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chaotic-orphan · 9 months

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Intoxicating fear (III)

Instant Regret

Part One here // Continued from here // Masterpost

*~*~*~*~*

Kit jerked awake suddenly, letting out a sharp cry as he moved, the motion pulling on his arms without mercy. His feet almost slipped at the movement, but he caught himself before he fell. A shiver ran down his spine as his eyes met the concrete wall in front of him.

He didn’t even get a moment of blissful ignorance, couldn’t even pretend maybe this was all some bad dream and he’d wake up in his bed safe and sound.

The feeling of his power buzzing under his skin wasn’t even a familiar comfort. It was there, he could use it. If he needed to, he could use it. But, if he wanted to stay awake and alert, he couldn’t. He didn’t exactly enjoy frying himself with his own electricity.

It was cruel.

It would have been kinder if Omen had just put him in power dampeners. At least then he could pretend that he couldn’t do anything to save himself.

Kit shook his head. No. He refused to be defeated. He’d get out of here. Get away from Omen, somehow. Starting with the fucking water he was standing in.

Kit looked down to assess his situation while he had a moment of peace. His feet were fully submerged in the clear water up to his ankles. It was just a normal basin. Kit should be able to kick it over. Kit did just that. He kicked the edge of the basin, but it didn’t budge. Kit tried again. All it did was splash some water out. Kit frowned, leaned forward to get a better look then winced as his arms groaned in the chains.

The edges of the basin were bolted down into the ground, or, no, not the ground, some other heavy thing, like a wooden platform.

Fine. The water wasn’t going anywhere but that doesn’t mean Kit had to stay in it.

Kit looked down, lifted a foot, balancing it on the edge of the basin and tested putting weight on it. It slipped down the edges into the water with a weak thunk.

Alright. New plan.

Kit lifted his other foot and ran it down his rolled-up trousers, drying it off slightly before trying again. He got his foot up on the ledge and nearly cried as the weight in his arms lessened.

Okay. Okay. Now the other foot.

He could do this, Kit nodded to himself, bracing his shoulders as he held his weight on his arms above his head and lifted the other foot out of the water.

He got the second foot on the side of the basin, balancing on the first and the pressure on his arms felt as light as a feather.

Kit just stayed there, panting, still as a statue. Oh god that feels so good, he just needed to enjoy it. He was okay. This he could deal with. Kit closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

Slowly in through the nose, long and deep, expanding his chest and filling his lungs with sweet, stress-free air.

Holding it there for a moment.

Then a drawn-out exhale until his entire body deflated like a balloon.

And again.

He repeated this for another while before finally risking a glance up at his arms to see exactly how they were strung above his head. The metal cuffs were padlocked to a chain that ran up to a hook in the ceiling. The hook curved in and around and it was far too high for Kit to even think about trying to get the chain free.

So his arms were still stuck above his head. Okay. That’s okay… Kit felt the familiar flare of panic rear it’s mighty head in his gut, but he pushed it back down.

He was trapped. There was nothing he could do. Panicking right now wouldn’t help him. He just needed to pause and breathe…

Kit looked down to his feet again. He risked stepping a foot down onto the platform the basin was attached to but it stretched his arms awkwardly, so he stood on the side of the basin again and let out a quiet whine.

“I like that sound,” Omen purred behind them. Kit flinched but thankfully his balance kept him up on the side of the basin, arms relaxing slightly above him, still numb. “Make it for me again.”

“Let me go,” Kit said instead, his voice sounding even more pathetic than his whine.

“Hmm,” is all Omen replied. The sound of his shoes clacking against the concrete was the only thing Kit was focused on at that moment in time. The footsteps and how he got closer and closer, winding Kit’s nerves tighter and tighter until the footsteps stopped.

Kit’s breath hitched.

A hand bunched into the back of his shirt and Kit could barely let out a cry of protest before he was yanked backwards, his feet splashing into the water and his arms felt like they were ripped from his body.

“That sound was even better,” Omen said, a smile in his voice as he walked around to Kit’s front, so Kit could witness Omen in all his horrifying glory.

His face looked paler in the dim lighting, as if he were never touched by sunlight. His raven hair was half tied back so strands didn’t fall around his face, hiding all the sharp edges of Omen, his cheek bones, his jaw, the razor-sharp curve of his smile. He wore a black button up shirt today, the top button undone, no tie or suit jacket. He reached a hand up to Kit’s cheek and Kit flinched back, cursing himself silently for it.

“Ever heard of personal space?” Kit bit out with a huff. Omen smiled. He just kept smiling and Kit wanted so badly to just rip it from his face. Just once, to see it slip, but that would leave Kit in a worse off predicament. His body still ached from the last time Omen had got too close.

“Yeah, I know about personal space. I’m just not a fan of it with you. You know, it’s hard for me— this,” Omen said, gesturing between the two of them, grin getting wider. His bottomless black eyes were even smiling. “I’m not used to not using my powers on people. Y’know, knowing exactly what they’re thinking. It’s strange.”

Kit scoffed, “right. So, when you can’t invade somebody’s brain against their consent, you’ll just invade their personal space instead?”

“Hmm,” Ambrose hummed as he placed a hand on Kit’s throat and squeezed until Kit’s feet were splashing up water, and his face turned red. He finally let go and stepped back, his heels hitting the basin’s edge – gasping in air greedily, swallowing oxygen like it was a limited resource.

Well, with Omen’s mood swings it was.

“You put it very succinctly. I just need to know, need to see your fear you’re so desperately trying to hide from me. Need to feel it, do you know what I mean?”

“No, sorry,” Kit said, and even Omen raised a suspicious brow at Kit’s seemingly empathetic tone. “I’m not a sociopath so I recognise normal human emotion without having to be weird about it.”

Omen shrugged, unbothered. He began unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves slowly, black eyes focused on Kit’s the whole time.

“I imagine it’s not unlike your weirdness, Kit,” Ambrose said, his voice like liquid silver, charming and smooth. Kit understood the term silver tongue when Omen spoke. It’s like you wanted to hear everything he said, hang onto every word. Even without Omen using his power on Kit, his voice still affected him to some extent.

“Us heroes and villains, we’re all where we are today because we didn’t fit into the normal life. We didn’t get powers to squander them and sit in an office all day drinking coffee with normal humans. We’re all weird, even you and your sensitivity to electricity,” Omen said, unbuttoning his second cuff and starting on his other sleeve. He levelled Kit with his black eyes. “My guess is you can feel the electric currents in the environment around you. Am I right? In the air, in the water, in our bodies?”

Kit didn’t say anything, just stared at Omen as he spoke. “Static electricity doesn’t affect you? No?”

Kit must have given something away because Omen smiled.

“Hah, you’re lucky. It can be a real bitch, but I respect you want to keep your power private. My point is, that normal people are affected by static electricity, and you have a resistance to it. That little spark show you exhibited yesterday told me you don’t have full immunity, but a normal person would be dead if they had that much electricity coursing through their body.”

“What’s your point?” Kit snapped, tired with Omen’s villain monologue. He stepped up to Kit, grabbed Kit by the collar of his shirt and yanked him down, causing Kit to cry out.

“What did I say about being nice to me? Didn’t I say I could make things uncomfortable for you?”

Kit’s screams faded into loud groans of pain as he bit down on his tongue, but Ambrose pulled him down harder and Kit couldn’t bear the strain as he cried out.

He reacted on instinct.

He hadn’t meant to do it.

It just happened on reflex.

The strain on his arms, it felt like he was going to pop, and Kit just needed Omen to let go of them, to just stop—

His legs shot up and kicked Omen back. His foot planting squarely on Omen’s chest and knocking him back a couple steps. Omen’s dark eyes went wide with surprise, and he let go of Kit. Kit’s foot landed on the edge of the basin giving Kit some relief from the strain on his arms.

Nothing moved between them.

Not even a breath.

Kit was too scared to dare breathe, to blink, to do anything other than stare at Omen with wide eyes, too stunned to do anything.

Omen’s face cracked. A shocked laughter escaped him, filling the silence of the room. He clapped his hands wordlessly as his melodic laugh filled the air and the dread in Kit’s gut only increased when he should have been reassured.

Omen finally composed himself, and stood up taller than before, delight shining on his face. “You— are just full of surprises, Kit. Here I thought you were deathly afraid of me, and yet, if there was someone I was deathly afraid of… I know I wouldn’t have kicked them of all things.”

“No, no, Omen,” Kit pleaded as Omen advanced on Kit. “Please, I didn’t—”

“Oh, but you did, Kit,” Omen said, putting a hand on Kit’s shoulder, and shushing him as Kit flinched. “Ssh, Sssh, sweet Malyn, look at me…”

Kit was shaking his head, his eyes closed. “Look at me,” Ambrose commanded, and Kit opened his eyes, still shaking his head at the villain.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” Omen told Kit, putting a finger under Kit’s chin, stopping Kit from shaking his head. Kit couldn’t fight the shiver that ran under his skin at how close Omen was. What he could do to Kit… without touching him. He didn’t even need to touch Kit for his power, he could do it from across the room. He just wanted to show Kit that he could do whatever he wanted, and Kit would just have to deal with it. The fear came back with a jolt and Kit fought back tears at the overwhelming helplessness of his situation.

“Omen—”

“Hush. Let me bask in your fear, I haven’t seen it all day. It’s like nicotine, it makes the day a bit better, makes the air you breathe a bit cleaner. You’re practically shaking! Look at you, I have one question for you. Are you paying attention?”

Kit nodded because he couldn’t trust his voice.

“Good,” Ambrose praised, “very good. Now, tell me why you fear me so much.”

The chains above Kit were shaking, his teeth rattling in his skull. It was a cold fear that washed over him at the question, at what Omen could do to him.

What Omen could do to him…

And Kit was powerless to stop them, he had no chance.

“Omen… please,” Kit sniffed, fighting the tears back, but the villain heard his voice crack.

Omen sighed and stepped back, removing his hands from Kit. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head.

“You know, I really do hate to do this to you,” Omen said. That was all he said. He let Kit’s mind conjure up the rest. Then he felt the icy chill of Omen’s power tugging at his mind and Kit jerked forward in his chains.

Tears streaming freely now.

“No Omen! Omen! No, wait! Wait!”

“You’re just going to go for a little nap for me. Maybe you’ll be more agreeable when you wake.”

“Wait, no! Please!” Kit called into the darkness as Omen blocked Kit’s sight first. He struggled in his chains, trying to gain purchase on anything but he couldn’t hear Omen around him. He couldn’t hear.

Kit’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, blood rushing through like a tsunami’s unforgiving tide.

“Omen, wait!” Kit cried and gasped when he felt Omen’s hand on his hair, yanking his head back harshly.

This time when Omen spoke it was in Kit’s mind.

Nighty night, little Kit.

The last terrifying thought paralysed him as Kit was dragged into unconsciousness, kicking and screaming: how does he know my name?

Kit went still in his chains. Omen double checked his mind to make sure Kit was unconscious then he stepped back away from the hero, walking around to face him. He rubbed his chest from Kit’s kick, still stunned at him for having the audacity to try something like that.

Ambrose smiled to think of it.

He was right for taking Kit.

He was going to be so much fun to break.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Tag-list: @princess-bubble-blossom @nameless-beanie (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

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bltzgore · 4 months

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Currently fixating on caretaker who's not all human letting their voice drop as dark and monstrous as they can. They make unflinching eye contact with whumper, and with all the vitriol and burning rage in their body tell whumper, "Don't you fucking touch them."

It is not a warning, not even a command. It is a promise.

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #whump prompt #scary caretaker #monster caretaker #whump scenario #protective caretaker #tw language

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jordanstrophe · 6 months

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Whumper was interrogated while caretaker watched from beyond the glass. Whumper gleefully spoke about everyone they tortured, recalling in great detail. Whumpee in particular was a prominent subject; they seemed to be whumpers favorite.

Each word ate at caretaker; whatever whumper spoke of, caretaker imagined a worse thing to do as revenge.

The interrogator comes back and caretaker demands "just 5 minutes alone" through fuming tears. The interrogator notes caretakers hands in fists, their body shaking with anger, their eyes pure hatred.

"No." They gently shake their head.

"Why." Caretaker spat.

"Because I know what you can do in 5 minutes and I need them alive."

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #caretaking #whump scenario #whump angst #vengful caretaker #powerful caretaker #tortured whumpee #whump drabble #caretaker turned whumper #whump writing #scary caretaker #rescued whumpee

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justbreakonme · 1 year

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Continued from this

“I’m not the worst person you’ve met, am I?”

It was an impossible question and they knew it.

“Please, I can’t- there’s not- I don’t know, sir, I’m sorry-“

He raised a hand, cutting them off. They silenced themself instantly, not even daring to breathe.

They had been a victim of this game before. Asked questions they couldn’t answer, punished for whatever they said. In a way, it shouldn’t matter. They should just stop trying to find the right answers and just brace themselves. But they couldn’t stop trying.

It was going to start all over again. The questions, the waiting, the pain. Pain, pain, always pain with nothing they could say or do to stop it.

Please, just cut out my tongue and be done with it. Or kill me, please, anything to make it stop…

“It’s a rhetorical question,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just- Eat. Then go to sleep. I’ll figure out whatever the fuck is going on in the morning.”

“Yes sir, thank you, sir.”

They can breathe now, the painful tightness easing slightly. Not much. But a little.

He was gone without another word, letting the door swing shut with a slam that made their entire body jerk.

The lock clicked, and they were alone. For the first time in so, so long.

Closing their eyes, they took a deep breath, trying to let their heart slow down for a moment.

Then they smelled the food.

They practically ripped the paper bag to shreds, snatching up the apple as it rolled away with both hands.

Tears and apple juice dripped to the floor in tandem as they sunk their teeth in, relief and honest joy flooding their body in equal measure.

They hadn’t eaten in days, but the true luxury was the apple.

It was cold and sweet and real, they hadn’t had anything they could recognize as growing out of the ground in…how long had it been?

Years, they realized, their heart sinking somehow lower. But they weren’t going to linger on that now.

Scooting back to lean against the wall, they let their head fall back, closing their eyes once more as they chewed.

Horrors waited for them in the morning, they knew that. There was no way to escape, they didn’t even bother to look. There never was and there never would be.

But in this moment, there was peace.

They wrapped the blanket around their shoulders and ate the apple as slowly as they could manage, leaving only the stem and seeds.

There was a sandwich too, buried under a bag of chips and a granola bar. They tried to make every bite last, every sip of water count. Who knows when they would get this luxury again?

He let them have this.

As if it were nothing.

Now that they were full, better than they had been in months, they gathered up the wrappers and the apple seeds, tucking them carefully into the chip bag. They set the trash neatly in the corner out of the way, then shifted a bit to lay down.

Back to the wall, facing the door. Their arm under their head for a pillow, knees up to their chest for the tiny bit of protection it offered.

They pulled the blanket up with a soft sigh, then grabbed the nearly empty water bottle, hugging it like a teddy bear.

The pain would come far too soon, but it was gone for now. They weren’t hungry or thirsty or cold, and they were alone. They’d have a few hours of calm, and that was good enough.

Now, at least they knew the answer to his question. Maybe in the morning they would be proven wrong but it was night now, and they were tired.

Across the hall, in his over-cluttered office, he let his forehead hit the desk with a soft thump. “This is going to be a long night…”

@briars7 @thejinglingcourtjester @honey-is-mesi @ihaverottinglungz @emilykeys @nicolepascaline @whump-queen (all I ask is that you protect the frogs, they deserve their freedom) @whumpycries @haro-whumps (I could never handle a child, please keep your first-born for their own well-being)

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whump prompt #rescue #kidnapping #scaretaker #scary caretaker #whumper turned caretaker #conditioned whumpee

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villainsandheroes · 9 months

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Hi Hero

Sidekick sat tied in the chair. Taking deep, shaky breaths. “Y-you don’t ha-have to do this-“

Villain breathed in the fear, giving them a toothy smile. “That’s not what I asked you to sayyy. Why don’t we try again.” They stopped the recording. “Fifth times a charm~ Am I right Sidekick?!” They laughed manically before retuning back to a smile. “Now you can do It. Just need you to say: hi Hero. And can we try for a smile too?” They cooed gently.

Villain pressed record.

Sidekick couldn’t look up. Instead keeping their head don and squeezing their eyes shut.

“H-hi… Hero.”

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whumpshots · 6 months

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Whumptober #20

Trope of the day: “You will regret touching them.”

Whumper's sick joy is visible in their smile as they explain to caretaker what they did to whumpee ... to the broken shell that is finally safe and at home. Caretaker didn't expect to find whumper that fast, but they seem to pride themself with their actions.

"They stopped screaming so fast ... almost as if they gave up immediately," whumper says with a happy sigh, knowing how provocative they are acting.

Anger makes their fists shake, they jaw clench as they take a step towards whumper and look them in the eye. Their own voice is low and almost soft when they finally utter their answer. “You will regret touching them.”

A spark in whumper's eyes is enough to make caretaker realise that they have already won. Whumper is scared. Because they should be.

When caretaker patches up their bruised and bloody knuckles, all they can think of is the satisfaction they felt when whumper lost their defiant smile.

#whumptober 2023 #whumptober2023 #whumptober #trope of the day #“You will regret touching them.”#no.20 #whump writing #whumper turned whumpee #caretaker #scary caretaker #protective caretaker #revenge #whumpshots

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whump-card · 3 months

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And the moon was a strange shade of green, orange

Was I wrong? 'Cause I couldn't tell the difference

At all

Art taglist: @angst-after-dark, @whumpsday, @flowersarefreetherapy, @rainydaywhump, @softvampirewhump, @burnticedlatte, @whump-me, @honeybees-125

#FEET OUT #KNIFE OUT #THE DOOR IS GREEN NOT RED #I've been hit by the 'found one good song by an artist and the rest of their discography doesn't compare' curse #I specifically did these colors because of the lyrics from 'the party' by Ada Lea quoted above #anyway I think this is a scary caretaker who just ran whumper out of her house party after catching them pulling some shit with whumpee #whump #whump art #my art #don't ask me about her feet I just literally Did Not Want to draw shoes from this angle

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rizzoto-whump · 11 months

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An inexperienced whumper who is intimidated by a larger/defiant/creepy whumpee, perhaps?

“So, uh, you've probably been through this kind of thing before. I see you've got some scars. Guess you've got quite a story to tell.”

“Could you, um, maybe not look at me like that? It's making me uncomfortable.”

“I, um, have to warn you that this might hurt a little…“

“You don't scare me… okay, maybe a little.”

“It's just that you're so… big. And scary.”

*accidentally pinches themself with the pliers* “Ow, uh, I mean, that was totally on purpose!”

*whispers* “You're not going to come after me, right?”

#whump #whump prompt #torture #interrogation #defiant whumpee #inexperienced whumper #sadistic whumper #scary whumpee #writing prompt #reluctant whumper #captivity whump #kidnapped whump #restrained #beaten whump #guilty whumper

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ijustwannareadfanficsomljebote · 9 months

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Nurse Ann HC!!

I always Liked Ann. I am , in fact, a gay little weird girl . Unfortunately, the creepy pasta fan base never really popularised her , as she never had a proper backstory. So I decided to write down little general things , quirks and such about her .

Ann's full name is Annabelle Bernard. French is her first language, but she doesn't have a heavy accent. She doesn't speak often so her voice is raspy and cold . She is much more expressive with her body language rather than her voice . As a result of that she often comes across as cold , dismissive and demanding - or threatening even .

She is 6'1 and super strong , tho she always wears heels . Her feet are deformed due to that (she can't lower her foot fully on the ground ) , therefore she is a s l o w walker . She has her comically large chainsaw , but due to her walking disability she just ends up dragging it around slowly and loudly .

Thanks to that she never really turns the giant on . She does , however, take precise care of it . She cleans it weekly , tests it daily and even replaces everything that isn't perfect. She has this very sturdy , black leather case for it. My guess is that she stole a very expensive guitar case .

Annabelle definitely is a perfectionist. A nurse must keep everything tidy , clean , sterile even , working and insuring her patients are well mentally and physically ; appropriately dressed and behaved. She is a tolerant , stubborn and somewhat self righteous person with a clear preference for complying individuals.

Annabelle never learned to express herself in any way other than professionally and sarcastically. She is a deeply lonely but introverted person , so she doesn't really pick up social cues and she does get overwhelmed sometimes . That being said she doesn't feel comfortable acknowledging or acting on her emotions –rather , she over explains and over thinks her actings and feelings , forcing herself to be preoccupied understanding then instead of feeling them . I don't see her to be paranoid, but she is definitely a closed off individual ((she definitely has a diary/journal)).

Her love language is quality time and acts of service. I see her to be somewhat touched starved , but I don't think she would ever act on it all that much - a nurse must be a professional after all . If she were to warm up to someone , I think she would be kind of anxious and akward . As I said she doesn't really pick up social cues well , so having a friend (or anything more) is scary for her — you are never catching her confessing that .

Her pronouns are she/her/they/them and I think she is a lesbian, who is somewhat afraid of (never really had) commitment. Tho she is a caring , well spoken lover(?).

Ann isn't as old fashioned as she might seem , but she definitely prefers blogs and books over videos and pictures (if yk what I mean) . No one knows who , why or how made her . She calms she's been alive for so long she doesn't really remember. Matter of fact she forgot her original name (and who knows how many others) , Annabelle Bernard is simply a "lovely and polite" name .

She might not have a medical degree, but she does know everything and anything healthy , healing , relaxing and stressful. All the symptoms, sicknesses, medicines, massages, you name it . When it comes down to treatment it really only boils down to : if she has ingredients/ proper tools and ; if she has time for it / how urgent it is .

The whole memory thing is a bit suspicious tho... Just sayin .

But you try to go against a sadistic , cold , 6'1 woman with super strength and a comicly large chainsaw . I dare you .

I think journalism, reading and high maintenance self care is what keeps her sane .

She is definitely always ready and in full glam . Her hair is always perfectly blow-dryed / curled / tied , her skins(?) are always soft and smooth , she smells well 24/7 .... I think that she is very selective with who (and how) she treats , which leaves her with a lot of time for self care and cleaning.

She has a really specific way of doing things . She always takes her jewelry off , ties her hair up , puts a mask on , wears her apron and then her gloves . She never changed that routine , she can do it within minutes . With that said she has a scalper (scalpel??) collection , a first aid kit , bandages , pain killers and numbing medicine all in their respective bundles / baggies ; within her apron . She also has a small pocket used only for her 3 hair ties . No one is sure why she is the way she is .

I mean even her leg problems, just take your shoes off and perform some ancient ritual woman !!

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chaotic-orphan · 4 months

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Intoxicating Fear (VIII)

A visitor comes a-knocking

Dedicated to @xxgalgurlxx for their lovely comments and to everyone who comments before or enjoys this series! It got number one on the poll on my blog so really, thank you for reading <3 and Happy New Year!

Read part one here

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

Kit woke to a knock at his door. He ignored it, thinking it was just Ambrose come to fucking gloat about Kit being under his thumb or threatening to get Kit to murder all his friends.

You know, the normal stuff.

Kit only realised his mistake when Ambrose barged into his room, slightly ruffled as if he were worried.

“Kit? You in there?”

Hope bloomed like rot in Kit’s stomach at the sound of Superhero’s voice.

Superhero’s voice.

At Kit’s front door.

Kit glanced at Ambrose briefly before jumping out of bed and sprinting towards his bedroom door. Ambrose caught him around the waist, but Kit shoved him away and kept running. Kit cleared his bedroom door, adrenaline fuelling his every movement. The shortest path to the front door was through his couch, so Kit vaulted over it as he ran towards the door where Superhero stood on the other side waiting, his saviour.

If he could reach the door before Ambrose, he could be free.

Kit’s hand wrapped around the door handle before Ambrose’s chilling power flooded Kit, and he collapsed suddenly like a puppet who’s strings had been cut. Whatever Kit had done, he did it right. Kit’s body grew heavier than an anvil, but he kept his hand on the door handle to his apartment as he fell to the floor. The last thing Kit saw before his brain turned off was Superhero’s concerned eyes blinking down at Kit as he pushed the front door open and if he could’ve, Kit would have smiled.

Instead, the darkness swallowed him whole and Kit drifted into Ambrose’s forced abyss of sleep for the first time without fear.

*~*~*~*~*

When Kit woke up again, he was in his bed, head pounding with the thunderous headache that always came after Ambrose's power forced him to sleep. Kit opened his eyes but quickly shut them again, groaning at how bright the light was in the room.

“Kit,” Superhero said. Kit’s heart hammered in his chest at the sound of his voice. He was still here; Ambrose didn’t stop him. “Hey, Kit it’s me. You’re okay.”

“Is he awake?” Ambrose.

Kit jerked up but groaned again, his entire upper body aching with the effort. He didn’t even get two inches up before collapsing onto the bed again. Kit couldn’t even form the words to speak, to warn Superhero about Ambrose.

Someone settled down next to Kit, the bed dipping with the weight. Kit risked opening his eyes only to meet Ambrose’s dark eyes and too red lips smiling down at him. The face that haunted his dreams. Ambrose was holding a glass of water in his hand and reached a cold hand under Kit’s head and tipped it up until Kit’s lips met the edge of the glass.

“You are not going to tell Superhero anything,” Ambrose’s voice echoed in Kit’s mind. Kit tried to pull away, to protest and warn Superhero that Omen was right there in front of him, but his body wouldn’t respond. Refused to even twitch away. “You will tell Superhero that you’re sick, that we’re childhood friends, and I am here to help you recover.”

Kit felt the compulsion weigh him down, and tears sprung to his eyes at the helplessness of his situation.

Superhero was here.

Is here!

Right here. In Kit’s house, in his room!

Now was the only time that Kit could tell him, warn him, escape from Omen.

His one and only chance was sitting by Kit’s bedside, but he couldn’t do anything except exactly what Ambrose wanted him to do.

Ambrose pulled the glass away from Kit’s lips and put the back of his hand on Kit’s forehead. “Say thank you,” Ambrose told Kit, his command echoing in Kit’s head.

Kit tried… he really tried to say nothing. To swallow the words that were crawling up his throat, but he came out anyways, raspy and raw.

“Thank you,” Kit said with a slight cough.

Ambrose frowned. “You still have a slight temperature, Kit. Maybe we should take the blankets off.”

Kit protested with a meek, “no,” but Ambrose took them off anyways.

“It’s for your own good, Kit. I know you’re cold but if we don’t get your temperature down, you’ll be in trouble.”

Kit was trembling alright, but it wasn’t from some made up sickness that Ambrose said he had. Kit was trying to fight Ambrose’s compulsion with every fibre of his being, but he couldn’t do more than pull against it while Ambrose pushed him to obey.

“I’ll go get a wet cloth,” said Ambrose, standing from the bed and putting the glass on the table. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Kit watched Ambrose leave and waited until the door closed to turn his attention to Superhero. Superhero smiled warmly at Kit.

“Superhero…” Kit said, his voice crackling.

“I’m here, Kit. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“Doesn’t—” Kit heaved, rolling his heavy body over in the bed. “Doesn’t ma— matter. Ambrose—”

“Doesn’t matter?” Superhero asked, moving closer to Kit and pushing his sweaty hair from his forehead. “Of course it matters, Kit. I’m just sad that you didn’t tell me you were sick. I would have understood.”

“No,” Kit moaned, rolling out of the bed and onto the floor with a hard thud. “Ambrose—”

“I’m here,” Ambrose said from the doorway. Ambrose rushed in and handed the cloth to Superhero who placed it on Kit’s bedside locker. Ambrose went to Kit’s side, Superhero quickly joining them on the floor. “Kit, you can’t keep doing this.”

“What’s wrong?” Superhero asked, helping Ambrose get Kit back onto the bed.

“No,” Kit moaned. “No, no.”

“His fever has been coming and going the last two days. He starts speaking gibberish. Yesterday he said he was part fish,” Ambrose told Superhero with a laugh as he settled Kit in the middle of the bed. “There we go. Can you hand me the cloth?”

Superhero nodded, grabbing the cloth off the table and pressed it into Ambrose’s hand. Ambrose put it on Kit’s forehead, who groaned and protested and weakly grabbed Ambrose’s wrist trying to push him off.

Kit narrowed his eyes at Ambrose, chest heaving with the effort as he spat: “don’t— nngh… fucking touch me!”

Blue electricity sparked from Kit’s hand to Ambrose’s wrist. Ambrose quickly retracted his hand to his chest with a soft gasp. Superhero glanced at Kit then Ambrose with a half-smile.

“Does he keep doing that?” Superhero asked.

Ambrose narrowed his eyes at Kit slightly.

“No, that one’s new,” Ambrose said in a way that would seem perfectly innocent to an onlooker like Superhero, but Kit knew would mean a world of pain for him when Superhero left.

If Superhero left.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear Kit,” Ambrose cooed, voice hard and cold as it pierced Kit’s mind with a sudden pain. “Superhero will be leaving shortly and when he does, oh Kit, sweet Kit. I have been nice to you for far too long. I think you forget exactly what I can and will do to you.”

Kit glared at Ambrose through half lidded eyes, though he doubted it had the terrifying effect that Kit desired it to.

“No more using your powers, little Kit,” Ambrose ordered, the compulsion taking root almost instantly.

“I hate you,” Kit thought mutinously.

Ambrose smiled. “Oh, I know. Just be good for me now and I won’t punish you as hard as I intend to later.”

Kit reached for his power anyways and found a vacuous mass in his body that was locked down tight leaving Kit powerless and at Ambrose’s mercy again.

“Kit,” Superhero said. Kit blinked and glanced to his left to see Superhero’s sympathetic eyes. Kit had nearly forgotten he was here. Even if he was it didn’t matter. None of this mattered, not while Ambrose still has him under his thumb locked away from everything that made him… well, Kit.

Tears sprung to Kit’s eyes when he met Superhero’s, helpless and weak and impossible to hold back or control.

“Kit…” Superhero said softly, pressing a hand to Kit’s cheek and rubbing the first tear away as it fell. “It’s alright. I know everything must be confusing and wrong, but Ambrose and I we will stay by your side until you get better. Okay?”

Kit nodded weakly, more tears flowing freely down his cheeks. “Good,” said Superhero. “Now get some rest. Ambrose and I will be just outside if you need us.”

Superhero stood and slapped Ambrose on the back reassuringly.

“Yeah, what Superhero said,” Ambrose echoed. “Try and get some sleep. Call us if you need anything.”

Kit wanted to protest: to scream and cry and rush out of bed and punch Ambrose in the face and tell Superhero the truth, but his eyelids were already pulling down over his eyes growing heavy and Kit was far too weak to resist it. Soon the darkness settled over Kit's eyes and his limbs grew heavy, and he couldn't do anything but be whisked away.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <;3) - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whatwhumpcomments @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @princess-bubble-blossom @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations

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mj-iza-writer · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 23. In honor of spooky season.

"It's gonna get me by the end of the night " / Shadows / Stalking / "Who's there?"

"Who's there", Whumpee squirmed in the pitch dark.

Why did they accept the challenge to go into the old house in the woods. It was supposed to be abandoned, but it didn't feel that way. Something was alive here.

Whumpee stupidly sat in the dark house, clutching their flashlight. They had to stay here overnight. That was the challenge,

"I am so dumb", they sighed.

Floors started to creak down the hall, they shined their flashlight.

"That definitely wasn't a shadow, no, nope not a shadow", they lied to themself.

A shiver went down their spine.

"I could leave here right now. Why am I doing this", they started to get up, "no I can do this."

A loud bang caused them to look down the other hall.

They jolted up, grabbed their bag, and ran.

The house was confusing, every hall led to another. It was even harder when you were scared to death.

They tripped over something, it felt like a foot, but nothing was there. They faceplanted onto the floor. They were dizzy now. They felt their nose.

"OWW!", tears ran down their eyes, it was broken. They tried to stand but fell over again, now on their knees.

"Ouch", they groaned, "my ankle."

They sat down and leaned against the wall, "I can't walk, how can I get out of here if I can't walk, I feel so dizzy."

Whumpee heard another loud bang, shadows seemed to peel from the walls and crowd Whumpee.

Whumpee looked around in fear. Disembodied footsteps could be heard down the hall coming closer.

They pulled out their phone and started to record.

"It's gonna get me by the end of the night", Whumpee cried into the recording, "I'm so scared, if anyone finds this get away from this house."

They stopped the recording. They had accepted their fate now. They buried their face in their sleeves and tucked their knees to their chest. They wept bitterly, "stop this already, just do it", they yelled.

They weren't quite ready to hear a chuckle right next to their ear though.

"Shouldn't have taken that challenge", a disembodied voice whispered into Whumpee's ear.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened

#whumptober2023 #lyric #no.1 #no.2 #no.3 #scary story #scare whump #oc #writing #whump community #whump stuff #whump writing #whump ideas #whumpee #whump #whump scenario #whumper

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jordanstrophe · 4 months

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CW: Vengful caretaker, whumper turned whumpee

Whumper was chained in a room kept in pure darkness. Caretaker abruptly flicked the light on, causing whumper to wince.

"Good morning." Caretaker said flatly, shuffling through a handful of papers. "Not that you know it's morning. You don't know anything."

"Wh-.... What do you w-want now..." Whumper hissed, spitting on the floor that had a tint of blood.

"Just to update you on our little favorite. I'm about to bring whumpee home from the hospital. Were all so very excited." Caretaker smiled, they held up a picture of them and whumpee together. Whumpee was smiling a small simple smile; there was a healing bruise on their face almost faded, amongst other cuts and wounds.

"Look at them, precious aren't they? They've come a long way since-" they side-eyed whumper up and down with a fallen expression.

-Well, since you." They stared.

"If you want revenge, then take it already! I'm sitting right here..." Whumper scouled.

"Well I intend to." Caretaker leaned in closely as whumper reeled. "I'm undoing everything you did, break everything you built, rebuild everything you broke; and you're going to watch it all." Caretaker held the photo close to their chest tight enough it crinkled.

"Then I'm going to take revenge. You can die knowing you achieved nothing."

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #revenge whump #vengful caretaker #whump prompts #whump scenario #whump angst #caretaker turned whumper #whumper turned whumpee #scary caretaker #recovery whump #creepy caretaker

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whump-thoughts · 1 year

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My brain is scrambled eggs at the moment but i am in a good mood so i will share with y'all a very whumpy idea that's actually in a story i am making! (which is actually a very small part of it but i still want to share it with yall).

Okay so setting? Medieval low fantasy but with magitek, main idea? aight so big daddy's from bioshock? Like the whole idea of people that had their skin and organs grafted into an armored diving suit? Yeah what if those were knights?.

TW: apart from usual pet whump or tropes associated with it (such as dehumanization, conditioning, etc), one prompt contains gore involving bugs, while i not go into detail it is still pretty fucked up, so if ya want to keep reading be careful, btw ask me to tag stuff because i have never written whump stuff before + i am writing this one my phone and can't put in the read more thingy

During war time high ranking officials within the army and people in the royal court conspired to try to make basically unstoppable killing machines by kidnapping peasants and nobels or soldiers that were suspect treason or other crimes, destroying their individuality, then grafting them into magically enhanced suits of armor to use as basically killing machines in the war, his plan went surprisingly smoothly, that's until the whole kingdom found out that people were being kidnapped and turned into the killing machine knights and also the war ended, so now they are stuck with non-human knight creatures that while super obedient are also far removed from human society and also cannot be killed due to how full of magic they are, aight sorry for the ramble, now onto the actual whump ideas

A knight whumpee who while they have lost their voice and most of their previous self personality they still have little memories of their past and the people they use to care about, which causes a lot of trouble for "caretaker" since they now have a scary human-shaped thing following them around and have no idea why (it's because whumpee is convinced that "caretaker" is a person that meant a lot to whumpee back when they were still human, plot twist they are not but hopefully stuff works out in the end)

A Nobel whumper's decides to get their hands on a knight whumpee to use as their personal punching bag, one idea i had is of whumper just prying open whumpee's helmet and since they have no skin just letting flies and maggots feast on their flesh for their own amusement, knowing that they cannot die until the magic inside of them is snuffed out, but not knowing that while whumpee cannot feel most sensory stimuli they do feel the flies and maggots eating their flesh away

A knight whumpee with the sweetest voice and most cheery demeanor who is nearly fully severed from human society and ideas such as self preservation or individuality and will not think twice about mutilating themselves or maiming others at the mere suggestions of their master, it's not that they are inherently evil or whatever their mind has just been destroyed to the point that blind obedience is a integral part of their existence, of course they also have a caretaker that is slowly regretting letting basically a feral animal get attached to them and then letting them into their own home and life, hopefully this also works out in the end but like, doubt

Two caretaker's, one a mage/doctor and the other a former soldier, knight whumpee is slowly having their magic core burn away meaning that they are slowly dying, the mage/doctor believes that it's a abomination against nature thats existence is painful and the only thing that should be done is to let them peaceful be snuffed away, while the former soldier is trying to convince them that while whumpee is not human anymore they are still a person and that they really should try to find away to light their magic core once again

A knight whumpee and an actual knight caretaker! Real Knight caretaker was a soldier that grew attached to whumpee during the war and basically became their handler, now that the war is over caretaker managed to pull some strings to let them get basically custody over whumpee, whumpee while still able to speak they prefer to communicate through simple gestures and even if they kept most of their humanity stuff feels very hazy for them, basically caretaker trying to reintegrate themselves and whumpee into their old town, and both of them sometimes regretting it but still trying to pull through

Okay writing this has just, drained my of all my creative thoughts but feel free to reblog and add in more ideas! I am going to pass out now

#whump #fantasy whump #whump prompt #living weapon whumpee #knight whump #non human whumpee #monster whumpee #nobel whumper #reluctant caretaker #tw gore #scary whumpee #bro tagging this is a nightmare send help PLEASE #martin's stash

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friendlylocalwhumper · 2 years

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“It’s alright. Shh, you’re okay. You’ll be okay. It’ll all be over soon.”

He’s been searching for a good one to kill for months now. One that he’d like to see fading, whose eyes are pretty and hold a spark that he can put out. Over the years the kills have become less and less satisfying. This one will be fun, though - sandy hair with spurts of gray, sad blue eyes, muscled arms and shoulders that aren’t large but rounded slightly with subtle strength. This one is pretty. Not as young as he used to seek out, but the Hunter isn’t so young either, anymore.

There is a knife buried in the man’s side, and the Hunter’s hands wrapped around his neck. His soon-to-be latest kill is trying to gasp, his lips moving. They always beg in the end, unless there’s something hard and cold where their heart once was.

The tears in the corners of his victim’s eyes, and his grip on the wrists so close to his neck, and the force with with he kicks to struggle free - all of it feels just a little wrong. Off-center from the fantasies of a bored serial killer longing for a new victim. Nick tries and fails to ignore the itching of old scars under his shirt.

Fingers losing their white-edged color with the force he’s using to strangle the man, the Hunter frowns at the whispers that have been lent some volume. He leans in, still relishing the feeling of a throat trapped under his palms, and listens.

“-ave… -ave… a li-, a little…”

His grip slips further. The blond man gasps and coughs, chest heaving for air. The struggle isn’t even all that gorgeous. “What? What are you trying to say?”

He’s almost dead. He was halfway there, spasming and losing the light in his eyes. The Hunter should’ve finished the job… but he still can, once he just hears what the pretty man was trying to say.

“That - that - I have a baby,” Croaks the man who’s lucky to be alive. Now that he has a chance to speak again, after being so close to losing it forever, his words come in an avalanche. “A baby, my first, and I want, nnnh, I want, want ten more, now that I know him, his mom’s beautiful and he’s got, Jesus fuck don’t kill me, I’ve gotta see his little toes again, he’s so small and I don’t know how I made him, made little toes with the smallest little toenails, the size of a ri-, a grain of rice, and he’s warm and we didn’t name ‘im yet because he’s too perfect for a name and we just stare at him and I stare at her and he’s got her nose and if I die I won’t get to, to hold, I won’t get to hold…”

Tears and snot run down the man’s face. Deep pain twists in Nick’s gut at the thought that this man isn’t crying for himself, but for a little person that he made who will cry harder if this guy never makes it back home.

His hands flex, trying to get back to the strangling, and his victim yelps in despair, but he can’t follow through. Fingers losing their tension again, Nick growls in frustration. It’s not right for this man to die here. It feels like a truth that’s annoying and obvious and it can be ignored, but it won’t change.

“I’ve heard this lie before,” He rumbles in a threat that is met with more tears. He says it even though he knows it wasn’t a lie. When his hands slide up to find the man’s temples and push magic into his head, the Hunter isn’t surprised to find horror and fear and panic, and then behind the bright emotions, deeper love. He’s disheartened but not surprised to find recent memories of little feet and bubbly giggles and a woman asleep with hair strewn over a pillow that this man watched for hours instead of sleeping himself.

He’s been waiting for months for a good one. The tragedy of this death could turn sweet instead of sour, his last dying breath and final whimpers could be a thrill. Could be. But it feels wrong, it feels so wrong and Nick is nearly ill with how much devastation he could cause just by strangling this man until he shudders one last time and then goes still.

As if the man is growing hotter and is slowly beginning to burn the hands on him, the Hunter pulls his touch away and climbs off his victim. On his way he pulls the knife free and watches hot blood spill, deciding after a moment that the wound won’t drain enough to kill the father.

The man is sobbing quietly, eyes shut, reeling from being seconds from death and having his mind torn into by magic. The killer stands with a disgruntled sigh.

“Go on and leave, when you can manage to. Up the stairs and out the door. Don’t tell anyone I have mercy like this. And don’t you ever let someone like me take you away from him.”

#whump #drabble #mine #the hunter #choking #death tw #captivity #torture #the hunter is a creepy and scary man #i was struck by the inspiration to write the first hints of how he changes over time #how it changes him to see lux grow older and heal #intimate whumper #knife #blood

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