#escaped whumpee

[generic-whumperz]

Oh buddy just you wait

*cue the night terrors

#whump #whumpblr #whump blog #whumpee #escaped whumpee #free whumpee #traumatized whumpee #whump aftermath #trauma recovery #recovering whumpee #cptsd recovery #tw truama #tw ptsd #tw cptsd #whump rescue #recovery whump #whump recovery #whump drabble #whump memes #emotional whump #physical whump #just whumpy tings

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee couldn't wait around for someone to rescue them. They break out on their own, wounded and exhausted. They struggle home with whumper's own coat around their shoulders.

They slam the doors open to the base, caretaker was the first to see them.

"Wh-whumpee! We've been looking everywhere, are you hurt? Are you okay-" Caretaker stops when they see a trail of blood wherever whumpee walks. "How much blood have you lost?" They ask, grabbing a chair for them.

Whumpee turns around and seemingly just notices.

"I guess however much is between here and there."

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #caretaking #escape whump #blood loss whump #whump angst #wounded whumpee #injury whump #whump prompt #whump dialog #whump tropes #escaped whumpee #recovery whump #stoic whumpee #strong whumpee #whump community

[montammil]

Whumpee gasps in shock as two hands suddenly cover their eyes, and a painstakingly familiar voice whispers in their ear...

“Guess whoooo~?”

#ITS WHUMPER BABEY!! #but like imagine whumpee's finally gotten away just to have this happen #better yet if whumper was assumed dead #whump dialogue #whump dialogue prompt #whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #whumper x whumpee #whumpee x whumper #escaped whumpee #recapture whump #whump prompt #whump idea

[suspensefulpen]

A Deal

TW: Restrains, Choking, Death Threats, Whumpee turned Whumper, Whumper turned Whumpee

Whumpee paced the room, doing everything they could to keep their hands to themself. But they were itching to do something. Itching to hurt the chained up Whumper several feet away. The urge only seemed to grow stronger the longer Whumper stared at them.

Before they could stop themself, Whumpee launched themself at Whumper, wrapping their hand around his neck. “It only takes sixty seconds. Remember when you said that to me?” Whumpee growled as their captor struggled to breathe and break free of his restraints. “I can use those same sixty seconds for you. To end your life.”

“Whumpee! Stop!” Caretaker rushed over and pulled Whumpee away. “Enough! I know you want to hurt him the same way he hurt you but right now is not the time, okay?”

“Right now is the perfect time! No one’s around! No one would hear him scream! We’re in the middle of nowhere! They wouldn’t even find his body!”

Both Caretaker and Whumper were taken aback by those words. Whumper more so than Caretaker. Whumpee really just said that in front of a cop. They were that desparate for revenge that they didn’t care who was around.

Caretaker looked over at Whumper. She had no clue what this whole situation was but based on the pure emotion in Whumpee’s voice, there was a long history between the two.

Whumpee lunged at Whumper again but was quickly stopped by Caretaker who dragged them out of the room. Whumper only watched in silence. He could hear Whumpee crying, even as the door was shut behind the two. He heard Caretaker attempting to comfort them before she came back into the room, shutting the door once again. She kneel down next to him, being sure to keep a little distance.

“You gonna choke me next, Detective?”

“No. I’m gonna ask you what’s going on.”

“Well from what you know an innocent civilian just got threatened.”

“While that is a possibility, I also know raw emotions when I see them.” Caretaker said. “So whatever this is, whatever is going on, you did something to hurt them. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know how you did it. All I know is that if Whumpee’s faking that, they’re a damn good actor. So tell me what’s going on.”

“You saw what was going on. An innocent civilian’s life was just threatened.”

“That’s not the full story. And you know that.”

“That is the full story.” Whumper nodded.

Caretaker leaned forward, a frown appearing on her face. “You know the full story and you’re gonna tell us what it is once I get you to the precinct. I don’t know who you two are to each other but once you get in that room, I want you to tell us everything.”

“Why wait? Let’s get this over with and do it now.”

“Because I can’t force you to say anything. That’s your right.”

“Come on Caretaker, we both know you’re not as sweet as you look. You don’t follow all the rules, do you?”

She was taken aback as she paused to process what Whumper said. She cleared her throat and frowned, turning her gaze elsewhere. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because I’m offering you a deal.”

#creative writing #writeblr #writer things #writers on tumblr #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #choking #restrained #chains #bad caretaker #maybe #caretaker #whumper #whumpee #escaped whumpee #aftermath #whumper turned whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #suspense

[ashintheairlikesnow]

A Kindness

CW: Runaway whumpee, referenced hunger/malnourishment

Timeline: After Jameson escaped from Robert but before he found a safehouse

For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 3: A Long Cold Night

-

It’s fucking freezing out here. Jameson thought California wasn’t supposed to get cold like this, but just his goddamn luck, it definitely does. 

He’s curled up against the heavy concrete beneath the overpass, using it to block the worst of the wind. There are a scattering of tents around him, others who have figured out some slim form of shelter. There’s a couple fires going, too, but Jameson doesn’t want anything to do with the people circled around them, sharing stories and in-jokes. They’ve been out here for long enough to know each other. To trust each other, more or less.

Like everywhere else he goes, Jameson doesn’t fit.

He sure as fuck doesn't trust.

When he finds other runaway pets, they think he’s frightening. The twisted scar near his mouth catches the firelight too well. He's too brash, too angry, someone who might be violent.

When he tries to stick around non-pets, they read him like a book and treat him like shit on the bottom of their shoes. Or try to sneak up on him when he sleeps and get a hand down his pants, assuming that he won’t fight back, because everyone knows Box Boys will lie back and take it, right?

Well, Jameson isn’t like other pets.

He isn't just any Box Boy.

Nanda taught him how to survive, no matter what it cost. Nanda taught him-

Goddamn fucking dead Nanda.

If he wasn't so fucking dead none of this would be happening.

Jameson closes his eyes against a hot rush of tears he refuses to allow out, not now. Not when he knows he's being watched, considered for whether he might have a few dollars that could be stolen or if he could be held down and made to accept their touch. He won't be.

The ones who try learn that real fast not to try again, once they have busted lips and black eyes and, in one case, a set of balls so bruised and twisted that the asshole who tried to make Jameson kneel for him is definitely sterile now.

Cold nights make his legs ache, the final loving legacy of the braces he’d worn for too long that never let him stand all the way up. Two goddamn assholes had put those on him, and he'll never be free of the pain. Jameson ignores it, grinds his teeth until his jaw hurts worse than his legs ever could. He can ignore it just fine until the weather gets cold.

Mostly.

There’s a scraping off to his left, footsteps crunching on gravel and shards of broken glass. Jameson’s knife is in his hand as easily as he breathes and he’s already got it brandished when he turns, putting a sneer on his face, leaning into the ugliness of the scar that twists one side of his mouth more than the other. “Listen, motherfucker, try to stick your dick anywhere near me and I’ll fucking cut it off-... shit.”

His voice dies as he takes her in.

She’s small, almost dainty looking. He reads her for what she is in a heartbeat, the grace in every movement carefully trained until it was no longer a conscious choice, the soft skin that had spent a long time moisturized and cared for at odds with the hackjob and clumsy box-dye red she’d done to her hair to try and make herself less recognizable. She’s drowning in a man’s overcoat at least four sizes too big and so long it’s dragging the ground, heavy boots that she has to be wearing at least three pairs of socks to fit into. She’s wearing leather driving gloves too big for her hands. 

Her eyes are wide and frightened.

But she's not frightened of him.

She reads him right back, and they recognize each other before a single real word is said. She manages a slight, trembling smile. Jameson feels the snarl fade off his own face. They might have trained together, not that he remembers much of training.

“... can I sit with you tonight?” She asks, voice low, glancing nervously over her shoulder and then back to him. “Please? You’re, you were one too, right?”

Jameson’s jaw works.

He should tell her to fuck off, this is his spot, leave him alone. That he’s not nice, he’s no one anyone can trust. He’s been owned three times and twice they made him live on his hands and knees, once he starved, once he watched people die over and over again until he sees their faces every time he sleeps. 

He didn't deserve to be the one who lived after it all, but he's the one who would do anything not to die, so here they are. Here they fucking are.

Instead of rejecting her need for even one small kindness, he replies instead, "Yeah, whatever. Go ahead. Don't try to talk to me about it, though."

He closes the knife, letting it slide back into his pocket as she makes her way to him, dropping down to sit beside him, curling her knees to her chest and pulling a hood up over her head. Jameson feels… settled, at the gentle unassuming touch, her weight barely noticeable when she leans slowly until her head rests on his shoulder. She smells kind of gross, but he probably does, too. Who knows when either of them last showered?

“Sorry,” She whispers as she slides her gloved hand into his, twining their fingers together. 

“Uh-... what-... what the fuck are you doing-”

“There’s a guy who won’t stop following me around.” She keeps her voice low, turning and lifting her chin so she’s almost kissing Jameson’s cheek right over his scar as she speaks. “I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you-... just pretend to be, for a while? We’re good at pretending we’re in relationships, you can do it, right? I knew when I saw you that you’d been like me.”

Jameson fights the twist of pain.

Pretending we’re in relationships.

That’s as close as he’s ever going to get, and even that was ripped away from him. Jameson never even got to tell him-

He shuts that thought down.

He doesn’t think about Nanda anymore. He doesn’t think about anyone unless it’s to hate them - that’s easier. 

All he does is nod, giving a smile - fake but to anyone else it looks warmly genuine. He can make any expression an owner wants on command, still - the scars and bald patches where hair used to be, rubbed away by the muzzle day after day, make it a little scarier. But it never looks like a lie. 

“I got you,” He murmurs back, and kisses her forehead like they’ve known each other for forever. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a man lurking, skulking around, one eye on the girl all the time, watching Jameson slide an arm around her waist with barely concealed jealousy. Jameson shoots him a serene smile, pulling the girl tightly against him. 

It’s going to be a long, cold night, and he’s not going to sleep at all.

The girl dozes off almost immediately, finally feeling safe enough to sleep, and that… that helps. A little bit. 

It's a kindness.

-

@finder-of-rings  @endless-whump  @arlin-always-writing  @newandfiguringitout  @doveotions  @pretty-face-breaker  @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow  @boxboysandotherwhump  @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump  @whump-tr0pes  @yet-another-heathen @whumptywhumpdump  @whumpiary  @orchidscript  @outofangband  @eatyourdamnpears  @hackles-up  @grizzlie70  @mylifeisonthebookshelf  @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

#amow tropeathon2024 #day 3 #a long cold night #escaped whumpee #runaway whumpee #jameson bb #scars #scarred whumpee #bbu #box boy #box boy universe

[the-baby-storyteller]

When a whumpee finally escaped their captors,

but the trip home is even more dangerous.

#whump #whump tropes #whump prompts #whump ideas #prompts #kidnapping whump #escaped whumpee #the baby storyteller

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

Eden part seventeen

TW: grief, transphobia, misgendering, Stockholm Syndrome, abelism against cluster b disorders, brief abelist slurs, xenophobia, narcissistic abuse rhetoric, referenced major character death, bad caretaker, pet whumpee, escaped whumpee

Ezra couldn't manage to open his eyes, too disorientated and exhausted. Everything felt wrong. What the hell had happened last night?

His blankets were so uncomfortable, such ratty and itchy things. The air of the room was far chillier than Christopher's home ever was, leaving Ezra wondering if he could possibly be outside. But he was lying on a bed, so that idea was clearly nonsense.

Something else bugged him, that he couldn't put his finger on. After a moment of thought, the quite obvious answer occurred to him. Lavender. The essential oils and perfumes he had grown so accustomed to no longer filled the air around him, replaced by clashing scents of old booze, trash, and artificial vanilla.

Ezra opened his eyes, and the sight of his old apartment triggered his memories rushing back. He wasn't in Christopher's home at all. Jay was dead, gone like their master. Ezra had escaped. Christopher must be worried sick.

"Fuck," Ezra groaned, not sure what else he was supposed to say.

He closed his eyes, hoping he could fall asleep and wake up in Christopher's bed, cuddled up in his arms. But when this proved impossible, he forced himself to stand up and toss his blankets off. He wandered around the apartment in a daze, becoming reaccustomed to his ugly surroundings.

Messy didn't begin to describe the apartment. untouched by Christopher's obsessive cleaning and organization. Nothing had a place to begin with, so being out of place was incurable. He half heartedly threw a few empty energy drink cans in the overflowing trash can.

Slipping back into autopilot mode wasn't difficult, and soon Ezra was boiling water on the stove to make Top Ramen. A poor meal compared to what he had grown used to consisting on, but still it filled him up and warmed his bones. Almost a mockery of Christopher's home cooked stews, but useful in its own sense.

Ezra closed his eyes, trying to pretend that nothing had changed. But the sight of Jay's body plagued him, broken in the bloody snow, an eternal reminder of all that had happened to him. Worse than their corpse was their bright smile playing behind his closed eyelids. A smile he would never see again, let alone provoke by saying something sappy or poking them in the stomach.

The decision to go home was a ridiculously easy one. Ezra tossed his empty Top Ramen wrapper in the trash and put on a pair of sneakers. He walked straight out the door and onto the cracked concrete sidewalk in front of his apartment.

Reason hit him like the cars driving down the street would if he took fifteen steps forward. Where was Christopher's house? What was the address? Hell, what state was it in? Not too far to hitchhike, but in what direction? Ezra silently walked inside and sat on his bed.

Usually when he was having a hard time, he distracted himself by listening to music and scrolling Tumblr, giving his brain enough stimulation for not a single thought to possibly form. But now he hardly remembered the existence of his cellphone, sitting next to the abandoned art supplies on his desk.

He tried not to cry and immediately failed. What he was crying over made him guilty of the highest contempt. Not Jay's death, which he had half heartedly tried to prevent. But of the life he had lost. A taste of paradise he could never win back. The death of another didn't hurt anywhere near as badly as suffering in his own life. It never had.

But Christopher knew where Ezra lived. He had never been lazy, always doing his due research and finding out everything possible. How often had he casually dropped a fact about Ezra's life and past that Ezra had never shared with him?

This made Ezra feel a bit better. He just needed to wait. Surely Christopher would check here as soon as he couldn't find Ezra in the woods… But why would Christopher still want him?

This thought proved more unbearable than any other anxiety so far. Christopher had owned other pets in the past, all now dead. The thought once terrified Ezra, but he had convinced himself that he was better. Special. Well behaved, respectful, loving, everything he should be. Not anymore. He had run away, breaking the most important and sacred of rules. Christopher must hate him for betraying his trust so horribly.

Ezra stumbled to the bathroom to throw up in the sink. It had been months since he had made himself sick with anxiety. Drinking water was his best cure, and it did nothing but rid him of the foul taste in his throat. His head filled with agony from his stress, as though someone were driving a stake into his temple.

His roommate chose the worst possible time to walk in. She looked the same as ever. Chipped fake nails, a ratty Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and a messy bleach blonde bun all painted the perfect white trash picture. She stared at Ezra, mouth gaping like a goldfish, standing at the entrance to the living room.

"Where have you been?" Shelly asked. "I've been worried about you, Esther."

Ezra flinched at the sound of that name. Such a disgusting word, at least when used to describe him. How many times did he need to correct her?

"I got kidnapped," he said, hoping Shelly would leave well enough alone.

"Oh no." Shelly covered her mouth. "I didn't get the ransom note. Did it get buried in my emails or my Instagram? I'm so sorry."

Ezra nearly laughed from the sheer absurdity of her statement. Ransom notes for roommates sent via emails and instagram messages? What world did she think she was living in?

"Not for ransom," he said, not entirely sure why he was bothering to explain. "I got kidnapped and kept as a-" The word pet seemed improper. He couldn't bring himself to say it. "Got kidnapped by a guy who was stalking me and wanted me to live with him." He laughed awkwardly. "You know how it is."

"I- I don't know how that is. Oh my God. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

The pounding in Ezra's head was finally going down, allowing him to think and communicate.

Shelly sat down on the crumb covered sofa and patted the fashion next to her. "Come sit down. You need to tell me everything."

Ezra tentatively sat down. Emotional conversations with Shelly always ended badly. Her best advice was using crystals she bought on Etsy to cure depression. But she sometimes had coupons for free doughnuts, so that was a plus.

"Start at the beggining," she urged. "I'm listening."

The beggining? It had been so long since Ezra had thought back so far. Some days he forgot he had ever been an unwilling captive.

"I was kidnapped by a man named Christopher Kotev," he said.

"What is he like?" Shelly interupted.

"I was just about to tell you." Ezra fought to keep the annoyance from his voice. "I think he's like fifty. He lived by himself. Russian American family."

"That's scary," Shelly said bizarrely.

Ezra blinked. "What?"

"You know, Russians. I've seen a lot of movies and-"

"No," Ezra interrupted. He usually hated interrupting people but Shelly was an idiot. "I grew up in Spokane. That's over in Washington state. Big Russian community. Most of them were always really friendly."

"Huh. Thats interesting." Shelly popped a piece of bubblegum in her mouth. "But I bet what's-his-face who kidnapped you wasn't."

"Christopher Kotev," Ezra repeated. "And he's literally the nicest person I've ever met. He kidnapped me with the sole intention of making my life as pleasant as possible and keeping me happy, because he loves me."

The conviction is his voice did nothing to betray his anxiety over yesterday's escape.

"I've watched a lot of true crime podcasts but I've never heard anything like that. I-" Shelly suddenly grabbed Ezra's hand. "Did he hurt you?"

Ezra let her hold his hand. She wasn't overly touchy, and this was the farthest she ever went. He was uncomfortable, but didn't mind her touch nearly as much as her question."

No, he never laid a hand on me. Christopher just wasn't like that. He was very gentle and loving. Made sure I had enough to eat, treating me really nicely, and just being good. I really liked being with him, even if you think I'm crazy I can't change that."

"What were you, his pet cat?" Shelly asked, unaware of how close to home her words hit.

"Pretty much," Ezra admitted. "But hey, who do you love more than your cat?"

"Do you have Stockholm Syndrome?"

Ezra shook his head. "No. I don't think so. That's when you're attached to someone abusive. Christopher wasn't like that at all."

"Then why did you come back?"

"It's a long story." Ezra hoped Shelly would get bored and leave him be. "I don't know if you'd really get it."

Shelly stood up. "Come on. Let's go sit in my room. I'll do your nails while you tell me everything. It'll be nice. We can play some music and I have gummy bears."

Ezra sighed deeply, but followed behind Shelly. He kicked off his sneakers and sat on her neatly made bed, running his pointer finger over the stained mandela patterned blanket. Shelly grabbed out her nail polish and opened the bottle of noxious acetone nail polish remover. Ezra tried not to gag from the smell.

"Keep telling me about everything," Shelly said. "Green is a good color for you, I think."

"Green is fine. Um…" Ezra tried to remember everything that had happened. Details like their nightly readings of Dante's Inferno didn't seem important. "Christopher was engaged to a man named Colt."

"He's gay?" Shelly asked, very surprised and not bothering to politely hide it. "What'd he kidnap you for?"

Ezra knew exactly what she was getting at, and chose to focus on the smooth lines of green being applied to his nails. His ears burned with embarrassment.

"I guess you'd call it platonic stalking and kidnapping," he said curtly.

"I've never heard of it. You should go on my true crime podcast. It'd be a hit."

"You run your own true crime podcast? I thought you just listened to them."

"Me and my friend Leah do," she said happily. "We have more than two hundred followers on YouTube. The filming is done over at her house, 'cause it's cleaner. We even make money from it."

Ezra didn't know how to answer. All five nails on his left hand were now painted a glimmering dark green.

"Keep telling me about Christopher and… What's his face? The fiance."

"Colt." Ezra shook his head as though to rid himself of his memories. "He's the most horrible person I've ever met. He was-"

"Wait, let me visualize this. What does he look like?"

"Uh, also in his fifties but looked younger. Wore a lot of leather. Had full body tattoos, some of really slutty looking women and men. Others just cliche skulls and playing cards. You know what I mean. He had greaser hair. Taller than me but shorter than Christopher."

"Sounds like my ex. God, he was a mistake. Anyway, go on."

Shelly always made Ezra feel better about his habit of making conversations about himself, and that was not a good thing.

"He was torturing someone in his basement."

Shelly gasped, then quickly got distracted cleaning up the nail polish she had smudged with an acetone drenched Q-tip.

"They're dead now," Ezra said quietly, hoping Shelly had a single shred of respect in her fake tan covered body. "Their name was Jay. I can't close my eyes without seeing their body in the snow."

"I'm so sorry," Shelly said gently. "That's horrible. But how did you go from being kidnapped to seeing your kidnapper's fiance's victim's body dumped outside?"

"I settled down with Christopher after he kidnapped me," Ezra said, choosing to ignore the piercings won from his failed escape attempt. "He was perfect. The kindest person I've ever met. Then one day, a week or two after I moved in, his fiance Colt came over for a visit."

Shelly started applying a thin layer of clear polish over the green. For once, she wasn't interrupting.

"He dragged in his… victim. They were beyond hurt, filthier than anyone I've ever seen. They looked straight out of those shitty slasher movies we used to watch. The only thing Christopher ever did wrong was allowing Colt to get away with… torturing them."

Ezra took a deep breath, trying not to cry. He couldn't cry. Not in front of Shelly. This was too private a matter, but he was too tired to stop talking to the only… friend he had left.

"I took them to get cleaned off while Christopher and Colt talked. Christopher seemed disturbed by Jay, but too in love to say anything. Jay couldn't even remember their own name, okay?!"

Ezra couldn't help sobbing at this. Holy fuck, what had they done? It wasn't just on Colt, or even Colt and Christopher. Jay's blood was on Ezra's own hands too. If only he had been a little braver. If he had stood up to Colt. If he had cared enough to keep Jay happy and alive after his death. If wishes were horses, he might have a shot at winning this race.

"I named them Jay. It seemed like a nice name. I patched up their wounds and burns and cleaned their hair. You still couldn't tell their skin color, they were so battered. They hadn't eaten in days. I gave them a bowl of borscht, that's a Russian stew with beets and potatoes, and they acted like it was a gift from God. I let them sleep in my bed and-" Ezra choked back tears. "Then they had to go home. Not their home. Home with him."

"I've never heard anything that horrible," Shelly said, not bothering to hide the distasteful curiosity in her voice. "Christopher just let this happen?"

"He said that Colt was naturally violent, and implied that he had been on the receiving end of it. He seemed relieved that Colt had a different person to take his anger out on. Stuff happened later that makes me sure he was telling the truth."

"What stuff? Jay getting murdered?"

"Jay wasn't murdered!" Ezra snapped. "Stop interrupting. I'm trying to explain."

"I'm sorry," Shelly said, clearly lying. "Keep going. Can I do your hair?"

Ezra sighed. "Yes, but don't straighten it. I hated it when you tried that."

Shelly ran to the bathroom and came back with a bag full of hair supplies. She plopped a bag of gummies on Ezra's lap, before sitting behind him. A comb began tugging at his ear length curls.

"What happened to Jay?"

"Colt came back," Ezra said in a strangled whisper. "Of course he did. Christopher was his fiance. They were planning on getting married in late June because Christopher likes outdoor weddings and that's when the lavender is blooming."

"Lavender?"

Ezra brushed his tears away. How had he missed that detail? "Christopher loved lavender. He made it in desserts and tea. He wore lavender perfume all the time. His whole house smelled like it. I really miss it."

Shelly worked through a difficult tangle, making Ezra yelp. "Sorry, sorry. I don't like lavender, but that's all very nice. I like weddings. I hope theirs is nice, even if they're horrible people."

"Not happening," Ezra snarled. "Colt died. Jay died. They're dead and gone. Christopher almost died too."

"I'm sorry."

Ezra popped a few of the gummy bears in his mouth, enjoying the artificial sweetness and weird texture. Chewing gave him time to recompose himself, banishing his tears.

"I was taking care of Jay again," Ezra said bitterly. "I heard a gunshot and was fucking terrified. Then I found out that Christopher had killed Colt in self defense because Colt had gotten too violent with him. It was an accident, but it still fucking happened. Christopher and his siblings covered the crime up. His younger brother Michael has criminal connections so it was easy. Jay stayed with us for a while."

Ezra's voice broke, and his eyes welled with tears. "They were getting better. They were healthy. They still acted like a- like a little kid. But they were getting better. I swear they were."

"I believe you," Shelly said, spraying something weird and cold in Ezra's hair. "You don't have any reason to lie. This is all so horrible."

"They wanted to die, and I can't blame them," he said bitterly. "They asked me to kill them, but I couldn't. I was being selfish. I just couldn't do it. So Christopher did. It wasn't murder, it was assisted suicide. It hurt him, I know it did. I ran away in a panic, and I've never regretted anything more."

"Christopher kidnapped you then killed two other people." Shelly dropped her hair supplies and moved around on her bed so she was facing Ezra. "That's awful."

"I want to go back," Ezra admitted. "I was so happy, for a while. If it were just me and Christopher, everything would be okay."

"I think Christopher is a narcissistic sociopath," Shelly said, giving Ezra intense whiplash.

"I-" Ezra glanced around, as though looking for cameras. "What?"

Shelly started ticking off on her fingers. "He's clearly obsessed with you, and wants you all to himself. Textbook narcissist. And he killed two people, and is totally fine with it. Textbook sociopath. I know this is hard for you, Ezra. I'll help you through it."

Ezra burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. Shelly could be so bizarre, to the point of highly offensive comedy.

"What's the matter?" Shelly asked.

"You realize that I have NPD, right?" Ezra stopped laughing. Oh fuck, maybe he shouldn't have said that. Well, too late now. "Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It's a cluster B condition. I'm sure plenty of your podcasts talk about it."

"You're too nice to be a narcissist," Shelly countered.

Ezra laughed some more. It felt good after all the crying. "Oh God, Shelly. You really crack me up sometimes. All that time spent on self help websites with articles called 'how to spot a narcissist' and you didn't even realize you were living with one. How oblivious could you get? I have the diagnosis papers and everything."

"But- but you're not like that," Shelly said, clearly distressed. "You're not abusive. You couldn't be."

Ezra ate a few more gummy bears before responding. "Do you think that people with NPD just abuse everybody all the time?"

Shelly nodded. It stung, but Ezra had expected it.

"I don't know if you'll believe a lowly narcissist such as myself," Ezra said sarcastically. "But I'll give you the low down. Every single abuser made the decision to be abusive. No one does it by accident. They might be mean or neglectful, but actual abuse is a choice."

"But narcissists do choose that. That's the whole point."

"I didn't. I chose to be good, even if people kept screwing me over for it." Ezra's years of resentment finally had a target, and he couldn't stop himself from speaking to her. "Even though my parents abused me. Even though I was a freak who never had any real friends. I chose to be kind. I wake up every morning and decide, against all my fears and doubts, to be a good person even if I won't get anything in return. Sure, I hope I get something in return. But I hardly ever do. It's hard to have a brain like mine, but I make the most of it."

Shelly, a woman who heard about two horrible deaths and reacted with only curiosity, looked on the verge of tears at these statements.

"Finally I met Christopher," Ezra continued. "The first person to ever really care about me. Who loved me the way I always wanted to be loved. How I deserved to be loved. I hope he'll take me back. Because I deserve a good life."

It had been years since Ezra had claimed to be deserving of anything. The world didn't owe him a damn. But after a taste of what he could have, he had slipped back into old entitled delusions.

"Is that why you loved him?" Shelly asked quietly. "Because you're both narcissists? Because you love each other in the way nobody else can? Because you understabd each other in the way empaths won't?"

Ezra had never considered the idea that Christopher could have NPD. Not for a second. But now it seemed so obvious that it may as well be fact.

He nodded, trying not to cry again. "I love him, Shelly. And he loves me. Someone like you wouldn't get it. But I get it. And that's enough."

"Listen." Shelly held Ezra's hand again, not anywhere as comforting as Christopher used to be. "I'm an empath, okay? I feel for you. You don't know what these feelings are like, because you're a narcissist. But you've got to believe me the way I believe you. I know what's going on in your heart, even if you're broken. Being broken is hard. I know that, even if I'm totally normal. I'm here for you, as long as you don't take advantage of me. Okay?"

Ezra hated being called broken. He hated self proclaimed "empaths". He hated being treated like he wasn't a person. Most of all, he hated Shelly and everyone else like her. They made his life a living hell. But at least she was placated now. And Ezra had never had a hard time playing the victim.

He faked a smile. "I'm so glad to have such a nice friend like you. I wish I could be an empath too. You're right, it is hard to be…" he swallowed. "So broken. I wish I could feel for other people."

"I'm sorry you cant. It must be rough. I've never net a narcissist as self aware as you. I'm glad I can know your point of view. It'll help me."

And Ezra was supposed to be the selfish one. The irony may have been lost on Shelly, but it wasn't lost on him.

"I really like you," he lied. "I don't want to ever hurt you. I try really hard."

Shelly smiled. "I know that, Esther. Really, I do. What do you need from me right now?"

Ezra blinked at the question, but decided to answer it honestly. "I haven't made myself actual food in a long time. I've pretty much forgotten how. A little help with dinner would be nice."

"I'll order pizza," Shelly said brightly. "Stay right here."

She disappeared from her bedroom to call the pizza place, leaving Ezra alone. He hid his face in his hands. Christopher would never treat him like this.

This apartment he lived in was nothing more than a prison, constructed from societal norms and bad friends. At least Christopher's prison was made from kindness and love. He would give anything to go back.

Taglist: @devourerofcheesecake @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenly-whumper @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-clit-loser @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkinz @dokidokisadness @enbygesserit

#Abraham original: Hot off the press #Eden #Whump #Pet whump #pet whumpee #conditioned whumpee #whump writing #Bad caretaker #Modern whump #Escaped whumpee

[whump3000]

“We won’t have to search hard to find Whumpee,” Whumper said with a smirk, looking out across a trail of bloody footprints. “We only have to beat the snow.”

#whump #whumper #escaped whumpee #bloody footprints #whump dialogue #whump scenario #whump thoughts #whump blog

[inkwell-and-dagger]

"Whumpee? Why are you on my doorstep?"

"I— I didn't know where else to go..."

#take this in any way you'd like!! #perhaps a whumpee who previously escaped fleeing back to whumper after believing they just couldnt take it in the outside world #or whumpee showing up on caretakers doorstep in the middle of the night battered and bruised #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #whump prompt #whump dialogue #dialogue prompt #whump idea #whump trope #escaped whumpee

[egg-writes-whump]

Whumper looked awfully relaxed for someone who had just turned themself into the team for kidnapping Whumpee. Caretaker glared at them.

"Ok. Talk. From what I can gather from you, you don't look like the kind of person who'd turn themselves in for no reason."

"I'll give you this, Caretaker: Whumpee's more stubborn than I took them for."

Whumper responded casually. Leader growled.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I thought they well would've given up on trying to break out by now, after they gave up on you lot saving them so quickly. But no. Here we are, and they could literally be anywhere right now. they got out. They win."

They shrugged.

"Wait, wait, go back: they gave up on us?"

"For the first couple months they were so sure. They kept saying, just you wait til the others get here. No matter what I did. And then I guess it just struck them that maybe, just maybe, if you were looking, you would've been there by that point. But nope. So I guess they gave up. Not on freedom. Just on you."

#egg writes whump #whump #whump prompt #whump prompts #runaway whumpee #escaped whumpee #team whump #tw captivity #ask to tag

[hurtthemgently]

Caretaker turned whumpee-

Whumpee was perfect, they cried and begged, they were always so jumpy and adorable. Over time though, they had started to get boring. It was still somewhat annoying when whumpee escaped, and one day they decided to track them down.

When they finally found whumpee.. sure it was nice to see those terrified eyes, how they instinctively shrunk back. But all that paled in comparison to caretaker.

A burning fury, a protectiveness, they’d do anything to keep their precious whumpee safe. That level of commitment- was breathtaking.

#caretaker turned whumpee #captive whumpee #escaped whumpee #creepy/intimate whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump trope #whump tropes

[jordanstrophe]

Whumper fakes whumpee’s death so they don't have a vengeful caretaker after them. But later: the grief stricken caretaker sees whumpee again for the first time after they’ve escaped and can’t believe their own eyes.

#whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #whump prompt #whumper prompt #caretaker prompt #whump angst #emotional whump #possessive caretaker #vengeful caretaker #returned whumpee #rescue whump #whump ideas #whump scenarios #caretaker scenarios #kidnapped whumpee #kidnap prompt #escaped whumpee

[iwritewhump]

Bloody clothes

day 6 of @whumptember

431 words

warnings: teenage whumpee, bloody clothes, conditioned whumpee (implied)

part one | part three | part four | part five | part six

---

Hero sits next to Villain, cheek resting against his shoulder as the sun rises. She sighs and looks up at him, “Do you wanna go wake him up? I need to get back before Superhero sends a search party. I didn’t tell him I was coming here. Didn’t think it’d be the best idea, y’know?” 

Villain smiles and nods, “Just…wait here? I didn’t tell him I was calling you.” 

“Sure,” Hero smiles, “Yeah, that’s probably best.” 

Villain stands up and takes their empty mugs to the kitchen, gently setting them in the sink before walking down the hallway and knocking on the door. 

“Vigilante? Are you awake?” He pushes the door open and takes a step in the room. 

Vigilante shoots up from the bed, he pushes back to the headboard and pulls the blanket with him. Panting, he looks at Villain. 

Villain raises his hands slowly and takes another step forward, “Sorry, I…I should’ve waited for you to answer. Are you alright?” 

Vigilante scoffs but relaxes a little, the white-knuckle grip on the sheets loosening a little. “What’s going on?” 

“I called someone and she’s going to take you with her. You’ll be safer with her than I could ever imagine you being here.” Villain flips the light switch on and Vigilante winces at the brightness. “Do you wanna go meet her, or do you want her to come in here?” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t-I’m not gonna leave you. I don’t feel safe with anyone but you. Please…don’t make me go?” 

Villain sighs and sits on the foot of the bed, ignoring the pang in his heart when Vigilante pulls farther away. 

“I can’t keep you safe,” he says softly. “She’s good at doing that, she kept me safe for a long time, and I know it’s scary. But it’s what’s best. Trust me?” 

Vigilante leans his head against the headboard and takes a deep breath. He looks back at Villain and nods, “I’ll go out there. But…not right now? 

“Yeah,” Villain smiles and laughs in relief, “Of course! Take your time.” He stands up and turns to leave, but his eyes catch on something. 

A small pile of clothes are heaped in the corner of the room, blood spotting the cloth. Villain walks towards it and picks it up, “I’ll wash these for you, yeah?” 

Vigilante stares blankly at them, he shakes his head. “Just throw them out.” he closes his eyes and curls into himself. “Please.” 

Villain nods and holds everything under his arm, trying his best to hide all the dark brown stains from Vigilante. 

#whumptember #whumptember2023 #whumptember2023 day 6 #bloody clothes #teenage whumpee #vigilante whumpee #villain caretaker #escaped whumpee #whump #whump fic #whump writing #my writing #whumpee #caretaker

[seetheothersideofparadise]

Give me a Whumpee who escaped from their Whumper and got them arrested. Over two years pass and they heal, they feel more like themselves again, until one day Whumpee is just leaving work when they see a news headline that makes their blood run cold.

Whumper escaped from prison.

Whumpee rushes home, ready to go on lockdown and hope that Whumper gets caught again soon or they may never leave their home. They get home, they start locking up the doors, but then there’s someone behind them, wrapping their arms around Whumpee as if greeting an old friend, and asking, “Did you miss me?”

Bonus points if Caretaker hears the news and rushes to Whumpee’s house, only to find the place ransacked, Whumpee missing, and a message written on the walls reading, “Too slow :)”

#Atlas Writes #whump prompt #creepy whumper #kidnapping #recapture #worried caretaker #scared whumpee #touchy whumper #escaped whumpee #recaptured whumpee

[angelwhump]

Concept: escaped whumpee who gets really into BDSM with their caretaker/partner. They've been so conditioned to accept pain and torture as a form of affection that it's one of the few ways they can feel loved by a partner.

They slowly start to learn to be healthier with it, but will frequently forget they have a safe word because they never used to have one before, leading them to getting far more hurt than they'd actually be comfortable with in that context.

Kissing their partner after a romantic evening, and then begging for them to hit them, choke them, whatever. They want to feel loved so badly </3

#intimate whumper #conditioned whumpee #whumpee x caretaker #caretaker x whumpee #choking #whump #whumpee #caretaker #escaped whumpee

[whumpingisfun]

I kind of want to explore a whump verse where the whumper like. Televises the whumpee’s suffering on the black markets and people vote for what torment the whumpee goes through next with the whumper getting final say on if the winning idea goes through.

And then eventually whumpee gets free. But the videos are still out there and the news breaks that they’re the whumpee despite the detectives and police trying to keep whumpee’s involvement secret. They’re the one the videos are all about. And even though Whumper is gone. The public never lets Whumpee forget.

#escaped whumpee #what if I did an ask series for this verse? #whump prompts #known whumpee #famous whumpee