secretwhumplair

[secretwhumplair]

Weird disgusting idea that won't leave my head: Whumper torments Whumpee by giving them some sort of otherworldly parasite, only for Whumpee to discover that said parasite is sentient and equally unhappy with the situation

#whump #reluctant whumper #nonhuman whumpee #nonhuman whumper #👀

[secretwhumplair]

Ambrose and Elliot #30

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: past suicidal ideation 

The bank was crowded, but quiet. Elliot looked nervous, and Ambrose offered him his arm.

Elliot clutched him by the elbow, his head down, and Ambrose hoped Ellie would be able to stay calm.

“First, we’re going to get in line,” he explained, “I’ll take care of my business, and then we’ll get your paperwork from the teller.”

“Paperwork?”

“Mhm. You need to fill out some forms to make a bank account.”

“I- I don’t know how.”

“I’ll help you.”

Ambrose led them to the far teller, which wasn’t the shortest line but was away from most of the crowd.

It wasn’t a long wait, which was good because Elliot seemed jittery.

“Name?”

“Ambrose Ventas.”

The teller left to get the file. She looked at the details, glancing up at him and then back at the page.

“Let me get my manager,” she said with a weak smile. “It looks like there’s some… errors in your account.”

She must be new.

“What happened?” whispered Elliot. “Are we in trouble?”

“No, love,” soothed Ambrose. “I’m just a complicated case, unfortunately.”

The manager came over, the poor teller behind him.

“Mr. Ventas, I am so sorry. Shelly wasn’t aware of your circumstances.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “I wasn’t upfront about it.”

Shelly looked relieved, and Ambrose wondered exactly how the manager had explained his condition to her. 

“What can we do for you today?”

Ambrose submitted his deposit, and listened off the transfers to Shelly.

“Oh, and he needs to make a savings account,” Ambrose added, gesturing to Elliot.

Shelly looked up from her book, and Elliot shrank back when her eyes landed on him.

“Of course. Name?”

“Elliot,” he whispered.

“Last name?”

Ambrose could have smacked himself. Why didn’t he think of that? Elliot didn’t have a last name.

“I- I don’t-”

“Ventas,” Ambrose blurted. “Just put down Ventas.”

Shelly’s eyes flicked between them.

“I’m his guardian,” added Ambrose. 

It was a weak excuse, but hopefully it was enough.

Shelly wrote down the name, and passed the paperwork over. “Just fill out the details, and we’ll take care of it,” she said, clearly tired of complications.

“Thank you,” Ambrose smiled.

___________________

Elliot bit his lip, the pen in his hand trembling.

“I don’t know how old I am,” he admitted, “or what year I was born.”

Ambrose was sitting across from him. The chairs at the bank were nice, but Elliot couldn’t really relax. It felt like everyone was staring at him, even though they probably weren’t.

“Just make an estimate,” said Master. “You’re with me; age isn’t going to be looked at.”

Elliot wrote down twenty-two, and did some quick math to put down the year. “What about month and day?”

“Well, spring birthdays are nice. How about May sixth?”

“Okay.”

Elliot filled out his address, and the rest of the details as best he could.

A question dug at the corner of his mind as Ambrose went over the papers for him.

“How come they don’t check age if I’m with you?”

Ambrose lowered the papers and gave him an odd look. His insides squirmed.

“Sorry, sir.” 

“No, it’s…fine.”

Ambrose worked his jaw. “I’ll tell you after we’re done here, okay?”

His tone set Elliot’s nerves alight.

They submitted the paperwork to the bank lady, and Elliot handed over his money. He was sad to see it go, but Master assured him he would be able to take it out if he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” Master Ambrose said as they left the bank. “I forgot to tell you about my condition.”

Elliot stopped short. Alarm shot through him. “Condition? Are… are you dying?” 

Ambrose laughed, low and strange. 

“Quite the opposite,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t. Or at least, I won’t. I’m not sure if someone can kill me or not. I never asked how it worked.”

Baffled, Elliot followed Ambrose to a cafe across the street. “How?”

“It was a gift,” Master said, the corner of his mouth twisting. “From my husband.”

Elliot didn’t understand. 

“A divine gift,” Master continued, and then he understood.

“Your husband,” he said slowly, making sure his words were respectful. “Is- is he-”

“I’m afraid so,” said Ambrose.

He ordered them lunch, and they sat at a table.

Elliot mulled over the new information. Master had never lied to him before. And he looked tired, and wary, and Elliot didn’t doubt he was telling the truth.

“Which one?” he choked out. He hoped for maybe the harvest god, or someone as pleasant. 

Ambrose looked up from his meal.

“The serpent god,” he admitted. Elliot sucked in a breath. He didn’t hear much about the gods, but the serpent god was… fickle.

“And I know what you’re thinking,” he added when he saw Elliot’s face. “He’s not like the stories. He’s caring, passionate, funny. Wonderful. Really wonderful.” 

He sighed, almost wistful, but Elliot knew there was no god living at Little Wood.

Ambrose’s beloved was not here. And hadn’t been for a long time.

“So now you don’t age.”

“Yes. I- I worried it wasn’t fair. I was mortal, and would die one day, and he would be alone. But he said I didn’t have to die, and so here we are.”

Elliot bit his lip. “Did it hurt?”

Ambrose smiled. “Not a bit.”

Master didn’t say more, tucking into his meal, and Elliot followed his example.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about Ambrose’s immortality. It seemed… sad.

The serpent god had abandoned him, and taken away his everlasting peace, and now Ambrose was doomed to be all alone forever.

Wasn’t it cruel? To do that to someone?

Elliot had thought a lot about dying. Dying was the end. To everything, good and bad,  and sometimes his old master made him want to die.

But his life was good now, and he didn’t want to anymore.

Did Master Ambrose ever want to die, now that he wasn’t allowed?

Elliot watched Ambrose’s face, but he didn’t seem sad.

Or was he hiding that, too?

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda @loserwithsyle

#whump #slavery whump #👀 that whole conversation about the serpent god and immortality and all. 👀

[secretwhumplair]

No peaceful sleep for whumpee.

Captive whumpee who isn’t given a place to sleep.

Captive whumpee who is kept bound in an uncomfortable day and night, with no way to lay down.

Captive whumpee who is forced to sleep on a cold, hard floor.

Captive whumpee who is woken up every hour by whumper.

Captive whumpee whose whumper comes in to torment them while they’re sleeping.

Captive whumpee whose whumper blasts noise so they can’t sleep properly.

Captive whumpee who is sprayed with water whenever they fall asleep.

Captive whumpee who is allowed to sleep, but only when they fulfill whumper’s terms.

Captive whumpee who is allowed to sleep but only while whumper is with them or only in whumper’s bed.

Recovering whumpee who can’t sleep without horrible nightmares that wake them up with a racing heart.

Recovering whumpee whose caretaker always sees them whimpering and tossing and turning as they sleep, muttering ‘no’ and ‘please’ in between sharp breaths.

Recovering whumpee who is afraid to go to sleep due to the fear that something will happen to them while they’re not alert.

#whump #sleep deprivation

[secretwhumplair]

kind of wild how much fiction still treats torture as something that objectively works when every study has shown that it does not work at all and is possibly the least effective way to get correct information

#torture

[secretwhumplair]

K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 12

Part twelve of the fourth crossover with @whumpsday!

Call me a silverware drawer the way I have all these spoons for writing rn

K&J masterlist

MMSS masterlist

K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist

To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday

Warnings: Aftermath of torture

In this chapter:

Valen checks what time it is when they wake up.  Close to morning, and sunrise.   He slips back into bed and plants light kisses up Jim's neck.  "Good morning, sleepy peepy."

Jim jolts almost violently at the feeling of a mouth on his neck, then relaxes when he realizes it's just Valen.

"Shit. Sorry." He's been able to enjoy neck kisses from Valen for the last couple years without issue, but he's been extra jumpy lately with Kane's return. He kisses Valen on the cheek. "Just got a little startled." He's definitely not a sleepy peepy anymore.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."  He runs his fingers through Jim's hair.  "How's your hangover?"

"Bleh. I've had worse, though." He snuggles against Valen. "You're going tonight?"

"Yes, I missed my window to go last night, but we should be fine to wait.  What about you, are you still going to the shops?"

"Yeah, I am." Jim's stomach turns at the thought of being left alone with Kane again, even with their positions reversed. His fingers brush over the side of Valen's neck. "Just, just make sure you come back okay. Like always."

"I will.  I'll go straight there and come right back."  He stretches and yawns.  "Kane is locked in the basement if you'd like to check in on him.  Want me to start breakfast for you?"  Valen occasionally tries to cook human food, and he enjoys doing it, and it inevitably comes out tasting very weird each time.  He's not as bad at cooking as he is at driving, but it's close.

Jim likes Valen's weird cooking even when it sucks. It's the thought that counts. He's sometimes better than Liz, though that's not saying much. And besides, interacting with Kane without Valen always there is something he'll have to get used to if they're living together again.

"Yeah, thanks, that'd be great. Surprise me." Jim gives Valen a kiss before getting out of bed to let Kane up.

Valen goes to the kitchen and starts making an omelet.  He cracks a few eggs into the pan, but then can't quite remember what all goes in an omelet.  Try as he might, no matter how many times he watches Jim cook, he just can't remember which ingredients go together.  Cooking seems to require an innate sense of human taste that he just does not have.  He would have thought that just through sheer rote memorization he would have been able to do it, and yet...

He puts in a bell pepper (stem and seeds and all), some cheese, and some bacon in with the eggs.  He's fairly certain about those ones, as well as garlic and black pepper, which seem to go on everything.  He then gets some bread, before remembering the bread just gets heated up and served on the side of eggs, not in them.  He pops two slices in the microwave.  What else?  Pickles and condiments go on sandwiches sometimes, so he throws the pickles in the pan, folds the omelet closed, and then squirts ketchup and mustard on top before putting it on a plate.  He then takes the bread out of the microwave, which is at this point slightly soggy and limp and steaming, and puts it next to the eggs.  There, it has protein, carbohydrates, fiber.  That seems like a good mix.  He puts an orange on the plate as well, then sets it on the kitchen table.  "All right, Jim, you can come eat when you're ready!"

Jim comes up with Kane shuffling behind. Kane's starting to get a little less scared: while he's still having trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that Jim wouldn't want revenge, he hasn't been hurt so far, and Valen seems willing to protect him. Kane also looks a lot better, hardly a sign of injury left on him. He smiles at Valen when he sees him, sitting at the kitchen table. "Good morning."

Jim sits too, examining the omelet. He takes a bite. It's interesting, weird but not that bad. "Thanks, I love it."

Valen beams, clapping his hands.  "Wonderful, I'm so glad.  Kane, you look well this morning.  Have you ever cooked human food before?  It's one of the trickier things I've done.  I would have thought my background in the sciences would aid me, but it appears relatively useless."

"Oh god." Jim comments. He does not think Kane would do very well at it.

"I haven't. You made that? And it's good?" Kane asks. He would like to feed Jim. It feels... appropriate. "Can I learn?"

"Well, I can't speak for Jim, but I can show you how I do it.  Which is probably not exactly correct, but appears close enough."  His eyes flick over to Jim as the human bites into a piece of omelet that has bell pepper stem in it.  "It's probably about as passable as human food as the blood I make is as passable as blood."  He smirks.  "Given the right equipment, I can manufacture substandard yet sufficient meals for either a human or vampire.  I should be featured on some sort of cooking program!"

Jim laughs through his mouthful. "That would be amazing. You're so right." He spits the stem out like an olive pit. "Kane, you could use a cookbook before you start experimenting, if you really wanna learn. Prolly best to get the basics down first."  Jim finishes his omelet and orange happily, and his bread with a little less enthusiasm.

"Alright. Kane, I'm gonna grab you some clothes, a toothbrush, basic stuff. Anything specific you need?" Jim asks.

"No, that's, that's great. Thank you."

"Okay, later." Jim gives Valen a kiss on the cheek before heading out.  Before Jim leaves, Valen pulls him aside and politely tells him that although Kane loathes to ask for anything out of fear, Valen has noticed that he seems to prefer long-sleeves and long pants, to cover his skin up.

Once they’re finally alone, Kane tentatively asks, "You're really... together? With a human?"

Valen smiles at the question, blushing.  "Yes, I am.  Most vampires already consider me a sexual deviant, so I figure, might as well go all in."

"Huh." The concept is still a little odd to Kane, though not as odd as he supposes it should seem. "I suppose there's a little hope for us all, then. If a vampire and a human can fall in love."

Valen smiles so, so wide.  That's such a romantic notion, and Valen didn't even have to say it himself and then be embarrassed about it.  "I suppose so.  Have you ever fallen in love?"

"No, I'm not the romantic type." It's better this way. No one would ever possibly like him back, he'd only experience heartbreak if he were to fall in love with someone. "What's it like?"

Valen's eyes go distant, his expression warm, his mind fuzzy and elsewhere.  "It feels warm.  It's difficult to describe without resorting to meaningless fluffy metaphors, but it feels like someone is finally on your side.  Like you've discovered something rare and precious and all you can think about is how to keep it safe for as long as you can, and how lucky you are that the stars aligned in such a way that you get to enjoy a little corner of life that you've made for a while, in the huge vastness of the cosmos.  It's on your mind all the time, like a worry, but it makes you feel better instead of worse."

"It sounds beautiful. I'm glad you've found that with him. As long as you can." Kane says softly. Valen has to be aware of humans' short lifespans. He's probably thought about it a lot. There is no spending your life together with a human. He's a ticking time bomb to heartbreak. Jim has to be, what, a third of the way through his life? More? He can't help but pity Valen.

Valen nods.  "Yes, for however long it lasts.  I'm quite reminded of how heartbroken I was when my first cat died.  It will surely be painful in the end, but that doesn't make the happiness and love we share while we have it worth less.  I'm sure love is not so rare that Jim is the only person I can experience it with, nor me with him.'

"Yes, I'm sure." Kane decides to change the bleak subject, picking absentmindedly at the padding on his cuffs. "You're going to vampire territory tonight?"  He's glad there will be more blood available, but nervous to be away from Valen's protection.

"Yes, I'm planning on going straight there and back. I'm going to advise Jim to simply keep you in the basement unbothered until I return, as I think that will be safest for all of us."

"Yes, that, that sounds good." Kane can't fuck up if he's just left alone. In his wonderful blanket nest in the nice, sunless basement. His new favorite place on earth.

Valen can just go home, back to vampire territory, anytime he wants. It's strange to be captive in the presence of a free vampire.

Jim comes home with a week's worth of clothes, all long sleeves and pants that Kane can use to cover himself, and a few other basic items. Kane is overwhelmed by the gift, clutching the bag to his chest.

It's so nice here. If Kane could live like this forever, he could be happy, captive or not. He's fed and unhurt. That's all he needs.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I know it's still... undecided, what the two of you would like to do with me. Um, I would do anything to stay here. Anything. Please."

Valen looks unsurely to Jim. "Well," he says hesitantly. "I don't think Jim has plans to send you away or anything.  We're not going to let you go, on account of the risk, no matter how small....and we're certainly not going to give you back to those dreadful hunters. I'd count myself lucky if none of us ever saw them again."

Kane is immensely relieved by Valen's words. He looks to Jim for confirmation.

"Yeah. You're staying. And no matter what, never going back there."

Kane puts his face in his hands. "Thank you. I don't know how I could ever repay you."

"Just keep bein' nice is all." Jim says.

"What they did to you was wrong," Valen says firmly. "To be clear. It would have been wrong no matter who you were. Under no circumstances would it be right to leave you there, knowing what they were doing to you. Even if you weren't 'nice.' It's nice of you to want to 'repay' us, but it's just basic decency. Same as how I had to save Jim, when he was out alone and vulnerable."

"Exactly. Even if you started being a shithead again, we wouldn't send you back there." Jim agrees.

Kane doesn't really get it. He did deserve it, didn't he? They're just kind enough to save him anyway.

"Yes. Decency." he agrees.  Maybe he'll understand one day.

***

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@emcscared-whumps

@gt-daboss

@hurtpluscomfort

@jakersdaboss

@lolrpop

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@pigeonwhumps

@secretwhumplair

@some-thrilling-heroics

@starfields08000

@t0rture-me

@thecyrulik

@thejinglingcourtjester

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-my-heart-away

@whumpycries

@wolfeyedwitch

@whump-addict

@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

#whump #nooo the cooking #*you tried* sticker for valen <3

[secretwhumplair]

This probably isn't enough for an actual drabble, but I'm currently thinking about the idea of both Kane AND Jim waking up in the past at the same time. Just Kane running downstairs to fee Jim like he did in the AU piece you wrote, and finding Jim who is an absolute MESS cuz he thought he was back in Hell 🥺 cue Kane trying to calm him down like "no its ok Jim, its me! Well... the nice me? You're safe."

throwing this in the vault to drabble at some point

#whump #!!! #kane showing jim the parts of his house he's never been to is. doing something to me

[secretwhumplair]

Can I request whump with a complete language barrier, in either a freshly captured whumpee who doesn't really understand what's going on yet, or a caretaker-new-master situation? 🙏

content: language barrier, whumper turned caretaker, restraints, multiple whumpers, multiple caretakers, knives

Whumpee listened to the people around them with a blank expression, not even trying to understand anymore. Whatever language they were speaking, Whumpee had no hopes of deciphering the meaning of it. It was entirely foreign, and they were pretty sure they wouldn't be able to recreate half the sounds in it.

Someone placed a boot on their back and shoved them forward, and they obediently stood. At least that much was universal.

The person in front of them said something and motioned for them to hold their hands out. Whumpee did so without a fuss; defiance wasn't worth another cracked rib.

The stranger produced a knife from their backpack, and Whumpee's heartbeat quickened. Surely, they didn't mean to hurt them more? They would be useless cut up. Right? They instinctively tried to take a step back, but they were stopped by the guy who shoved them forward just a few moments earlier.

"No, no, no, wait—" They tried to pull their hands back, but the guy in front of them grabbed them by the ropes that held their wrists together, pulling them back and towards the knife. "Wait! Please, I'm not even resisting!"

They received no comfort from their captor, merely an order that was barked in such a hostile manner that there was no way it meant anything good. Tears were gathering in Whumpee's eyes as they watched the blade be slipped under the rope, and... and cut it.

Were they... being freed?

"What's going on?" they asked stupidly, as though there was any way for them to understand each other. The stranger still answered, but of course, Whumpee didn't catch a single word of it.

Still... They were free to move around now. Maybe... Maybe they weren't enemies?

#whump #!!! I JUST posted a piece doing the same knife thing :D :D :D #great minds etc #this is so tasty #are these people whumpers? are they caretakers? who knows not whumpee!

[secretwhumplair]

Human weapon whumpee who considers their own inanimate weapon the closest thing they have to a friend or partner. Human weapon whumpee who treats their own inanimate weapon with all the care and tenderness that their whumper withholds from them.

#whump #human weapon #ohhh 👀

[secretwhumplair]

Silas and Wren 2.0 #1

Masterpost

Next

Warnings: slavery, implied past non-con, blood

Silas strolled through the markets. He didn’t venture out into human areas often, except to hunt, and these streets were largely unfamiliar to him.

The market was flooded with smells and scents foreign to him. There was all sorts of human food stalls, and some of them intrigued him. But there was no point in wasting money on things he could only taste and would make him nauseous later. Besides, that wasn’t what he was here for.

Silas went deeper into the crowds, breathing in deep. The scent of human despair grew strong with every step, and at the end of the trail would be his goal.

Vampires did not keep slaves. It was a point of pride that they hunted every night; a valued skill to be able to rule the streets and feed a nest without a single death.

But Silas lived by himself, and in the shadow of a much bigger nest of vampires, ever since his father had exiled him.

His territory was tiny, as to not offend their generosity, and he was tired of being so utterly alone. A companion that could talk and think would be welcome; almost like he had a nest again.

Regular meals would also be nice. A single human could supply him easily without putting him in the sights of the ruling nest.

And he’d be rescuing the human from slavery, treating them well like their masters didn’t. Surely that would be a handsome enough reward for their blood. Merciful, even.

Three birds, one stone.

He pinpointed the slavehouse by scent before he saw it. Despair and dread filtered towards him, as strong as any rancid perfume. It was a disturbing smell, one that made his stomach flip with anxiety.

The building was large, and sounded busy. Chatter and the sound of iron against stone reached his ears. 

A salesperson met him at the door, smiling at first, and then his face fell when he saw Silas’s eyes.

No human had slit pupils.

“Hello, sir! What can I help you with today?” Silas smiled at him, as was polite, and the salesman shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m looking for a companion,” he said quietly, trying to make up for frightening him.

“Certainly, any gender preferences?” Silas hadn’t thought of that. In all his research about caring for a human, he didn’t consider gender. Maybe he’d relate more to a man?

“A man, please.”

“Right this way, sir.” The salesman led him through the warehouse, passing by rows of chained slaves. They seemed organized by category of work, then sex. Interesting.

“Forgive me,” said the man, “but I wasn’t aware vampires had slaves. I don’t mean to imply anything untoward of course.”

“We don’t.”

“I see. Well, here is our lovely collection of bedfellows. I’m sure one will be to your taste- er, preference.” 

Silas’s stomach turned icy. He hadn’t meant sexual companionship. He scanned the row of slaves, all of them chained to the floor by the ankle. They looked miserable. The smell of fear was at its peak here in this awful section.

Now that he thought about it, maybe this was for the best. One less person stuck in sexual slavery. 

Now who would he buy?

Slowly, he made his way down the line of men. They all had different appearances, clearly meant to “appeal” to different people. But it didn’t matter how they looked, Silas was interested in the scent of their blood. It was only fair, he couldn’t buy all of them. 

Even if he still had access to his father’s money, he couldn’t afford it.

___________________

This buyer looked different. Strange. He couldn’t place it until he saw the flash of the man’s fangs. A vampire. 

He’d never heard of a vampire owning anybody. It was usually catch-and-release, right?

The vampire wasn’t looking at them quite like a regular buyer. It was a good moment before he realized the vampire was smelling them.

He shuddered, and the vampire’s gaze turned on him.

___________________

None of them smelled particularly appealing, until he came to the end of the row. This one was small and looked tired. 

Poor thing.

But he smelled delightful, and Silas was interested. However, there was only one way to be sure he tasted as good as he smelled.

He bent down and murmured to the slave. “Just relax. This won’t hurt, I promise.”

The slave looked up at him, his honey-brown eyes wide.

“Would you mind if I took a sample?” The salesperson looked nervous at the request. “Just a taste,” he reassured him. “Not even an ounce.”

The salesman nodded, too terrified to refuse.

___________________

Oh god. The vampire was going to drink from him. 

Please don’t let it hurt. Please, god. 

The vampire cupped his cheek and gently but firmly tilted his head to expose his neck. He screwed his eyes shut.

“Relax,” said the vampire, and he tried his best to obey him. The vampire kissed his neck, a mere brush of his soft lips, and he felt a strange tingling sensation on the little patch of skin. Venom, probably.

He felt the vampire’s cool breath, and then a slight scrape of what was surely the tips of his fangs.

But instead of a stabbing pain, he only felt a mild pressure. A slight tug and some trickling warmth told him he had, in fact, been bitten. 

He gasped as the blood left him, his heart pounding as the vampire swallowed it down.

The vampire pulled away after a moment, licking his lips, and he tried not to flinch at the sight of red on the man’s mouth.

___________________

His blood was even better than Silas could have guessed. Deep and rich, with a hint of sweetness. Utterly delicious.

And if this was how good he was mistreated, how amazing would he be healthy?

He wiped away the excess drops from the slave’s neck, licking them off his thumb. He stood.

“I’ll take this one.”

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone @paintedpigeon1 @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @fanastyfinder @extemporary-whump @susiequaz12 @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @the-cyrulik @morning-star-whump @writereleaserepeat @annablogsposts @tobiaslut

#whump #vampire whump #👀👀👀

[secretwhumplair]

An Introduction

Howdy there! Welcome to this blog, finally (technically) posting! This is where I'll be posting any whumpy writings, reblogging (mostly) whump, and answering questions about myself or my Whumpee, Plum! Sugar(nicknames welcome!) / 20s / they/them / demisexual & demiromantic

My favorite Whump things are: -Pet Whump -Intimate Whump -Nonhuman Whumpee -Immortal or Regen-capable Whumpee -Dehumanization -Conditioned/Brainwashed Whumpee -Recovery/Deconditioning -Hurt/Comfort (and eventual fluff) -Body Modification -Medical Whump -Explorations of identity, attraction, and consent

~~~~~~~~~~ Whumpee: Plum, a pet whumpee recently rescued and brought to a hospital for long-term care. Young(age unknown) / it/its / asexual & demiromantic Whumper: ?? Caretaker: Callum, a volunteer caretaker for pets in need of stabilization and deconditioning. 20s / he/him / demisexual and panromantic CWs: Medical setting, graphic injury, abused whumpee, heavy dehumanization, intimate whump, recovery from abuse

~~~~~~~~~~

#hello!

[secretwhumplair]

Fighting spirit

1,104 words | Izara and the serpent king (sequel to Izara's appraisal)

Content | Slavery, dehumanization, restraints, manhandling, implied: past beatings, nudity, knife whump, mention of: noncon, punishment

Notes | Yay double hit today! A little look into Izara as he properly arrives at his new master's.

Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa @whumpinator @neverthelass

Izara was scared out of his mind as the serpent king’s guard led him through the palace, firmly gripping his arm; it wasn’t over the worst of the bruises, but it hurt regardless. Everything hurt.

He would be hurt more, he knew that. He had been hurt incessantly for the past seventeen months, passing from one cruel pair of hands to the next, all trying to break him before giving up, frustrated or bored, and selling him on; and now? He had snapped at the hand of a king. He was under no illusions that his punishment was even close to done.

A part of him wished he could simply stop fighting back, insisting it would be easier; that things would get better then, even having seen slaves getting beaten for the smallest accidental infraction, getting raped with brutality regardless of how pliant they were trying to be. Another, though, feared that day more than anything: as long as he was fighting, he was alive. He was his own person, by some definition. He couldn’t give up, even as each day it became harder to remember what he was fighting for when there was no escape in this nightmare.

He was terrified he might have finally found a master who wouldn’t care about his resale value, who would leave scars and burns over his body, or… or worse. The serpent king’s blasé offer had proven that money was not an issue for him; after having been sold a dozen times, Izara was well aware what the value of an unruly beast like him was, and it was well below.

The serpent king was, currently, leading the way. Leaving the throne room, he had said something to the guard in their language, which Izara didn’t understand a word of, and he had little hope it had been merely to follow him.

They wound up in a relatively small room with doors on both sides, which Izara took to mean it was an antechamber of some sort. There was also a window high along one wall, narrow, but easily wide enough to let his skinny body through.

Not that he stood a chance to escape between the serpent king, the guard, and the servant who had been awaiting them here, or at least awaiting the king.

»You can let go of him now, I suppose,« the serpent king said softly, eyeing Izara up and down.

The guard, miraculously, let go of him, backing off towards the door they had entered through. For a moment Izara was tempted to make a dash for the window, no matter how hopeless it was, but the serpent king was almost right between him and the sweet air outside. He just dug his nails into his palms and waited.

The serpent king stretched out a hand to the guard, without taking his eyes off him. »Your dagger, Captain.«

And just like that, every thought that had fought its way through the pain and exhaustion and the hunger gnawing at Izara’s stomach was washed away, replaced with cold, glaring panic. A better slave, perhaps, would have fallen to his knees and begged for mercy. Izara though backed away so quickly his back slammed painfully into the piece of furniture behind him. It was a table of some sort, and he scrambled up onto it.

»Stay away from me!« The words went out without thought, and upon hearing them, he wished someone at some point would have sewn his mouth shut. That would never happen to an elven slave, of course, they were supposed to sing for their masters, not scramble through a room trying to escape whatever they had in store for them.

If he made it behind the servant snake, he might get through the other door.

The guard dashed at him faster than Izara could blink, and in a moment, he was being held by his arms again. Harder, this time, on account perhaps of him struggling to get away as hard as he could, kicking into the air until the guard wrapped his body around his legs, immobilizing them. Then, for some reason, they let go of his arms.

»Easy, little thing,« the serpent king said. »I will cut your ties.«

Izara stopped struggling, half out of surprise, half because there was nothing he could do anymore, anyway. Besides, at this point even the mere moments of panicked struggle were enough to exhaust him. The bruises on his arms throbbed where the guard had grabbed on to him.

»That’s better.« The serpent king approached calmly, and Izara bared his teeth. He could snap again. It would do him no good whatsoever, but it was the one thing he could. »Easy.«

The serpent king took the rope binding his hands together. On pure instinct, Izara yanked them away and regretted it immediately. Maybe the serpent king would have cut his ties, but not now-

The serpent king took the rope binding his hands together. When Izara, this time, held his breath and his arms, he hooked his fingers behind the knot, pulling it to the side enough to slide the dagger into the loop of rope chafing his skin.

The mere feeling of the cold metal against his skin made Izara bite his tongue against a whimper, but in a moment, it was over, his hand—suddenly, unexpectedly freed—falling limply to his side.

The raw skin on his wrist burned in the air.

He could have hit the serpent king, then.

The serpent king was still holding the rope and cut it loose from his other wrist as well.

Izara crossed his arms, half-hugged himself, glimpsing down on his damaged wrists. It had been a torment on its own, the rough ties scraping and chafing and biting into already rope-burned skin when he couldn’t simply hold his arms and hands still, and he couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t.

Now it was gone, and there was nothing that wouldn’t heal with time. Of course not. He was too beautiful for scars.

He could have pushed the serpent king away. He would if he tried to touch him, he swore to himself.

But the serpent king merely tossed the cut rope to the servant, and then backed up all by himself.

»If I tell the Captain to let you go, will you follow me?« His golden eyes were still fixed on Izara.

It was a trick question. There was only one correct answer, and Izara didn’t even know whether it was true or not. He would try to escape given the chance.

But was this really a chance?

»No,« he heard himself say.

#whump #whump writing #slavery whump #defiant whumpee #my writing #izara #mirai and the serpent king #izara and the serpent king #eshihir #I wanna name the guard captain I have HeAdCaNoNs about them

[secretwhumplair]

Izara's appraisal

956 words | Mirai Izara and the serpent king

Content | Slavery, dehumanization, degradation, restraints, manhandling, crying, implied past beatings, nudity

Notes | Some years before Mirai's arrival, Eshihir adds the first elf to his collection. This one was... quite a bit more feisty.

Tagging the Mirai and the serpent king list, let me know if you don't want to be tagged in Izara's storyline!

Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa @whumpinator @neverthelass

The elf the traders had brought before Eshihir was, in fact, pretty. It was showing, too, his bronze skin only covered by a scanty loincloth, his brown curls messy, but springing around his face.

The only flaws to his beauty, really, were that he was rather too thin, and banged up badly—bruises all over in different shades that suggested multiple beatings over time, raised welts of varied thickness. His wrists, tied together with what seemed an excessive amount of rough rope, were rubbed raw on both sides. Nothing that wouldn’t heal with time, though; his captors had wanted to preserve his beauty.

Eshihir didn’t have to guess at how the slave had ended up in this state. Even as they walked up through the throne room, his keepers had to drag him by the arm, fingers digging hard into what little flesh there was on it as he pulled back, away from his fate.

His face had been, by the looks of it, carefully spared from the ruin, but it was wearing a teeth-bare scowl almost enough to distract from the tears in his eyes. The elf wasn’t looking at Eshihir, eyes fixed somewhere on the stairs leading up to him.

The slavers bowed to him, and yanked the slave down so hard that his skinny knees hit the floor with a thunk audible even from up here.

»Your Majesty! Greetings! We bring you a rare beauty from the West, if you would be so kind as to consider him. He has, unfortunately, not yet learned his manners, but this face is unmatched.« He grabbed the elf by the jaw and forced him to look up, pulling him back onto his feet. Eshihir didn’t fail to notice the elf’s attempt at pulling away, stayed by an even harder grab and hissed words that must have been a threat.

Poor manners, indeed. Eshihir was not normally in the habit of training unruly slaves, but the elf was very pretty, aside from the bones and the bruises.

»I will consider him,« he graciously conceded. »Let him come forward.«

The slaver bent over and urgently whispered into the slave’s ear before letting go of his face. He nodded at his comrade, who was still holding the slave by the arm, and they reluctantly let go. The one who had done the talking gave him a rough shove forward.

The elf, suddenly free from restraint, stumbled, barely keeping himself from falling. He didn’t move to come up to Eshihir; instead, his eyes flickered across the room, across the guards—a wild animal desperately looking for an escape.

»Move, you useless whore,« the slaver hissed; the elf threw a glance at him, his hands balling into fists, but didn’t obey.

Poor manners.

»Fine, I’ll take you up personally.« He grabbed the elf by the arm again—he tried to evade, but not fast or decisive enough—and added something in a threatening whisper before speaking up again in the slimy tone he had used before. »With your permission, of course, your Majesty.«

Eshihir simply nodded, and the slaver dragged the elf up the dais.

Up close, the elf looked even more miserable, but the face the slaver had praised did hold up to the first impression. His hair was about chin-length, but irregular, as if it had been chopped off at some point without much skill or care. His eyes were red from crying, but otherwise a beautiful muddy green. Eshihir could only imagine the possibilities.

The elf had pressed his lips into a thin line, and from the smell of naked fear and the defiance he had made a point of displaying so far, Eshihir was certain it was to hide trembling.

»Let me see him,« Eshihir said, gesturing at the loincloth, and the slaver obeyed with one rough, swift motion.

The elf flinched, blinking away fresh tears; his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Eshihir almost felt bad, but he wasn’t going to buy without properly inspecting the wares.

»Turn around.«

The elf didn’t move an inch, instead venturing a brief, but withering glare at him that sparked something almost playful in Eshishir; if the slave wanted to defy him, he could try. It was the slaver who pulled him around, the elf’s bare feet squeaking softly on the smooth floor. There was nothing unexpected, more bruising and even more welts crisscrossing the elf’s back and absolutely covering an ass that would, Eshihir was certain, look divine healed up and properly fed.

He gestured for the elf to be turned back around. »Open your mouth.«

At this point, he was expecting the response he got, more or less: the elf threw a bitter, defiant glare at him, his jaw muscle merely twitching.

The slaver groaned, grabbed his chin and dug his thumb into the jaw muscle until the elf’s mouth popped open with a pained yelp.

He must have let loose, because when Eshihir raised a hand to turn the slave’s head himself, he snapped at his fingers.

The slaver cursed in a language Eshihir didn’t know and yanked on the slave’s collar, hard enough Eshihir was worried there might be some serious damage. But the elf came back up and only gasped for breath for a few moments while the slaver blubbered apologies, which Eshihir ignored.

»My, my,« he said, not trying to fight the small smile breaking across his lips. »You are quite the brat, aren’t you?«

The elf glared at him, silently. Tears had welled up in his eyes again, whether from the punishment or from fear of more to come, Eshihir couldn’t tell.

This could certainly be interesting.

And who knew how many opportunities he would have to add an elf to his collection, anyway?

#whump #defiant whumpee #slavery whump #whump writing #my writing #izara and the serpent king #mirai and the serpent king #eshihir #izara #it's so fun to see the contrast between him and poor ittle mirai

[secretwhumplair]

Maybe. I have to write about Izara and the serpent king

#izara was a defiant whumpee <3 #who want to see eshihir handle that #whump #mirai and the serpent king musings

[secretwhumplair]

K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 11

Part eleven of the fourth crossover with @whumpsday!

Bam!!! Back to back!! Once again again an XL chapter because I couldn't find a good place for a chapter break. lol... You can clearly tell these were written as RPs 😅 Hope you enjoy!

K&J masterlist

MMSS masterlist

K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist

To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday

Warnings: Aftermath of torture

In this chapter:

***

The next day, Jim comes down when Liz is set to arrive soon. He feels a lot safer in the daytime, making breakfast for himself.  Valen follows behind.

The bookshelf is undisturbed. Jim says, "Liz is gonna be working on the basement, installing silver stuff on the door. Kane can come up here? I can't move that bookshelf."

"Sure, that sounds fine. Just so you know, I had Kane demonstrate yesterday how strong he is as of now, and he could barely lift twenty pounds. The bookshelf was far in excess. Maybe that will put you at ease. I'll probably have to go to vampire territory tonight to pick up more blood, but I won't leave until Liz has made things secure so that you feel safe with me out of the house."

He walks over to the bookshelf and lifts it bodily, books and all, effortlessly and sets it where it belongs. He unlocks the door and cracks it open. "Kane, are you awake?"

Kane pokes his head out from the blanket cocoon he's encased himself in. "Yes, sir. I mean- yes." It's the best night of sleep he's had in a very long time. Already, he looks a lot better, the burns on his face having healed significantly. "Am I... needed?" They said they wouldn't hurt him, he tries to remind himself, but it's hard to internalize.

"Jim wants you to come upstairs. His sister is coming over today and will need to be in the basement. Shall I help you come up?"

His sister must be Liz. The hunter. Great, just great. There's no way he's going to escape that encounter unscathed. At least he has blood now, so he'll heal fast, but he's still dreading it.

"I, I can handle it." Kane wraps one of the blankets around himself, shuffling up the stairs to meet Valen. "Is it okay if I take it with me?"

"Of course." Valen watches Kane come upstairs, then has him sit down on the couch, then pokes his head into the kitchen. "Jim, dear, Kane is in the living room. Come out when you're ready. What would you like us to do until Liz gets here?"

Jim comes out with a plate of peanut butter banana toast. "Uh, I dunno. She shouldn't be long. Hey, K-Kane." Jim isn't supposed to use his name. He's supposed to use Master. He hates that his voice wavers. "How'd you sleep."

Kane eyes him fearfully.  "Very well. Thank you." Kane is trying to be as polite as possible, extremely tense. "And yourself?"

"Good. Hey, relax. Still not gonna hurtcha." Jim reminds him.

"Yes. Thank you." Kane barely calms. The hunter is almost here.

"I figure I'll go out and buy some stuff for him at some point today, before you go for blood. Clothes and stuff." Jim tells Valen. "That okay?"

"Sure, that's a lovely idea.  And while you're out of the house, maybe Kane can help me with my research project, since we're out of real blood.  I finally have a second test subject."  He winks at Kane.

Kane's face falls even deeper into fear. "What?" he squeaks, clutching the blanket tighter around himself. "What- research project?"

"Oh dear," Valen says with a laugh.  "I just realized how that might have sounded if you don't know anything about it.  I'm working on trying to develop artificial blood.  So far I've been the only one around to drink it.  You can help me taste test it.  You needn't worry; the worst that will happen is we sit around drinking shots, and one of them happens to taste bad.  Obviously you don't have to if it makes you nervous."

Kane relaxes. That's the worst that can happen, and the best that can happen is he gets more blood. "Yes, I would love to. That sounds, that sounds wonderful. Thank you for including me."

"Aw, I wanna do fake blood shots." Jim whines. "Stupid toxic mushrooms."

There's a knock at the door, and Kane jolts like it's a gunshot, whimpering.

"She's not gonna hurt you." Jim assures him. "Liz's just gonna make the basement secure and get you some restraints that don't hurt. That's all."

Restraints that don't hurt sound good. Kane nods, sinking further into the couch as Jim answers the door.

Liz is wearing her hunting gear and a stormy expression, carrying a bag of vampire restraints in one hand and a bunch of silver under the other. She glares at Kane with burning hatred.

Kane shoots Valen a desperate, pleading look.

Valen comes over and stands next to Kane, reaching down and putting a comforting hand on his back.  "Liz, it's so good to see you.  Kane, this is Liz, Jim's sister.  She and I have been good friends for years.  Liz, there's something Kane would like to say to you."  Valen leans down and whispers very, very quietly into Kane's ear, such that only vampire hearing would let him hear, no eavesdropping.  "Apologize to her, and try to make it sound like you're not doing it just because you're afraid of her."  There's no way it's going to mollify even a fraction of Liz's anger at Kane, but Valen thinks that addressing the elephant in the room up-front might ease some of the tension that he's sure is going to happen.  And maybe, just maybe, if Kane is polite and deferential and sincere right off the bat, it will help Liz see that he's different.

Kane focuses on the grounding hand on his back. Valen has been safe, so far, and unbelievably kind. At the very least, he's a vampire too, and the least threatening of his new wardens. He hesitates a moment before timidly speaking up. "I'm s-sorry, ma'am. What I did to Jim was- was cruel, and I'm glad he's safe now."

Jim's eyebrows raise at the apology. Kane's said I'm sorry many times already, but this feels different somehow. It feels weird.

"I know that it was cruel." Liz snaps. Kane cringes back, expecting a blow that doesn't come.

"Liz, he's already really scared." Jim says. "Please?"

She sighs, putting the silver down and approaching with the bag. "Arms out."

Kane extends his shaking arms. Liz fastens padded cuffs onto his wrists, and similar with his ankles. "Don't touch the keys, they're silver." she tells Valen, her tone much softer with him.

She tosses the bag to Jim, containing the keys to the cuffs and one other mysterious item. Jim peers inside, then closes the bag again with a frown.

"Thank you, Liz," Valen says.  "I know you have every right to be upset with Kane, he's just simply trying to demonstrate he knows what he did was wrong and behaves differently now.  He has been a perfect gentleman so far, nothing like how he used to be.  It's very kind of you to come over to help Jim and not hurt Kane."  It's a thank you, but also a warning to back off, a reminder of how they'd said it would go.  "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help with the basement."

"I get it, okay? That is what I came over to do." Liz rubs her temples. She gives Jim a quick hug before grabbing the silver. "Thanks, Valen. For everything. But... I think you're the last person who could help with this." She does offer him a lukewarm smile before going to work on the door.

Valen wilts as soon as Liz turns her back, desperately hoping he hadn't made a huge mistake and made things worse.  "Of course," he says vaguely.

Kane relaxes a little once she's out of eyeshot. "Thank you." he murmurs.

Jim fishes the keys out of the bag, stuffs them in his pocket, and throws the bag and its remaining contents in the trash.

Valen comes over and gingerly picks it from the trash.  "Hold on, Jim, dear, it sounds like there's still something in there."

"It's trash." Jim insists, taking it out of Valen's hands and putting it back in the garbage. "I'm gonna put the keys upstairs and head out to shop while you and Kane do shots or whatever. Unless you want me to stick around?"

Valen stares at Jim, then averts his eyes.  "I thought it might be good for you to stay here while Liz is here also, but I think I can handle it if you'd rather not be here."

"Yeah, you're right, it can wait. 'S why I asked." Jim takes Valen's hand, threading his fingers through Valen's. "And seriously, just forget about the bag. It's nothing we'd ever use."

"Jim..." Valen says.  Surely Jim must know that Valen is going to open the bag to see what it is as soon as he gets an opportunity when Jim isn't around?

"It's a muzzle." Jim mumbles. "Like I said. Trash. Prolly just came with the cuffs from whoever Liz got them from, which was why she didn't try to put it on. I'm not putting that shit on him." As afraid as he is of Kane's bite, the memory of Valen in a muzzle still haunts him.

"I don't mind wearing a muzzle if, if it doesn't hurt." Kane says. "I'll be good. Won't resist."

But Valen's skin crawls at the thought of a muzzle.  He understands Jim's instinctual reaction to it.  He tries to hide the look on his face.  Objectively, a muzzle is not such a bad thing, if it won't hurt.  He nods, trying not to look shaken.  "All right.  If you don't think you'll need it, we can get rid of it.  Kane says he wouldn't even mind, I assume it's padded.  I don't think Kane will try to bite you anyway.  I just want you to feel safe."

"I don't want it in our house." Jim cups Valen's face, running his thumb over Valen’s cheek. Soft skin that was locked behind a muzzle for three days during horrible trauma. "I'd feel safer with it gone."

Kane modestly averts his eyes.

Valen nods.  "I-I would also feel safer with it gone.  Thank you."

Valen takes Jim's hand and goes over to Liz, examining what she's doing curiously.  "So, Liz, what all are you planning to do while you're here?"

Liz has already replaced the door's hinges with silver, and is now installing a flat silver grating over it. "Just silverin' up this door. Obviously don't touch any of this, or wear gloves if you gotta. Assume that touching any metal within a foot of the door isn't fun. Gonna put a deadbolt on the outside next. All that should definitely be able to hold him. But both of you keep in mind it'll also hold anyone, human or vampire, so don't get stuck down there."

"Good to know." Jim says quietly. The idea of a prison inside his home makes him feel hollow. It reminds him uncomfortably of the human quarters back at Kane's.

Valen, by contrast, seems fine with this.  "Thank you, Liz."  He walks over and sits on the couch next to Kane.  "How are you doing?" he says quietly.

Jim talks with Liz for a bit, their conversation consisting of Jim chewing her out a bit for bringing a muzzle, Liz confirming what Jim thought about it just coming with the set, Jim asking where she got those anyway, and Liz saying she knows a hunter who did a hostage exchange once.

"I'm okay. Good." Kane confirms. "The cuffs don't hurt. I'm fed. I'm healing. You p-protected me from the hunter. Thank you. I'm... I'm actually okay." He's still scared, his fate uncertain, but he knows his life has at least had a major step up. 

"Good," Valen says, patting his knee.

"Um, can I ask... what did people say about me? After I was assumed dead, as I'm sure I was?"

"Um, unfortunately I don't really know.  I pretty much isolated myself from any other vampires a long time ago.  I moved out here to be with Jim not long after the last time we saw each other, and I don't keep in touch with my family."

"Oh. I see." That would have been years before Kane was captured, then. He hadn't even heard about Valen running off to human territory. It's scary how someone could just...disappear, and no one cares. He wonders if anyone cared when he did.

Suddenly, he smiles wryly. "He was still in your apartment, wasn't he. When I came by. I'm just realizing that."

Valen smiles, half-embarrassed, half amused.  "Yes, he was cowering at the bottom of my bedroom closet.  I've never been a good liar, so I was terrified you'd see through it.  At the time I was nervous I wouldn't be able to fight you off if you didn't believe me and decided to shove your way in and look around."

The implications aren't lost on Kane. If Valen hadn't done what he did, Kane never would have gone through this horrible mess. But it's an incidental consequence, not a purposeful one. He didn't even get captured until five years later.

And he really did plan on crushing Jim's ankles if he found him. And Jim doesn't deserve that.

"I'm glad you got him out. Thank you." Kane says.

"The poor thing was on the brink of death out in the wild," Valen says sadly.  "I couldn't just leave him there."  He wrings his hands.  "I'm glad you think this way, now, I was afraid when we came to get you that you'd--you'd be even angrier, and more violent."

Kane imagines, for a moment, a world in which he'd found Jim's corpse out there in the woods. He'd still have gone for a second human, probably in the same timeframe, and still been captured by the hunters. Except this time, there would be no Jim to save him and take him away. It would be forever. Neither one of them would have a happy ending. He's more thankful than ever for Valen.

"I've been subject to the other side. I couldn't possibly go on with my stupid fucking- s-sorry. I don't mean to be impolite." he says nervously, hoping that doesn't count. Just be polite, and you'll be fine. "With my views."

Valen smiles and pats his hand.  "You're all right.  Still, I'm very glad, it's making this all a lot easier.  I think in the long run this might be better for Jim's healing, too.  To stop thinking of you as some bogeyman that could swoop in to take him at any time."

Jim comes on over, only catching the last bit. "Yeah, not so much of a bogeyman now. So, shots? I can grab some cranberry juice and play along."

Kane perks up. He's going to get more blood, even if it's 'artificial'. He's never heard of anything like it, but he very much likes blood.

"Jim, dear, are you sure you don't want to wait until Liz leaves?" He hesitates, then more quietly: "And are you sure you want to see Kane feeding?"

"It's not like- it's just the mushroom stuff, out of a cup, right? No, like, biting anything?" Jim clarifies. "If I chicken out, I'll just slink off. We can wait if you wanna, though, and you can do it while I'm out. Doesn't matter."

"Yes. Okay, that sounds good. I do think we should wait until Liz is gone, though." No sense doing anything risky if they didn't need to, and having Kane do anything other than the absolute bare minimum to get through interacting with Liz is definitely risky

Kane is glad for the stalling. Drinking blood is bad behavior, and he doesn't want to do it in front of the huntress, even if it's not real blood and he has permission.

Jim puts the TV on for a bit. It's about 40 minutes until Liz is done. "Alright, that should do it." she announces. "If we really wanna test it, Valen can put some gloves on and give it a good knocking, but I get that might be uncomfortable and I'm confident it'll hold."

"I'm certainly willing to do that, but I'm confident in your work, Liz. Jim, up to you."

"If... you're really sure it's okay, could we maybe test it?" Jim asks sheepishly, embarrassed of his fear. "Just to make sure."

Kane wants to insist that he won't try to escape, but that could be taken as him wanting to leave the basement less-secured, and he doesn't want to imply anything like that, especially in front of the hunter.

"Of course! It'll be a fun activity."

Valen dons his protective gear, the things he uses to go out during the day, to be absolutely certain he won't touch any of the silver. He then has them lock him in the basement and bodily slams the door multiple times, demonstrating that even a full frontal assault with a running start from a healthy vampire is not enough to break it down.

Kane watches with wide eyes, listening to the pap-pap-pap-BOOM of Valen running into the door. He wasn't planning to escape anyway, he's behaving, and it's been good here so far, but the demonstration of just how trapped and helpless he is makes him feel small. He looks down at his feet, trembling a bit.

Jim unlocks the door. "Thanks, Vale. Think that about covers it."

Valen had, truthfully, enjoyed the activity just as he'd said. It'd been ages since he'd had any reason to unleash his full strength. He is panting a little when he comes out. "You're quite welcome." He catches sight of Kane. "I'm sure this is far in excess of what's actually necessary, considering Kane isn't going to try anything like what I just did, but I'm happy it will make you feel more secure."

Valen looks so hot, panting when he takes his mask off. Jim would eagerly comment on it if the other company in the room weren't his sister and Kane. "Yeah. Super secure."

"I'll leave you guys to it, then. You know I'm always a phone call away." Liz gives Jim a hug, and Valen a hug, and goes to leave. Before she does, she hesitates at the door before stomping over to Kane.

"Hurt my brother ever again and you are done." she snarls. "Are we understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Kane says, cowering away from her.

"Thank you, Liz," Valen says dryly. "Drive safely."  Jim is similarly displeased with Liz's choice, even if he's glad for the protectiveness.

Valen watches Liz depart, and then turns to Kane. "You did very well, thank you for staying calm." 

"C-calm." Kane agrees shakily. He's relieved he's done well, at least.

Valen grins at Jim. "Drinks now, then?"

"Hell yes. I'm getting my c-berry." Jim heads into the kitchen.

"One moment, Jim, I have a great idea that will make this fun for you as well!"

Valen runs into the kitchen and mixes some shots of various kinds of alcohol, with red food dye, in with Jim's cranberry juice shots. He also makes Jim look away to keep it secret and adds a few prank shots, like straight pickle juice, vinegar, dredges of food leftovers that he's seen the human dump down the drain to discard, anything that's safe to ingest but strong in taste and can be passably disguised as cranberry juice. He also adds one shot that's the formula for artificial blood without the parts that would hurt Jim--he imagines it will just taste really salty, but he knows Jim will be delighted to taste a safe version of it.

He then pours little sample cups of his various concoctions, paired so that he and Kane will always be drinking the same one. He's had years to work on it at this point, and while it's certainly not real blood, not even as good as the imported stuff, it's much more tolerable than it had been in the early stages. He's currently working on trying to replicate the specific tastes of various blood types. He is getting closer to being ready to do something with it, although he's still not quite sure what his plan of attack for actually launching it will be, now that he's burned his bridges with the country's biggest distributor of blood.

Valen comes out with the shots, all labeled with some scribbles only decipherable to himself. "Okay, Kane, we're testing which of these taste best, which of them are stinkers, and as a bonus let's label each as to what blood type they taste most like."

"Haha, oh man. This is great." Jim laughs. "This is so cute. I'm so freakin' excited."

Kane eyes the not-blood curiously. It doesn't smell like blood, but it looks like blood. He hopes it sits in his stomach and sates hunger like blood. "Okay! This is... I've never seen anything like this."

Jim grabs the human-safe artificial blood first, the only one visually distinguishable from his cranberry shots. Kane grabs the shot opposite the one Valen grabs.

"Cheers!" Jim exclaims.

Valen clinks his glass against Jim's, then Kane's, then tosses the shot back.

All three of them make faces like they'd just tasted something bad. The first cup of artificial blood was definitely a bad one.

"Um," Valen says, smacking his lips. "Hm, I'm marking this one down as a no.”

It definitely tastes bad, but it really is blood, almost. Kane licks the remnants from the inside of the shot. "It's okay. I don't hate it." he decides. How could he hate something that would sate hunger? Just yesterday, he would have licked this off the floor and been grateful.

"I'll write it down that a starving man finds it tolerable."

"Ugh." is Jim's only comment on his own drink.

Valen grabs the next shot glass and downs it. He licks his lips. "Mmm.  Oh, this one is pretty good. I'd say it's AB positive.”

Kane agrees. "AB positive, yes. This is good." But maybe his standards are low, like Valen said.

Jim gets pickle juice, his face scrunching up again. "Pickle."

The next one, Jim gets a nice cranberry vodka shot. "Now this is a shot. Finally." he says with a smile.

"B negative. Really good." Kane says immediately after drinking his.

The smile drops off Jim's face and he looks away. After seeing Jim's reaction, Kane's mood similarly seems to drop as he shrinks back.

"Ah," Valen says. B negative is, in fact, Jim's blood type.  He discreetly makes a few notes in the ensuing awkward silence.  "Shall we take a break, then?"

"S-sorry." Kane says quietly.

"Nah, s'all good. You were doing exactly what Valen asked you to do." Jim takes another shot. "Bleh. Pickles." He motions for Valen and Kane to continue.

Valen wordlessly slides his notebook and pencil over to Kane, so he can directly write down what blood type he thinks they are, so as to avoid a repeat of what just happened.

The next blood shot is a whole lot of nothing. It doesn't taste bad, but it doesn't taste good either

They go through all of them like this. Jim is pretty giggly by the end, the B negative shot forgotten. Kane looks at him strangely.

"He never let me driiink." Jim complains to Valen. "Said it'd taste bad, in my blood. Boo. No fun."

Kane's experiences with humans and alcohol have been very different up until now, due to selection bias: the only hunters who would bother visiting him drunk were the ones who wanted something to hurt. He's never seen a reaction like this before.

"Oh, Jim," Valen says, giggling and giving him a smooch. "You're so cute when you're drunk. You can have all the fun you want now. Oh!" Valen goes red. "I-I forgot that you were supposed to drive to the store after this!”

"Well that's not happening. Don't wanna go to the stupid store anyway. Wanna stay here with you." Jim nuzzles into Valen's shoulder. "We got clothes here. It can wait a day. C'you wait a day, Kane?"

"Yes. I, I can wait. Thank you for going at all." Kane agrees.

"See? All fine." Jim says happily.

Valen decides to also put off leaving the house to go get blood until Jim is sober, imagining it wouldn't go well for Jim to be drunk alone with Kane, or to wake up alone with Kane in the house.  They have the artificial stuff to tide them over, which is in fact the whole point of making it.

After they're done drinking, Valen insists that Jim "makes" Kane watch Jim's favorite movie.  After it seems like Jim's had enough of being conscious on this mortal coil, Valen takes him upstairs and puts him to bed, then comes down to put Kane in the basement.

He apologetically asks him to go downstairs, and asks if he'd like anything to keep himself entertained.

"...Music?" Kane asks. "If, if it's convenient. I don't need anything. Thank you for the blood."

"Of course!"

Valen comes down with a radio, as well as some notebooks and pencils, which Kane didn't ask for, but Valen suggests to him to keep a journal, as Valen has found it good for his mental health.  He also brings down books and extra pillows and blankets, adding them to the outrageously large pile of blankets already on Kane's bed, because he thinks it's just so dreadfully cold down here.

"I'll see about getting us some real blood soon," Valen says on his way up the stairs.  "Sleep well."

"Thank you. So much, for everything. You too." Kane says with a small smile. For the first time in a very long time, he's actually hopeful about the future.

Valen locks the door, then goes upstairs to the very drunk and sleepy Jim, barricading the bedroom door once again and crawling up beside Jim.  "How are you, my dear Jim?"

"Good. Sleepy. M'not even scared." Jim proclaims proudly. "Valen. Guess what. I love you sooooo much."

Valen's face splits in a smile so big it hurts his face.  "Awww.  Well guess what.  I love you more!"

Jim breaks into a gigantic smile. "Yaaaaaay." He buries his face in Valen.

Valen strokes the nape of Jim's neck as they both fall asleep.

***

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#whump #vampire whump #yaaaaaay #:D

[secretwhumplair]

#balance. so important #poll

[secretwhumplair]

[secretwhumplair]

Whump idea: A vampire doctor who other vampires send their thralls to when they are sick or injured.

I mean why replace them when you can make them (almost) as good as new!

#whump #vampire whump #ohhh... so many directions this can go 👀