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whumping-valentine · 4 days

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Hey you guys, who's ready to finally watch me live up to my username???

This piece is focused on Valentine and Vittoria. I realized that I don't have to wait until the main series arrives to talk about them, so I'm writing this!

Any little things like this I'll tag as "Butterfly Blood Extras" while the eventual main series will just be "Butterfly Blood."

So yeah, anyways, enjoy finally seeing Valentine in action! If you like the dynamic and lore feel free to stick around for the eventual chronological series 👀 it'll be out once Fawn and Hunter is completed.

Content: Slightly cocky (ex-)royal whumpee. Intimate whumper. Non-human / magical characters. Fantasy setting. Elemental magic. There's also very detailed, intimate, vampire neck biting at the end of this. Also stripping and nudity, but it doesn't lead to anything sexual. Also also whumpee has a collar.

They/she whumpee (Valentine)

She/her whumper (Vittoria)

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After being cooped up underground for such extended periods of time, Valentine was overjoyed to finally be getting some fresh air, even if it meant they had to sneak out. The cool wind against their face, the sound of the chirping birds, the slight crunch of the earth beneath their feet, it could just about be Heaven. Even when they'd get to go outside, it was always at night. They could hardly remember the last time they saw daylight.

It was cloudy that day, and it looked like rain was soon to come. While it was Val's favorite weather, they'd much rather see the sun at this point in time. They'd do anything to feel its warmth against their skin, even if it defied every rule of magic itself. But let's be honest, that was only but a dream.

It didn't stop Valentine from trying, though. It never did.

They tried everything they possibly could to move the clouds and change the weather. Every possible thing their mother ever taught them. Every stance, movement, and motion that their siblings mastered ages ago. Though for them, not even a single gust of wind bent to their will.

Of course, they knew this would happen. They were nothing but the first-born disappointment. The destined Princess of the air and wind, heir to the Kingdom of Hearts, and yet they couldn't make even a single breeze.

Princess Valentina Rose Papilio, the butterfly who never got her wings.

They fell to the grass, hugging their knees to their chest as they wept against a tree. They should've been holding their mother's royal scepter, wearing her crown, making all of Heriviks proud. But she never even made it to phase one. Never got her wings, or her powers. Couldn't even control the Hearts' element of wind let alone the other three like the rest of the Papilio family could.

She had cousins from the Kingdom of Clubs, who's dominant magic was earth, do flawless air maneuvers. Who could control the Spades' fires with ease, and make formidable waves that even the most skilled Diamond would be jealous of. That was just the nature of her family, they were more than just royals, they were gods, too.

She was powerless without magic, and that powerlessness is exactly what Vittoria took advantage of. That magic that made her who she was, that should've ran through her blood. The magic that should've made her a god. Because without their magic... what difference does a god have to their subjects? There wasn't one.

There was a certain humble humility to that, of course. It's important for powerful, gifted beings to not be too full of themselves. It's their responsibility to use their powers to keep balance and peace in the world. A responsibility she was always told she would one day have, but would never be granted. A raised and bred god denied their destiny.

Vittoria always said it was fair. She was born into royalty by random chance, so it would be fair to take it all away, too. Maybe she was right. Maybe she deserved this. Maybe this was her destiny. Maybe a punishment from the universe. She wasn't too sure.

The thunder rumbled quietly in the sky, small drops of rain falling from the clouds, tapping against the leaves, hitting the earth. Wind rustled through the tree branches as autumn leaves fell in their breeze. Valentine turned their head to the sky, closing their eyes as their tears blended with the rain that washed down their cheeks.

It was the weather of her people, as was the autumnal season. The Kingdom of Hearts, the Land of Eternal Autumn. The Heartis butterflies, the creatures with air magic. Their heart longed for home so much in the early days, but now she could hardly remember her mother's face, or her sister's laugh. Even the sound of her brother's arrogant, whiny dramatics would be like music to her ears. All those things once took for granted, now a bitter, distant nostalgia. A time she could never go back to.

They sat there with their thoughts for so long. Even when the droplets began to pour they still stayed put in the grass, letting the storm cleanse them. It was almost meditative as they listened to the fierce wind, and rumbling skies. It was a warm, comfortable rain, and in it, they found themself back to a memory they'd almost forgotten.

They were out on the beach with their family when they were young. Their mother was teaching them and their siblings how to make rain. None of them had gotten their magic yet, so it was all just practicing the motions, with their mother actually creating rainfall by the end of the lesson. Valentine remembered getting their royal gown soaking wet, covered in sand.

They remembered feeling scared about the mess, until their mother encouraged them to have fun, chasing the four of her children with waves, springing sand castles up from the ground, letting the rain get them soaked. Amora Papilio had always looked to Valentina with the most pride in her eyes, being the first born.

It hurt so bad to watch it slowly turn to disappointment. Some days they wondered if the family ever even came looking for them. If they even worried. If they were happy about it.

Valentine sat out there for what felt like hours. They didn't want to go back to Vittoria, to the dark. They contemplated trying to find their way back to the Kingdoms, but they knew that was hopeless, and trying would just cause them even more trouble. Using whatever scarce strength they had, they stood back up and started the walk home.

The walk home? They scoffed at their own thoughts ...Since when did Hell become home?

Valentine eventually made it back to the entrance. A small hatch in the grass among many that would lead to an entire underground city of torment. They hopped down it and made their way through the various empty stone hallways, until they made it to the horrid front door. They nearly felt like throwing up as they turned the knob, willingly walking back to the worst place they knew.

"Out playing in the rain it seems." Vittoria said as they entered, causing Valentine to jump, "Trailing mud and rainwater all over my floors. Don't beg for my attention when you get sick. What were you doing?"

"Walking," Valentine replied, shutting the door behind them, "You know, like you said that I could."

"I never said that. When did I say— ah, ah, ah! No trailing mud and water all over the carpets, you're a mess and you don't need to bring it in here. Take off your clothes, and tell me— when did I say that?"

Before the order was embarrassing and down right horrifying, but now it felt no different to taking off their shoes. They talked casually while they stripped without a second thought.

"You told me this night that you did not need me today. You said that I could do whatever I wanted, sunrise to sunset. So obviously that means I did not have to sleep during the day then, yes?"

Vittoria looked displeased, but not angry, "I suppose so," she sighed. She always watched her words when making deals with Val, finding ways to twist them around while still being truthful. It was only fair they did the same back. She could only blame herself for this one.

Valentine smiled. They knew it would work at getting them off the hook, though they still worried, "Great! I had a good time outside."

"How the hell did you even get outside?"

"I took your keys." They casually replied, taking them out of their pants' pocket before taking them off. They tossed the keys to a very surprised, wide-eyed Vittoria.

"You… you took my keys? How- when- you- you took my keys and just… came back?"

"You and I both know how well things fared the last time that I attempted to leave. Besides, it is not like I even know how to get home, so even if I tried it would be all for naught."

Vittoria sighed in frustration, rolling her eyes as she placed her head on her hand, "I thought you finally got rid of those stupid royal speech patterns."

"Oh, I have. I just do them to annoy you now."

"You used to be afraid of me."

"You used to be scary."

Valentine bit their lip as soon as the sentence left their mouth, and the mood instantly shifted.

Vittoria stood up, "Oh, what's that? You think I'm not scary?"

"I— n-no, ma'am, I just—"

"You think I'm not scary?" She repeated, stepping towards them. Valentine slowly backed away. "You think I've grown soft? Lenient? So much so that you think you can just take my keys and sneak off in the middle of the day?"

Valentine shook their head vigorously, "No, no, it isn't that at all! I just— I know how your games work, I'm just playing by your rules! And— when you know the rules things just... become... easier?" They quietly squeaked, unsurely, shrinking down as she stood over them, backing them into a corner.

With a quick, simple motion, Vittoria hooked a leash onto their collar, "I'm not going to have to keep you leashed all the time, am I?" She asked, putting her hands on the wall, boxing them in, leash around her wrist.

"I— I sure hope not."

Vittoria narrowed her eyes, "What games are you playing, Papilio? Because they're sure not mine."

"I'm not playing any games!" They squeaked, voice strained as it started to fill with fearful tears.

“Oh, you’re not, are you? Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Valentine was shaking like a frightened dog, trapped between her arms, stuck against the wall. Her gaze always felt uncomfortable and obtrusive, and in times like this where it was frightening, Valen felt like they could just combust on the spot. No matter if they avoided her eyes or squeezed their own shut, they could feel her staring, they always could.

Her gaze was a threat, a predator stalking their prey, looking for insecurities. A fucking creep lusting after them like they were nothing more than a pretty toy. A gaze that could practically burn into their skin. Always intrusive, always threatening something, always felt. They just prayed she didn’t say—

“Look at me.” She demanded, her hands going from the wall to their shoulders, causing them to tense and freeze, squeezing their eyes shut, tears leaking down their cheeks.

“Bug…” She said, tone more irritated, growing darker. She slid her hands down their arms, “I won’t tell you again…” she grabbed tightly onto their wrists, and growled, “Look at me.”

Valentine hitched a breath as they forced themself to open their eyes, staring at her like a deer in headlights, afraid and now unable to look away. Vittoria slightly tilted her head, and when they felt her lips kiss their neck underneath their collar, near their collarbone, their silent tears turned to crying.

“P-please, no! No, don’t, please!”

“You know much I love the taste of royal blood, baby bug.” She whispered into their ear, “I could do this allll the time, everyday, but I don’t. I know how much… distress it causes you. How much you hate it. I only do it when you fuck up.” She said, louder. Valentine cringed both from the volume and the curse. “You have no one to blame but yourself, you know that, yeah?”

"Y-yes, I know, ma'am, I'm sorry."

"You better be." She said, trailing her hands back up their arms, unlocking their collar, letting it fall to the ground. Having it off their neck made them feel more exposed than if they were fully naked... which they were, but now they really felt like it.

She planted slow kisses all over their neck. Valentine had never been more tense as their face flushed from the vulnerable intimacy, just waiting in anticipation for what was about to happen. Vittoria slowly turned kisses into licks, then to dragging her fangs across their skin, to nibbling, still not yet biting. Until she did, fast and suddenly, yet gentle. Valentine hitched a breath, and their breathing became labored.

Her fangs lightly pierced through their flesh, just on the surface, so agonizingly slowly. It went from a simple pinch, to something that only got more and more unbearable. A mix of crying, screaming, and incoherent begging came from Valentine, getting worse as she sank her teeth deeper and deeper, penetrating their muscles as delicious, royal, godly blood seeped into her mouth.

She may have been presenting as a vampire, but her inner moth cravings didn’t just go away because of it. She had to fight against her instincts to just tear into their flesh and eat them alive. The insatiable hunger that a moth had was impossible to satisfy, but at least with blood, thirst could be quenched.

She sunk her teeth firmly into their neck, holding them in place. By this point Val stayed quiet, focusing on their breathing, getting used to the pain. They winced as Vittoria sucked the blood. The horrendous throbbing, the feeling of the suction, her tongue, their own warm blood dripping down their neck. It should’ve been unbearable, yet they still managed to take it. They had no other choice, they never did. A butterfly at the mercy of the moth’s ravenous teeth. The teeth she was always warned about, a warning she never headed.

Curiosity always bit the butterfly.

Vittoria could practically feel the blood flowing through their veins. She could sense the tension, and wild beating of their heart. She could feel their pulse on her teeth, and in their arms that she held tightly onto. She could feel their tension slowly slipping away as they grew more and more weak and limp. That was her sign to stop.

Finally, she pulled away, releasing her bite. Valentine was exceptionally pale, looking lightheaded and faint.

Vittoria chuckled, "Hm hm! Took a bit too much, didn't I?"

Valentine could only blink slowly in response. When Vittoria removed her hands from their arms, they collapsed forward, forcing her to catch them. "Oh, you poor thing." She cooed, holding them in her arms for a moment, dragging her fingers through their hair.

Oh, how she absolutely just loved them like this. So weak, fragile, and relaxed after putting up such a fussy fight. So calm, tired, and passive. A limp little ragdoll she could do anything to. The fact that it was caused by drinking their precious royal blue blood just made it all the more better. A part of them, now a part of her.

Though despite how great it was, it wasn't something she often did. It was reserved for special occasions, or spontaneous ones like this. The scarcity just made it more delightful for her, and more frightening for Valentine. She lifted them up into her arms, and carried them into another room.

Vittoria wiped the wound clean while Val sat and sniffled. All that was left was a throbbing puncture wound accompanied by the bruise of a hickey. She placed a bandage over it, securing their collar back on over top it. She reached her hands up to their face, wiping away their tears with her thumbs. Val winced from her gentle touch. They always found it insulting and invasive. Such a gesture of fake, loving intimacy.

Valentine moved their puffy, sad eyes to look at her, though her gaze no longer felt scary, or threatening. It was almost... admiral? Proud?

Maybe sometimes it wasn’t fake.

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Thanks for reading! I hope you liked your first look at Val and Tori :3

If you did, you should be pleased to know that the full series I have planned for them is 50 chapters long, with each chapter most likely being over 3,000 words, at least. Though I tend to get between 4,000–5,000. You can tell I really love these two, I feel like you can just see it in how I write.

If you have any questions about the lore of the world or characters, or just wanna know more about them, please feel free to ask me in the comments or send an ask! I have a LOT of worldbuilding in this, and it can understandably get confusing. As the King of Yapping, I'd gladly go into more detail! I'm practically begging you! Haha.

Stay tuned for more of them! ♡♡♡

#Butterfly Blood Extras #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #my writing #whump writing #whump things #fantasy whump #non human whump #oc whump #oc writing #royal whump #vampire whumper #intimate whumper #royal whumpee

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secret-bug-pain-blog · 5 months

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[THURSDAY]

Buried Alive - Outlived Family - "Not growing old was fun at first, but then everyone around me started dying."

Hi! Hello! We're here, Late To The Event. Technically, we have plans for all these days! We only remembered this event was ongoing halfway through the week, and by then... well, you know how it is. Technically, this isn't fully compliant with the prompt, but it's close enough that we figure it counts, since outliving his entire family was actually slightly less impactful than outliving his husband for our boy.

Fic below the cut, and @species-whump-weekly we sincerely hope this isn't too late to count.

You have been asleep for long enough that you aren't even sure if he'll still be alive.

His swarm finds you before you find them.

Marina gasps when she sees you. She's years older, now - wings worn at the edges, shell thin and flimsy, aged far beyond the young butterfly you saw her as last.

She looks older than you ever have been. She looks older than you suspect you ever will be.

Her father, your friend – your paramour, your years-long companion – isn’t with her. You fear, for a moment, you’ve stumbled upon them too late. You nearly cringe away from the migration them and there, fearful of discovering yet another thing that’s slipped away while you hibernated.

But you don’t have the heart to walk away.

He’s been waiting for you.

He is old, and frail, and dying. You can taste the creeping end in his veins from the moment you step foot into the tent. His shell is pitted with age, now, cracked and chinked in places, brittle enough that you fear taking his hand will hurt him. Time has weathered him, his wings transparent and paper-thin around him, and you… you stay the same, looking just as young as the day you first met him on the stolen life of those who unearthed your grave.

“I knew you’d come back,” he tells you. “You wouldn’t die that easily.”

You hold his frail, trembling claw in both of yours. You aren’t sure how he can say that so confidently. He has always had more faith in you than you have in yourself.

He invites you to drain him.

You hesitate, at first. Every instinct you have picked up over your long, long life is screaming for you to run. To survive, to keep your secret- he knows, and it's against everything you've ever learned to remain, to let him speak, to not preserve your life-

He knows. But maybe he's known for a long, long time.

You take his offer. You take his life.

You know what it is that killed him the moment you bite. The magic of the wastes, the low hum that seeps into your bones, the constant background noise that sometimes threatens to tear you apart - it gathers within him, down to the deepest parts of his shell. There are lumps of flesh in his heart, his lungs, full of the same mind-jarring, skull-shattering buzz.

He has the wasteland sickness.

You think that, perhaps, he has had the wasteland sickness for a long time.

You drain him until he is dry, until every last flicker of the wasteland sickness is gone from his body, until he is stiff and his flesh holds the texture of jerky, and you let your fangs linger on his shrivelled veins until you can't bear to remain anymore.

You are sick, the next day.

And the day after that, and the day after that.

The buzz is in your bones, now - too close, too loud, rattling through your shell like a twisted beast. You have the wasteland sickness, stolen from his dying body, and it is trying to take you the way it took him.

You do not die.

You don't know if it's a blessing or a curse, anymore.

It is energy. It is vitality, the buzzing, throbbing pulse beyond the heart of a beast on a scale you cannot comprehend.

It is life force, and you can stomach it just the same.

A week passes. Two weeks. The symptoms slow, as you digest it. It becomes your life, your energy, it bends to keep you alive, it becomes you, while you lie weak and dizzy and throwing up blood.

It becomes you. You become it, in turn.

It is the last pulse of your husband, and you refuse to waste it.

You stumble out of the tent two weeks later, exhausted and bearing injuries you cannot see with your naked eyes. You are tired, and hurt, and you have burnt through most of the life you had, but you are alive.

His body is still waiting for you.

#species whump weekly #monsieur scarlet #whump #my posts #writing #my writing #nonhuman whumpee #character death #bug fables #walks up a week late to the week long event. hey everyone whats up #we are going to make you feel sad about a vampire and you will have no choice in the matter #our vampire is very nontraditional but he is still a vampire unless youre gonna exclude a LOT of classic vamps from the category #life force draining ant guy who is kinda sorta immortal and heavily nomadic #his husband here is a monarch butterfly and will be unfamiliar to everyone because we havent talked about him yet #if you are in the bug fables tag looking at this: hi. we're doing crimes to guys for event purposes again #nothing new for us but you may enjoy this later

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scratchandplaster · 1 year

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Small Delights

CW: tiny Whumpee, non-human Whumpee, dubious Caretaker/Carewhumper, referenced nudity (non-sexual), it as a pronoun, conditioning

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The sun set beautifully behind the hills, yellows and pinks flowing through the window and letting the light reflect onto the glass panels that separated the tiny creature from the rest of the room. Surrounded by ferns and luscious greenery, they tended to forget that the square they called home wasn't bigger than a tree stump.

Lifting themself up from a mossy stone, graceful wings unfolded and stretched their full potential, they hopped down onto the soft earthy ground. Always cleaned and looked after, just like themself.

They pressed their face tightly against the closest pane, cool to the touch and speckled with water droplets. It liked to make the air around them heavy with drizzle, always misting the plants from above. It would be here soon, just like every evening.

Letting a quiet yawn escape their mouth, the creature barely taller than a mouse let the bright orange wings flutter in the last beams of sunlight. To the unaided eye, the missing spots in their pattern were invisible, chitin scales stacking on top of each other like bark. Stunning to watch, useless as always.

The air began to whir in a familiar frequency; it had arrived and made its way closer towards the transparent world they learned to inhabit. Fear had long faded from their mind, too familiar was the daily ritual it taught them since their rise from the cocoon.

As it entered the room, unintelligible rumbling was directed towards them, and the giant shape removed the cover above their head.

They would love to know what they were saying, but apart from gestures, the communication with this titan was hopeless. It seemed to desire only one thing anyway, so all study would be a waste of effort.

The lid wasn't made out of any material they knew, it didn't feel like natures' product, no living element they could connect with. The hollow branch they used to hide in always provided a sense of comfort, of a home they had to have before...this. Hidden memories of the life prior to their transformation felt like faded dreams now.

Lowering its hand slowly into their playground, the expectant fingers waited for their cooperation. Climbing gingerly onto its palm, a few strong flaps of their wings helped with getting placed onto the rough skin beneath. They were meant to sit now, flipping wayward specks of dirt and moss away from their limbs, uncovered and delicate as a young nymph.

Back in the early days of their amity, they tried to flit and make the whole ordeal easier for both of them, but after a vicious grab and shake they learned to leave such decisions up to their gracious host. Never given the chance to try further, flying seemed pointless anyway. Maybe they weren't made for it after all.

The appendage lifted them out of the glass and up to its eyes, two dark spheres not much different to their own stared down at them.

Today must have been pleasant for it, the joyous expression mirrored clearly by their tiny guest made it act even more excited. A gentle grumble left its lips, nearly a purr. It had to have a successful hunt, they pondered.

Careful not to lose balance, the hand lifted the winged creature onto their chosen place: a cushion seat for their ritual. Bringing themself into position, they prayed to get it over with quickly today, thinking of the sweet reward that would follow.

The rummaging behind them stopped, as it too sat down and began what they could only describe as pleasant torture: hundreds of hairs started to tickle the edge of their wings, stroking leisurely across the vibrant tones one could only see in autumn.

It didn't hurt them as the brushing kept its steady pace, or when it dipped lower on their wing to graze the spot in the pattern that reminded them of an eye. It didn't hurt when the pressure of the bristles against them rose, and it didn't hurt when the chitin plates that gave their wings shape and color began to shed across the floor.

Like snowflakes in a storm, the warm hues gracing their body were dusted off, tearing spots next to the fine veins throughout.

Deep down, they knew it made them lose their power. And this hurt, but only when they listened to the buried instinct that told them to resist against the loving mishandling.

After what felt like an eternity, the strokes became gentle again, like a breeze on their figure, and travelled down to where wing met skin.

Their upper back was being freed of crumbs and remaining scales, as the hairs moved downwards in long strokes to grant their legs and arms the same kind of attention. It worked thorough, leaving their body warm and tingly. Their head was last, patted down with a few quick swoops of its tool, marking the end of the routine.

Freed of any leftover grime, the pleasant shivers lulled them into a calm state, ready to drift off in its care. Before they could rest, it pressed a quick kiss between their wings, earning itself a whimper under its lips.

Breathing deeply, it lifted them up again to lay under the light they prepared in advance. The slight buzz of the heat above made them even sleepier, already willing to settle down onto the soft fabric.

It loved to arrange these little surprises for them, the nest it built allowed for enough space to stretch and settle down. So safe under the watchful eyes of their host, they folded their wings together, keeping them as close to their body as possible.

One could not wish for everything in life, at least they were far away from any predators or storms they could fell victim to.

Flying wasn't necessary then, right?

It meant well, they were certain, but they would give everything to explain the misunderstanding to it.

Still, to stay here was the better option, in the safety and comfort it loved to provide them. They called themself ungrateful, as they bathed the treacherous fantasy of the world beyond the glass.

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Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterpost]

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justbreakonme · 1 year

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A Whumpee that was always told they were worthless being called “darling” or “precious” by Caretaker offhandedly and being unable to catch their breath for minutes afterwards.

Them just sinking to their knees with their hand over their mouth, tears in their eyes as they look up at Caretaker, trying to fully process what had happened, butterflies in their stomach.

That night, they replay the word in their mind over and over again, clinging to it like a teddy bear.

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whump prompts #whump prompt #rescue #whump scenario #pet names

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waywardwhump · 9 months

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Tiny whumpee, barely the size of your palm.

Their struggles are like the flap of butterfly wings. It takes hardly any effort at all to pin them down. Hell, if you weren't as careful as you were, you could crush them by accident.

You can keep them where you want them with something as simple as a few rubber bands. Tie them up and stare down at them, watching them tremble, helpless. Like a bug with its wings pinned.

You could do anything to them, and they know it.

#whump #mine #whump prompt #whump prompts #tiny whumpee #tiny whump

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snakebites-and-ink · 26 days

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Whumper-Turned-Caretaker CYOA 4

CW for the series | Masterlist

You chose to clean their wounds with soap and warm water.

You figure soap and water is your best bet. Thoroughly cleansing, but gentle. You set up a towel to catch runoff. You’re not giving them a full bath right now, just focusing on washing out their wounds for the time being. You make sure the water is at a comfortable temperature, then set to work cleaning their cuts.

Though it’s a relatively gentle way to clean them, it still stings somewhat in the open wounds. You suppress a smile as Whumpee hisses in pain. Just because now you want to do what’s right doesn’t mean you’ve lost all your sadism.

Once you’re done, you gently pat them dry with a clean towel. You wash your own hands as well. It wouldn’t do to ruin the wound-cleaning with a careless touch.

You apply butterfly bandages to the deeper cuts to help them close. Then you wrap all their wounds in normal bandages. That should take care of the major concerns, as long as you make sure nothing gets worse.

You catch Whumpee’s eye. “If you start to see any signs of infection, or things start to get worse instead of better, tell me, okay?” you say seriously.

“Yes sir, th-thank you,” they respond timidly. Right. You should probably address the titles thing too, now that you’re trying to work towards their recovery.

You consider what your next priority should be. You figure a bath would be silly right after putting on bandages. Whumpee probably got clean enough when you washed their wounds anyway. You mentally move a proper bath off of your list of immediate concerns.

You give Whumpee a clean outfit to change into and have them put the old clothes in the wash. You should replace that with some better quality clothes sometime, but until that happens it’s best to have it cleaned to make sure they’ll have something to wear that fits them okay.

Taglist:

@kabie-whump, @whumpanthems, @whumpsoda, @3-2-whump, @generic-whumperz, @taterswhump, @alivenova, @whumped-by-glitter

#I gave you all a chance to indulge in sadism without really hurting them and you chose to be nice anyways...softies #interactive #interactive whump #interactive fiction #whump poll #choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure poll #cyoa #whump cyoa #whump #whumper turned caretaker #whump writing #original fic #writing #whumpblr #whumper turned caretaker cyoa #my writing #my posts

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whumpcloud · 10 months

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The Body (and Him) - Art Auction

thank you to @honeycollectswhump who helped me develop these guys couldn't have done it without you <3

content: heavy dehumanisation (whumpee treated as literal object), heavy dissociation, techinically pet whump (whumpee is a pet but not treated as such/doesn't really use the tropes), heavily conditioned whumpee, rescue & recovery, mentions of: gore, restraints, knives, bruising

Micah is going to vomit.

He has a reputation, he knows, so he gets invited to these sorts of private events. People he can't stand auctioning off art they don't appreciate. But he goes anyway, because he's a collector at heart, and he likes having them.

This is not a painting or a poster or a sculpture or any sort of normal art. This is a person who is so utterly lifeless that Micah wouldn't blame anyone for thinking that he was a corpse.

He stares. The boy stares back, but Micah can tell there's no conscious awareness of doing so. That's something he knows more intimately than a person should. Of the dozens of Pets who have passed through his doors, how many times has he seen that look in their eyes? Micah moves to the left and the boy's eyes don't follow.

Fuck, he's been noticed staring. Very quickly, he shoves the horror into the pit of his stomach and flashes a smile at the seller.

"I'm a little unsure what exactly the art here is," Micah says, as casually as he can manage with bile burning the back of his throat. "Would you mind explaining?"

"It's him," the man replies, gesturing to the boy. The boy is entirely still - does he even know what's going on? The lack of look in his eyes suggests not. "Well, he's more of a medium, than anything. It's a little hard to explain. Would you like to take a look through the album?"

The album? Micah takes a shaky step forward to leaf through the book sitting on the lectern in front of the exhibit.

If he could feel any more queasy, he would. Photograph upon photograph upon photograph of this boy in different positions, with different injuries. The only consistent thing is his blank-eyed stare. Micah can feel it radiating from the pages. A shudder runs down his spine. A photograph of the boy suspended upside down by ropes, patterns carved into his skin. A photograph of the boy pinned to a wall like a butterfly in moody lighting, nails through his hands and feet.

Micah shuts the book a little harder than intended.

"Is he up for auction?" Micah asks, trying to hide how strangled his voice is.

"Yes, he is," the man smiles, obviously excited at Micah's interest. "I've had him for a few years now, I'm moving on to other projects."

Other projects?! Micah bites his tongue until it bleeds. "What would you say are his most notable features?"

"I'm so glad you asked," the man says. There's a predatory glint in his eye that doesn't make it any easier for Micah to keep smiling. "As I'm sure you've noticed, he's very still. He doesn't flinch or scream, and he's barely any maintenance. Just feed him once a day, keep him hydrated, and wash him so that he doesn't get any infections. He's just a body, really."

Just a body. That's a person, you freak.

Micah is not letting him go to auction.

"How much? Right now."

Shaking someone's hand has never felt so sickening. Micah wants to scrub the feeling away until his skin is raw and bloody.

When Micah picks the boy up, he goes entirely limp in Micah's arms. Micah murmurs something about being safe now, but he has a feeling it goes in one ear and out the other.

—

The body is being carried. Out of the car and into the air. Air on its skin. That doesn't happen very much. He wonders, ever so briefly, if this new owner will put him outside. But then it passes and he stops paying attention to those sorts of things.

"Easy now," a voice says, and he isn't really sure what that means. "I'm laying you down, okay?"

The body is placed on a bed, and it immediately goes limp. Unfocused eyes fix on a point on the ceiling.

"...can you look at me, please?"

Its eyes dart over. Still unfocused. But he can make out a masculine figure, pale skin, red hair in a ponytail, brown eyes. Nice eyes. Gentle eyes. Oh, the body would appreciate being used gently. This owner might have really sharp knives so that the skin cuts cleanly, or big hands to leave more bruises faster, or soft ropes to hang him up. Of course, he has no say in what happens to the body. No say in anything. But the body has experienced a lot of things that have made it need rest, so if it was treated gently, that would be nice.

"I'm Micah." Master. "Are you tired? Nod for yes."

He doesn't understand the question. There's a quiet sigh.

"Does the body need rest?"

Oh, that makes sense. The body nods, though he doesn't understand why he's being asked. The body will sleep if told to sleep. But he doesn't understand a lot of things. He isn't made to understand.

"Then rest, okay? Go to sleep."

The body obediently closes its eyes and he falls into a dreamless sleep.

He wakes. Micah is still there. Just sitting by the bed. The body stares at the ceiling again.

"Oh, you're awake. I'm going to ask you to do some things now, okay?"

Okay.

"...sit up, please."

That's very non-specific. Normally the body would just be positioned however a person liked. But the body is certainly capable of moving around without assistance. So it sits up on the bed, cross-legged with his hands in its lap. Default position.

Micah eyes him. The body just stares ahead. It hasn't been told to look anywhere. The wall in front of him has an oil painting of a flower. In his peripheral vision, he can see more paintings, and drawings, and statues, and other things like him. He must be another new decoration.

"...raise your left arm, straight up."

The body obeys.

"Okay, put it back down."

The body obeys and its hand returns to its lap.

Micah wants to scream. He moves so mechanically. Does he even think? Micah can't detect any thought behind his gaze.

No, that's a stupid thought. Of course he thinks. Micah should know better than to contemplate otherwise. There's a fully-formed, complex person sitting there. He just needs to find a way of communicating.

"Do you speak?" Micah tries. He has a suspicion of what the answer might be. "You don't have to say anything. Just nod if you're physically capable of speech."

He does the closest thing he can to thinking, for a moment. There definitely are vocal cords in the body's throat, so he supposes he could use them. He doesn't see a reason to. Bodies don't have a need for speech. No person has ever asked him to speak. So even though there are vocal cords, the body might not be able to form any words or sound. But he doesn't know. So the body nods. Physically capable sounds right.

"Okay," Micah says, relief in his tone. "Good. Okay. Do you have a name? Could you speak to tell me it?"

What would a body have a name for?

"Right. Of course." Micah bites his nails. He needs something to call this boy. Anything at all. "I'm… I'm going to call you Demitri, okay? So when I say Demitri, you answer to it, yeah? Nod for yes."

It's just Micah's middle name, desperately grasped in a moment of horrified panic. But it's a name. If Demitri changes it later, then he's free to. Micah's had plenty of Pets change their names more than once.

The body nods, slowly, deliberately. Demitri. That's a name you would give to a person. This owner is strange. But maybe he likes to nickname his pieces. It isn't Demitri's place to question anything, even if he was capable of doing so.

"Okay. Does the body need to eat?"

The body just eats. People must have signals that let them know if they need to do that, and Micah just doesn't realise that the body doesn't feel things like hunger or thirst.

"...fine. Scheduled mealtimes, then. But I'll go make you something now, okay?"

The moment Micah leaves, Demitri settles into the familiar emptiness of being alone. But at least the body is on a bed. A bed! The body never got to be on a bed in Master's house. Maybe this is where the body will get to lie every time it isn't being used.

That would be so… nice.

"Demitri, I'm back," Micah says, some unknown amount of time later. Time isn't really a concept Demitri grasps. "I've brought you some soup. Can you eat it yourself?"

Micah places the bowl into the body's lap. Is it supposed to eat? The body tries to hold the spoon, and all it does is slip back into the soup. There was a time where it had the strength to do that, Demitri is sure. Maybe a very long time ago, back at the start with Master.

Micah takes a deep breath, and bites his lip. "Okay. I'll feed it to you."

That requires much less effort for the body. It opens its mouth.

Micah is quiet, half-forgetting to try to keep talking like he intended. He has a bad habit of going silent when he's thinking. It isn't that he minds this - he never could, and Demitri certainly isn't the first one to need this sort of help, anyway - but there's something different about this. He's had rescues who struggle to do anything for themselves. He's had rescues who are detached from their own bodies. He's had rescues used as all manner of objects. Not all of them at once.

He's the one people go to with difficult cases. He coaxes out the ones that hide and convinces the ones who only follow orders to do something for themselves and reassures the ones that think everything they do deserves a punishment that it's all going to be okay.

Who else is going to do this? The photo album lies abandoned in the car. Pages upon pages of what Micah can only describe as horror.

And Demitri does… nothing. Gives him nothing to work with.

For the first time in the seven years he's been doing this, Micah Ullmann feels lost.

He continues to gently spoon-feed Demitri anyway.

#polly's prose #the body (and him)#demitri ullmann #micah ullmann #whump #whump writing #LOOK AT MY GUYS!!!!!!!!!#i've been so excited about them #they make me so normal. so so so normal.

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serickswrites · 1 year

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Flutter By

Warnings: captivity, restraints, implied torture

Whumpee’s dark prison had a window up at the very top of a wall. It was how they tracked the passage of time. When Whumper had first thrown them down here, barely any light came through the window. What they could see of the ground was cold and icy. While the view wasn’t incredible, it was nice for Whumpee to see outside. See the winter going on in the world above them.

But things changed. Things changed as Whumpee lay chained on the floor. Changed as Whumper hurt them. Changed as Whumpee struggled to hang on. Changed from winter to spring.

Whumpee felt a tear leak from the corner of their eye as a butterfly flew by the window, settling on the newly erupted golden flowers in front of the window. “Flutter by,” Whumpee whispered, “before Whumper finds you. Fly away. Fly far away, please.”

Whumpee hoped Whumper wouldn’t look up to see the window. Wouldn’t look up to see the beautiful flowers and creatures that gave Whumpee the only respite they had. Wouldn’t look up to see something that they could steal from Whumpee once more. Because Whumpee needed the window. Needed to see outside. Needed to see the world flutter by them.

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw implied torture #queue

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federaliszt · 16 days

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Can't Sleep

First day back from imprisonment/captivity/a long, forced separation of some sort, and Whumpee can't sleep -

But not because of nightmares or wounds or trauma or the noise of the hospital around them. It's because their friends or other members of their team keep sneaking into their room to check on them, as though Whumpee might disappear on them again if left alone for longer than ten minutes.

Every time Whumpee slowly starts to drift off, the door squeaks open again. Every time Whumpee blinks their eyes open and catches one of them at it, they grimace and apologize and quickly leave -

Until Whumpee just heaves a long sigh, throws one of their pillows at the door, and calls out "Hey, if you're all going to hover out there like anxious butterflies all night, can one of you at least make me some tea or something...?"

#whumpril2024 #whump prompts #h/c prompts #whump #recovery arc my beloved #can't sleep #whumprilday11

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 8 months

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Whump Prompt #1243

Anon asked:

Hii!! Any prompts for concussion recovery/first aid for characters that are stranded with limited supplies and/or need to be on the move often?

I've got an oc (with two caretakers who don’t know what to do) and they’re stranded alone in the heat

I have a couple:

Your characters have to ration supplies - bandage changes happen less frequently than is safe, and butterfly bandages have to do in place of stitches.

^ This just encourages incorrect healing/infection.

Maybe they don't feed the whumpee much, only because food is scarce and the whumpee keeps throwing it up anyway - they make do with water and energy/glucose drinks.

Moving frequently gets harder and harder. At first the whumpee is more alert/with it, but as their condition deteriorates it gets harder to rouse them/get them moving.

One day the whumpee simply doesn't respond, and it takes a lot of the caretakers energy to manhandle them towards safety.

In the heat, they ration their water, but it becomes hard for the whumpee to swallow. They compromise by wetting their lips/dabbing their face with a wet piece of cloth.

They try and keep the whumpee protected from the sun/dust/sand, but every movement jostles their clothes.

^ All of them could suffer from sunburn - maybe a caretaker could experience symptoms of heatstroke. Sunburn would make moving more painful/uncomfortable.

#whump #writing #prompts #stranded #sunburn #forced to move #manhandling

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biggest-whump-fan · 2 years

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"shhhh, it's ok , everything is ok , I'm here, you're safe"

#whump #asian whump #bromance #fever whump #comforting #concern #collapse #passing out #injured #support #worried #hurt/comfort #whump butterflies #THE HOES GONNA LOVE THIS #panic attack #caretaker #whumpee #whump tropes #whump thoughts

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irondad-creator-awards · 1 year

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And The Finalists Are...

The following are the 2023 Irondad Creator Awards Finalists for the fic-based awards.

THE MULTI-CHAPTER YOU COULDN’T PUT DOWN All Good Things Come in Threes by Bergen Broken Mirrors and Fragile Things by EvieNyx but only hope and sorrows end by iron_spider Catch and Keep by Bergen For We Are Bound By Symmetry by kingdomfaraway From My Weakness I Drew Strength by Mendeia Identity Crisis by KitCat992 Not Broken, Just Bent by Cheerios_me_lovely So Many Things to Say by happyaspie The Chasm Between by TheSleepingOwl The Long Game by Niniblack THE ONE-SHOT THAT THAT HAD YOU HOOKED A different kind of heat by KatinaMoon Buried Deep by inkinmyheartandonthepage Dead in There, You're Dead in There by iron_spider From Strangers to Siblings by for_the_night How to Fire Your Intern Sixteen Times in Three Days by Bergen Pain Relief by Sara (Ctrsara) Pickle Starburst by Bergen The Little Things by crowkag You Game? Cake Time? by iron_spider You Talk of the Pain like it's All Alright by SpaceCowboysFromMars THE BEST THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES A Misunderstanding by woamx Ashes by Winterturtle Drowning In The Whispers by Winterturtle Every Spider has its Day (Prompt 5: Every Whumpee's Needs) by itsapugthing Koala Care by happaspie Peter Stark by ilove_klance Should I Go Into the Light? by happyaspie The Guest Room by Niniblack This Feels Right, So Stay A Sec by ErrorinLoading Tony Stark Doesn't Do Naps by lillylemonbee THE ONE THAT MADE YOU GASP A Peter Parker Problem by spagbol99 All Good Things Come in Threes by Bergen Can't Part the Sea, Can't Reach the Shore by forensicleaf For We Are Bound By Symmetry by kingdomfaraway Hold Me Close, If You Dare by Peters12&3bros Oh Sweet Child, The Things I'd Do For You by TonyStarkissist Only Suckers Wear Scarves by Bergen Savoir-vivre, or Whatever You Call It by Bergen The Chasm Between by The SleepingOwl The Ghost at the Back of Your Closet by Niniblack Through the Multiverse and what Peter Found There by unctrlablyalt THE BIODAD THAT TOUCHED YOUR HEART A Little Late On the Blood Work by Pixiemage One Single Thread of Gold by TonyStarkTrash Picture Day by iron_spider Savoir-vivre, or Whatever You Call It by Bergen The Long Game by Niniblack The Simple Life by Niniback The Ties That Bind Us by Winterturtle Uncle Obie May Have Lied (and Other Lessons to be Learned) by theskeptileptic We'll Make Butterflies by iron_spider You're My (Spider) Baby by for_the_night THE ONE WHERE WORLDS COLLIDE Emergency Contacts by Sara (ctrsara) it's a secret to everybody by snapdragon_in_the_snow Put it on Speaker by OnlyForward Quaranteens by Blueh Setting Things Straight by Sara (ctrsara) Sick Day Shouldas by Sara (ctrsara) The Person on the Other End of the Line by imgoingtocrash Ultimate School Pick up by coconutknightshade Undercover Chaperone by happyaspie What Makes a Hero by patrochillies_trash THE ONE WITH ALL THE OWIES At the Bottom by living_is_easy_with_eyes_closed Broken Mirrors and Fragile Things by EvieNyx but only hope and sorrows end by iron_spider Couch Cuddles by happaspie Four times Peter Cheated Death and One Time He Didn’t by iron_spider Grief Has No Timeline by Sara (ctrsara) He’s Just a Kid by for_the_night My Teen Angst Bullshit Has a Body Count by imgoingtocrash Not Broken, Just Bent by Cheerios_me_lovely The Long Game by Niniblack Through the Multiverse and what Peter Found There by unctrlablyalt THE ONE WITHOUT A HOME TO GO TO Broken Mirrors and Fragile Things by EvieNyx Distracted by a Dime by happyaspie Gaslighting for Breakfast by Anonymous Hold Me Close, If You Dare by i'd_rather_be_reading_3 I Am Not Known (If I'm Not Seen or Heard) by Madje_Knotts Iron Dad: Coming Home by JAWorley No Ulterior Motive by ob_liv_ious_writer So this is Christmas… by Cheerios_me_lovely The Morning Will Come (and the dream stealing your sleep will end) by Winterturtle Through the Multiverse and what Peter Found There by unctrlablyalt THE SECOND CHANCE AT HOME Home by patrochilles_trash Home is Wherever I'm With You by Maicaly I Promise by MARVELously3000 My Friends Are Ghosts by firecracker121 Not Broken, Just Bent by Cheerios_ me_lovely Peter's Hitchhiking Guide To The Time Heist by Randomsketchez So Many Things to Say by happyaspie The Seventh Escape by Bergen To Melt An Iron Heart by retro_memo Unexpected Brother at Daycare by Yeeter_Parker THE FIXER-UPPER (Meet Me In) The Afterglow by pro_fangirl Blue Memento by Bergen Broken Mirrors and Fragile Things by EvieNyx Count my Heartbeats by KatinaMoon Hold On To All My Son by for_the_night How to Fire Your Intern Sixteen Times in Three Days by Bergen Long Story Short (It Was A Bad Time) Or AIs Don't Forget by peacockgirl One in a Million by inkonmyheartandonthepage The Other Side by memoriaeterna Through the Multiverse and what Peter Found There by unctrlablyalt Whatever it Takes, Spiderling by lethewren THE MAGIC NUMBERS 5 Times Peter Accidentally Stuck to Something by call_me_coley 5 Times Peter Leaves Before The Ambulance Arrives (And 1 Time He Can't) by lillylemonbee 5 Times Peter Scared the Crap Out of Tony + 1 Time He Scared Everyone Else by Sara (ctrsara) 5 Times Peter’s Metabolism Screwed Him Over by for_the_night 5 Times Someone Loved the Paparazzi more than Tony + 1 time someone didn't by KatinaMoon 5 times Tony joked about Peter being part spider by KatinaMoon 5 Times Tony Reminded Peter He Was Human by KatinaMoon Five Times Tony Stark's Fabled Intern Just Showed Up + One Time He Was Invited by kingdomfarway Mishaps at Midtown by OnlyForward So this is Christmas… by Cheerios_me_lovely With Great Power by polariod15 THE RIPPING OFF THE MASK ONE All Good Things Come in Threes by Bergen Intern Override by Sara (ctrsara) Lost and Found by Pogokitten Peter Is Worthy (and so done) by Anonymous Rhodes Well Traveled by Grumperella So Many Things to Say by happyaspie The Kid Behind The Mask by inkinmyheartandonthepage The Same Soul by KatinaMoon Through the Multiverse and what Peter Found There by unctrlablyalt You Better Let Somebody Love You (Before It’s Too Late) by ambivalentangst THE NAME YOUR RANSOM ONE but only hope and sorrows end by iron_spider Count my Heartbeats by KatinaMoon Did We Come Close To Having It All by for_the_night Extraction by Niniblack man in a can by jinxquickfoot Order Fulfillment by Sara (ctrsara) Return to me, the one I love so endlessly by SuperHeroTiger The Same Soul by KatinaMoon Very normal totally regular human intern by Winterturtle Worst Summer Vacation by mystercyclone THE SOMETIMES-HAPPY FAMILY ONE Are we out of the woods yet? by bluesweatshirt Happy Endings are Complicated by MazeEternal Happy Hibernation Day by for_the_night i know that there’s a place for us by Madelinedear Ice Ice, Baby by OllieCollie Magic Makers by Sara (ctrsara) One in a Million by inkinmyheartandonthepage Post-Surgery Sleepover by Sara (ctrsara) The Best Thanksgiving Ever by Niniblack Try, Try Again by mak5258 THE ONE THAT MADE YOU LOL Am I A Dying Man? by Odd_l Better Than I Was by Sara (ctrsara) Buttering Me Up by iron_spider Far Out by Bergen Hey Grandpa by iron_spider Instant Kill Mode by itsnt_it_pretty_to_think_so Papa-paparazzi by Niniblack The Grey Area by Lansfics7 Tony Stark, Doctor (Prompt 21: Famous Last Words) by ItsaPugThing Wrong Place, Wrong Time by Winterturtle THE WILD CARD STORY A Place to Call Home by for_the_night Can't Part the Sea, Can't Reach the Shore by forensicleaf Catch and Keep by Bergen How to Fire Your Intern Sixteen Times in Three Days by Bergen Men of Iron by spdrmain Mother May I by battybatzgirl Secret Identity? You Mean a Private Twitter Account? by villain_klaus Sirens in My Mind by OllieCollie The Cycle of Shame by Cheerios_me_lovely Through the Multiverse and what Peter Found There by unctrlablyalt Under The Advent Of Stars by GigiDoyle Whatever it Takes by RonnielByrne THE ONE THAT’S A WHOLE NEW WORLD A Pirate's Life For Us by Lbigreyhound13 Dear Fellow Traveler by SuperHeroTiger Do I Deserve This? by Peters12&3bros Golden Threads by Winterturtle Home is Where the Heart Is by SuperHeroTiger If These Wings Could Fly by For_The_Night So Many Things to Say by happyaspie Prince of the Forest by Tess_Moon The Silver Prince by Marialf2001 The Truth Is (Everyone Is Confused By Quantum Physics) by EvieFuller THE SERIES THAT SWEPT YOU AWAY Dear Fellow Traveler by SuperHeroTiger Fostering Hope by happyaspie From the Same Star Series by Sara (ctrsara) Heir Peter fics by OnlyForward Peter is a Precious Chickpea by Bergen Strands in the Rope by Sara (ctrsara) The Meaning of Inevitable by Mendeia The One Where Bucky Kidnapped Peter Stark as a Toddler by Niniblack These Words Written on my Wrist by KatinaMoon Wake up and smell the coffee by Bergen THE ONE THAT GAVE YOU ALL THE LOVE 5 times Tony Dealt With a Loopy Peter by for_the_night Do You Remember Forgetting? by Silverstar1 From My Weakness I Drew Strength by Mendeia I Know How Much You Love Surprises by opal_earrings Not Your Peter Parker by Peters12&3bros Only Suckers Wear Scarves by Bergen Through the Multiverse and what Peter Found There by unctrlablyalt Tony Stark Finds Himself a Family (That Doesn't Suck) by youcancallmearrow Where There's Smoke by juiceontherocks Worst Summer Vacation by mysterycyclone THE ALL-TIME FAVORITE He Looks on Tempest by iron_spider Heir Peter fics by OnlyForward Identity Theft by KitCat992 More Peril in Thine Eye by iron_spider Prince of the Forest by Tess_Moon Roo-niverse (IronDad AU) by juiceontherocks Sins of the Fathers by geekymoviemom The Chasm Between by TheSleepingOwl The Ties That Bind Us by Winterturtle Turn Back the Clock (and I'll try again in the morning) by madasthesea Visiting Hours by Sara (ctrsara) Who Says You Can't Go Home by peacockgirl THE 2021/2022 FAVORITE A different kind of heat by KatinaMoon but only hope and sorrows end by iron_spider Grief Has No Timeline by Sara (ctrsara) Long Story Short (It Was A Bad Time) Or AIs Don't Forget by peacockgirl Men of Iron by spdrman One of Those Weeks by juiceontherocks Peter Parker's home for wayward people and animals by Bergen Prince of the Forest by Tess_Moon Survivor's Guide to the Galaxy by fanfic1892 The Long Game by Niniblack These Webs We Weave by SpaceCowboysFromMars Through the Multiverse and what Peter Found There by unctrlablyalt

#Irondad Creator Awards #Irondad Creator Awards 2023 #Iron Man #irondad #Irondad and Spiderson #spider-man #fanfic #fandom awards

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