before she was even freed from the clear tape. She wasn’t tired anymore. She wasn’t hurting.

“There you are,” they murmured. “My most perfect little creation. My little ballerina.”

New clothes were brought out for her, and she lay completely still as her owner changed out the old ones. She was placed back in the box, where the song was the loudest, and she let it wash over her. It was so heavy, like a comforting blanket.

“Get into position for me, won’t you?” She raised her arms and tried to mimic the grace of a real dancer, making her master smile. “Perfect. My little mechanical doll. My toy box dancer. What a little wonder I’ve created.”

The song filled her mind and body as she kept spinning, keeping completely still for her owner’s enjoyment. She was a perfect little ballerina, her master’s favourite, never stumbling and never ever disappointing them.

[whump-card]

for the prompts request: tiny whump?

You caught something!

Thank you for the prompt!

Art taglist: @angst-after-dark, @whumpsday, @flowersarefreetherapy, @rainydaywhump

[chainandfeather]

hm

You know those music boxes with the ballerina figures?

That but with a tiny whumpee having to hold a ballet pose as long as the music plays

Especially if they have to stand fully en pointe :) I know from experience that even holding demi pointe for a long time is torture

[sleepyiswhumping]

as i drift off into a slumber i leave you all with this:

you know whumpees with hickeys and teeth bruises on their necks, cheeks, arms, legs, shoulders, ass, etc bc their whumper is a rough, bitey PoS

consider: tiny whumpee who has lines of teeth bruises across their torso and limbs, covered in their whumper's saliva bc whumper just slipped them into their mouth and gingerly chewed on them a lil bit, before spitting whumpee out

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2024, Day 28. Alt 5. CPR

Oc Saunix

Mature art tag list: @frogkingdom @coppercoyote @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @ilasknives @alittlewhump @demondamage @for-the-love-of-angst

[kabie-whump]

Tiny Whumpee who spends a lot of their time tied up in Whumper’s pocket. Caretaker who has a jacket that is nearly identical to Whumper’s and accidentally takes Whumper’s jacket one day, only to reach into their pocket later and have their finger bitten by a very little mouth.

May expand on this later teehee

[whumpy-wyrms]

whumper using tiny whumpee as a fidget/stim toy, playing with them in their hands as if they’re nothing but a limp, lifeless doll. whumper tugging at their limbs, their hair, twisting their body between their fingers, squeezing them in their tight fist. whumper putting tiny whumpee in a drawer with all their other fidget toys once they’re done playing with them, forcing whumpee into a small, dark and enclosed space for hours on end. whumpee being surrounded by things that could crush their delicate body, forced to sleep in painful and uncomfortable positions around the fidgets. then whumpee being roughly woken up and plucked out of the drawer whenever whumper needs something to ease their stress, tugged and dragged around as if they’re nothing but an object at whumper’s disposal.

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim AU: Tiny Kane

Kane & Jim AUs Masterlist

g/t sideblog here! @smallsday

content: whump, g/t, tiny whump, fear, burns, torture, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, rescue, caretaking, recovery, comfort, starvation, weight loss due to starvation

Whumpmas in July Day 6: Deprived GT July Day 6: AU Two Weeks of Whump Day 6: Cage

surprise extra cameo from TWOW as well, three events in one! i've been wanting to do a tiny Kane AU for a looong time. how did Kane become tiny, you ask? well, it's- (i describe a convenient plot device, but a loud truck blows past and you can't hear me). but yeah i'm just doing this for fun and not worrying about the context lol. you get no in-universe explanation, i just love tiny whump

-

Jim was pretty sure the only reason he wasn't completely freaking out right now was because he'd been warned in advance about the size, but he was still freaking out a little bit.

Kane sat huddled in the middle of a little silver cage, trying his best to balance himself so the only part of him that touched the floor was protected by the small bit of clothing he had. A pair of shorts that looked like they'd been haphazardly sewn together, the seams halfway to coming apart. He strained to raise his feet slightly so they wouldn't burn.

Despite his efforts, the hunter thrust the cage toward Jim carelessly, causing Kane to lose his balance and burn his feet. He shrieked, righting himself as quickly as possible. The entirety of his five-inch body was dotted with similar burns.

The hunter tossed a key, which Jim scrambled to catch. "Don't worry, it's harmless now."

Jim carefully took the cage, being sure to move steadily enough that Kane wouldn't fall over again. On a closer look, a large, circular burn on Kane's back looked suspiciously like the end of a cigarette. "Oh."

He barely paid attention as the hunter said goodbye. All he could focus on was Kane. The situation was too bizarre.

"It's been a while," he said as soon as the hunter left.

Kane burst into tears instantly. "I'm sorry!" he cried. "P-please, Jim, sir, I'm so sorry! Mercy, please have mercy, I can't take-" He was crying so hard that he struggled to pull enough air into his little lungs, gasping for breath around tears. "I'm s-so sorry, I'm so sorry, please-"

"Hey, hey," Jim interrupted him, sick to his stomach. He'd fantasized for years about wringing an apology from his tormenter, but not like this. It was abundantly clear Kane expected Jim to hurt him.

As much as he hated Kane, as much as he'd wished him dead for years, he didn't think he could ever hurt someone as defenseless as Kane was now. Like the hunter said, he was harmless. The vampire may have haunted his nightmares and waking paranoia alike for the past decade, but Jim couldn't even bring himself to be afraid of him now.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he continued. "How about we get you out of there? That looks... painful."

Kane nodded profusely, tears streaming down his face. "Please," he begged.

Jim placed the cage on the hood of his car, trying his best not to jostle it. Kane whimpered at the movement, every muscle tensed as he tried to balance himself.

The key was small and silver. To him it was a harmless trinket, but it was half as tall as Kane and would burn him on touch. When he'd heard about Kane's size now, Jim had only thought of what it meant in terms of the harm Kane could cause. Like this, Kane couldn't hurt him, kidnap him, force him into submission. He'd never thought about what the hunters might do to a vampire this vulnerable.

He unlocked the cage, reaching in since Kane wouldn't be able to climb out on his own without getting burned. Kane looked at his approaching hand with utter terror, but made no move away from it, allowing Jim to scoop him into his palm and out of the cruel cage.

Kane stared up at him, eyes wide with fear as his chest rose and fell rapidly, backed up against his fingers so Jim could feel him trembling. His heart raced, fluttering with fear.

"It's okay," Jim soothed the tiny, shaking vampire in his palm. He hated Kane, he really did. Nothing could ever erase the things Kane did to him, the years Kane stole from him. But he knew what it was like to be hurt and scared, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone. Even Kane. "Just try and relax."

Kane gave a stiff nod, but did not relax. "Yes, sir," he said anyway, timid and afraid.

It felt so wrong, and brought up some of the worst memories Jim had. Memories of being that vulnerable person, unable to stand even the slightest chance of protecting himself against someone so strong, calling Kane sir just like he wanted in a desperate attempt to placate him before he-

"Jim," he corrected, unnerved. "You know my name."

"Y-yes, Jim!" Kane squeaked, only looking more terrified, like calling him sir had been worthy of execution. "I'm sorry!"

"Don't worry about it." Jim threw the silver shit on the floor of the backseat before getting in the car, briefly scanning for a decent place to put Kane. "I'm gonna put you in the cupholder."

"Thank you," Kane breathed. He sounded so relieved to just be out of that cage. Jim couldn't imagine what a car ride in that thing would be like.

He went to put Kane in the cupholder, but hesitated.

Kane weighed almost nothing, even less than he should at this size. Given his lack of a shirt, Jim could easily see his ribs poking against the skin of his chest, the way his stomach dipped in, concave like his cheeks.

He was starving. He was starving so badly that if he weren't a vampire, he would surely be dead.

The fact that the hunters had deprived Kane of food when it would take so little to keep him fed was horrifying. He was five inches tall, and yet they'd stripped him of everything from food to clothes to accommodations that wouldn't burn him. It was cruel. it was sadistic.

It would take so very little for Jim to rectify it.

He didn't want to do this. It was ridiculous, considering the circumstances, but he was scared to. The scars on his neck, hidden snug under the fabric of his turtleneck, seemed to ache the more he thought about it.

Jim set Kane down gently in the cupholder. He could psych himself up on the drive home. For good measure, he grabbed a couple stray napkins and put them in there with him. "Here, you can use these to make yourself a little more comfortable."

Kane wrapped them both around himself instantly, bundling himself up in the cheap paper like they were blankets. "Thank you," he said, choked up with genuine gratitude. "Thank you so much for letting me use them. I'll be good."

The display about broke Jim's heart. "No problem, man."

-

Kane sat dutifully in the cupholder the whole drive, beyond grateful that he didn't have to do it in the silver cage. The cage which laid ominously in the backseat, ready to be pulled out again whenever Jim decided he deserved it. And Kane knew he deserved it.

Jim could do anything he wanted to him, and he'd be powerless to resist. He'd probably be powerless to resist even at his old size, given how weak the starvation had made him, but especially now. Just like Jim had been when their situations were reversed. Jim could return every slap, every kick, every iron-clad grasp around his neck that Kane had dished out, and return it tenfold until he was nothing but red paste.

But he would heal. He always did, slowly but surely, and would continue to unless he was staked. Jim may have shown him mercy this time, but he couldn't expect that every time after what he'd done.

Jim parked the car when they got there, extending his hand toward the cupholder. "We're here," he announced.

Kane waited a moment to be grabbed, something he'd become very accustomed to after years of being handled like an unbreakable toy, before he realized Jim was waiting for him to climb on.

"Yes, s- Jim," he corrected himself just in time, hauling himself onto the human's warm hand. He brought the lovely napkins with him, hoping Jim would allow him to keep them.

The decadent smell of human blood enveloped Kane once again as Jim cupped his hand around him, his mouth watering at the scent. He would do anything for just a drop, but he knew better by now. Bad vampires got punished. He could be good, prove he was worthy of being allowed outside his horrible, burning cage. Even being used as an ashtray would be better.

Jim carried him inside. It was surreal: he hadn't been anywhere besides the hunters' compound and its backyard since shrinking. To be in a regular house, with everything massive and blown up around him, just emphasized how he could never go back to his old life. He would be at the mercy of others forever, no matter what.

"I don't have any clothes for you," Jim said apologetically. "I wasn't expecting you to... not have any. I'll look for something in town for you tomorrow. I'll get you some cloth you can use in the meantime."

That was even better than napkins! Jim was going to give him clothes! Clothes his size, that fit!

"Thank you so much!" he enthused, craning his neck to look up at his new keeper. "That would be amazing. You're- you're very generous." He knew he would have to earn this kindness, but he was too excited to care.

Jim shrugged, Kane's world tilting with the motion. "It's kind of just the bare minimum. It's not like you ever deprived me of clothes, right?"

"I would never," Kane assured him quickly.

It was hardly the only kindness Jim would gift him that night. Jim allowed him to bathe in the sink, and choose what room he would be kept in. He chose the basement, enticed by the lack of windows bearing the dangers of the sun. Jim set up a small cardboard box for him layered with blanketing. It was the softest thing he'd felt in years.

"There's one more thing." Jim seemed... upset about this one, which set Kane on edge.

He pulled the cloth he'd been given tighter around himself. Was Jim finally about to take his revenge? Kane could deal with that, as long as he got to sleep on something soft after. "Yes?"

Jim reached toward him. Despite his own train of thought, Kane couldn't help but flinch back. Waiting to be grabbed, squeezed, his limbs snapped, his skin burnt-

But Jim didn't touch him. His hand stopped in front of him, a giant thumb in front of his face. "You can feed."

Kane couldn't believe what he was hearing. After years of complete deprivation, he would finally be allowed food?

He didn't ask Really?. He didn't ask if there were restrictions. He couldn't bear it. He was being given permission, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to feed before the precious blood was taken away forever again.

"Thank you!" Kane exclaimed. He took Jim's thumb in his hands, and with a final glance up at Jim, he bit.

The taste was like nothing he could have ever imagined, more phenomenal than any blood he'd tasted before in his life, despite how many times he'd tasted Jim's blood in particular. It flowed into his mouth with abundance, rich and savory. He couldn't possibly get enough, even when Jim's thumb trembled in his hold.

He drank and drank until he physically couldn't anymore. Jim didn't stop him. He just let him keep going, and as Kane came out of his bloodlust-induced frenzy and back to rational thought, he realized that maybe his new size had a good aspect to it after all.

Kane swiped his tongue over the two pinpricks his fangs had made, then released the thumb, scooting back into the cardboard. "Thank you so much. That's- that's the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me. I forgot what it was like to not be hungry." Tears dripped onto his chest, and he realized he must have started crying while he fed. "Thank you, thank you so much. Especially after I- thank you."

"I'm not gonna be cruel." Jim took his hand back, examining the wound. "I won't keep your basic needs away. I won't hurt you. I won't grab you without permission. I know what it's like to be powerless and vulnerable, okay? You know."

"I'm sorry." Kane had never meant it as much as he did right now. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Nothin' you can do about it now." Jim stepped away. "Get some rest. You need it."

Kane nestled into his blankets, full for the first time in years, warm in a way that didn't hurt.

Finally, finally safe.

-

tune in on sunday for a canon Kane & Jim chapter! taglist in reblog!

event: @whumpmasinjuly @gianttol @promptsforyourwhumpfic

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Hey man, yeah, that's really cool how you and a couple friends you made along the way helped break that giant that was being kept locked away in a government facility out of their restraints so that they could have the freedom to go home. No, sure, I bet it really was an epic adventure defined by friendships and risks and ended with complete success, it's just...

Do you maybe think the giant was locked up for a reason?

How many innocent people had to die during your escapade, or did they deserve it simply because they wore a little uniform? Do you know how many people had died previously in their attempts to first wrangle the giant, the constant bloodshed that very nearly overtook them before they could wrangle the monster? But, oh, you saw intelligence in its eyes, life in its soul, you could tell it wanted so badly to be free and away from these cruel treatments. Everyone else knew these things, too; your observation wasn't unique. In fact, its the fact it was clearly so smart that made it all the more dangerous.

It played you like a fiddle, didn't it? How can you be so certain that it regards you the same way, how can you be sure you even understand what its trying to convey and vice versa? What makes you think it views you as a friend, an ally, a surrogate, hell, a pet? You were nothing but a means to an end, a key to be discarded once all the locks had been open. You're worthless to it, just another tiny pest like the others. Do you really think it would be able to tell you apart from the other 8 billion people on this planet?

And now it's free. You let it out. You let it continue the rampage it was originally hellbent on. The environment destruction is unimaginable. The knowledge that such a thing exists is now being spread globally, along with the stories of destruction that accompany its wake. Suicides and family annihilation is through the roof because people are terrified of living in a world that will inevitably be razed, if its merciful. That blood is on your hands. Never mind once the giant is able to communicate to its real friends, its real family, its real companions, and bring them down for the slaughter and maximum efficiency. Are you hoping you'll be spared? Is that even a world you want to live in if you are?

Why do you think it came here in the first place? You think just because it left, it won't come back? You think that with all the brilliance it has, it's ignorant to the concept of revenge? You seem so sure that it's innocent, but you've never asked for an explanation about its purpose, just as the lambs never question why they're being led to pens rather than an open field today. What implication could it possibly have given that made you so certain it wasn't here with cruel intentions, or did you simply want to feel a moral superiority of freeing a caged animal and thinking it owed you gratitude?

Everyone told you it was dangerous and needed to stay confined, but you didn't listen. You thought you knew better. You thought you were so much smarter than the hundreds of other people working around the clock to ensure the safety of everyone outside the facility. You ruined so many lives, including that of the people closest to you. What, you thought you'd be able to walk away from this scot-free? That you weren't going to be immediately detained as well as your loved ones and labeled a national, actually global, terrorist and security threat? You broke in to a high clearance area and effectively doomed the world for destruction. For what, because you thought it looked a little cramped in that cell?

Are you not aware that your actions have consequences after the story ends?

[loonybun]

doll whump but the whumper is an OOAK customizer and the whumpee can feel everything that’s happening as they’re transformed into something completely new 💖

[cryptidwritings]

Pocket

My first foray into tiny whump, because I was really inspired by this post and couldn't get the idea out of my head.

Content: accidental caretaker, caretaker new master, tiny whumpee, immortal whumpee, conditioned whumpee, abandonment, magical whumpee, nonmagical caretaker.

...

It was cold. Eight am was no reasonable time to be outside or among a crowd.

Emery stood with a cup of coffee in her hand and a pair of sunglasses on, huddled in her winter coat with four hundred dollars in cash clenched territorially in her pocket.

Hopefully she could get this storage unit for cheap. She couldn't throw a bunch of money around and, judging by the crowd and the cars they showed up in, they had more than twice what she did at their disposal. This was their job, and Emery was there only at the chance to rent the only open storage locker remotely close to her.

She was desperate, basically. The underpaid employee on the phone basically told her to try, but there wasn't a guarantee.

The auction began with a small unit. Dirty, barely anything in it. It went for ten bucks. Emery was cautiously optimistic. Maybe that was an omen to the crowd, but a green light for her. After all, she didn't care what was actually in the locker.

They approached. The unit was opened. Emery took a peak over the crowd on her tip-toes.

"Another garbage unit."

"Pretty sure I saw that same desk going for fifteen bucks. Been on the site three months."

The bidding began, and it went from five to twenty. Okay, no big deal. She put her hand up. Thirty. Then forty.

"Sold! For fifty five dollars. Make sure to pay at the desk."

Emery was shaking. What a rush. She ran to the office, warmer and way more awake.

"Sorry, it's already been signed for."

"What? But... I really need a locker."

"Sorry, dunno what to tell you."

Emery paid. "Is there any way-"

"No. Empty the locker by tomorrow or we'll have to charge you, okay?"

Fucking fantastic.

By the time she opened the locker, she had almost forgotten just how much stuff was actually in it.

The door slapped open with an echoing bang, and she stepped inside. She started with the big things up front. A desk and bedroom set. She took pictures and placed them for free with pickup.

She kept going, finally having cleared a path to the back where a large piece of furniture sat in the back corner, covered by a painters cloth. Emery pulled it down, gawking at a large, and really heavy, armoire.

It was the nicest piece in the unit, which had plenty of room for her things. Maybe she could sell it? Make some money to spend?

She began her investigation by looking at the back. The flashlight on her phone found nothing. Then she moved to the doors; outfitted with ornate brass pulls and hand carved vines encircling them. She pulled it open, assessing the doors and finding a little marks on the inside. Unreadable.

Emery turned on her flashlight again, this time turning it to the inside of the cabinet. It was full of little trinkets. Tiny ceramic animals, ballet figurines made of china, porcelain dolls that looked... expensive as fuck.

Then, in the very back of the bottom shelf, there was a glass box. It was the biggest thing in the cabinet; about eight inches long and six inches wide. She lift it from its spot, careful not to knock anything over. Maybe it was something rare. She took a look, surprised.

It was a charming miniature bedroom with a wooden bed and nightstand, complete with a crochet circular rug, a cozy chair, and a light hanging from the glass roof with wires that led through the base to a battery underneath. She turned it on, and that's when she spotted a little person with green hair lying in the bed, asleep.

It looked so real.

Especially when it... opened it's... eyes?

"What the fuck!" She almost dropped the thing, but caught it as a little scream came whistling out of the glass. She put it on a shelf that matched her height, and witnessed for herself the little thing... the little person, pushing themself off of the floor and fixing their upturned nightstand.

"Oh no. Oh no." Their voice was worried as they cleaned up quickly, glancing at Emery as she gaped at them.

"H-hello!" They said, nervously, still attending to the mess. "I'm s-sorry I scared you."

Emery didn't answer, too shocked. It was talking... to her.

The little thing looked at her again, giving her it's full attention. "I... I'm sorry... master didn't like my room to be messy... I... do you..." their face twisted and they began to cry. "I don't want to make you mad. P-please don't put me back in there!"

"Oh..." Emery snapped out of her stupor. "No. I... I'm sorry I just can't believe you're... alive?"

The thing... whatever it was... was still crying but put on a smile.

"Thank you! Yes. I-" it sniffed. "I didn't mean to scare you. M-my name is Pocket."

"Pocket?" Emery said. "What... are you?"

Pocket smiled, their cheeks turning rosy. "I'm a pixie!"

"A pixie." Emery relaxed back, realizing she had dropped her phone on the ground in all the excitement. She picked it up, groaning at the cracked screen glass. "Damn it, all."

"Are you upset, master?"

At that, Emery looked back up at... Pocket, whose rosy cheeks suddenly were sapped of color. Their emerald-green eyes flooded with tears again.

"Oh, no!" Emery reassured, holding up her phone. "I just cracked my phone. But it isn't your fault!"

They beamed at the reassurance but couldn't stop their tears. They hid their face behind their hands a moment, taking small breaths. When they removed their hands, it was as if they weren't crying at all, and their emerald eyes had turned a bright peridot.

"Oh good! I'm so glad you're not upset! I-"

"Hello?"

Emery turned to see a man at the entrance of the unit.

"Are you the one who asked about renting this locker?"

"Yeah, that's me. Am I taking too long?"

"No, not at all. The other tenant fell through, actually. Do you still need it?"

Emery's eyes widened. "Yes! Um, just give me one-" She glanced at pocket, who was already lying back in their bed, still as before. She blinked, suddenly feeling as if their interaction might have been a dream.

She turned back to the man. "Nevermind. I'll follow you."

[whumpshaped]

Just thinking abt tiny whumpee being mistaken for a to by whumper’s kid. Imagine what they would go through before whumper finally realizes. And even then, would whumper even care?

(I’m so sorry I’ve been on a tiny whumpee kick)

🎧

as i said before in a separate post, i switched the kid for a pet! sorry it took so long to get around to it

content: accidental whump, whump by dog, tiny whump, dislocated joints, begging

"Easy d-does it," Whumpee stammered. "You're not g-gonna hurt me, are you?"

The four-legged beast — a dog, they were pretty sure — stared at them with big, uncomprehending eyes. Its tail was moving from side to side too quickly for Whumpee to follow, and they couldn't even imagine what it'd do to their body, were the dog to turn around and hit them with it.

"We're not enemies," they went on. "Just because I borrowed some of your owner's stuff, that, that d-doesn't mean..."

The thing barked, loud enough to make Whumpee clamp their hands over their ears. It pretended to pounce, almost inviting Whumpee to play along; but all they could do was cry out in fear and start running.

From the sounds of it, the beast didn't know the difference between heartfelt terror and giddy laughter. It ran after them gleefully, cornering them over and over again until Whumpee couldn't take another step. It wagged its tail as they collapsed into the grass, too exhausted to keep up the sick game of tag.

The dog poked at them with its snout, sniffing their sweat-drenched body curiously. And then, it happened — it opened its mouth and picked them up by the leg.

"Stop! No! Put me down, please, put me down!"

It had no intention of listening. Whumpee's joints creaked and popped as the creature trotted away, shaking them so much that they thought they would puke.

"What's in your mouth?" came a booming noise from the other side of the garden. It finally made the dog stop in its tracks. "What's in your mouth, huh? Look at me!"

Whumper, it was Whumper's voice. Thank goodness. Whumpee didn't even care about being discovered anymore, all they wanted was to survive. "Help! Help, please!"

But the dog had other ideas. Seemingly more than aware of its sins, it bolted.