wingedwhump

[wingedwhump]

(tw: death penalty, autopsy, broken bones)

A royal Whumpee.

In their country there's this rule: if the royalty opposes to something, they get up from their throne and no matter what the ordinace was being voted on, it would be rejected.

The revolutionists executed Whumpee for cruelty, because the royalty never said no their corrupted advisers.

Only years later someone learns from illegal autopsy that the royalty frequently had their legs broken.

_______________________

[wingedwhump]

Broken Voice (mimzomworld story)

part two of the sickfic arc!

contains: young (nonhuman) whumpee, eating issues, language barriers, talking buttons

•••

In the morning, Violet finds the pup in another room, curled up around Remedy.

Xe coughs in xyr face, making xem wake up with a grumbly sound.

Spotting her, xe growls softly, scooping the sleeping pup into xyr arms. Makes a gesture she recognises.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll bring the food here.”

So, she does. She comes back, setting the tray of food on the desk by the window. One of the plates is hers, but the other two are little meat cubes and soup.

The pup lets out a painful-sounding croak, staring at the food. Tries again and again and again, to make the sound xe wants, until Remedy says something to xem.

She offers xem the food, and xe tries to speak again. Claws at xyr throat until she tells xem to stop and xyr ears pin back, large black eyes squeezing shut. Listens to choppy, strangled breaths as xe tries to calm xemself.

Violet leaves the room. She isn’t helping.

She’s human, and she isn’t helping.

If she remembers right, they have something that might work. Bought before they realized most sanctuary mimics enjoy messing with them, lying unused in storage….

Buttons. Talking buttons.

Technically redundant, since mimics can copy human speech perfectly, but someone thought they’d make a good starting point for interspecies communication.

On her way back, she records the word “food” on one of the buttons. She brings several, in case the pup takes an interest in them.

Pup can’t speak.

Pup can’t speak.

Rumbly keeps trying to give it the food, but it can’t speak, which means it can’t get food. Especially since Holder knows about the food, so it can’t hide it. It could hide mice and rats, could eat them secretly, but the food on the plate? Holder knows about the food on the plate.

There are no rats here. It can’t get rats.

It can’t eat.

“Hey, no,” Rumbly murmurs, taking its hands. “You have too many scratches, Pup.”

“Please,” it croaks. It doesn’t know how to say ‘speak’. Doesn’t know how to say ‘echo’. Doesn’t know how to say ‘for me’. If it can’t speak, maybe Rumbly can speak for it? Maybe Rumbly can earn food for it?

Holder comes back and it jumps, letting out a painful, croaky squawk.

It can’t eat.

Its hands shake. It’s tired. It wants to sleep. It wants to sleep and find rats and it wants Holder to go away so it doesn’t have to worry about hiding anything.

It wants to be held. It wants to earn food. Neither of those can happen when it’s like this.

Holder squeezes its shoulder. Taps at a red not-metal thing. Plastic thing. Presses it.

The red thing makes a sound.

The red thing talks. Holder puts a meat cube on the stabby thing, and it presses talking-red thing.

Food. Pup gets food. Talking-red means food.

“Clever,” Rumbly says, “using a button to help you.”

It’s all… soft inside. Like it ate a blanket and is a blanket and covered in blankets all at the same time. Leaning on Rumbly, it scoops talking-red (red button? food-button?) into its hands. Holds it carefully, like it might crumble away in its hands.

Purple button doesn’t talk until Holder says something for it to echo. Presses it, then points to themself. Holder-button.

«Holder. Food.»

They tilt their head. Pick up a leaf from the other plate, and eat it. Leaves aren’t food.

“Why?” it asks, trying not to whimper at the scraping feeling inside its neck. Is it bleeding? Is its voice scraped up and bleeding?

But there’s no stone floor to scrape its voice along. It hasn’t scraped its voice.

“Humans eat plants,” Rumbly says. “Not as medicine, just to eat.”

It stares at thon. Tips its head. Tries to communicate its confusion without hurting its voice worse. Holder wants it to use the buttons. It has to use the buttons for its voice to get better.

It clings to the food-button. Runs a thumb over it. It needs to stay quiet so if Holder takes the button away, it’ll get its voice back faster.

“They eat normal food too, but they’re prey, so plants are food for them. That’s why their teeth aren’t as sharp as ours.”

It points at the plate with the plants on it. «Holder.» Holder bobs their head, says a word it doesn’t understand, but it sounds nice, so it’s probably a good word.

It points at the plate it was fed from. Holder points at it. Points between it and the plate.

After a while, Holder says the word on the food-button and gives it food. It doesn’t have to press the button. Or maybe it was a reminder to press the button again?

It presses the button until all the food is gone. Until all the food is gone, and the human food is gone too.

Its voice is broken, but it isn’t forced to use it.

Its voice is broken, but it can still earn food.

When it curls up in bed at midday, it curls up around the button, with Rumbly watching over it. Pain would want it awake, but Rumbly sleeps in the day, and Pain is gone, so it should be okay.

It curls up, letting Rumbly touch its hair.

Pup falls asleep, feeling like it’s made of blankets.

•••

Character Masterpost

[wingedwhump]

vampire whumper who ties human whumpee in barbed wire so that fresh blood is never wanting.

And if whumpee doesn't move, whumper caresses their skin, whispering sweet nothings in their ear. How perfect their body is, how easily the wire moulds to every shivering curve.

Whumpee resists for as long as they can, but whumper finds their weakness. Unable to escape, whumpee shudders, squirms, keens against the sharp metal wound around their flesh.

[wingedwhump]

"i should have come back for you," caretaker cries.

"they killed me" immortal whumpee chokes out, "in front of you, you didn't know."

caretaker sobs and wraps their arms around whumpee, "I should've known"

[wingedwhump]

Whumpers saying "I'm sorry"

In a soft coo as a knife is dragged along whumpee’s skin, “I’m sorry, darling. I don’t want to hurt you, you know that but we can’t have you trying to escape, can we?”  

With mockery dripping from whumper’s tongue. “Aw, did that hurt? I’m sorry.” 

Staring into the eyes of whumpee after they successfully escape,  head slightly cocked. “I’m sorry but you were so very easy to hurt, how could I have ever passed that up?” 

“Oh I’m sorry.” Whumper tears out the knife from caregiver’s throat, blood painting over everything like the slow draw of shadows at dusk. “Was that your friend?” 

A hand clasping onto whumpee’s shoulder after they’ve been free for weeks, many months, hot breath tickling the side of their face “I’m sorry, I’m the last person you want to see, huh?” 

Whumpee blubbering apologies at whumper’s feet. Whumper kneels down, taking whumpee’s quivering face in their hands, ever so gently, cupping their cheeks. A smile that could have warmed even the coldest of hearts slid over their lips. “No, no. I’m sorry for thinking I could give you an inch of freedom. I should have known you couldn’t handle it.” 

“Oops, sorry. I meant to carve that into your right side. Guess we’ll have to just do it again, my mistake.” 

“I’m sorry? Do you think that’s good enough? A simple ‘I’m sorry’ after how bad you’ve been? How about you try again but at my feet this time?” 

[wingedwhump]

whumpee falls onto the couch next to caretaker and curls up against them. they're shaking and their voice trembles as they manage, "you were right."

caretaker wraps their arms around whumpee and sniffles, carding their fingers through their hair, "I'm sorry."

[wingedwhump]

Strip poker : w/ Whumpers and Whumpees. Each Whumpee desperately praying that their Whumper wins, because everytime they don't, it's Whumpee that has to strip. Uno: The Winner Whumper get's to beat all the other Whumper's Whumpee's. The beating go according to how many cards each Whumper had left. Hide and seek: Whumpers switch Whumpee's and hide them in life threatening places. Burying them alive, tossing them into a lake w/ a weight on, etc.

Tag: With guns and running Whumpee's. Golf: Have Whumpee sit right over the hole on their knees so evertime Whumper misses after swinging like a maniac, it hits Whumpee.

Darts: Make Whumpee the dart board. *DUH*

Wholesome Family Bonding Time.

[wingedwhump]

whumpy hints

some tiny details that tickle the whump senses

• dark circles, bloodshot eyes

• falling asleep fully clothed, possibly with jacket and shoes still on, legs/feet hanging off the foot of the bed or sprawled half-on half-off a couch

• the “oh shit, i’m gonna faint/nevermind i’m good” face (and aborted grab for nearest solid object or person)

• a character losing their footing for a moment on rough terrain. someone reaching out to grab them so they don’t fall and they both hold on for a hot second

• closing their eyes and leaning into a gentle touch

• shaky hands, shaky voice

• falling asleep at their desk at work/tucked away in an odd place

• doing things that are out of character & having others start to notice: losing their cool, being extra chipper or extra quiet, jumpy

• zoning out

• someone getting between them and whoever they’re having a heated exchange with, gently pushing them back with a hand against their chest or shoulder

• slipping out of sight from the others to lean against a wall, tip their head back and close their eyes

[wingedwhump]

A Bird’s Nest, Part 2

Part one

This is a short one, but it’s build up for a good scene i promise. (Something’s better than nothing, right?)

CW: mention of whipping, pronouns “it/its” being used to dehumanize, forced nudity (just a shirt) let me know if there’s more!

“Bloody thing up and attacked me, unprovoked!” cried the red-headed man, holding his arm as if it were injured. Wren fumed. That lying bastard! 

“HE’S LYING, HE—” The knife pressed deeper, a trickle of warm blood running down his skin. 

“If you want any hope of surviving this, you’ll keep your mouth shut.” Wren gritted his teeth. The knife briefly left his skin, but before he could do anything, the huntsman shoved him away. He tripped and fell into the redhead, who wrenched the boy’s arms behind his back. Wren jerked forward with a small cry as his shoulders locked up. 

Before him, Sir Nathan sheathed his knife with a smooth spinning motion then crossed his arms, eyeing Wren. 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, lashin’ out like that.” He smiled, showing crooked teeth. 

“Let’s see how much you keep after a good-ol flogging.” 

Wren’s eyes widened, his breath coming faster as he glanced around. The hunters were gathering, excited at the sudden entertainment. Some of the men grabbed mallets and started pounding two stakes into the ground nearby, which Wren was shoved towards. His wrists were grabbed on either side, ropes crudely wrapped and knotted by burly men. Wren was forced to his knees, his shirt unceremoniously ripped off of him as secured his wrists to the stakes. 

NO! He tried to shrink away from searching eyes, but with his arms pinned down it was pointless. Every hunter could see the large, circular brand above his shoulder blade, marking him as property. As less than human. 

He hadn’t been forced to remove his shirt since the day that that scorching metal was pressed into his skin. He shivered at the memory of the searing pain, the long, excruciating days that followed. That was the worst he’d ever been hurt. Well, until now. 

The men had gone oddly quiet, but Wren didn’t dare look up. Sir Nathan’s voice came from behind him, along with the scrape of a long whip across the ground. 

“Who here’s man enough to deal the first blow?” Strangely enough, no one spoke up. Whether the reality of the situation had sunk in, or the brand on his back shocked them, the men stayed quiet. 

“You there. Boy.” Wren risked a glance over his shoulder, but apparently Nathan wasn’t talking to him. Instead, a young man who didn’t look much older than Wren stepped out of the circle. His skin was pale compared to the tanned faces of the older men, his wavy blonde hair pulled back from his warm hazel eyes. The bearskin he wore was too large, engulfing his form and making him seem smaller. 

“Yes sir?” 

“C'mere.” The young man went to stand beside Sir Nathan, looking extremely nervous. Wren’s arms began to ache from the extended position. 

“You do the honor, why don’t you. Prove yourself worthy of joining our ranks.” 

Wren braced for the sting, hunching to be as small as he could and praying to whatever Great Being was out there. 

Please knock me out quickly.

[wingedwhump]

Every day, Whumpee is brought to a room with a bolted chair, a tray of tools, and a mirror.

They're tortured to a brutal degree. Whumpee screams, sobbing through the pain, “Why!? Why are you doing th-this? Just tell me what you w-want!”

Their captors never speak; whumpee's never even heard their voices. Sometimes, they grab their face and force them to look into the mirror bleeding, shaking, barely conscious.

Then the moment ends, and it starts all over again.

On the other side of the glass sits Caretaker, watching while unharmed and being questioned.

Every time they don’t have an answer, whumpee takes the hit.

[wingedwhump]

Nonhuman Whump things that make me happy :)

ya know how you can grab a fish by the gills?? well how about mermaids? drag them from the water, cut off their oxygen supply similar to dragging someone by their throat.

it’s always collar this, collar that, but i just LOVE a good muzzle. even for a human whump without a snout, the sheer humiliation and dehumanization from being strapped into something that was created for unruly animals is just...mwah.

whumper cutting whumpee’s fingernails or talons, depending on the species. especially if they tried to lash out by scratching. is the whumpee strapped down for this, or drugged to exhaustion? perhaps too badly hurt to fight back? 

winged whumpee unable to open or stretch out their wings in captivity. soreness, restlessness, the longing to fly growing stronger as their wings grow weaker from disuse. imagine: whumpee finally escapes whumper’s clutches, opens their wings excitedly, finally free. but when they try to lift off, they fall to the ground, unable to carry their own weight anymore. 

whumpee with a tail: so much possibility. whumper constantly stepping on it, pulling it. dragging them around by it, until whumpee wishes that it wasn’t there at all. or maybe whumper braids it, puts little bows on it, plays with the end of it while whumpee can’t pull away or resist. does their tail give away their emotions? does it thrash when they are angry? does it go limp when they’re hurt? or does whumper go the extreme route and chop it off completely? i love tails. 

whumpee with heightened, animalistic senses, deprived of practice. cat-like eyes are covered or constantly in the dark. dog-like hearing put in a padded room or plugged/muffled. whumpee with natural hunting instincts deprived of prey. just like the wings, without enough practice or use, their senses dull. when they finally get out, do they have to work with caretaker to get them back? or are they gone forever, reduced to a fraction of their past ability? 

with more animalistic whumps: whumper seeing just what kind of sounds they can draw from their new specimen. whumpee may shut their mouth defiantly, but how long until they whimper and whine for mercy?  how much pain until they hiss and screech, claw and bite? 

 just some thoughts :) feel free to add on

[wingedwhump]

Whumpee chained to a post outside by Whumper in front of their crew — to be made an example of. Hands taut behind them, chains around their neck and waist, feet shackled. In nothing but their undergarments.

Now Caretaker who’s undercover within Whumper’s group, has no choice but to watch from a distance as their Whumpee suffers through a long cold night of wind and rain.

[wingedwhump]

"Just focus on your breathing. Yeah, good, like that."

Whumpee tries their best to stay in control. To collect themselves. To stop their mind from screaming at how wrong all this is. To ignore Whumper's hand still resting on the knife.

"In," while Whumper counts to three on his fingers, "and out." an other three seconds.

It's uncomfortable at first.

"In,"

Their body isn't used to the rhythm, their lungs fill up too fast and too shallow, and their exhales are accompanied by miserable noises forced out of their throat.

"Out."

But their breathing steadies slowly. Their body isn't shaking violently anymore, their hands aren't desperately grasping Whumper's shirt, their thoughts getting less and less jumbled.

"In."

They recoil at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Sitting in their captors lap, his hands running up and down their exposed back. The same hands that held him down and scarred him forever.

"Out."

They hate how despite this, they managed to calm down. For a moment of impossible peace, only their breaths exist, and the warmth they've been craving for so long.

"In." He says, tightening his grip on the knife.

Their mind switches back instantly as they notice the blade shift in Whumper's hand. With the swiftest movement, it's now held against their throat, threatening to cut if they dare exhale too early. Panic sets in once again, their heart rate rising with every painful second.

They close their eyes as their vision starts to go black. Their chest feels like it's about to burst from the pressure.

"Out." After what feels like several minutes, he finally commands.

Whumpee is only relieved for a moment, as they exhale, but it doesn't last long.

It's even worse this time. Their lungs burn. Their ears start to ring, and they feel their heart pounding in their throat. Black spots start appearing in the corner of their vision again, and they just can't help it. They reflexively suck in a small, hitched breath. They, of course, quickly realise just how big of a mistake that was.

Whumper pushes the knife harder against their throat, and as they try to squirm away, they're stopped by his hands firmly holding his back.

"You only breathe, when I say so. Do that again, and I might just go a lot deeper. Understood?"

Whumpee nods, only driving the knife further into his skin. Whumper grins at their desperate struggle not to breathe, panic growing with each second. Even when he moves the blade, they don't make a sound, only the slightest movement and a small twitch of his facial muscles.

"In."

A horrible gasp, on the verge of tears. They can't cry, that would surely be the end. They keep staring at the ceiling. It hurts so bad. Drops of sweat roll down his neck, mixing with the blood from the wound. Their hands start to go numb, either from clenching them too hard, or from the lack of oxygen. Just keep looking up. They let their mouth fall agape, closing their throat instead. Keep looking.

"Don't pass out."

The ceiling is spinning. Is there a fan? Or is that just a lamp?

It won't stop spinning. It's so bright.

Keep looking. Keep looking. Up.

"You can do it. A few more seconds."

Where is that sound coming from? A repetitive thump-thump-thump from afar. The kind of bass that reverberates in your whole body. Must be a concert somewhere.

Did they turn the lamp off-

"Out."

[wingedwhump]

"Let me go!" Whumpee shouted, pushing every limit to break out of their restraints. Their hands were tied behind a tree while whumper and their team worked to set up camp. "I don't have what you want. You've got the wrong guy-"

Whumper scoffed as they tied cloth into a gag. They had a henchman hold whumpee's head back as they forced it into their mouth.

"Quiet you. We have a long trip ahead of us and I need my men to rest tonight." Whumper stroked their fingers across whumpee's face as they flinched in disgust.

"Now, if you don't throw a fit all night, you can keep your face in-tact." 

[wingedwhump]

"Ghnnn!" Whumpee cried out, Whumper slamming their body to the floor. They could barely see straight as Whumper tilted their head up to look them in the eyes.

"ooo, look at you-" Whumper began to say, but they were cut off by their own cronies.

"Whumper, Caretaker is here. With reinforcements." They said.

Whumpee's heart sang. Whumper on the other hand, snarled, hand fisting the front of their shirt, bringing them face to face.

"This facility is hidden. There is NO WAY Caretaker would've found us." They snarled, slamming Whumpee against the wall. "I'll ask you one time. What. Did. You. Do."

[wingedwhump]

Medication in whump

Whumpee who stops talking their medication because they “feel better”, only to suffer all the symptoms the medication was preventing.

Doctor Whumper who drugs Whumpee in order to make them sick, but convinces Whumpee they just have a terrible disease.

Whumpee who used to be drugged against their will being terrified to take any medicine. (Bonus points if this fear only arises when Whumpee is delirious.)

Whumper offering medicine as a reward to a sick/injured Whumpee.

Caretaker having to coax Whumpee into taking medication, only for them to spit it out when they turn their back.

Whumpee who sees taking medicine as a weakness, so they push through any illness/injury until they physically can’t.

Whumpee having medicine pried into their mouth by Caretaker because they’re too weak to take it themselves.

Whumpee was drugged by Whumper so many times they built up a tolerance to certain medication — their friends only discover this when they need it to save their life.

[wingedwhump]

It’s been months since whumpee went missing. Caretaker can’t bring themself to hope anymore. Surely they’d feel something if whumpee was still alive, right? So they close whumpee’s door, stop turning the porch light on at night and let their stock of whumpee’s favorite foods waste away.

One night, whumper dumps whumpee out of a car and speeds off. Whumpee struggles to their feet and tries to find caretaker’s apartment, but there’s no light to guide their way.