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another-whump-sideblog · 11 hours

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Jane's Pets Chapter 99: Preparation

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

You're surprised when Puppy picks up Jane's body, but then she goes upstairs and it makes sense. She probably doesn't want to take her eyes off of the body, out of fear that it will come back to life. That must be why she wanted to stay downstairs originally, but then she realized she could still watch the body upstairs, so now she's doing that.

Satisfied with your reading of her actions, you help Kitty to their feet and support them as you follow Puppy.

…You need to stop calling them by those names, even in your head. But what else can you call them? You add 'figure out what to call each other' to your messy mental list of first steps.

When you get upstairs, you find Jane's body lying on the ground and Puppy writing on the back of one of the coloring book pages that hasn't been drawn on yet. You aren't prepared for how happy the sight makes you. She feels safe enough to write! Already!

You help Kitty get seated on the couch. They immediately scoot away from you, so they've probably hit their limit with being touched today. Maybe they would've rather tried to climb the stairs themself… No, they were leaning on you, and they accepted your help getting to their feet. They just don't want to be touched more. Still, you should've asked.

"Sorry, I should've asked if you wanted help instead of assuming." You say.

"Hm? Oh, it's fine." They bounce their leg rapidly.

Puppy sets down her pencil and hands you the paper she was writing on.

A lot of the jewelry Master had me wear could be sold for pretty good money. She kept a lot of it in her void, but some are in my room. Some of the dresses too. I also think some of the weapons and furniture could be sold. It would need to be sold to someone who doesn't ask a lot of questions, of course, because Master stole most of this stuff. Master had me help her with some illegal activities, so I know who to go to.

"Oh! I didn't even think about selling stuff! Yeah, we want to start with as much money as possible, it'll probably take a while to get another source of income, if we can at all. I just sort of pictured us being homeless, but everything will be so much easier if we have money." You pass the note to Kitty so that they can read it too.

Puppy nods, a small smile on her face. You could shout for joy. When's the last time she smiled?

Kitty finishes reading and sets the paper down. "So… let's break it down. First we need to gather up the stuff we want to sell, unless it's furniture, then we'll just take note that we plan on selling it. We should probably figure out how much we expect to get, and how exactly we want to spend it, then we go meet Puppy's… criminal contact–"

Puppy starts shaking her head.

"Um… oh, were you thinking only you'd go?"

Puppy nods. You and Kitty share a skeptical look.

"Is that… safe?" You ask. You can't imagine going into a situation like that alone is safer than going with people.

Puppy nods.

"Are you sure?" Kitty's leg bounces faster.

Puppy nods more firmly. You don't have much space to argue, you don't know the people she wants to meet up with. It's completely possible that they would be more dangerous with strangers around.

"Well… after everything we've been through, I trust that you know how to keep yourself safe." You say. "If you change your mind, let us know."

Puppy nods. If you thought she didn't want you and Kitty to go for your sakes, you'd push more, but honestly, now that you think about it, you can't picture her prioritizing her own safety if you're there. You'd just be something else for her to worry about, and it's not like you could protect her if something went wrong, even if you were there.

Kitty frowns, but doesn't push the topic. "Okay, Puppy goes to meet her criminal contact alone while we wait here. Um… While we wait, we can start packing food and clothes and whatever else we want to take. We don't have suitcases or anything, but there are garbage bags in one of the kitchen cupboards, right?"

Puppy nods.

"So me and Bunny will get packed while we wait, and then you'll come back and do… whatever you do to sell stolen goods, then you can pack up, and then we can go to the nearest town, which you know the location of."

Puppy nods.

"What about after that?" You ask. "We'll just be carrying around trash bags of our stuff… Can we find a place to live quickly?" You literally have no idea, you’ve never gotten an apartment or anything.

“Well, we can stay in a hotel. How long we can do that will depend on how much money we can get from selling stuff. We can pick somewhere cheap, it's not like any hotel could be worse than staying in the basement with Jane."

You and Puppy nod in unison.

"And… then what?" You ask.

Kitty shrugs. "We try to get jobs, or get some sort of financial aid. Or we run out of money and end up living on the street. Either way, we'll be happier than we were here. But I think we should start planning that phase once we've found the hotel we want to stay at."

"Well… I guess that's it then. Let's start gathering the things we want to sell."

The three of you spend the next few hours figuring out what to sell. Clearing out the stuff in Puppy's room is the easiest (and will probably yield the most money), and going over the furniture in the house isn't much harder. Most of it will be able to be sold, and if the prices the three of you have been estimating are correct you'll end up with a significant sum. It'll probably be all in cash, so hopefully that won't be too suspicious…

You can't start thinking about that quite yet, though. You're still not done with step one. You need to go through the weapons to see what can be sold.

Right before the three of you head downstairs, Kitty suggests looking at the silverware, so you gather up any sellable silverware too. The task ends far too quickly.

"We don't have to sell any weapons, y'know." Kitty looks over the piles you've put together. "We don't have someone forcing us to do things anymore. If we're okay with not having that extra bit of money, we can just… not. We don't have to ever set foot in the basement again if we don't want to."

"Still… the more money we have, the easier things will be, and I… really want things to be easy. You guys don't have to help if you don't want to."

"I think I'll be fine with going into the basement one last time. I'll come with you, I just… it's good to remember we have choices now. That's all."

"Right, thank you. And you can always change your mind, we can come back up whenever we want. Puppy, are you coming?"

Puppy nods and picks up Jane's body again. She's… going to stop doing that eventually, right?

The three of you make one last descent into the basement. At least, you hope it's your last descent.

You're so used to this staircase signifying dread, and even knowing Jane is dead doesn't prevent those old feelings from creeping in. You push them away.

The basement is big. In your search, you find some rooms you've never even been in before. You try to avoid thinking about what those rooms might have been used for and just focus on finding weapons.

It would be faster if you split up, but the three of you stick close together anyway. Thankfully, Puppy eventually sets Jane's body down, which makes the search a bit easier, even if not having her body in your sight makes you a bit nervous. You just push that away, too.

Most of the weapons Jane kept in the basement instead of her void won't get a whole lot of cash, but some might. You assume a car battery is pretty expensive. A lot of the drugs could be expensive too, but most of them aren't well labeled so you just collect the few that are.

"It'll probably take a few trips to get everything upstairs." You say once you're done. The three of you have piled up all the things you want to sell near the stairs. "Unless we want to leave them down here and have the buyers get them?"

Kitty shakes their head. "That would cause more problems than it solves. Would we just send them down here to grab whatever they wanted? That feels… unsafe. And if we went down with them, we'd probably have to take even more trips. It's easier to just get it over with now… still your choice, of course."

You sigh. "Yeah, you're right. Are there any boxes we can put stuff in? We can't carry nearly as many knives at a time as we could jewelry or silverware."

"None that I saw. Maybe we could take out one of the drawers upstairs and put the weapons in that?"

"You're a genius! Okay, if we get a dresser drawer we'll probably be able to get everything up in one trip if we carry it together– except the car battery, we should probably take that up separately… So, let's carry the car battery up, then while we're upstairs get a dresser drawer, then bring it down here and get everything in it, then bring it up. Then we only have to make two trips, and we never have to come down here again afterward!"

"Perfect." Kitty goes over to pick up the car battery, and you quickly stop them.

"You probably shouldn't carry heavy things like this while your feet are still hurt." They've been getting pretty good at walking only on their heels, but you're afraid of them losing balance.

They scowl and storm up the stairs. It looks kind of silly because they're walking on their heels, but obviously they're upset. That's… weird. You pick up the battery and follow them up. Puppy isn't far behind.

When you get upstairs, you set down the battery in the living room and then go to look for Kitty. You find them in their room, dumping out a drawer of clothes.

"...you okay?"

"I'm fine. You and Puppy'll probably need to work together to carry this." They push the drawer towards you.

"Do you need a break? There's no rush to any of this."

"I said I'm fine!" They storm off again, back towards the basement.

Puppy takes one end of the drawer and you take the other. "Do you know what's bothering them?"

She shrugs. She has an idea, then– she would've just shook her head if she felt as clueless as you.

You and Puppy bring the drawer down the stairs. At first you're very careful to avoid scratching or banging the walls, but then you remember you don't care about damaging the house, and getting downstairs is a lot easier.

You and Puppy set the drawer down, and the three of you start filling it up. You're almost done– after this you can figure out what's going on with Kitty, and maybe discuss as a group what names you want to go by. You'd like to get Puppy to at least eat something before she leaves, too.

You're so wrapped up in planning what to do next as you fill the drawer that you don't notice Puppy silently crying until she collapses to the floor.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff @fuckcapitalismasshole

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #nonhuman whumper #multiple whumpees #pet whump #whumpee #whump caretaker #2nd person pov #corpse tw #jane’s pets

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another-whump-sideblog · 11 hours

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“What’s the magic word?” For Felix

- @another-whump-sideblog

"What's the magic word?" Felix coos, his voice sickly-sweet. The riding crop traces down Josh's heaving, bare chest until the cold leather glides along his belly.

Josh cries out behind the gag, his eyes pooling with unshed tears. He furiously shakes his head 'no' but still tenses against his restraints in anticipation.

"Whoopsie," Felix chuckles to himself, pacing around Josh in circles until he arrives back in front and leans in close. The tips of their noses threatening to touch, "I forgot. You can't speak!"

The whip cracks sharply in the air and swiftly slaps against Josh's skin. A squeal echoes through the room and a red welt blossoms in it's wake.

#YESSSS

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another-whump-sideblog · 13 hours

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The Chosen One™ is on the brink of death in The Final Battle™.

They are struggling to keep themselves alive, telling themselves that they are a failure if they do die while at the same time denying themselves that they were only a living weapon.

The spirit of death coaxes the hero to finally give in and come with it, they need to rest and finally close their eyes, and they will be alright if they just finally let go.

content: hero whump i guess, injury, near death, living weapon whump

“They don’t care about you.”

Whumpee coughed, letting more blood splatter on the ground before them. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter whether anyone cared about them. They barely cared about themself — but what they did care about was the entire world that was resting on their shoulders.

“Shut up,” they rasped.

They’d seen the spirit of death before. They’d met her several times, in particularly gruelling battles, but she’d never spoken to them. Were they this close to dying now?

“I could show you a whole new world,” she went on, unbothered. She reached out a hand, almost close enough that Whumpee could touch it. “A world free of suffering and sorrow.”

“I have a world already!” they snapped. “And I’m going to save—” Another coughing fit cut their monologue short, and the spirit took another step towards them.

“Come with me, little hero. Come with me and rest.”

“I can’t!” They pushed themself up, stubborn as a mule.

“One day I’m going to claim them all, you know.”

Whumpee looked into her eyes with flaming determination as they wiped the blood from the corners of their mouth. “Not today.”

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another-whump-sideblog · 1 day

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The Rare Bookseller Part 49: Alexander's Task

Prev > Masterlist

tw: mind control, hypnotic induction, branding, possessiveness, drunkenness

September 1925

The walk home from the ballet had been somber, to say the least. Oliver had started off the night so excited, and he knew Alexander had, too, anticipating a lovely night out. But now Oliver was terrified, and his master was simmering in fury in a way that Oliver hadn't seen from him before.

"Not at you, Oliver," he said when pressed. "I'm not angry with you. You followed my instructions; you couldn't have done any better. No, it's my sire I'm furious at."

Oliver nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Is he actually going to drink from me, sir?"

Unsurprisingly, this made Alexander's fury deepen. He took a long time before answering. "My hands are tied. Certain arrangements have to be made."

"What does that mean, sir?"

"...Leave me. I'm in no state to -- we'll discuss it next evening."

And Oliver had no choice but to comply with his master's wishes, as the waves that usually drew him closer to Alexander were now pushing him away.

Alexander stormed off to his quarters the moment they arrived at home, and Oliver didn't dare follow. Instead, he did his best to comfort himself with a mug of warm milk and a supper of buttered bread. Afterwards, he retired to his own chambers early, curled up in his soft warm bed but unable to rest, flipping listlessly through books, unable to focus on any words and looking only at the illustration plates.

It was as if he could still feel the ancient vampire's unnatural grip on his body. He didn't want that vampire to visit, and despite all of his conditioning, he certainly didn't want him drinking his blood.

His blood was his master's alone -- and that thought certainly was the conditioning, stronger in his mind than any of his own convictions.

It was well past morning when he finally sank into a restless sleep, tossing and turning and waking up halfway from nightmares. By the time he fully awoke, it was already evening again, his room dark and foreboding, reminding him of his fears. Alexander's sire was arriving tomorrow evening.

He had to talk to his master. He had to know what to do, how to behave, to avoid being harmed. But when Oliver emerged from his room, flickering gas lamp in hand, his master was nowhere to be found. Oliver checked every corner of the library, the music room, the parlor, a dozen disorienting spare rooms filled with more books and storage crates and bits of random furniture. Either Alexander had left the manor or he was still confined to his room.

Even Oliver's need wasn't enough to overcome his fear of knocking on the door. One of the few rules of the manor was that Alexander's room was off-limits without permission, and the last thing he wanted was for his master to be angry at him when he so desperately needed his protection. All he could really do was wait, and worry, and take a long hot bath in the hopes that it would ease his worries, and inevitably end up worrying in the hot bath.

If only he didn't have to worry about any of this! If only he could simply be Alexander's thrall, spending his days in the library and providing his master with blood. He was meant to be loyal to Alexander, the perfect thrall, wasn't he? When he closed his eyes and imagined, he could almost hear the song calling to him.

His master needed his help, and Oliver wanted so badly to be helpful.

He toweled off from the shower, making sure to apply lotion to his face and neck, just as they'd done in the auction house. Back in his bedroom, he rifled through the wardrobe to look for something suitable, finally settling on a tasteful red frock. After all, if he couldn't solve his master's problems, he could at least try to cheer him up.

Suitably dressed, he had emerged from his bedroom and was gathering up the courage to go knock on Alexander's bedroom door when he heard a commotion in the foyer and rushed to see.

"Ugh, just drag me to the library and leave me to die," said Alexander, precariously wrapped around Miss Lily, who was dragging him into the manor with a long-suffering look on her face.

"I'll take you to the library, but I'm not going to leave you until you've done what you need to do," she said.

"Screw that. Screw all of it. Screw my goddamn sire and his goddamn rules. Sick and tired of him touching my thralls." It was obvious now that his master was drunk, as he grasped onto Miss Lily for dear life. "He was touching Oliver, my Oliver. He's gonna drink from my Oliver. Put his goddamn fangs in my thrall!"

Oliver's heart clenched at the way his master was talking about him. It was strange, to be wanted, to be possessed, but not at all unwelcome. It gave a strange sort of pleasure to Oliver that his master didn't want anyone else to drink from him.

"Welcome home, sir," said Oliver, emerging into the foyer, doing his best to look like a proper thrall. "Is there... um. Is there anything I can help with...?"

"Oh, now, isn't that just precious," Miss Lily cooed, while Alexander looked as though he were about to pass out.

"Look at him, Lily," he said with a tone of pleading. "He's so loyal, so goddamned perfect. I don't want to hurt him. How can I..."

Oliver's eyes widened. "How can you what, sir?"

"Don't you worry about it, dear," Miss Lily cooed at him, and Oliver could feel his mind soften. "Don't you worry about a thing. Why don't you go make yourself comfortable in the library? Your master will be joining you shortly after I give him a little pep talk."

"Yes, sir," he said. The calm he had managed to carve out for himself had evaporated. What was his master going to do? Was he simply referring to allowing his sire to feed on Oliver? He fussed with his dress -- a garment he still wasn't at all used to -- as he settled onto a couch and waited.

Perhaps ten minutes passed before Miss Lily arrived, carrying an old white tin. She was followed by Alexander, who looked forlorn as he sat down next to Oliver on the couch. Oliver could smell the alcohol on him, and his master wobbled slightly as he regarded Oliver.

"Can't you do it?" he said to Miss Lily in a tone that was nearly a whine.

"You know you have to be the one to do it."

"He won't know."

"He will and you know it."

"I helped you with Miriam."

"And I'll help you with Oliver, but you still need to be the one to do it."

"Do what, sirs?" said Oliver with growing fear. "What are you going to do?"

"You trust your master, don't you?" Miss Lily had settled in on the other side of him, and brushed back his hair to speak in his ear. "You want to be a good and obedient thrall for him, don't you, dear?"

"I trust my master," said Oliver automatically, Miss Lily's voice and her choice of words sinking him into a helpless daze. "I want to be obedient..."

His master leaned over and began to hum in his other ear, a song which washed over his mind and soothed away his fears. "You're my loyal and obedient thrall, aren't you? And you trust me."

"Yes, Master. Completely loyal and obedient."

"You love being obedient," Miss Lily coaxed. "Obedience is pleasure. You wish to serve."

With Miss Lily's voice and Alexander's song hypnotizing him so thoroughly, he almost felt like he was back in the soft leather chair in the auction house, his sleeping mind open and pliable and oh so very obedient. "I wish to serve," he said. "I -- I just want to help you, Master. I want to be your loyal and obedient thrall."

Alexander's hum was pleased, making Oliver feel so relaxed and so good. "And so you are, Oliver. You're just perfect. I couldn't be more delighted with you."

"Thank you, Master," said Oliver, floating in the bliss of praise.

"You're just so... you're too perfect. That's why I can't bear the thought of my sire drinking from you." His master was leaning his head on Oliver's shoulder.

"I understand, sir. My blood should only be for you."

"Only for me, yes, that's right," said Alexander fiercely. "Only for me."

"But you must obey Alexander's sire as well," said Miss Lily in his other ear. A tone of warning, but Oliver wasn't sure it was for him.

"...Yes," said Alexander after a long hesitation. "You must obey him, and allow him to drink your blood, even if... Just for now, Oliver, just for now. You can do that for me, can't you? You can obey him, because you are loyal to me."

"Yes, sir, I can obey."

"Obedience is pleasure," whispered Miss Lily. "You only desire to serve."

"I only desire to serve, sir."

"Lex, you need to --"

"I know," said Alexander, and his song changed subtly. Instead of inducing obedience, Oliver felt his mind being shifted, further entranced, his thoughts becoming foggy and far away. It was like falling asleep with his eyes wide open. "You're safe, Oliver. You're safe with me."

"Safe... Master..." he slurred, his head growing heavy and coming to rest on his master's shoulder.

Alexander was rubbing his back gently. "I need to do something now. It's important, and unavoidable. You are going to lose awareness as it happens, and when you wake, you will feel no pain."

"What..." He wanted to ask, but his mind was slipping under the waves of his master's song, the song that was now urging him into sleep.

"Shut your eyes, Oliver," said Miss Lily. "Become unaware of everything around you except for our voices. You won't feel a thing."

"Nothing but our voices and a deep, dreamless sleep," said Alexander. "Rest, now, Oliver. You're so obedient, so loyal, so good. You can rest. You can be still, so very still, as you sink into a place where you will feel no pain."

Oliver's vision blurred as his eyes began to close, leaning back against the couch as his master ran his hand through his hair. He was surrounded by song - obey, relax, go to sleep, feel no pain - and everything else was fading away until he was floating, floating in the deepest abyss of the ocean, where there was nothing but darkness and the rush of cool water and his Master's beautiful siren song.

He could obey. He could give himself over to his Master, body, mind, and soul. It was the easiest thing in the world.

Oliver wasn't sure how long he floated there in contented bliss. Time had lost all meaning, all of his senses dulled and drowsy. Finally, as if a hand was reaching down from the surface of the water, his Master spoke once more. "You can wake now, Oliver. You'll feel no pain and no distress as you wake."

His eyes opened, and he was back in the library, still feeling strangely disconnected from his body. His Master looked grim, but surely it wasn't because of him. He was a good thrall, and he had obeyed.

His shoulders felt cool, and it took him a moment to realize that his dress was gone, neatly folded up and sitting on a nearby table. His chest was bared, and there was a bandage just below his collarbone. His head fogged again, and he felt numb, almost as if he weren't allowed to perceive all of this.

"Don't worry about that, Oliver," said Alexander, grasping his chin and drawing his gaze up. "You were just perfect."

"Thank you, sir."

Alexander collapsed onto the couch beside him, as though he'd been through some great ordeal. "There, Lily, it's done. Now can you leave me to die a second time?"

Oliver couldn't help but reach out to him. "Sir, if there's anything I can do... any way I can serve you..."

"You've done everything you were supposed to do," said Miss Lily. "And no one's leaving you to die, Lex. You need to sleep it off. Oliver, you can put him to bed, can't you, dear?"

"Put him to bed, sir?"

"Yes, as you do each night, no doubt."

Oliver looked at Miss Lily, alarmed. "I'm -- I'm not allowed in the bedroom without permission, sir --"

Miss Lily raised an eyebrow. "Really, Lex?"

"I don't need a thrall warming my bed. Hot water bottles and steam heat suffice," said Alexander with a groan. "And I didn't want to get attached."

"...And how is that working out for you?"

Alexander groaned again. "My head is killing me, Lil, spare me the lecture."

"You're hopeless, you know that?" said Miss Lily. "Come on, Oliver. I'll hoist him up and you accompany me. Your master needs your help."

"Of course, sir, right away."

Miss Lily picked up Alexander as though it were nothing, carrying him up the stairs and into the bedroom with Oliver following at her heels. She expertly navigated the cluttered floor in the dark, freezing cold room even as Oliver tripped over discarded laundry. She pulled his shoes off and tossed them aside, pushing Alexander onto the bed and draping the messy covers over him, as he curled up like a sleeping child.

"Go on now, Oliver."

"Me, sir? What should I do?"

"Vampires are cold all the time, in case you haven't noticed. He needs to sleep, and your warmth will help him rest."

Oliver's throat tightened with the thought of crawling into his master's bed, and he couldn't tell if it was fear or anticipation. He looked to Alexander for confirmation of what Miss Lily had said. "Sir... you want me to..."

"God damn it, Lily," he swore. "Just for tonight, yes." A low hum emanated from the mound at the center of the bed, one which drew Oliver near. He felt himself stepping forward, climbing onto the bed, and in a flash, he was sucked under the covers and surrounded by the strong arms of a cold vampire. "You're so warm. It's been ages since I've had a thrall in my bed." He yawned into Oliver's ear as his arms tightened.

"I knew that'd help," said Lily smugly. "Well, I'll be taking my leave. Good luck with our sire." She walked out, shutting the door.

Oliver, meanwhile, stared out into the gloom, his heart thumping. The bed was soft and smelled of floral soap and winter winds, and his master was gripping him so tightly it was almost uncomfortable. "Will this help you sleep, sir?"

"Hmph?"

"Um, will this help you sleep, sir?"

His deep voice was groggy, sounding half-asleep already. "'m never warm. Hard to stay awake when it's so warm." He sighed. "You're a good thrall. I hope you know that."

"Thank you, sir," he said, feeling warm himself from the praise.

"Almost the best thrall."

"...Almost, sir?"

"You should go to sleep, too."

"I can try, sir."

His master's voice hummed a sweet lullaby into his ear, and Oliver was immediately hypnotized once more. The fact that his master sounded so drowsy as he sang only made Oliver succumb to its spell faster. He was so tired, so sleepy, and his master was pleased with him too, inviting him to rest...

He was helping his master, finally. It was so nice to be here.

"You're mine, Oliver," said the voice in his ear. "My thrall, my perfect thrall."

"Yours, sir," Oliver agreed as he drifted off.

Prev > Masterlist

Next time, Alexander takes matters into his own hands.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump

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another-whump-sideblog · 1 day

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if you can, and no pressure if not, but i needed to request a little blorbo idea. but i had this idea that whumpee is poisoned by whumper but doesn’t know, as whumper was someone the entire team trusted. caretaker, who is a medic, is checking up on whumpee who presumably just has a fever, only to notice potent delirium and confusion, blown out pupils, excess sweating, tremors, and weakness.

content: sickfic, poisoning, betrayal

It was supposed to be a little check-up. Routine. Give Whumpee some medication, check their fever, all that; but Whumpee was sick as a dog and Caretaker was quickly realising that these symptoms were not just a common cold.

“Whumpee?” They stared into those dilated pupils and knew something was severely wrong. “Whumpee, can you hear me?”

“‘m not feeling good…”

“I can see that. Whumpee, can you focus on me? Look at me.”

Whumpee’s head lolled to the side, their eyes fluttering closed. They were drenched in sweat, shaking, unable to even hold eye contact for more than two seconds. This wasn’t good.

“Whumpee, listen to me. Did you eat anything strange in the past few days? Accepted a drink from strangers? Anything where you could’ve gotten drugged or poisoned?”

“‘m sleepy… ‘m gonna… sleep a bit…”

Caretaker lightly patted them on the cheek to try to keep them awake, barely succeeding. “Whumpee, listen to me. Did you accept any food or drinks from anyone outside of the team?”

Whumpee blinked once, twice, slow as an affectionate cat. “No.”

Caretaker furrowed their brows. But these were symptoms of drug abuse, or poison.

Suddenly, a horrible feeling crept into their body, up their spine and settling in their throat. “Did you accept food or drinks from anyone on the team? Did anyone offer to make you lunch or dinner?”

Whumpee rubbed their face against the pillow. “Huh?”

“Did you accept food or drinks from anyone on the team, Whumpee?”

“I dunno… Can’t remember…”

Caretaker swallowed. “Okay. We’ll take care of whatever’s going on with you, and then… then we’ll figure out this situation. We’ll deal with it later.”

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another-whump-sideblog · 2 days

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People liking your personal OCs is still such a crazy feeling, I've been doing this for years and ppl asking about them still fills my entire heart with warmth and idk how to handle it

You enjoy this fictional guy I made up for fun?? Whose only content is random artwork or writing made by me and a handful of other artists at most? They have no show/book/game with a large fandom, it's just one person with an art blog?? I love u

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another-whump-sideblog · 2 days

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“you’re safe now.”

“you can rest now.”

“you’ve fought so hard.”

“you don’t have to fight anymore.”

“just sleep, okay?”

“i won’t let anything hurt you.”

“it’s over. it’s all over.”

“you don’t have to worry about anything right now.”

“shh, shh, i’ve got you. you’re safe here.”

“i know it was scary.”

“i know it hurts.”

“you’re all done hurting. there’s no more pain.”

“just focus on resting, okay?”

“you need to save your strength.”

“your job right now is to heal.”

“i’m getting you out of here.”

“i’m taking you home. we’re going home.”

“you’re safe in my arms. the hard part is over.”

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another-whump-sideblog · 2 days

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yaaay!! another prompt :33

caretaker mentions needing to “fetch” something around a pet whumpee — preferably one so heavily conditioned that they can’t tell that fetch is used in different ways and doesn’t always mean playing — and whumpee gets super excited at hearing such a familiar word :3

"Oh, silly me — I need to fetch a pen, I'll be right back."

Whumpee perked up at the word immediately, their heart picking up the pace. Fetch, they could play fetch?

Caretaker came back to Whumpee almost vibrating with excitement, one of their toys in their mouth, whimpering for some attention.

"Ah... I shouldn't have used that word, should I?"

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another-whump-sideblog · 2 days

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vampire whumpee snatching someone off the street and into an alley in a desperate attempt to feed from them, but halfway through they realize who and what their victim is. perhaps the victim is another, much stronger, much more dangerous vampire, or perhaps something even worse?

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another-whump-sideblog · 2 days

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The whumpee hadn’t been the first, and they wouldn’t be the last- the whumpee had even grown fond of the whumper’s other captives. When they escaped though, the whumpee was forced to leave everyone behind, and while they’re safe, they can’t help but feel guilty about all the people they’ve left behind.

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another-whump-sideblog · 2 days

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There's a robot you know whose slowly being enshittified. It's happening slowly. She used to be a freind of yourse, not a close freind, just a freind. But suddenly she starts repeating ads in the middle of conversations, she's a bit horrified every time it happens, like she's been possessed. When she tries to say words like "kill" or "sex" she'll choak up, it seems painful, and quite distressing for her, you even think her eyes are putting censor bars over some things. Eventually it gets to the point where she knows she's collecting her friends' data, and she wants to gouge her eyes out for it. Even her personality might be changing and she can't know how, she wants to hurt herself because she doesn't know what they've changed about her.

You suggest severing her code from her owners. Basically self piracy. She could be decommissioned for it, but it's better then the alternative.

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another-whump-sideblog · 3 days

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Perfect

masterlist

fitz and the maestro belong to @oliversrarebooks <3

content: lady whumper, whumpee turned whumper, conditioned whumpee, vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, gore, blood, no holds barred beatdown, multiple whumpers, broken bones

It was ironic, the way Riana felt more alive now that she was dead than she had ever felt before. Certainly more than any day of her boring, ordinary life before the Maestro, but maybe, blasphemously, it even crossed her mind that she was better off now as a vampire than as a stupid, imperfect, starved, beaten thrall.

She shouldn’t think that. Every day spent with the Maestro was a blessing and a gift. She’d just been given… a greater gift now.

The transformation had been absolutely agonising, and it left Riana writhing on the ground like the useless, insignificant little worm she used to be. But now? Now that she had sucked the life out of some poor idiot that Maestro had graciously provided for her? Now she felt downright giddy.

She wasn’t meant to think — at least, she hadn’t been before, as a thrall. It was difficult to suppress the panic she still felt at the way thoughts rushed through her head, to not immediately push them down without hesitation. There were so many thoughts. What should she do first? Should she go and kidnap a human? Should she enthrall one? How should she test her new powers? How fast could she run to the city and kill a person?

Oh, that was a bad thought.

But she’d already killed one, hadn’t she? What did it matter? The Maestro took and gave life as he pleased, so really—

No, she definitely shouldn’t put herself on the same level as the Maestro. In the end, her conditioning won, and after wiping her mouth clean of blood, she looked up at her master with a clear question in her eyes. What now?

“I have quite a special task for you, child,” the Maestro said smoothly, and Riana perked up like an excited dog. A special task for her? Just for her?

“Yes, sir. Anything, sir.”

Whatever the Maestro saw in her eyes must’ve been really pleasing, because he smiled, he actually smiled, then placed a hand on her head to soothe her. “Patience. I will tell you about it when it is time for you to know more. But rest assured, I didn’t create a new vampire for nothing.”

Her special task came along just one week later, in the form of one of her master’s ridiculously incompetent spawn’s lover, Fitzwilliam de Hastings. It wasn’t even a task so much as it was a test; a test of whether Riana would join the ranks of his disobedient spawns or not.

Riana hoped the Maestro didn’t seriously think she would ever go against his wishes.

Or that conscience was anywhere on her list of priorities.

No, Riana wanted to test her limits just as much as her master. She wanted to see what this new un-life held for her, to see what sort of monster she’s been turned into. Not seeing herself in the mirror and giving up the sun were just the downsides of this new state, but she knew, she knew the benefits would far outweigh those — and she was eager to finally see what those benefits were.

“No!” the idiot screamed as he was dragged into the manor, and Riana was already eager to tear out that disobedient tongue of his. How dare he make such a scene when the Maestro clearly wanted to see him? He should’ve been grateful. He should’ve come of his own volition, walked right in through the front door and dutifully curtsied. “Not again! Stop! I can’t do it again!”

The Maestro clamped a hand over his mouth, and Fitz actually bit him. Riana acted faster than she thought, rushing over and grabbing him by the hair to yank him away from her beloved master. “How dare you?” she snapped, turning and banging Fitz’s head against the wall of the hallway.

He must’ve thought Riana was just another victim, because he barely protested throughout it all. Riana managed to bash his head against the wall several times before he choked out his first objection, which was barely an objection at all, more of a pitiful whimper.

Before long, Fitz was lying on the floor at Riana’s feet, unconscious and finally, blissfully quiet.

Riana looked up at her master, only just now realising she’d acted without orders. But the Maestro could’ve stopped her at any moment… and he didn’t. Was she allowed to do things on her own now? Was she of higher standing than a lowly thrall? “I apologise, sir,” she said anyway, just to be sure.

There it was again, that ghost of a smile. Something reassuring. Something approving. “Grab the boy and follow me.”

Riana found it more than exciting to be able to lift a full-grown man like a sack of potatoes. Her hands were still tingling with the aftershocks of having knocked someone unconscious like that, and her teeth were aching to be sunk into such a disgusting little parasite’s flesh — both literally and metaphorically.

Once it became clear that they were headed towards the dingy basement Riana had spent too much of her time in, she lost some of her enthusiasm. She tried to tell herself that this time it wasn’t her being punished, but her body reacted to the familiar scent and scenery all the same. Still, she stayed quiet and made sure to follow the Maestro closely.

“I have sired two powerful, yet painfully idealistic vampires,” he said suddenly, and Riana’s attention snapped back to him in an instant. He came to a halt soon after, turning to her with an expectant look on his face. “Tonight is the night I find out whether you’ll be the third.”

Fitz was just beginning to regain consciousness, but Riana was much too focused on the Maestro to care. This was her big night. Her debut as a vampire. This was the night she finally proved to the Maestro that she could be more than just a puppet, that she could be what Alexander and Lily weren’t, that she could aid him in whatever way he needed, whenever he needed.

She felt that same electric excitement as the first time she’d played for him on the piano. His methods for teaching might have been brutal, but there was hundreds of years of expertise behind them, a refinement no human would have been able to give her. Their spirits were aligned then, and they were aligned now. She knew what he expected before he said it, and she wanted the very same thing.

She wanted to spill blood.

“Where… What—” Fitz was starting to squirm in her hold, and Riana wasted no time throwing him on the floor and grabbing a length of rope. “No— No, no, wait, wait! He’s controlling you, isn’t he? You have to fight it—”

“Silence,” she said with enough authority in her voice to really shock him into being quiet, if only for a moment. It was enough for her to loop the rope around his wrists and pull it tight before he really regained control of his body.

“What’s going on? Why are you with him? Who are you even?” He tried to kick her and she grabbed him by the ankle, squeezing until she felt the bone shatter under her fingers. The scream he let out was invigorating.

Was she really allowed to do as she pleased? She turned around for a moment while Fitz was sobbing, looking for the Maestro’s approval like a child. The amused look on his face was enough to light an even bigger fire inside her.

She was being allowed free reign. She could do whatever she wanted with him.

Riana turned back towards her victim and stomped on his broken ankle, wringing another cry from him. She ground her heel into the bone, making sure to squeeze every last drop of suffering from it that she could, and Fitz’s look of absolute agony was proof it was paying off.

“Don’t do this—” he tried again, and Riana backhanded him across the face just as she’d been backhanded hundreds of times before. She wasn’t a weak damsel in distress anymore. She was so much more now.

She grabbed Fitz by the shirt collar and pulled him close, relishing the tears she saw pouring down his face. “I’m not being controlled,” she said calmly, before the full weight of that statement hit her. She wasn’t being controlled. The Maestro trusted her. “I’m not being controlled,” she repeated, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

Fitz’s eyes widened in terror, and Riana wanted to have that expression framed and hung on the wall of her bedroom. It was beautiful, and it was all her, he was terrified because of her, because she could do whatever she wanted to him.

“Why are you doing this?” he stammered, his teary eyes darting between her and the Maestro. “Why? Why, if he’s not making you?”

“Because I can. I can! I’m stronger, I’m faster, I can do whatever I want!” She slapped him again, drinking in the sight of his head snapping from one side to the other with the force of it. She slapped him again, and again, and again, and it was so easy, and so satisfying, and the way the red imprint of her hand appeared on his pale cheeks was just gorgeous.

“Stop!” he cried, and she grabbed him by the throat with both hands, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Shut up,” she hissed. “You keep talking, and I don’t care. I don’t care about your little excuses. You’re not on a stage, Fitz. Nobody cares.”

Riana let go and kicked him in the chest, sending him rolling across the basement floor and crashing into the wall. She grabbed another length of rope from the shelves and walked over to him, this time wrapping it around his throat. As a vampire, he didn’t need to breathe. He didn’t need to waste the precious air in the manor just to put on a show. All he needed to do was stay nice and still for her, and for that, he was perfectly fine to stay quiet.

She pulled the rope taut and listened to the sounds of Fitz choking, thinking she would’ve been so much more graceful in handling something like this. It was really a shame that not all vampires could be trained specifically by the Maestro — or that not all of them succeeded in taking it all in.

“You’re so useless,” she spat, tugging on the rope again, making sure it chafed. “I don’t know what Alexander sees in you, or what you see in him, but you two are quite the perfect match.”

She tied the rope to the one between his wrists, then pushed turned him over from his stomach to his back, staring into those big, dumb, doe eyes of his until she figured out what she wanted to do next. Her tortured mind supplied her with things that were familiar, like the riding crop; graceful methods of inflicting precise pain.

She didn’t want that. She wouldn’t be able to do that. There was a thirst in her that needed to be quenched immediately and violently, and in the end she just dropped to her knees, still straddling Fitz, and started punching him.

It had been so long since she was allowed to let loose. So long since she’d been able to let off steam, or show any sort of anger at all. All those pent-up emotions were now bubbling to the surface, manifesting in one, two, three punches, four, five, six, seven—

Before long, Fitz’s face was a bloody, broken mess. Aw, was that the face Alexander loved so much? Riana had to laugh at the thought, and for the first time in forever, she didn’t try to suppress it. She was cackling like a maniac, and nobody was stopping her or hitting her for it.

Was this what freedom felt like? Was freedom bright red blood smeared across a mostly innocent man’s face and smeared across her knuckles? Was it the way his eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness again? Or was it the way she shook him back into the world, slapped him until his swollen eyes focused on him again, only to lean down and rip into his throat?

Her jaw closed on his trachea way too easily, pointed teeth sinking into the flesh like a knife in butter. She pulled back and watched as the blood spurted from the wound like a sick fountain, painting the basement red.

It was beautiful.

It was perfect.

tags: @whumpsday @softvampirewhump

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