#whumpee thinks caretaker is their new whumper

[justbreakonme]

I feel like “Whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master” is like the whump version of enemies-to-lovers.

[pigeonwhumps]

Sanctuary masterlist

Anita and her grandmother Indira are thrown into the world of pet ownership when Theo, a profoundly deaf unwanted box boy, is mistakenly delivered to the animal shelter Anita works at.

Meanwhile, 785, Theo's bonded, is now struggling to survive Eleanor alone.

As long as she's useful, anyway.

When 785 is refurbished and sold, meeting a defiant illegal pet named Cass along the way, she ends up living alongside a Pet who seems to know her far too well. Meanwhile, Theo discovers that the person he cares about most in the world barely remembers his existence, and Anita is in way over her head.

Contains BBU, pet whump, whumpee thinks caretaker is their new whumper, recovery whump, amnesia, lady whump, disabled whumpee (Theo's deaf and Lea has a stutter)

General CWs: BBU, pet whump

Character intros (including picrews):

Anita, Indira, and 065/Theo

785/643/Lea, Adam, Eleanor, and Mittens

Marjorie, Finn, and Michael

Works:

Chronological timeline-wise. Bold is the most recently posted, tiny text is WIPs.

A hole in the family (Ade, Lea's family)

New Year at WRU (Theo, Lea, Michael)

Unboxing (Theo, Lea, Adam, Eleanor)

Corset (Theo, Lea, Adam, Eleanor) (WIP)

A mix-up (Theo, Anita)

The video (art/fake YouTube channel + fic) (Theo, Lea, Anita, Eleanor, Marjorie)

Registration (Theo, Anita)

Shopping (Theo, Anita) (WIP)

Max and Maria (Theo, Anita, Max, Maria)

Arrested (Theo, Anita, Indira, Marjorie) (WIP)

🌸 prompt drabble (Theo, Anita)

Abandoned (Lea, Eleanor)

Transport (Lea, Cass)

Losing (Lea, Cass)

Home for Christmas: Going Home (Lea, Finn)

Home for Christmas: Restaurant (Lea, Finn) (WIP)

Home for Christmas: Christmas Day (Lea, Finn) (WIP)

Home for Christmas: Photoshoot (art) (Lea) (WIP)

In Memoriam (art + fic) (Lea, Finn)

Made for This (Anita, Indira, Theo)

Hairdresser (Lea, Anita, Theo)

🎶 prompt drabble (Theo, Lea)

The vet (Lea, Anita, Theo, Indira)

Diwali cooking (Lea, Anita)

Diwali gift (Lea) (Lea, Anita)

Diwali gift (Theo) (Theo, Indira)

Diwali light show (Theo, Lea, Anita, Indira)

Safety (Lea, Anita, Cass, Aaliyah, Sandy, Calixte, Mathéo, Petre, Isabella, Cass Jr)

Interview (Anita, Theo, Lea)

Extras:

Theo's WRU intake form

Lea's WRU intake form

Height comparisons

Character asks

Anita

Do you enjoy being depended on?

He's taking advantage of you.

What’s the hardest part of caring for Theo?

2. Does your OC have children? If so then how fiercely do they love them? If they have more than one then do they love them all equally? If they do not have children then is this part of their future plans?

Lea (general)

Does Lea have a stutter?

Lea (combination Platonic/Domestic)

😬 What advice would you give to a new pet? Or someone thinking about becoming a pet?

Lea (Romantic)

😬 What advice would you give to a new pet? Or someone thinking about becoming a pet?

🏏 What form of punishment do you respond to the strongest?

🤐 What advice would you give your owner about owning a pet if ever given the chance? (owner is Anita)

🤫 If you could say anything to your owner with a guarantee of zero consequences, what would it be? (owner is Anita)

Theo

❤️‍🩹 Is there anything you wish your owner did more of? (owner is Anita)

Rose - What is Theo's favourite form of self-care?

Violet - Do a voice claim for Theo

Jasmine - If Theo had a tumblr blog, what would his URL be?

🎀 Does he wear a specific accessory with a special meaning behind it? What is his usual fashion sense like? What does he wear when he wants to be comfortable and what does he wear when he's going to a fancy party? Or does he just not care?

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

Cass and Aaliyah have their own series called Finding Safety, available here.

Max and Maria have their own series called Bug and Company, available here.

RP blog for Adam and Eleanor while they own Theo and Lea is @ae-pets.

[saccharine-suffering]

I arise from my slumber bearing original characters.

(Picrew)

I've been on a bit of a vampire kick lately and accidentally made these silly little guys.

Left is Naomi Castillo (she/they), a recently turned vampire who fully embraced the aesthetic, but is having a hard time getting used to the whole drinking blood thing.

Right is Issac Rivera (he/him), a human captured to be used as a bloodbag. He's jumpy and distrustful and just a little bit brainwashed.

Naomi's heart gets the best of them and they buy the poor boy from his captors. Cue classic "whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master" but with the added spice that said caretaker needs human blood to survive.

[cepheusgalaxy]

We all love the "whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master" trope, right? Let's go a little further

Whumpee is whumper's pet. We know this

Whumper also has this friend, Whumper 2

Whumper really wants to impress their friend, or whatever, so they give whumpee to whumper 2

Whumpee is prepared beforehand. Whumper dress them up; They tell them to obey whumper 2. Tell them that they'll be their new master.

While that, Caretaker and Team find this out. Whumpee will be transported from Whumper's to Whumper 2's house

It's the perfect chance for rescuing them.

Ok, now, for the aesthetic, maybe whumpee is in a truck. No windows. No sounds. Whumpee is locked inside during the way, they're only allowed to move or get out once they reach their destiny

The team works fast

They capture the truck and manage to drive it to their base

While that, whumpee is bracing themselves for the terror they know whumper 2 will be.

Imagine the scene when the team unlock whumpee on the truck, and they are obedient, terrifird, they think Caretaker is whumper 2

They do not manage to think they're finally free

[honeycollectswhump]

Whumper's title

[masterlist]

It was the end of a lazy evening. Caretaker stretched as the credits of the last movie rolled. Whumpee was draped across her lap and had apparently fallen asleep somewhere during the movie. She wasn’t sure if he even witnessed the climax. Even asleep Whumpee had a soft smile on his lips; he seemed truly at peace. 

It hadn’t always been like that.

A year ago, serenity like this would have been unthinkable. Maybe he would have crawled into her lap if she ordered him to, but he wouldn’t have allowed himself to relax. He wouldn’t have been able to.

A year ago, he still called himself Pet or Mutt. He would beg for punishment, beg to be allowed necessities like sleep or food. But never for mercy because he’d thought he didn’t deserve it. 

A year ago, Whumpee didn’t even remember they lived together for years prior. 

But he did now, and that was all that mattered. God, how she had missed him and the time they spent together. Caretaker wanted to savor it all, savor every little moment she could spend with him.

With a smile playing on her lips, she brushed a stray piece of hair from his scarred face. She didn’t want to wake Whumpee up but she would have to. No matter how much she wanted it, they couldn’t spend the night like this. In the morning, his already aching back would trouble him even more. He was frankly too big for her couch, his feet already dangling over the side. With one hand she was playing with his soft curls, scratching the nape of his neck, and trying to grab the remote with the other – without success.

It had to be done. Caretaker softly whispered his name, tracing his jawline in an attempt to wake him up. He wouldn't budge.

“Whumpee”, the name came out as a soft chuckle. “Whumpee, you need to wake up.”

Again, nothing. 

This time she held him by his shoulders and started shaking him gently. Two bleary brown eyes stared up at her, blinking a couple of times. A sleepy groan escaped his lips as he struggled to sit upright. Somehow Caretaker doubted that Whumpee was truly awake.

She stood up and held her hand out to him. “Let’s get you to bed, big guy.”

Loosely, he took her hands and let himself be pulled up, almost immediately resting his head on top of hers. 

“Yes, Master”, he breathed into her hair. 

Caretaker could feel her blood running cold. She froze, waiting for any indication of what happened, any sign that Whumpee wasn’t feeling well. 

But he didn’t. He didn’t tense up or start shaking. He didn’t fall on his knees or stare at her in adoration and obedience or wait for her order. In fact, he didn’t seem to even realize what he’d said. Instead, he just nuzzled further into her locks, almost falling asleep on his feet. 

Slowly, she took a step backward, his hands still in hers, waiting to see if he’d follow. Whumpee shuffled along, although at a snail’s pace. Caretaker didn’t know whether to bring up what had happened but one look in his half-lidded eyes told her that any attempt at communication would just pass by him. Chances were he wouldn’t even remember how he got to bed in the morning. 

She took him upstairs where –at the sight of his own bed– he staggered forward and flopped down on his messy sheets. Caretaker followed him inside to tuck him in. While she was securing the blanket under his shoulders, Whumpee loosely grabbed one of her hands in his much bigger one and pressed it to his cheek. 

“G’night…”, he murmured into her hand. 

She couldn’t understand what he said after that and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

This is very much inspired by this post by @whumpadventureprompts (i couldn't find how you want to be tagged when people use your prompts so i hope this is alright)

[hyper-real-hedgehog]

whumper turned whumpee + caretaker turned whumper so good, vengeful caretaker making whumper feel tenfold the pain they caused, but consider the final role switch: whumpee turned caretaker, just, finding the former captor chained up and beaten and whumper is afraid thinking they're there for revenge too, and even believes they deserve it but is still about to beg for mercy ('whumpee thinks caretaker is new whumper' is also my beloved) but when whumpee asks 'what happened to you' it's unmistakably worry, genuine sympathy, and they confront caretaker like 'no one deserves this, i would know'

[starfields08000]

Hi so.. I've finished all the whump stories im reading right now and I'm looking for stories where whumpee thinks caretaker is Thier new master/ whumper

Send me ur favourites pls (they don't have 2 b ur ocs)!

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Unintentional 26

Previous—Masterlist— Next

CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization. Explicit language. Past surgical/medical whump alluded to, hospital setting. OCD, panic attack, Caretaker struggling. Impending raid/threat of Whumpee's (re)capture. As always, beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

Leo’s head ached, exhaustion weighing him down and diluting his expressions so that every time he tried to give Aiden a reassuring smile, the kid just looked more worried. Leo was bone tired. They both were. Delia had only told them one result of the MRI scan: there was no tracker, not even one that had been fried by the machine. So, in that respect, they were in the clear. She’d go over the rest later. Aiden was already shaking without an onslaught of information, tremors radiating through him, his gaze weary and unfocused. 

For the better part of the last hour, Leo had been sitting in one of the unforgiving chairs beside the bed, trying to coax Aiden to relax. Reassuring him everything was alright, asking if he needed anything else, blundering around just shy of making the outright suggestion. Hell, at this point, Leo was ready to admit it was just so that he could rest himself without feeling guilty. Fifteen minutes and he’d feel better. They both would. 

The day before, he’d torn up a whole first floor of scratched laminate and demoed a fireplace. His partner had noticed the push and asked him if everything was alright. He’d said he wasn’t sure, which now felt laughable. And like it had happened a full week ago. 

Leo had finally given in and let his eyes fall closed for a moment when the announcement came over the PA. Code Indigo. All floors. Code Indigo. Aiden clapped his free hand over his ear. 

“Code Indigo?” Leo repeated, fresh adrenaline pulling him to his feet. He tightened his grip on Aiden’s hand. “But you said—”

“It’s rare but it does happen,” Delia said, typing furiously into her phone without looking up. 

Leo wanted to knock it out of her hands. They needed her right now. Aiden's shoulders had crept up to his ears and his grip on Leo’s fingers was shaky. 

“But how did they find out? You don’t think—”

Delia finally put her phone back into her pocket and met his eyes. “They don’t know anything about him. It’s just a random raid.” 

A strangled sound came from Aiden and he pulled his hand out of Leo’s. He would have slipped out of the bed too but Delia was faster. 

“Easy, it’s going to be alright. We’re going to make a plan.” 

Aiden turned to Leo, eyes wide and shining with tears. His bottom lip trembled along with the rest of him. 

This poor kid had trusted him and now, in bringing him here to save his life, Leo might have just done the opposite. What if it would have been better to just let Aiden die on his own terms? Leo would never forgive himself.

He tried to swallow some of the panic and guilt climbing hand over fist up his throat. “Can’t we just make a run for the car?” 

His sister shook her head. “They cover the exits and parking lots before they even make the announcement. That’s the fastest way to get caught.”

Aiden covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. “Nnn-no…no…no…nnno.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Nnn—please—” He caught Leo’s sleeves in his shaking fists. “Please…mmm’I….can’t….mmm…I….can’t….mmm…” He pinched his eyes closed, freeing some tears, and swallowed in a way that made Leo want to ask if his throat was hurting. When he opened his eyes again, they shone with tears. “Please.”

Fuck, as if Leo didn’t feel guilty enough already. “I’m right here. I won’t leave your side, I promise. We’re going to get through this. Delia’s going to help us and—”

Aiden turned to her instead, releasing Leo. Apparently, reassurance was not what he was after.  “Mmm…please…mmm…I…can’t…mmm…can’t…mmm…” He gave up trying to find the word and held up his arm, hooking his index finger under the bandage to show her the rectangular scar on his wrist.

“Yes, I saw.” She lowered his hand for him, smoothing back the edge of the bandage. “Aiden, running away from your previous master means they’ll have your picture on the list of Defectors.” 

Previous master. Meaning he was the current one. Leo’s stomach churned. “Delia, if they have his picture—”

“Nnno,” Aiden interrupted. He raised his arm again. “Nnn-not…mmm’me.”

Delia narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t do this to yourself…when you ran away?” 

He shook his head vehemently, eyes darting to search Leo’s face for a moment. 

“You’re not saying—I didn’t think—” Delia tented her fingers around her eyes, like blinders, as though suddenly everything was too much. She started shaking her head. “You’ve already—they did this to you?” 

Aiden exhaled a sob, nodding. 

Delia swore under her breath. 

“What?” Leo wrung his hands, leaning to try to see Aiden’s face angled away from him. “What does that mean?” 

Delia blinked at him, clearly distracted by whatever revelation had just passed between them. That he was still not privy to. 

“Hello? We’re definitely running out of time.” It was impossible to see what was going on in the hallway with the curtains drawn around this half of the room. In his mind, it was already teeming with police or WRU agents or both. Any minute, they’d burst into the room and take Aiden away. 

“Right. It’s good news…I think.” She kneaded her forehead with her fingertips. “Aiden, I’m hoping this wasn't some sanctioned WRU program…?” 

He shook his head. 

“How many people knew where you were, what was happening to you?” 

He held up one finger. 

“Okay.” She nodded. “And you didn’t escape on your own?” 

Another no. 

Leo leaned his weight from one foot to the other without taking his eyes off the vague location of the door behind the curtains.

“This is good. Sorry but…how much do you remember?” She was keeping her face carefully neutral. 

Aiden didn’t say anything but Leo could see the muscles in his jaw working as he held Delia’s gaze. 

“And from before?”

Tight nod. 

Delia reached for Aiden's hand and he let her take it. “I’m so sorry, Aiden.” 

His face wasn’t quite visible but Leo could tell he was holding his breath.

“We’re going to get you through this and then we can help.” This wasn’t just textbook bedside sympathy, she had that fire behind her eyes and determination in her voice he’d known his whole life. “It’s really good you told me.”

Leo looked down at his hands, pushing the tip of his thumb into the meat of the other palm. There was a speck of dried blood along the cuticle of his right index finger. Maybe from when Aiden had started bleeding through the bandages earlier, maybe from even earlier and he’d just not washed his hands thoroughly enough. He glanced toward the door again, anxiety twisting in his gut. Maybe he had time to—

“Hey, Leo?” 

Aiden dropped his gaze as soon as Leo looked up. Delia was waiting expectantly.

“Sorry.” He lifted his hand to run through his hair but stopped just shy of making contact and let it fall. 

“You remember the plan we talked about before?”

Aiden was watching him from under his eyelashes. 

He tried to inject a little more confidence into his voice. “Right, yes.”

“Great. Just do everything I told you and you’ll be fine.” Delia patted Aiden on the shoulder before backing away.

“Wait, what?” Leo held up his hands like he could call time out on this whole thing. Seconds ticking away until they were found out. “You’re not staying?”

“I thought that was already clear.” 

Leo shook his head. She couldn’t possibly leave.

“I have other—” Her gaze flicked to Aiden and back. “Other patients who need me.” 

“What?” 

Aiden shrank back, almost imperceptibly, because he’d raised his voice. Shit. 

“We don’t have time for this.” 

He clenched his shaking fingers into fists but then unclenched his right fist when he remembered the blood on his finger. “Wait, but what do we do if someone comes in? What are we supposed to say?” Leo couldn’t even look at Aiden. Did not want to see just how much this was definitely making everything even worse for him. He rubbed at the speck of blood with his other fingertip but it wouldn’t come off. 

“Leo.”

He met her gaze, switched to trying to scrape the blood off with his fingernail. “What about you? What happens if they catch you? I thought this was a once-in-a-blue-moon thing—wait, Delia, is this a fucking felony?” 

At some point, she must have stopped backing toward the door because now she held out her hand, reaching for him. “Leo, just take a breath—”

He dodged her. “I just—I need a minute.” Aiden looked confused at best and rejected at worst. Leo turned away and made a beeline for the bathroom. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He blinked and was already scrubbing at his fingers, rubbing the soap into his cuticles and under his nails. He wasn’t even counting, just mindlessly washing. 

No, he really needed to not lose his shit right now. 

He couldn’t get stuck in this loop. 

Not. 

Right. 

Now. 

Leo forced his lungs to fill with air, rinsed the soap off. Toweled his hands dry. 

Just one proper hand washing and then he had to go. 

One, two, three, four pumps of soap. 

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three—

“Leo…”

He hadn’t even heard the door open.

Delia stilled both of his hands with one of hers. “How long?”

“What?” Leo let her rinse each of his hands under the water.

“How long have you not been taking your meds?” She turned off the tap and handed him paper towels. 

He couldn’t meet her gaze, focused on absorbing each errant drop of water. “A couple weeks? I’m fine, I managing it.” 

“I’m sure you were but now it’s caught up with you.” The careful tone his sister used revealed just how overly defensive his had been. She took the soggy paper towels out of his hands and dropped them into the bin. “This is a lot and it will continue to be a lot. You need to take care of yourself if you’re going to help him.” 

Leo flexed his fingers, trying not to inspect them too closely. “Yeah, okay. I know.”

“Come on, I really need to go and you’re going to be fine together. This is going to work.” She led him out and handed him the backpack she’d been forward-thinking enough to pack at his condo. “You know what to do. I’ll let you know when it’s all clear.”

As soon as she left, Leo wondered if he should have said a longer goodbye. Just in case. He had no idea what repercussions she’d face if caught, not that he had any better idea about himself. Aiden was the only one that really mattered and they needed to get going on this plan. 

Aiden was watching him, not quite warily but carefully, as he set the backpack beside him on the bed and started pulling out what they’d need. He ignored the compulsion to keep reflexively checking the door, tried to make his movements efficient but not visibly rushed.

“I’m sorry,” he said at the same time Aiden said, “Sorry.” Aiden huffed and dropped his chin. He was still shaking but had his mouth set in a determined line. Delia must have instilled a little more confidence in him about their plan to hide in plain sight. 

It would work. 

It had to work.  

Leo zipped up the half-empty backpack and dropped it beside the chairs. “Hon, you don’t have anything to apologize for. None of that—my reaction—was your fault.” He ran a hand over his hair, sighing. “When we get home, I can exp—”

“Leo?” 

There was so much care in the way Aiden shaped the air, as though the syllables might crack under too much strain. He kept his timbre soft, hesitant about borrowing sounds he didn’t feel he had any right to but in voicing them finding his own version of ‘Leo’.  

No way he could chalk this utterance up to his own imagination. A part of him still couldn’t believe Aiden had actually said it. He resisted the self-indulgent urge to ask the kid to repeat himself just to hear it again, to underline the significance of the moment. Instead, he cleared the lump in his throat and tried to sound casual. “What is it?”

Aiden didn’t react to the fact that Leo hadn’t managed to hide much of the emotion in his voice. He had pulled the sleeve of Leo’s old hoodie into his lap and was running his thumb over the frayed edge of the sleeve. When he raised his eyes, they were brighter than Leo had ever seen them. “Home?” 

“Yeah, home,” he whispered back, not sure how he was able to even find his voice this time.  

Aiden pulled the hoodie on, settling into it like it was a hug. 

Leo couldn’t believe the old thing was so meaningful but he wasn’t about to argue against anything that made Aiden feel safer. Especially considering the threat they were about to face. He held one of his beanies out, almost dropping it when Aiden bowed his head instead of taking it to let Leo put it on for him. 

He couldn’t quite blink all of the tears out of his eyes in time but Aiden kept his head down anyway, busy gathering the extra length of the sleeves into his fists. 

How could this kid not see how much of a hold he had on Leo already? 

When the door opened just a few minutes later, as they pretended to sleep across the room from each other, Leo was glad Aiden had a piece of home—a piece of him—to hold onto. 

No matter what happened next.

Previous—Masterlist— Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @mazeish @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess @meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump @aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree

[darlingwhump]

The Raid

CW: kidnapped whumpee, conditioned/helpless whumpee, pirate whumper, mermaid whumpee, anxiety, language barriers, whumpee thinks caretaker is new whumper, a teensy bit of dehumanization, character death

Whumpee shivers in fear as yet another blast sounds from above deck, rattling the entire ship and creating a ripple in the wooden tub that had served as her prison for gods know how long. She sinks as far underwater as she can get, taking deep breaths through her gills in a last-ditch attempt to calm down.

BOOM! Her sanctuary is shaken, and through the water Whumpee can make out muffled shouting. They sound angry. Her breathing grows quicker. THUD! A body falls to the ground right above the room where she is being held. In shock, she pops her head above the water as if she could see what was happening, and within seconds, another BLAST sends her underwater again.

She hugs her tail as best as she can with it being chained to the side of the tub. Whatever was happening up there, it wouldn’t end well for Whumpee. The Captain doted on her, claiming that she was their crew's most precious treasure, but she felt a lot more like a punching bag.

She had long since accepted her helplessness. If there was a mutiny, frustration would eventually be taken out on Whumpee. If the crew was being raided or attacked, and the ship sunk, she would not be able to unlock the chain that confines her to this cabin, and would be doomed to starve. Even if she was so well behaved, even when the crew was getting along and living lavishly, a reason would still be found to torment her. To pirates like them, treasure was nothing other than spoils of battle to admire and play with.

She is torn out of her thoughts by the sound of footsteps making their way towards the Captain’s cabin. There are no more blasts, but Whumpee hears unfamiliar voices arguing with Captain Whumper just outside.

“It’s over…” Whumpee has only learned a bit of the common tongue, Alman, since being in captivity, but she hangs onto every word she can, placing her hands on the edge of the tub to get closer to the door, “give...everything you have and we…allow…on a lifeboat…”

Whumper says something too quiet for Whumpee to make out, but it angers whoever is attacking. Blades are suddenly clashing against each other, and water sloshes as Whumpee jumps back. Oh gods, oh gods, Whumpee’s mind is racing and the ship is being raided and Whumper is upset and what if she’s stolen again--Whumper and the crew are going to be so so so mad either way.

She is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t even realize that the commotion has stopped. After a few moments of silence, she hears shuffling around the room, no speaking, not any she can make out anyways. Drawers opening, keys jangling, and more footsteps up on the main deck. Uncertainty hangs in the air, seeping into her days-old water and making it feel acidic against her scales.

Keys are shoved into the door to her tiny cabin off of the Captain’s. Involuntarily, Whumpee whimpers and shuts her eyes. She typically dreads each time the door clicks unlocked, but this time, she really hopes it’s Captain Whumper. She can’t bear to be stolen again.

The door creaks open, and Whumpee holds her breath.

“Shit…” the unfamiliar voice muses, obviously taking in the sight of a mermaid before them. It was going to happen again, and just like last time, she had no way out. “Whumper…lying…quite the collection.” Whumpee tries to keep up with the Alman grammar, but the voice speaks with a dialect and she can’t understand. Would she have to learn another language now?

She slowly opens her eyes to see a humanoid figure with long, curly dark hair. Their hair, along with their face and clothes, are plastered with blood and soot, and in the distance, Captain Whumper has been impaled, laying face down on the carpet he once punished Whumpee for spilling ale on. Everything goes numb. Whumper is dead.

“...little one?” The figure asks, and Whumpee’s heart drops into her stomach. She wasn’t listening.

“U-uh, sorry,” she struggles to find the words in her haze. So many things are happening at once, and she can’t move or think. She averts her eyes to the water,  “did not…hear, sorry.”

The figure crouches down a bit closer, blocking Whumpee’s view of the dead Captain, and Whumpee’s shoulders tense. “It’s alright. I just asked…name?”

“Name…name is Whumpee…” she paused, unsure of how to address her new captor. Would they even capture her? Whumpee notices the glint of another dagger at the person’s hip. Or…would they just kill her like they did with Whumper?

“Alright, Whumpee…is that name Aquan?” The figure questions, and Whumpee nods sheepishly. “I never…Aquan…talk to our Captain later.” Whumpee’s eyes dart to where Captain Whumper is lying dead behind the figure. “Hey…it’s okay.” They pause, looking down at the bruises that litter her skin, the chain around her sprained tail, her swollen gills and bloodshot eyes, and let out a sigh. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

Whumpee’s eyes well up with tears. She has been hurt. So much. She nods again, much faster this time.

“...Well listen, once…clear out…get some help…healing…okay?” Another nod from Whumpee. All she can do is nod now, her mind racing with thoughts of Whumper’s death and being punished for the blood on the carpet and this raider asking her questions and her water being dirty and being hurt for so long and it’s all too much. But healing and help…sounds nice. Even if it means being captured once more.

“Caretaker!” someone yells out, and the figure looks behind them.

Another raider enters the small room, glancing surprisedly at the mermaid before conversing too quickly for Whumpee to understand. The conversation ends with a hearty laugh from Caretaker and they turn to the wooden tub once more. “We…business…but I promise after…help get the chain off…to our ship.” Caretaker takes Whumpee’s frail hand in theirs and squeezes gently. “...be right back.”

Caretaker exits and shuts the door to shield Whumpee’s eyes from the dead Captain, but the clicking of the lock isn’t heard. Still feeling overwhelmed, Whumpee sinks under the water once more, curls into her tail, and lets out a sob.

[quietly-by-myself]

Shadow By My Fireplace - Chapter 17

Masterlist

Another chapter you aren't ready for. I read all the comments and thank you to everyone for all your kind words!

Thank you to @darkthingshappen for being an amazing beta.

CW: conditioned whumpee, past intimate whumper, slavery whump, silent whumpee (who's learning to talk), anxiety, embarrassment, low self-esteem, burns, references to electrocution, past captivity whump, references to past self-harm

===

The next day, an air of an empty sort of uncertainty hung between the two of them. After the previous day’s events, Cyril didn’t know how to approach Shadow. He wanted Shadow to speak more, but he didn’t want to push him too far.

Cyril concluded early in the day that Shadow was unlikely to talk to him without prompting. Prompting him to speak, though, seemed to be the problem. Shadow was still extremely fragile. If he made one wrong move or said one wrong thing, Shadow could go back to not talking at all, even with prompting.

Well, since he’d whispered his apology, Shadow hadn’t said anything else. Cyril didn’t know for sure that Shadow would say anything, did he?

There was only one way to find out. 

Cyril wiped the sweat off of his forehead. Even if the days were getting colder, the Sun was no less hot at noon. Well, at least, not until the clouds set in, but that was a little while away still.

When Cyril realized he should go make lunch, he gathered the courage to say something to Shadow, something that might get him to talk. 

Shadow was sitting over by the fireplace with the cat purring in his lap. He looked relaxed for a brief moment before he saw Cyril in the doorway. It filled Cyril with a certain guilt, seeing Shadow go from relaxed to his normal anxious stoic because he’d entered the room.

What was he planning to say again? Cyril couldn’t remember.

Then, it struck him. “I just realized,” Cyril pretended to chuckle to himself. “We never gave the cat a name.”

Shadow looked up at him and shook his head a little. Cyril hadn’t the slightest clue as to what that was supposed to mean. That they hadn’t? That the cat did have a name?

“Do you have something you’re calling the cat?”

Shadow nodded.

“Can I ask what you’re calling her?”

Shadow pointed to the orange-yellow patches on her coat. Cyril looked at Shadow, a little confused.

“You’re calling her Orange?”

Shadow froze. That wasn’t the answer and Cyril knew that Shadow wouldn’t dare to contradict him.

Cyril walked over to Shadow. “It’s okay to tell me in any way you can.”

Shadow looked away in shame, then pointed towards the fire. The cat let out an unhappy noise when Shadow stopped petting her. Shadow clearly noticed because he was quick to start petting the small cat in his lap again.

“Fire? Flame? Ember?”

Shadow looked almost pained. 

“Can you… tell me with words?”

Shadow hesitated, then found his strength. His voice was no more than a whisper and raspy from disuse. “Whatever pleases you, Master.”

Master. It was Cyril’s turn to freeze. That was something he’d need to work on with Shadow. He worked to cool his temper a bit. 

Nobody should’ve ever required you to say that, Shadow.

“It would make me happy to know what you’re calling her.”

Shadow looked down at the kitten, purposefully dodging Cyril’s gaze. “Amber,” he whispered.

“Amber?” Cyril repeated. “Like the color?”

Shadow nodded. Cyril glowed a bit with pride.

“She’s Amber then. It’s a lovely name, Shadow. You did a good job picking it. I couldn’t have come up with anything better myself. I was just calling her ‘cat.’”

Shadow looked hesitant, like he was caught between two impossible options. What those options could be, Cyril didn’t know.

Cyril didn’t want to lose his chance to have Shadow talk more. He understood that every word was an incomprehensible effort, but he figured that the more Shadow talked, the less scary talking would be.

“Did you pick that name because of her fur or her eyes?”

Cyril didn’t receive a response. Amber was purring a bit, but Shadow seemed to have left for a different world. He didn’t know what to say or do further, so he figured that it would be best to leave Shadow with his thoughts.

With a small sigh, Cyril headed to the kitchen. After all, food fixes everything.

Shadow clearly needed to work at his own pace. It wasn’t easy, overcoming that level of trauma. Cyril understood. He knew what it was like, in some vague way. Pushing Shadow would only make him retreat further into his shell. If Cyril had any hope of helping Shadow recover, he needed Shadow to be able to communicate in some way. Hell, he didn’t even know Shadow’s name.

He allowed himself to feel that frustration, but reminded himself that it wasn’t about him. It was about Shadow. 

At least he’d gotten four words out of him.

—

Sacha couldn’t believe that he’d chosen well. He’d made a choice in naming Amber in the first place. He knew he shouldn’t have. He couldn’t name Amber in secret. It wasn’t his place. He was a slave. He couldn’t have anything of his own. It was selfish to have named Amber without first consulting what Cyril called her.

However, Sacha could tell that Cyril’s praise was sincere. He was happy to hear Sacha talk. He liked the name that Sacha had chosen.

God, Sacha wanted to roll over and die. He was embarrassed to have revealed such a stupid name. He was a stupid slave, so all his names would be stupid.

Sacha looked down at little Amber, purring away quietly in his lap. His anxiety melted away. Would Cyril really use the name he picked for her?

In truth, it hadn’t been because of her fur or her eyes. As Sacha pet her gently, he allowed memories of the great before to flood him.

As a child, he loved digging in the dirt, didn’t he? Yes, his mother had always warned him to be careful of stray fish hooks down by the bay where he loved to dig the most. Besides digging, he also loved the driftwood that washed ashore. 

He would never forget the day he found that beautiful orange rock while digging. Sacha had taken it home and shown it to his mother.

“Amber!” she’d proclaimed with a big smile. “You found amber, Sacha.”

She helped him polish the stone into a shiny, only slightly opaque gem. Oh, how he showed it to everyone proudly, even if the other boys made fun of him.

When he was gifted his first sailboat - a smaller boat handmade by his father - Sacha named it after his childhood love: Amber.

In one way, he was entirely uncreative. He named everything dear to him Amber. In another, he was dedicated to his love of the gemstone and the happy memories it brought him. Not even Master had been able to taint his love of the gem - partially because he never knew. 

What would Cyril think, if he knew the truth? Would he make fun of him like the boys from his village for loving a gemstone so much? Would he praise him?

Another anxious thought struck him. Maybe he’d upset Cyril by not speaking more. A silent funk had overcome Cyril. Maybe he was angry at Sacha for not answering his questions. 

Even though he was scared of Cyril being angry, Sacha realized that he wasn’t really scared of being hurt. Rather, he was scared of letting Cyril down. That disappointed, partially angry look Cyril had when Sacha burnt his hand the day before stuck with him. He never wanted to see that type of pain on Cyril’s face again.

After all, Cyril had never punished him or made him work. Cyril had never hurt him. Cyril was kind and made him food every day. He made sure that Sacha had a bed. He even moved it when he wanted to be closer to the fireplace.

He owed Cyril. Sacha owed him a deep debt he was afraid he would never pay off. Cyril didn’t want it in blood or flesh. So, how did Cyril want his repayment? Why did Sacha trust Cyril not to hurt him? Master had been kind, too, in the beginning. He later explained that it was more fun to gain the trust of his slaves before he broke them completely. What told him that Cyril wasn’t going to do that, too? What indicated that he could trust Cyril?

Sacha didn’t know.

Sacha wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

If he knew, he might be vulnerable enough to trust another person, beyond Cyril. That thought was unimaginable. Sacha would never trust anyone again, he’d promised himself. So, why did he trust Cyril? Why trust his current Master?

Sacha hated himself and reminded himself that he needed to work in order not to be hurt. If Cyril really was mad at him for not speaking more, he needed to speak more, even if that seemed impossible.

Cyril was nearly done cleaning up the kitchen from their lunch of leftover tomato soup, something Sacha could do easily with the burn on his hand. He’d gone through much worse. He could be useful and help Cyril and not be abandoned like a bad slave like him should have been.

Yet, Cyril had told him gently once he’d gotten up from the table to go sit by the fireplace. Of course, he obeyed, even if it meant being useless.

The only way he knew how to be useful to Cyril was to talk, but what would he say?

It took everything in Sacha to muster up the courage to speak. He needed to say something. He needed to make Cyril happy. He needed to stay with the only person left he could trust.

With a raspy voice from years of disuse and electrocution, Sacha found the courage to say only a whisper to Cyril.

He walked over to the kitchen where Cyril was beginning to pick up his gardening tools in preparation for going back outside. Cyril was looking at him, with Amber curled up in his arms. Sacha couldn’t meet his gaze, so, instead, he looked down at the cat.

“My name is Sacha.”

===

Tags: @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @pigeonwhumps, @darkthingshappen, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @darlingwhump, @maracujatangerine, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @flowersarefreetherapy, @33sdt45, @octopus-reactivated, @quietshae, @whump-blog

[justbreakonme]

Whumpee liked many things about Caretaker.

They had a soft, kind voice, with soft kind hands, and even softer, kinder eyes.

They laughed a lot, and made him laugh too, and didn’t seem to notice when he laughed too long or too loudly or too gracelessly.

They gave him food, nice things, and clothes that fit, and a bed (a real bed, just for them!), but… There was one thing in particular that Whumpee liked the most.

See, Whumpee had never needed to be broken. They’d never dare intentionally step out of line, not even in their wildest dreams or most terrifying nightmares. But, they were flawed. Deeply. And made many mistakes.

But, where Whumper had attributed those mistakes to malice, Caretaker merely corrected him, forgave him, helped him.

He remembered fondly (oh how strange to remember anything fondly) the day Caretaker first brought him home. He had tripped over the edge of the welcome mat, and fell hard, knocking the coat rack down with him.

He had been braced for blows, or at best the yelling and screaming that always reduced him to tears, but, instead, Caretaker had crouched down and asked if he was okay. He had stared, blankly (stupidly), at them, covered in coats and scarves, until Caretaker had moved to help him. He’d flinched, and Caretaker still hadn’t struck him. Instead, they offered a hand, and helped him up.

Caretaker smiled, awkward and toothy and more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen, and apologized, (apologized, to him, of all things!) making a little joke about how welcome mat wasn’t very welcoming.

Whumpee had stared for a moment more, still braced for this all to be a trick. Then, it was like something inside him broke, like a rubber band snapping, and he laughed. He’d laughed, hysterical and ugly, till tears came to his eyes, and then couldn’t stop them.

He’d begged through tears that he was sorry, that he was trying to be good (an old habit that had still never died, despite having every reason to), but Caretaker still didn’t raise a hand against him.

He didn’t remember all the details, after that, only that Caretaker had brought him into the kitchen, and given him a mug of something warm and sweet, and sat down across from him. And had let him cry, only interrupting to assure him that he was not in trouble and to hand him a tissue.

Yes, Whumpee liked many things about Caretaker. Their heart most of all.

[pigeonwhumps]

First day part 1

Sam and Lucan masterlist

Taglist: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @onlybadendings @whumpofdory @haro-whumps

Lucan's first day living with Sam.

Divided into two parts because I feel like I've been starving y'all of Sam and Lucan content and I wanted to give you some. Lucan's been brutalised in the auction house enough for the time being.

2.8k

CWs: past rape, past slavery, pet whump, non-human whumpee (faerie), conditioning, past food and drink denial, past electric shocks

“I think he was raped.”

“Who was?” asks Amanda sharply.

“Lucan.”

“Sam, I cannot express to you how little that name means to me right now.”

Ah. “I... haven’t told you yet, have I?”

“About Lucan? No.”

“He's a faerie. Until last night, Caroline Jones' pet-class slave.”

Amanda sighs. “Is this why the news is talking about her house burning down? Sam, what did you do?”

“You know I had that interview with her yesterday? Well, she brought Lucan with her, and it was awful. She wouldn't even let him have a drink because he didn't 'deserve it'. She was boasting about not giving him solid food. He was so scared, Amanda, I couldn't just leave him there!” They swallow hard. “And when Luke brought him here... we had to cut his hair, because part of it was burnt, and he started crying when I said I wouldn't do so without his permission. That he could cut it himself if he preferred. You know how much hair means to faeries. Between that and the name Caroline gave him... how much has he been violated over the years that treating him with basic respect makes him cry?”

“I don't disagree with you taking him in, Sam, I never would. I'd be a hypocrite if I did.”

“True.”

“So. You said he was raped?” she asks through a mouthful of something.

“Oh shit, I forgot you were working today. I'm so sorry.”

“You're lucky. You caught me on my break. Tell me why you think Lucan was raped.”

“He offered himself up to me. I went in this morning to see if he wanted breakfast, and he just... offered himself. To be raped. And I don't, I mean, Caroline doesn't seem the type but...”

There’s silence from the other end of the line for nearly a full minute before Amanda says, “do you remember those giveaways she held? There was an advert for one in the paper once.”

They do remember now. It was a line of print in an article about Caroline, urging people to visit her Instagram page for a chance to win. Top prize: the use of her pet for the weekend. “You used it for kindling.”

“Well, I don’t have a litter tray to put it in.”

“Or a cat.”

“Or a cat,” she agrees.

“So you think that Lucan’s been raped by one of those winners?”

“One or more, I'd say. You know what the people who try to win those things are like. And as long as it's not permanent, visible damage I can't see her caring.”

They swallow. They don't even want to think about it, but they have to. “Will you do me a favour and examine him? Not just because of the rape, I mean he has scars and injuries everywhere, and I want to make sure nothing's too serious.”

“If anything was infected you'd probably know by now, but I'll come over later. Has he eaten yet?”

“No. I was going to make him eggs as soon as I'd woken him, but then... well, this happened.”

“Okay. Feed him and try and make him comfortable. The less scared he is when I do the tests the better.”

“He'll still be terrified, but I'll do my best. I was going to do that anyway, I don't want him scared of me.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you happen to have any tips? For taking care of him, I mean, I know you've treated slaves and ex-slaves before, and you know Kara, so I was just wondering...”

"Yeah, actually. Give him some rules. They don't have to be anything big, but he needs some kind of structure. And try not to feel rejected if he stays scared, or doesn't believe you won't hurt him. Judging by what I know happened to Kara, he has good reason to feel that way.”

“Cheers. Well, I'd better let you get back to what you were doing.”

“I'll see you soon then.” She hangs up and they clutch the mobile like a lifeline as they head towards their room. Hopefully Lucan's dressed this time.

_

Lucan dresses himself carefully, pulling on the sweatshirt and too-short tracksuit bottoms. He wraps the scarf back around his neck and he immediately feels better. Warmer. The warm, soft weight around his neck is comforting. Then he kneels on the floor, waiting for Master to return.

He doesn't understand. If Master didn't want to use him like that, why did they give him a bed? The small relief he feels at not having to do that is overriden by his fear. Master told him to rest some more and get dressed. What's Master got in store for him that's bad enough that he has to rest first? Old Mistress never let him rest on a bed. Master's punishments must be more severe than hers, then.

Punishment for what? What's he done wrong? He hasn't done anything that Master hasn't ordered him to since he arrived.

Luke, maybe?

It doesn't matter what your opinion is, 12735, says a handler in his head, if your owner says you need to be punished you need it and that's the end of the matter. So get down there, take the punishment, and be damned grateful she's bothering to teach you.

Lucan swallows. He knows he needs to be punished, he always does, he just... doesn't understand anything here.

The door creaks open and he tenses, eyes on Master's fluffy socks as they approach.

“Hi Lucan. Um, you can look at me if you like.” Lucan glances up briefly. Master doesn't look too angry, but their arms are still lean and muscly and if they choose they can hurt him badly. It doesn't matter if they're not angry now, that can change. Lucan looks away quickly. “Oh, well, you don't have to. But you're dressed, that's good. I've made us both breakfast, if you want some. Come with me.”

Lucan crawls along behind Master until they reach the kitchen.

“Great. Great. Why don't you stay there while I sort out breakfast?”

Lucan stops by the door and waits, patiently, waiting for the trick and the pain, watching as Master bustles around the small kitchen, fetching bits and pieces. He wonders what they're going to do. Surely it can't be actual, good, solid food, he's done nothing to earn that. What's Master doing to give him?

_

Sam glances at Lucan intermittently as they prepare the food, doubling back to fetch cutlery. The faerie looks worried. Sam still has no idea what's going through his head, but at least they can provide him with a warm breakfast.

“Do you like eggs? I forgot to ask earlier.” Lucan nods and Sam smiles. “Excellent.” They busy themself with the toaster, then pour out a glass of milk, setting it on the floor beside the faerie. “You can drink that, if you want. I'm sorry, I didn't offer you anything last night, so you must be thirsty. I didn't mean to, it's just... last night was a lot. Anyway. Drink, if you like. There's nothing in it to hurt you.”

After a nervous glance up at them, Lucan takes the glass in both hands and sips at it, then seems to change his mind and downs the milk. He looks surprised.

“You really are thirsty, huh? Would you like some more?” Lucan nods and bows as Sam hands him another glass. He drinks that one in one gulp too. Sam smiles slightly and turns back to the eggs, placing one carefully in a garish novelty eggcup, talking to Lucan as they do so. They can't stop themself rambling.

“I wasn't sure how you eat them so I've cooked both eggs differently, there's a hardboiled one and a dippy egg with soldiers. I've cut the top off that one already because the only cutlery I have that won't hurt you is a plastic ice cream sundae spoon, no idea where from. Fine for the inside of the egg but it wouldn't cut through the shell. Oh, speaking of shells, I've left the one on the hardboiled egg, you can eat it with or without the shell. Um... I want you to eat it whichever way you prefer. It would... make me happy, if you did that.” Sam hopes they've phrased that enough like an order that Lucan will do it. It makes them uneasy but Lucan needs to eat. Once Lucan's breakfast is plated they pour a bowl of Coco Pops for themself, then carry both over to the table. “Will you sit up here and eat?” Lucan darts a glance up at Sam, then lowers it again and shakes his head. Sam carefully doesn't sigh. “Right. I'll just have to sit on the floor with you then.”

They sit down against the wall, balancing the bowl on their legs and placing Lucan's plate and the carton of milk in front of him. The faerie flinches.

Sam reaches up a hand, careful to keep it within Lucan's line of sight, and scratches his scalp. The faerie melts into it.

“You're good, Lucan. Wherever you choose to sit, you're good. I like sitting on the floor anyway, it's always good to have some floor time.” He nods towards the plate of eggs. “Go on. Eat. And feel free to pour yourself another drink if you want one, or just drink the milk from the carton.”

Lucan takes a tentative bite of the hard-boiled egg, shell and all, his face brightening as he seems to realise it's not going to hurt him. He eats it quickly, hunched over it slightly. Once Sam realises that he's definitely going to eat all his food, they start on their own. The coco pops are a bit soggy now, but still tasty.

Once they've both eaten, Sam stands, taking the faerie's empty plate and leaving it on the table with their own. Then they sit down opposite Lucan, who glances up at them tentatively before letting his gaze fall again.

“So. I think we should lay down some basic rules. Is that okay?” Lucan nods. “Okay. Good. So, firstly, you need to know that I will never rape you, or do anything to you sexually. I will never, ever hurt you like that, or let anyone else do so, and if anyone tries you're to tell me, Lucan, as soon as you can. Because raping you isn't acceptable. Understand?” He nods again. “Good. Good. That's the most important one. Okay, so the next rule is that I want you to eat at least twice a day. Three times would be ideal, but given how much it looks like you've been eating I'm not sure your body would be able to manage that. When was the last time you even ate solid food?” They pull out their phone and open the notes app, sliding it across the floor to Lucan. “Here. Write it down.”

Lucan takes the phone, thinking, and writes, New Year's Eve, Master.

Sam swallows. Christ. That was months ago, it's autumn now.

“Yeah. You definitely won't manage solid food three times a day. But I'm not buying you those shakes, they're disgusting and I very much doubt they're filling. We'll just have to build up to it. And you can just call me Sam.” Lucan bends his head, hands braced on the tiles. “Hey. I'm not going to punish you for not calling me Sam. You didn't know, and I imagine it's a big change. I bet you haven't called anyone by their name for years, have you?” Lucan shakes his head. “Thought so. I'm not cross, Lucan, I promise. Why don't you sit back up properly so we can finish going over the rules?”

Lucan obeys, sitting back on his heels, trembling slightly. Sam scratches his head.

“Good. That's good. You're okay Lucan, I won't hurt you.” When Lucan looks a little better, Sam withdraws their hand and sits back. “The next rule is that I want you to remind me to eat. I'm not very good at it. Come and fetch me when you're eating, no matter what I'm doing or what time it is. That rule doesn't apply if I'm not here, obviously. There's plenty of food in the cupboards and the fridge, you can eat anything you like. You can cook, too, if you like. Can you cook?” Lucan nods. “Great. I'm a terrible cook. That doesn't mean you have to, but if you want a cooked meal feel free to make one. Oh! You can fetch a drink whenever you like. There's milk in the fridge and squash in the bottom cupboard, and obviously water in the tap. Please drink whenever you like, I don't want you getting dehydrated. That starts from now, by the way. Umm...” Sam pauses. They didn't think this through ahead of time. They should have. What other rules can they give Lucan? “Okay. I want you to try standing or walking for at least ten minutes each day. I noticed last night that your muscles aren't used to standing, which is fine, so we'll build up the time from there until you can walk properly instead of crawling everywhere. But for now, I want you to do something on your feet for at least ten minutes a day. If you can't manage it in one block, don't worry, you can spread it out. Okay?” The faerie nods, looking slightly confused. Well, there's nothing Sam can do about that. “Good. The last rule then is that you can sleep and use the bathroom whenever you like. You don't need to ask my permission. I'm guessing that you probably have before, but you don't need to here. I often get distracted or have to go to work stuff and don't end up finishing until late, and I don't want you staying awake because you feel you have to wait for my permission.” Lucan nods, and Sam rubs his head, feeling awkward all of a sudden. “That's everything, I think. Sorry, I tend to ramble a lot when I'm nervous, or when I'm not actually too, but... did you get all that?”

_

Lucan nods firmly. Yes, he got it. He heard the rules, he knows what he has to do. He didn't hear what the punishments will be, though, but that's okay. Maybe Master... Master Sam likes to keep him on tenterhooks. Maybe they think Lucan will behave better if he doesn't know the punishment. That's okay, that's their right.

He knows what he has to do, but he doesn't understand. And he knows he doesn't need to but... these rules are so simple. There's so few of them. And they don't seem unpleasant at all. What's the point of them? What does Master Sam even want with him? They apparently don't want him for sex, and they haven't given him much to do... surely reminding them to eat and cooking sometimes can't be all they want him for? Why go to all the trouble of stealing him for that?

And why is Master Sam apologising? Everything Lucan's owner does is right, he knows that, they don't need to apologise.

Still. None of that matters. Master Sam will tell Lucan what he needs to know, when he needs to know it, and that's all that matters, 12735, you piece of faerie scum, stop trying to think like a person. So he nods, phantoms of electric shocks skittering over his skin.

“Good. Good.”

They look uncertain now and Lucan decides to test the rules. Master Sam didn't punish him for calling them by the wrong name earlier, they sat down with him and were... strange, and although he doesn't understand why they like to sit on the floor they haven't lied to him yet. So, feeling his thirst even more than he did before the first drink, heart pounding, he unscrews the carton of milk and carefully pours some out. With a quick glance at Master Sam, who nods encouragingly, he drinks it, determined to savour it this time. He doesn't know how long Master Sam will let him drink regularly for – maybe until he looks to their liking.

As soon as he puts the glass down, Master Sam reaches out, and Lucan flinches, expecting something painful from their muscular arms that could hurt a lot but haven't yet – they must be adding up their disobediences and hesitations so they can punish him for all of them efficiently, and maybe that time is now – but it doesn't hurt. All Master Sam does is scratch his scalp, and he melts.

“You did good, Lucan. You're okay. You're doing good, you're good. You always are.”

But is that last part praise or a threat? Lucan can't tell, and even though he can't help but lean into Master Sam's touch, it scares him. He'll have to do his best not to disobey so that threat doesn't become a promise.

Even though it inevitably will.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Chapter Pt. 1: Things in Jane’s Basement

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

Next

1. Chains. There are piles of them in the corners and they hang from various hooks on the ceiling and walls. You start to realize something is very, very wrong.

2. Blood. What else could it be? It stains everything. There’s even some splattered on the ceiling. Oh god. Oh god.

3. Knives. Lots and lots of knives, of every possible variety. Why the fuck are there so many knives? What could she possibly need so many knives for?

4. Tools. Normally that wouldn’t be very suspicious, but seeing pliers and hammers and drills laid out next to chains and knives, it feels wrong. Things are starting to fall into place. Odd things about Jane that you decided to ignore suddenly make sickening sense. You should be running, but you’re frozen, unable to look away. This can’t be real.

5. A car battery. That’s what that is, right? You haven’t seen one outside of a car before. It has wires hooked up to it, arranged neatly beside the other weapons. She used these on people. She used these on Kit and Dollie. Oh god, Oh fuck-

6. Syringes. So many syringes, some with stuff in them and some empty. There are bottles too, some with poison warnings on them. Kit was never delusional. Jane was torturing them and they warned you over and over again and instead you listened when Jane said they were still trying to find a medication that would curb the paranoia.

7. Muzzles and collars and leashes. What did she do to them? What the fuck?

8. Whips and ropes. Some are stained with blood. You need to leave, you need to leave right now. But can you leave the others behind?

You feel a presence behind you. Shit.

9. Jane. “I told you not to go into the basement, Bunny.” She giggles and tugs on your arm so you face her. “Aww, you’re shaking. Are you ready to see what happens to disobedient pets?”

10. Zip ties. She ties your legs together, tight tight tight, and chains your wrists to the wall. “There’s a good Bunny, already know better than to fight me. If you’d tried to run, I would’ve sliced your Achilles tendons! I’ll go easy on you, since you’re being so good.” You're frozen in fear, so terrified you can barely comprehend what she’s saying.

11. A box of nails. It goes with the hammer. She presses a nail against your left elbow, smiling. You can’t move no matter how hard you try. Why are you freezing up like this???

She brings down the hammer and drives the nail into your elbow, and you can move again. You writhe and scream and thrash and all you can feel is pain pain pain, you can’t even label it as sharp or cold or aching, it’s just pain running all through your arm and it won’t stop, it won’t stop it won’t stop! You hear giggling.

12. A hose. She waits for you to stop screaming before getting up to pull it out. You’ve traded the screaming out for begging, thinking back to what she said earlier. “Please, please, I’ll be good, I won’t disobey, please stop, I’ll be a good bunny, a good pet, whatever you want, please don’t hurt me, I won’t fight you, I’ll be good, I learned my lesson-“ you are cut off by a powerful blast of cold water that slams you against the wall. Water fills your lungs and it keeps coming, keeps coming, and your throat burns and you’re feeling lightheaded (heavy-headed? You feel light and heavy and the same time) when the water stops.

You cough up water and it hurts so bad in your chest and your throat and your nose and your arm, fuck, everything hurts please make it stop please please please-

You are blasted with water again.

13. Kit and Dollie. You don’t know when they got here. They sit and watch from a distance as Jane falls into a rhythm, blasting you with water and letting you breathe for only a couple seconds before doing it again. You thought everything hurt before, but now the cold is doing its job, and your ears and fingers and toes hurt as well. It’s never going to end. Kit and Dollie just watch. You hate them.

14. A first aid kit. Jane asks if you’ll go against her orders again and you say no, no, never, you’ll be so so good, and she smiles and tells you that she meant it when she said she was going easy on you, that if this ever happens again it won’t be just one nail in your arm and you nod and nod and apologize until she tells the others to come fix you up. She unlocks your chains and vanishes.

Dollie quickly grabs the first aid kit. She pulls the nail out without warning and you scream and try to scramble away, but your legs are still tied. She holds onto your arm and dries it with her shirt, then cleans the wound with some kind of cloth from the kit. You can’t stop crying. She bandages your elbow and you cry and cry and cry.

Kit brings several towels, a blanket, a shirt, pants, underwear, and a knife. You instantly recoil, and you can’t even beg because you don’t know what the hell they want.

15. A drain. You just noticed it. You watch the water that was drowning you just minutes ago make lazy circles around it. You feel a bit dizzy.

Kit speaks softly. “I’m going to cut off these zip ties, okay? I don’t think you’re stupid enough to try to run after that, so we’ll get these zip ties off and then we’ll get you in some dry clothes and warm you up.”

They approach slowly, and you let them. You watch the last of the water circle the drain as feeling returns painfully to your legs. You keep thinking it can’t hurt any worse and you keep being proven wrong.

16. Your pride. Kit strips you of your clothes and you don’t fight or resist. They hand you a towel, and you start to dry the water soaked deep into your skin. Every small movement hurts, and eventually Kit takes the towel back and starts drying you themself. You must’ve been going too slow. Whenever the towel gets too wet (by their standards, at least), they trade it out for a dry one. Once you’re over the humiliation, it’s kind of nice.

After you’re mostly dry, they help you into the dry clothes and wrap you in the blanket. You lie against them, too tired and too scared to resist or question. They comb their fingers through your damp hair and tell you things, answering questions you hadn’t thought of yet. “Dollie is quiet because she gets punished for speaking without permission. She lied when she said me and Dollie got our scars before coming here. If you try to run away, she will find you.” The blanket slips a bit, and they gently pull it back into place.

“She thought it was so funny, to have you trust her and make us watch. We had to wait in suspense, not knowing when she’d get bored and make you one of us, one of her pets... I’m so sorry.” You think Kit is crying. You close your eyes. Maybe you’ll wake up and this will all be a dream. Dollie hums a pretty song, and you feel numb in a nice comfortable way.

This is not the last time you’ll be in the basement. Not even close.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

[oddsconvert]

Find the word tag game

I was tagged by @whumpsday ! They gave me four words to find (Please, Thank, Hardly, Softly)

Please - From a future unnamed chapter of Shattered

“What do you want from me?!" Declan wails in exhaustion, collapsing to the floor in a sobbing heap, still held tightly in August's arms. August drops to the floor with him, cradling him close.

This wasn't fair. Promising him freedom and safety, but dragging him kicking and screaming away from the door and locking him away from the world. A glorified prisoner.

"You won’t feed from me. Y-You won’t let me do chores, you don’t even force me or persuade me to do anything. Do… do you just feed off my misery instead of my blood, you monster?! Is that what fuels you?!”

“I don’t want any of that!” August exclaims in horror, slightly pulling away from the boy. Hurt. Letting him slip free of his hold.

“Then why did you buy me?!”

“Because I’m trying to help you!”

“This isn’t fair! You can’t hold me hostage for your saviour complex! Tell me I’m a prisoner… that you won’t ever let me go and - and I’ll stop fighting it. I’ll submit to you and accept my fate. But please don’t give me false hope, th - that’s cruel…”

tagging (no pressure): @darkthingshappen @whumpcereal @sparrowsage @turnthetablesonthem @ha-ha-one @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @justsomewhumpee

the words to search for in your WIPs are: Help, Ignore, Calm, Panic

[kira-the-whump-enthusiast]

Whumpmas In July Day 22

Share a link to your all-time favorite whump work

Ohhhh it’s so hard to choose. There are so many series that I love, but if I had to choose one, it’s gotta be the series that got me into whump in the first place. Hazeshift by @whumpwillow! It’s just perfect and I adore it. Top tier villain whump, I’ve reread it a bunch of times. 

Close second is Riot Kings by @befuddled-calico-whump! It’s so good, again, top tier villain whump. I’d say more, but I can’t really gather my thoughts right now, but this is a very good comic and everyone should check it out.  

And for works outside of whumpblr, Murderous Lewellyn’s Candlelit Dinner is def my favorite. It’s like a romance manhwa but also there is some very good whump that takes up a lot of the story. Really good plot too. 

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master. Good trope, right? But check this out;

Caretaker doesn't notice.

Because the morning after the day they were rescued, all Whumpee did was get Caretaker a cup of coffee. It was only after then that Whumpee realized new master new rules, and Caretaker might not like coffee at all. So after an hour or so of a panic attack, Whumpee decides to stay put and not do anything.

But Caretaker didn't say anything about that coffee, so Whumpee should probably keep doing that?

And so, every morning, Caretaker gets a cup of coffee, says thank you, that's a nice gesture, and gets done with the day, while Whumpee tries to stay as quiet and unnoticed as possible. Not angering Caretaker is their top priority. Caretaker notices Whumpee is really, really quiet, but hey, they might just like it quiet. They do seem a little scared, but they've been putting off well, so Caretaker is positive that they'll get better with time.

Then Caretaker hears Whumper liked a cup of coffee every morning.

That's.. a strange coincidence.

I hope that's a coincidence.

And they finally try to talk to Whumpee about it, and Whumpee breaks into tears and Caretaker realizes what a mess this is,