ohh btw y’all! I’m Mouse, they/them. Once a blue moon, if the stars are aligned, I may actually write something out beyond just a concept. A lot of my ideas are very over the top/soap opera type dramatic bc I just like the fun of it! Unless I say otherwise, feel free to write any little prompts I make. Send in some asks or link me recommendations if you’re up to it.
My stuff:
ideas (tagged anomawhump)
writing (tagged anomawrites)
extra lore (tagged anomalore)
Series:
Smith’s Thesis: Part 1, Part 2, lore.[Ongoing]
It Could’ve Been Nice: Part 1 , Part 2 [Maybe Ongoing]
TL:DR I wish my iPad would work but it don’t. And I can’t make the art until it do.
My iPad was a used discounted model when I bought it in 2019. It is now 2025 and the thing won’t even load a single procreate project without crashing the whole procreate app.
My gf recently updated her iPad iOS and lost all her procreate projects. I’m terrified of that happening. I can’t lose everything. I’ve backed up a lot but not all of it, especially all my recent drawings from the past year or two.
So I need a new iPad if I want to continue creating art for his community. I know this is asking a lot, and I don’t want to ask too much, but if you have ever liked my art in the past, I’d be honored if you could donate what you can or share this link with those in your network.
The crême de la crême of rescue whump, in my opinion, is whumpee not believing that caretaker will help them, or thinking that they’re going to hurt or tortured in a different way. It’s sooooo gooooood. Bonus if whumpee tries to attack caretaker.
I also adore whumpee being in just Awful shape. Hypothermic, bleeding, dehydrated and malnourished covered in both poorly healing and fresh wounds and their own urine and feces. Maybe even some pressure ulcers from laying in one place while too hurt to move….I’d love to more of that. Fuck those dudes up.
bonus: Kaius tends to deal emotional damage when approached by visitors. It's not long before he's designated to be sedated for photo and guest interactions
Declan owed his life and soul to August. The man - not monster - who had rescued him from the gates of hell and saved him from a fate worse than death. Every breath Declan takes is thanks to August. His wife and beautiful children - Declan would never have lived to have loved, were it not for August. It was a debt he feared he could never repay… and, if he'd known it would come to this, one he’d hoped he’d never have to.
August had given him everything, and now, Declan would give everything back in return if it meant saving his friend's life.
But Declan had tried everything. Every contact, every call, every lead. He’d burned through it all. And still, August was no closer to home, still slipping farther away with each passing hour. The helplessness was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe through it, and couldn’t think past the panic. Reality squashed him like a bug under a boot; August was out there, somewhere.
When Declan was stolen, he’d thought about them every moment he could still think. His family, those he left behind. The pain of missing them was worse than anything Vince had ever dreamt of inflicting. His mother’s soothing voice, his father’s steady hand on his shoulder, the sound of his sister’s laugh that always made his heart swell with joy. But he didn't understand. Not truly and not like this. Through the haze of pain and torment, sick with longing for the ones he loved, he never spared a thought for what they must have felt during that time.
Now, with August gone, Declan understood. He felt it in every corner of his being - the way the world shifts beneath your feet, the ground disappears and leaves you falling, spinning into the abyss. And the panic too. Desperate panic that floods him, along with the realisation of what his family must have gone through when they lost him. That pure agony, that unfelt terror. It doesn’t make this pain any easier to bear. In fact, it only makes it worse. The pain of knowing now, of understanding the depth of the loss and the devastation he put his family through.
What if I’m too late? What if August is gone forever?
Miss after miss. Dead end after dead end. Every lead slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, leaving Declan grasping at nothing. He punched in the last phone number on his long, long list. So many calls - so many attempts of desperate pleading with anyone who might have a scrap of information. But each time, it was the same. Another door slammed shut in his face.
Declan’s stomach twisted as the phone rang and his thoughts began to spiral. Please, he prayed, willing the phone to deliver him answers, to give him something - anything - to end this waiting game.
The phone clicked, then a grumbled voice on the other end. "Y’ello?”
“Hello, uhm-” Declan’s voice catches, the word stumbling out with a tightness. He pauses, trying to steady himself, but it’s no use. Everything inside of him is fraying. “I was hoping you could help me. I’m trying to find someone. A vampire … I believe he may have been, well, picked up by hunters. I’m just wondering if you may have him in your custody, or maybe if you have any information?”
“Ah, I see,” the man on the other end hummed, his interest piqued, “You one of those guys with a personal stake in this? Got a vendetta, huh? Looking to get some sweet, sweet revenge now the stupid bastards got itself caught, amma right?”
A chill crept up Declan’s spine, goosebumps rippling down his arms. He clenched his jaw, forcing his words out. “No," Declan snapped, his tone tighter than he intended. "It’s nothing like that. He’s my friend - I’m worried sick about him-"
“-Friend?!” the hunter cut in, choking on a disturbed laugh, “Friends with a bloodsucker!”
Declan’s fists balled at his sides, the anger simmering. “He’s not what you think. He’s nothing like the rest of them. Just tell me whether you have him or not and I’ll be out of your hair. I’m looking for an August. August Crinamorte.”
The voice on the other end of the line turned cold, flat. "We don’t take names,” they grunted, “It’s like naming a stray dog . Why bother getting attached to something that’s not sticking around?"
August wasn’t a stray, or an animal. He was an innocent, in the purest sense of the word. He’d done no wrong, caused no harm. August embodied more humanity than most humans ever would. Declan let out a frustrated exhale that deflated him. "Can I at least give you a description?”
A dry and humourless laugh echoed through the speaker. "Pft. You can try, mate. But we've got a few leeches crawling around right now, and frankly, they all start to blur together after a while. You're gonna have to be specific, or you're wasting both of our time."
Declan’s grip on the phone tightened until his fingers ached. Leech. The word hit him like a slap, and his blood boiled. He wanted to yell, to lash out, but he bit it back. For August’s sake.
“Six two. Lean. Dark brown, wavy hair-” he stopped, forcing himself to focus as his thoughts scrambled to find the right words. “Sharp dresser, wears shirts and slacks. He’s a doctor. He helps humans on the other side of the border-”
“Oh! You’re after that one. The doc. He’s been ever so fun,” The man’s voice dripped with mockery. “Lemme guess… you must be… David? No. Derrick?”
“Declan,” he growled through gritted teeth, his contempt barely contained.
“Declan!” The voice on the other end brightened. “That’s it. Wow, it’s all coming back to me now. It wouldn’t shut the hell up about you when we nabbed it. Swore on his blood’s life you’d vouch for him.”
Declan’s pulse thudded in his ears. The words felt like a knife to the chest. August had depended on him, needed him, and he wasn’t there to protect him.
"I can vouch for him! I will!" His voice came out a little too sharp, too desperate. "I swear to god, he’s harmless. A gentle giant. August wouldn’t hurt a fly. Let me take him off your hands. Please. I’ll come for him. Right now."
There was a brief pause, as if the man on the other end was considering it, or at least, enjoying the desperation in Declan’s voice. The silence stretched long enough for Declan’s heart to race faster, his mind already working over the worst-case scenarios. Finally, the hunter’s voice came back, slower now, with a touch of amusement.
“Alright, Declan. You wanna play the knight in shining armour?” he sneered. “Get here by midnight, or we might just decide to keep the leech for ourselves. You know where to find us. Old warehouse off Harrison Lane, near the docks.”
*!*!*!*!*
Declan was led deep into the heart of the hunters compound. It reeked of old rust, sweat and a metallic tang that Declan was all too familiar with - blood - although he doubted it would be human. The thud of boots trudged down concrete halls as the hunters patrolled past, rifles slung over their shoulders, their eyes cold and focused.
Heavy cell doors lined the walls, each one holding a vampire in varying states of sheer exhaustion and torment. Slumped in corners, swathed in chains of silver, skin pale and cracked, eyes hollow. They looked so impossibly small, so fragile, so….scared.
Could Declan’s sympathy be misplaced? What if these vamps were caught whilst hunting down a human? What if they’d do it again in a heartbeat, the second they were freed? Maybe the hunters were a necessary evil, just doing their job, protecting their own. Maybe…maybe these vampires are the ones who deserved it.
But his mind snapped back to August. His saviour. His friend. His brother, in a way. He didn’t deserve it, and maybe these vampires didn’t either. Memories flashback that he had tried so hard to bury and let rot. The countless years he lost, the endless beatings, his mind and body used against him, the deafening silence that came after the screams. Declan shook his head, as if physically shaking that nagging doubt out. No matter what they had done, no matter their crimes - no-one deserved to suffer. He cursed himself for daring to think like that at all.
The lead hunter motioned for Declan to follow him to a cell at the end of the corridor. "Here’s yours," he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion as he unlocked the hatch. The metal flap squeaked open with a sickening sound.
Declan’s heart lurched when he peered through the small hatch.
August was curled up on the floor in the fetal position, anguish radiating from his trembling body. His wrists and ankles were shackled, silver chains clinking as he shifted in discomfort. A pitiful whine was muffled by the muzzle strapped to his face, and the slow, laboured rise and fall of his chest spoke volumes.
His once neatly kept dark hair hung in tangled, matted clumps around his face. Declan could barely stomach the sight. His friend looked utterly broken, a far cry from the confident, compassionate vampire he knew and loved.
“August… no-” Declan gasped. His fingers clenched around the hatch. A lump lodged painfully in his throat, threatening to choke him as tears blurred his vision. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stomach the sight of his friend.
"Open it," he growled, not taking his eyes off August’s broken body. His heartbeat hammered in his ears, each second of delay stretching the tension tauter. His fist pounded against the metal, "Open the damn door!"
The hunter, unmoved by the emotion in Declan’s voice, reached into his pocket, pulling out a key with deliberate slowness. He eyed Declan coolly, his fingers turning the key in the lock at a leisurely pace, as if he had all the time in the world.
Declan didn’t wait. The moment the door cracked open, he barreled through, crashing past the hunter and falling to his knees beside August. His hands shook as he reached out, his chest tight with a mix of fury and heartbreak. August didn’t turn to face Declan. Rather, he curled tighter into himself. He let out a low, pained groan that seemed to come from the very core of him, and shook his head slightly as if trying to block out the world around him.
“August? August, please. It’s me…” Declan whispered, with a gentle touch to August’s back, “It’s Declan. I’m not going to hurt you - you’re safe with me,”
With caution, August reared his head. His eyes - those familiar, vermillion eyes - were now dull with agony. His glazed eyes flickered toward Declan with an empty recognition that sent a jagged knife through Declan’s chest.
“I’m sorry. Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Declan wept, “I couldn’t protect you. This is my fault. But it’s over. I promise you, it’s over. I’m here now. We’re going home.”
August’s eyes flickered again, struggling to focus. It took a moment, but then recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning. His head snapped up, locking onto Declan with a desperate, pleading intensity. He strained against the chains, reaching for Declan but struggling. Instead, Declan threw his arms around the vampire and squeezed him tight until he nearly burst.
“I’m getting you out of here,” Declan whispered in August’s ear. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”
As Declan held August close, he felt the warmth radiating from his skin. Warmth? From a vampire? His heart stopped for a moment when he pulled back. August’s skin was a mess of blisters and burns, peeling and raw as if he'd been dragged through hell itself. A patchwork of jagged, swollen welts, charred and damaged beyond recognition. Declan's breath caught in his throat.
“What - what the hell did you do to him?” Declan’s voice cracked as he spun toward the hunters, his rage surging. “Why is he burnt?”
The lead hunter stepped forward, nonchalantly, “We left him to the sun. A fitting punishment for what he is.”
"Y - You left him in the sun? You tortured him.”
The hunter merely shrugged, indifferent. “He’s a vampire. He heals.”
“No,” Declan spat, “How can you believe this is for the greater good?! You think that this is protecting humans? Senseless torture?!”
The lead hunter’s lips curled. “We’re here to rid the world of monsters. If that means breaking a few of them along the way, so be it. The only thing that matters is the end result; keeping us humans safe. This,” he gestured to August’s battered form, “is a small price to pay for the peace we bring.”
The word peace stung Declan. He’d be damned if he would let them mask this cruelty as peace.
His eyes fell on August again, and a pang of devastation shot through him. The vampire's face was swollen, bruises darkening his features. Blood was caked and matted in his hair. The muzzle around his mouth did little to hide the hurt in his eyes, the silent plea for salvation. His ribs jutted out, and his belly had sunken in. He must be starving, Declan thought. That’s why he hasn’t healed.
“You don’t get to do this!” Declan's voice broke into a scream that bounced off the walls of the cell. “You don't get to play god!” His finger shook with fury as he pointed at the hunters. “You’re the monsters here! You think you’re saving people? You’re not! You’re torturing innocent people!”
The hunters’ eyes flickered with uncertainty, but none of them backed down.
“You think you’re the good guys here, huh?” Declan shook with a frenzied laugh. He pointed to August, “August - August saves lives! He saves humans! He has more humanity in his fucking pinky than any of you have - than all of you! You're no better than the monsters you claim to hunt.”
One of the hunters chuckled. “You’re wasting your breath, mate. He’s still a vampire. No matter how much you want to convince yourself that he’s different, he’s still the enemy. ”
“He’s not the enemy. You are.”
Declan was done. Done begging, done pleading with these monsters who called themselves hunters. He had no more patience for their twisted beliefs. He was getting them both out of here and never looking back.
Declan’s trembling fingers hovered over the muzzle. But before he could make a move to unbuckle it, a voice sliced through the air.
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” one of the hunters barked, his gun trained steadily on Declan’s chest. The others followed suit, their weapons pointing in unison. Declan’s hands jerked away from the muzzle, his arms flying to the air in surrender. He didn’t take his eyes off August for a second, valour met terror. In the silence between them, his gaze spoke for him; It’s okay. They’re not going to hurt me. I won’t let them hurt you. Never again.
“If you want to throw yourself to the wolves, go ahead. Take the bastard, if you’re so desperate,” the hunter foamed at the mouth. “But I’m not risking my team’s lives for some damn leech sympathizer. That muzzle stays on until it’s well clear of my compound, got it?”
Declan’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Only performing a resentful nod. There was no point in arguing. He wasn’t here to negotiate. Not anymore.
“I’m taking him with me,” Declan declared, with no room for debate. “If you try to stop me, it’ll be the last thing you do.” He outstretched his palm and demanded, “Give me the keys to his restraints.”
The hunter in charge stared Declan down before he snarled and tossed a set of keys in his direction. Declan snatched them from the air without breaking his gaze, and immediately turned toward August.
As the silver cuffs dropped to the floor with a soft clatter, Declan immediately reached for August’s wrists, his touch gentle but urgent. Declan took to inspecting August’s wrists, where the silver had left deep, angry burns. His stomach tightened at the sight, fingers brushing the scorched skin with careful reverence.
August winced slightly, the sensation of the air on his burned skin enough to make him flinch. But Declan didn’t pull away, he just held on, offering what little comfort he could. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And that was all that mattered right now.
Declan threw his arm around August’s waist, steadying him with a firm grip as he pulled him to his feet. The movement was slow - August’s body limp against him, but Declan’s strength held them both up. He could feel the way August’s legs wobbled, barely able to support his own weight after so long in restraints.
“Come on, August,” Declan urged, “I’m sorry. I know everything hurts. Try and work with me here.”
They staggered and stumbled toward the cell door, that must have taunted August this entire time. Declan remembered how the door at the top of Vince’s basement used to tease him, beckon him. The hunters watched eagerly, but not one made a move. Declan’s fury still simmered under the surface, but right now, he was focused on one thing, and one thing only.
August.
“Don’t you dare try to stop me,” Declan snarled, he tightened his hold on August, pulling him toward the door. He wasn’t going to let anything get in their way now.
A scowl twisted on the lead hunter's face, “Didn’t plan on it.” He took a slow, deliberate step back, waving them through the exit. "Your funeral."
Relief filled Declan when they stepped out into the moonlight. Thank god. August couldn’t take any more sunlight. August was barely grasping consciousness as it was. The hunger, the exertion, the pain - his eyes began to roll in his skull, his body growing impossibly limp and heavier. Declan kept pushing through, guiding August’s wobbling legs through the dark alleyway and towards the car parked at the end.
Every step felt like they were wading through mud, but Declan didn’t care. August was still breathing. Still alive.
When they reached the car, Declan gently helped August into the backseat, his friend’s body sagging across the leather seat and collapsing. Declan’s hands hovered, unsure of where to place them, but he finally rested his palm against August’s forehead. A tear rolled down the vampire’s grimy cheek.
“It’s okay,” Declan hushed, “It’s okay, you don’t have to be brave. Let it out. I know…”,
More tears followed, falling quietly. His breaths hitched, catching in his chest, but there were no words. Only the soft, pained sound of him trying to hold himself together, failing to keep up the façade any longer.
“Let’s get that horrible thing off-”
He fumbled for a moment, his hands trembling as he unlatched the buckled straps of the muzzle. The moment it was free, he pulled it away gently, mindful not to hurt August any more than he already had been.
But as the muzzle came off, August’s head lolled back, and Declan realised - all too late - that he had passed out. August’s body sagged deeper into the car seat, his breaths shallow but steady now. It was like August’s body had been waiting for this moment, waiting for safety. Now that the threat was gone, his body gave in to the sweet surrender of sleep.
Declan’s heart ached at the sight, seeing August so vulnerable, so completely spent. But there was no more struggle, no more pain in his expression. Just the quiet relief of finally being free.
And Declan knew that was a feeling like no other.
*!*!*!*!*
I know, I'm stringing you all along, but there will be another part! Which I anticipate WILL be the final with some lovely home caretaking <3
Also this little AU is rolling with absolutely no beta or second eyes SOOOOO 🙈
AU taglist (anyone who has asked or expressed interest! lemme know if you would / would not like to be tagged in the next part! <3)
SHATTERED - AUGUST CAPTURED BY HUNTERS AU [PART TWO]
-
PART ONE!
CW: vampire whumpee, vampire caretaker, vampire whump, burns/sunburn (on a vamp), torture, kidnap, captivity, implication/reference of previous torture, muzzle, collar, restraints, caretaker turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, adult language, quick thought of death (lemme know if I've missed any!)
*!*!*!*!*
Declan perched on the edge of the windowsill, eyes glued to the street. Hands shaking, nails bitten to the quick. The longer he waited, the deeper the dread sank in his chest. Every passing minute stretched into an eternity. He jumped at every noise - the hum of a passing car, the shuffle of footsteps - his heart leapt with a desperate hope, praying that it was August.
But his prayers were left unanswered. No sign of August, not a peep from him. Declan’s stomach twisted, the terror consuming him. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. He could feel it in his bones.
“Juni… I-I can’t shake this horrible feeling,” Declan fretted, his voice cracking. His face flashed ghostly white. “He should be here by now. You know August, he’s always unfashionably early. Always.”
His eyes flickered to the door, as if willing August to walk through it. Any second now…he’ll walk through there…any second…
The minutes dragged on, the silence suffocating. His mouth stuttered open to say something, but the words lodged in his throat in a thick lump. What could he say that wouldn’t just sound like more frantic rambling? He glanced at his other half, his eyes wide, pleading. “...what if something’s happened to him?”
Juniper shot to her feet and crossed the room in a blur. She reached out, her hands trembling too, but steady enough to grasp Declan’s clammy, shaking ones. She cupped his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly, trying to ground him, to anchor him to the present moment.
“Declan,” she murmured softly, her voice warm but firm. He felt the tension in his chest ease slightly, even if just for a moment, as he let her presence ground him. She always had that lulling effect on him. Her thumb brushed over his knuckles, a small gesture meant to reassure them both. She leaned in, her other hand gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “He’ll show up. I promise you. I know it’s hard, and scary…but he’s tougher than we give him credit for. I promise, we’ll find him. We won’t stop until we do.”
His grip on her hand tightened, squeezing tight. He tried to push the thoughts away, tried to focus on her calm, but it felt like his chest was about to crack open with the anxiety that threatened to swallow him whole.
“He’s crossing into human territory. What… fuck - what if he’s been ambushed? Hunters would be all over him in a heartbeat, and…” Declan’s voice faltered, the words tangled in his throat. The image of August, alone and vulnerable, was too much to bear. “What if they got to him first? What if he’s-”
He couldn’t finish the thought. The possibility of August being hurt, or worse, was a nightmare he couldn’t bring himself to speak into existence. His mind raced, spiraling with worst-case scenarios. His breath caught, and he gripped Juniper’s hand tighter, as if holding on to her would somehow stop the tide of panic threatening to drown him. “I need to go. I need to find him. Now.”
The urgency in his voice was raw, desperate. He couldn’t wait, couldn’t sit still. Every second felt like one closer to losing him. And he couldn’t lose August… he’d give his life in a heartbeat to keep him safe. Without a second thought, Declan bolted for the door. He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, yanking it on as he fumbled for his keys.
"Declan, wait!” Juniper’s voice cut through the chaos of his spiraling thoughts. She stepped in front of him, hands gently holding his arms to stop him from reaching for his keys. Her touch was warm, grounding. "You can’t - please, you can’t go out to the border. It’s too dangerous, love.”
He met her hazel eyes, desperation flooding his face. "I can't just sit here, Juni. What if something happened to him? What if hunters caught him already? He saved me, and now I can't even-"
“You can’t help him if you’re captured, too. August wouldn’t want you to risk your life for him. I know you're scared. But losing you won’t help him," she pleaded, tears spilling over.
"But-"
For a moment, Declan’s eyes searched hers. Searching the depths of her soul, looking for any ounce of certainty that could make him stay. But all he could see was the same worry that gnawed at him, mirrored in her eyes. And yet, as always, something about her gave him a fraction of peace.
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t search. But we have to be smart about this. Strategic. If he’s been taken, he’s long gone now - he could be miles away. I think we’d be wasting precious time, and putting our lives on the line. Why don’t we call hunter compounds, ask around. Start there.”
He let out a long, ragged breath, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Slowly, he let go of the keys, letting them clatter to the floor. "I’m just... I’m just terrified, Juni. If anything were to happen to him-"
“I know. I know,” she said, voice tight. She pressed her forehead against his. “I’m scared too.”
“I don’t think I can just sit idly and wait around for a miracle,” He whispered, “If he’s still out there, I have to move fast. Every minute counts…where should we start?”
-
*** Three days later ***
The fresh air outside the hunter's compound was a bitter mercy to August’s heaving lungs - starved for breath after the damp and stale air of his cell. He stole eager breaths through flaring nostrils, the muzzle still strapped tight against his face. The hunters had seen to that…it had never left, not since the day he was captured. Not for a second.
Any relief was fleeting. Thin rays of early daylight sliced through the morning fog like a blade. August’s legs buckled beneath him as the hunters hauled him across the courtyard, bare feet scraping rough stone. His body screamed in protest, bruises and fresh wounds pulsed with every jarring movement. His wrists were bound in silver chains behind his back, raw and inflamed, where the precious metal had scorched tender skin.
August didn’t dare resist, didn’t think of struggling. It was a deliberate choice - to comply, to obey - clinging to the hope that this fragile cooperation might earn him even the smallest sliver of trust. He couldn’t afford to give the hunters any more reason to see him as the monster they believed him to be. So August let his body fall slack as they dragged him toward the centre of the courtyard, where an anchor point awaited him. His stomach churned like a lake during a storm.
The silver collar sat waiting patiently for him, gleaming innocently in the sunlight. He could already feel its unforgiving heat and weight against his throat, his breath growing shallow and strained. A brutal kick to his spine drove him to the ground, leaving him sprawled next to the cruel device. One hunter knelt beside him, a cruel grin snuck across his face as he forced the collar around August’s neck and clicked it into place. The chains that ran from the collar anchored him to the floor, he was forced to bend double.
His vision swam with tears as he groaned behind the bit, the collar felt like the devil himself wrapped his hands around his throat. But he knew the worst was yet to come - this was only the beginning, nothing more than child's play.
Clouds slowly parted, and the sun spilled through. Its rays were like hot needles piercing his skin. He knew when the sun reached its peak, it would boil him alive.
"You know…I can’t help but think of your victims," the hunter sneered, his glare cold and calculating. "How they must have longed for the sun, for the warmth of a new day… to feel its light on their skin. I thought we'd give you a taste of what they never had, what you denied them. Let's see how long you last, eh?"
August’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach, panting erratically beneath the muzzle. His world was shrinking, his senses overwhelmed with searing pain as the sun carved its way through his skin.
He wanted to scream, with all the air in his lungs, that they were wrong. So horribly wrong. This was all wrong. If only he could plead his case. Protest his innocence. He returned humans to the light of day, not kept them from it. He healed pain, never inflicted it. But the hunters would only see what they wanted to see; monsters, suffering, injustice…if only they could see the truth was in their own reflection.
“See you in a day, parasite. Or maybe two. Hell, whaddya think, shall we go for three?”
August whined in protest, shaking his head wildly, his hair falling in messy waves. The two hunters chuckled in unison.
“If you’re asking me, I’d say a nice, long week sunbathing would do him some good. Get some vitamin D in ‘im,” the second hunter teased.
With that, August heard their footsteps retreat as they snickered some more, before the door slammed shut with a heavy thud. The unmistakable sound of a lock clicking into place echoed in the silence. He was left alone, trapped. The realisation crashed over him like a tsunami; he was entirely at the mercy of the unrelenting sun now.
His mind raced as he lay there in a heap. What had he done in his wretched life to deserve this? What crime had he committed? He racked his brain, grasping for a reason, but found none. He had lived life with nothing but honesty, integrity, and empathy. Values that only ever led him to helping others, never harming. The injustice of it boiled within him. His heart clenched with the bitter thought: no matter how he lived, it didn’t matter. To them, he was deserving of pain and punishment simply for what he was.
A part of August couldn’t entirely blame them, despite it all. They must have endured so much - families torn apart, loved ones ripped away by ruthless vampires, never to be seen again. Human beings reduced to little more than prey, a commodity to be consumed. They were angry and lost. And in their own way, they’re only protecting their own. In their pain, they lash out on whoever, or whatever, they could get their hands on.
But did that warrant this suffering? Two wrongs to make a right? Maybe even those vampires - the barbaric ones - the ones who did steal, control and torment humans, they didn’t deserve this. Would Vince deserve this? August couldn’t say that he would… No-one deserved to suffer like this. Death would be kinder. But the hunters had assured that wasn’t an option on the table.
Humans usually described the sun on their skin like a kiss. But the sun’s rays are no kiss - it’s a bite. Hungry and vicious. A thousand teeth gnawing away at his blistering skin, and tearing his flesh down to bone and sinew. The sun doesn’t touch or embrace, it devours. Every inch of exposed skin, and every ounce of his soul.
A blood-curdling scream bubbled in his throat. The sun climbed higher, and unleashed hellfire raining down on him. It was a slow, drawn out agony that spread like wildfire through his veins. His body twisted and convulsed beneath the unrelenting burn, every fibre of his being pleading for reprieve. But there would be no pity taken on him, not now, not ever.
Time stretched on, each hour more excruciating than the last, until his body could bear no more. Left to rot and wither away beneath the sun’s unforgiving gaze, an excruciating punishment without any guarantee of when……or if it would ever stop.
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au taglist (anyone who asked or expressed interest! lemme know if you would / would not like to be tagged in the third/final part!): @whumpsday @bacillusinfection @jumpywhumpywriter @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @vampiresprite @thecyrulik @thetarotfox @whumperfultime @writereleaserepeat @melpomenelamusa
cw/ vampire caretaker, vampire whumpee, caretaker turned whumpee, kidnapping, restraints, muzzle, begging, reference to previous torture/captivity, adult language, minor strangulation, knife to throat (lemme know if I've missed any!)
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If you like this, and would like to see a part two of Declan rescuing his poor, broken vampire friend from the hunters, please let me know! 💞🙌🏼
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August’s wrists burned as silver cuffs snapped around them. A choked gasp tore from his lips when a catch pole constricted around his neck, the wire biting sharply into his throat. Hands surged from all sides, grabbing and shoving until August slammed down to his knees.
This can’t be happening. Not like this. Panic clawed at his chest. This is a mistake, they're making a mistake.
“Please-” August squalled. His breath came in sharp, staccato gasps. “You don’t have to do this! I am not what you think I am-!”
One of the hunters studied August with a sneer, his scarred face hard as stone. A jagged mark raked down his cheek, cutting through the stubble and stopping just shy of his right eye, which glinted with cold malice. His hand rested on the hilt of a silver knife at his side. “Those beady red eyes and fangs say otherwise, leech. I can smell the blood on you.”
August's heart hammered against his ribs, his pulse thundering in his ears. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man’s fingers, teasing the handle of the knife.
"I swear to you," August rasped. He knew they saw him as the monster he'd been born to be and not the man he'd fought to become, and it tore at him, knowing he was powerless to show them the truth.
“I swear, on my brother's life - I wasn’t going after any humans. I would never hurt a soul. I’m a doctor - a man of medicine. I help humans, not hunt them. I’m just visiting a friend - a human friend-”
"-A friend! In human territory! A vamp doctor?!" Another hunter, a young girl, no older than twenty guffawed. "Now I've heard everything! You ever hear anything like that, Phillips?"
The man, which August assumed must be Phillips, grunted, shaking his head. "The shit these parasites come up with, man... Unbelievable."
“We don’t care what the hell you were doing, vamp,” she spat, her voice sharp and unwavering. She unsheathed her blade and pressed the tip under August’s chin, “You think we’re stupid? You think we’d just let you waltz into our territory?! Our home?! And snatch one of our own?!”
She was near screaming, tears of fury brimming her brown eyes. They reminded him of Declan's... both hope and hurt filled.
“No!” August’s voice cracked with despair. He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing against the searing silver. His garnet eyes glimmered with urgency. “Declan Durant. Please - you have to believe me,” he begged, struggling against his restraints.
The hunter jerked the pole hooked to August’s neck, August tugged right back in retaliation. “I rescued him. From another vampire. I nursed him back to health. I helped him. I delivered him home - safe and sound. You have to understand. Declan is still with us today because I fought for him - I’m not like the others. I would never hurt a human. Never! Find him - ask him - he’ll confirm everything!”
The hunters exchanged uneasy glances, the air thick with suspicion. Then, the ground trembled beneath their feet as the lead hunter thundered towards them, moving with a speed that matched his face of fury.
“What the fuck are you playing at?!” the hunter bellowed incredulously, his voice echoing through the clearing, “Get a damn muzzle on it! Before we’re it’s dinner!”
It hadn’t even occurred to August. Persuasion. That cruel and barbaric power he had the misfortune of possessing - stripping away a human's freedom and choice in a world that was already set against them. It wasn’t in his nature to even think about using it…
...but now he did consider it.
Just for a fleeting moment. The urge to use it surged with him - not to harm, not to control - but simply to make them release him. To free himself from this nightmare.
I won’t hurt them. I just need to get out of this.
Escape would come with a single word from his lips. But before he could even put the thought into action, a hunter appeared at his side. He thrust a leather muzzle towards August’s face, forcing the silver bit through his quivering lips.
He fought against it, choking back a scream, his body jerking involuntarily as the silver poisoned his senses. The taste of it, like molten metal, and with it, a wave of helplessness - of powerlessness - swept over him. His tongue recoiled in his mouth, but there was nowhere to go, the scalding silver pressed down relentlessly.
He hadn’t even had a chance to defend himself. The straps were yanked tight, pulled around the back of his head and buckled securely. A sharp click echoed in August's ears as the muzzle was fastened.
“If we lose men because you let a leech talk for a second too long, on all your souls be it,” the head hunter growled, scolding his crew, who bowed their heads in shame.
The lead hunter then locked eyes with August, a cold smirk forming on his lips. “If you think you’ll talk…persuade your way out of this, vamp, you’ve got another thing coming.” He stepped forward, his presence towering over August. “Get him ready for transport. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way, don’t hesitate to…”
He imitated the action of driving a stake through the vampire's chest. August’s pupils blew wide with horror. He tried to speak, to plead his case, but all that escaped was a muffled and agonised sound.
For a moment, Declan’s face flashed through his mind. Was this how he’d felt? When Vince had taken him? Defenseless, vulnerable, petrified? The thought gripped him, a cold realisation settling in. This was what it was like to be completely at the mercy of another. Utterly helpless.
Would Declan come looking for him? August's heart clenched at the thought. He hoped, with every fibre of his being, that Declan wouldn’t. Declan finally had the life he fought so hard for, a life he'd built for himself. Calm, peaceful, far removed from the hell he crawled out from. The last thing he needed was to be dragged into August's foolish mess.
And Lucas. A lone tear slipped down August's cheek. When would alarm bells ring for Lucas? How would he fend for himself in vampire territory without August? What would happen when he ran out of food and supplies? What if he tried to make the trek to human territory, and was stolen en route?
August would never forgive himself.
The hunters moved quickly, heaving August to his feet with a roughness that made him stumble. Every inch of him screamed to resist, to run. He couldn’t fight them, not yet.
Not if he had any chance of surviving this.
August's body trembled as they dragged him towards their van, his mind racing with the terror of what awaited him.
“I’ve seen this a thousand times before. You vamps crumble in a matter of days. You’ll regret ever crossing that territory line,” one of the hunters snarled. “We’ll make sure you pay, for you and your kinds crimes. And when we’re done with you, you’ll be begging for a death that will never come.
Touch starved whumpee who's afraid of anyone that shows them genuine affection. Afraid of being touched, afraid of anything that resembles touch. This could be due to previous trauma (i.e. abuse or neglect or a bad relationship) but I think regardless that fear of touch while also desiring it is just so damn good. Because even if a caretaker can break down those walls, they'll never be able to fully unravel that fear of touch. The simple flinches from just being touched with no negative intent. Or the look of fear from being touched.
Better yet, the relief from being hit or hurt by touch over being soothed by touch. The sort of thing that re-inforces the whumpee's idea of what touch is meant to be.
- used to limited range of movement from IV/injuries, tends to move very slowly and gently so as not to bother anything, even when they’re not hooked up
- would probably kill for a greasy burger (it would immediately make them ill anyway). Contraband stash of salt and pepper packets.
- nauseated by the sight of jello, pedialyte, etc
- has a favorite ‘spot’ that’s theirs- maybe a seat by the window or at the patio, but the staff know that’s their spot
- wants a Good Grade in patient/experiment
- used to having few belongings/prioritizing and organizing because there’s not much room
- has not seen a fresh flower or bug in a million years
- not used to moving between rooms on their own, waits for ‘transport’ because they forget they’re allowed to get up and move around
The whumpee had grown incredibly aggressive under the whumper’s constant torture, learning that biting and attacking were the best ways to survive. This tactic had worked for a long time, and the whumpee didn’t even hesitate to attack the people that he didn’t even recognize, not realizing that those people were there to rescue them.
I love it when a Whumpee of any kind doesn't know that they are, in fact, a Whumpee.
Living weapon Whumpee? No, no. They are just stronger and have to prove their worth. They were trained? Well, yeah, but just because they are meant to be strong. They aren't a living weapon, they can do anything they want; right, Handler?
Pet Whumpee? No, that's absurd. Whumpee just likes being spoiled. Do they wear a collar and eat from a bowl? Yes. But that's only because they like it, nobody forces them to, actually, Master said they can take the collar off anytime if they don't like that one.
Lab Whumpee? Of course no. They are doing something good, they are helping people by allowing the doctors to test experiments on them. They want to help, and the Doctor always tells them they can leave. The pain and the sedatives aren't stopping them, are they?
Just Whumpee's that don't know anything better. That's the world they were born in, and the people around them tell them that that's how it's meant to be.
The whumpee struggling not to laugh with their broken ribs. They hold their chest tight, wheezing and coughing through manic laughter. The caretaker thinks they’ve gone crazy, how could they be laughing after almost dying? But that’s why they’re laughing. They can feel the pain in their ribs. The blood soaking through their fingers. The ringing in their ears.
