hello!! my name's sol, my pronouns are he/xe/it and this is my dedicated blog for doing terrible things to my favorite ocs!
i'm extremely new to the whump community so i'm still familiarizing myself with things, but i'm super excited to be here! my ask box is always open for questions or any particular scenarios people would like me to subject my characters to.
AS A WARNING: i am an adult and some of my posts may include nsfw content and occasionally some noncon/dubcon, but they will never be central. PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT WITH THESE POSTS IF YOU ARE A MINOR. i will tag these posts appropriately, both with generic tags and a custom one (#sol's nsfw) so you can block it if you want.
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if you've been here before and are just looking for the masterpost, you can find it here!
below the cut, i'll list some of my favorite tropes and the other content you can expect to see here:
conditioning/training (is there a better term for this? idk)
restraints
defiant whumpees
religious themes and cults
drugging
emotional manipulation, gaslighting, etc.
body horror
body modification
cannibalism
carewhumpers
hurt/comfort (it's like a treat)
tropes i don't like as much:
heavy gore
eye trauma (HARD NO)
finger trauma
slavery
beyond that, this blog will also feature some ocs that probably won't get as much attention on my main blog, as well as some general concepts and other nonsense. all character intros and lore explanations will be linked together in my masterpost!
From your gifter: I hope you enjoy this short fic! I found your characters and worldbuilding extremely interesting! I hope to read more of your story in the future. Happy holidays!
Night and Rain
Sometimes Nightfall still dreams of the laboratory.
In his nightmares, he could not move—his wrists and ankles are secured with thick leather restraints to a metal examination table, freezing against his bare back. The scientists’ voices circled him like malignant satellites, poisonous and brimming with cruelty. They came closer carrying their medical instruments: long, thick needles, razor-sharp scalpels, drills and forceps. Tools meant to pierce him, cut him, carve him open, pry him apart and look inside. To invade him while ignoring his screams, his sobs, his desperate pleas.
They did not care. By then, they knew all too well that whatever they did to him, he would regenerate within a few hours, as though nothing had happened. They could reduce his body to a corpse, and the next day he would breathe again, his heart pumping blood once more—just so they could repeat it all over again the following day.
The hum of the machines kept him awake, painfully alert. Chemicals burned through his veins like living fire racing through his insides, corroding everything in their path. The sterile stench of the lab, mixed with the coppery scent of his own blood, made his stomach churn.
Nightfall had wanted to die—to put an end to all the suffering, to disappear completely. But he could not. The gem embedded within him would not allow it, reshaping his body, his mind, his very soul into something else entirely—something neither human nor anything the world knew.
So he decided to escape.
For a while, hunger and cold were his entire existence—until he met her.
And what he first believed to be paradise slowly revealed itself as a new type of hell.
Nightfall woke from his nightmare.
Instead of the metal table in the laboratory, he lay on a rough, familiar concrete floor. Darkness was absolute, but that meant little to him, his eyes capable of perceiving the subtle outlines of the shelves lining the basement walls even through the thick, suffocating black.
The chains rattled as he shifted, the weight of them pulling at the shackles around his wrists, ankles, and throat, making it impossible to fall back to sleep. He had no way of knowing what time it was, but it was certainly late enough. His stomach felt like a hollow pit in the center of his abdomen. He hadn’t eaten in… three days? Four? It was hard to tell, locked down there.
This was his punishment. A correction for his so-called “violent nature”, for trying to bite his mistress’s hand. Nightfall was truly exhausted, but after so long, escape felt impossible. His mind had been trained too thoroughly, his body too conditioned. And the nightmares—which tormented him in his sleep with those relentless memories of sterile rooms, electric chairs, and blood pooling on white floors—only reinforced a bitter truth: whatever his life was now, it was still better than what it had once been.
How pitiful.
A few minutes later, he heard the creak of wood above his head. Familiar footsteps, unhurried, approached toward the basement door. His emotions churned in his empty gut, a mix of revulsion and relief.
The door at the top opened, and a square of artificial light spilled down the stairs, framing a silhouette he knew all too well. She looked like a god descending from the heavens—or a demon returning to her infernal domain.
Nightfall watched, brow furrowed, as she descended each step with deliberate calm, as though time itself bent to her will. No rush. No concern.
“Did you learn your lesson?” Rain asked, stopping in front of Nightfall, just close enough for her smile to be unmistakable, yet far enough that his chains kept him from reaching her.
He did not answer. Hunger had taught him caution, more effectively than the lashes she had delivered before locking him away. The only thing filling his mouth—aside from the rigid bit of the muzzle strapped tight around his face—was saliva, pooling in his throat and slowly burning his tongue and inner cheeks. The pain was constant, familiar now, though never less unpleasant.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Rain crossed her arms, her smile widening. “What a good dog.”
Nightfall rolled his eyes but did not contradict her. She had shaped him carefully and methodically to turn him into what he was now, until he was nothing more than an animal trained to obey.
He hated her and she knew it. But he had realized it too late—or perhaps accepted it too late—when there was no longer any path back.
“Let me take this off.”
She crouched in front of him and loosened the straps behind his head, removing the muzzle. The bit was visibly corroded from prolonged exposure to his acidic saliva. His lips were split and covered in wounds and burns; the inside of his mouth and throat could not have been any better.
A thin strand of saliva dripped onto Rain’s hand. The skin hissed faintly, a red line blooming where it touched.
“Oh,” she murmured. “Look what you did.”
The burn faded moments later, her skin knitting itself whole again until no trace of it remained.
“I’ll bring you something to eat. You must be starving.”
Rain turned her back to him and headed for the stairs; this time, however, it took her no more than a couple of minutes to return, holding a plate of food, which she set on the floor in front of him.
Despite the hunger tearing at him from the inside, Nightfall did not touch the food until she gave the order. It tasted like nothing. His brain failed to register flavors or even identify what he was eating. Bread and chicken, fresh human flesh—it made no difference when his instincts took over. Hunger erased all distinctions.
Once he finished, a fragile clarity settled over him. Rain smiled again with that same condescending, false smile he knew so well. She projected a gentle calm, an innocent façade concealing the storm beneath.
And Nightfall was the thunderous roar and the annihilating lightning that always followed the signs of the rain.
OHHH THIS IS INCREDIBLE??!?!? you captured rain's character SO well and nightfall's internal monologue is perfect???!?! thank you so much for this gift, I'm gonna be rereading this for ages <33
Hi! I have a question: why does Rain want to turn Nightfall into an attack dog? Does she have a specific goal in doing so? Does she want to use him to hunt/kill other exoliths?
thank you so much for asking!! rain has a few specific reasons for what she does to nightfall, none of which are really spoilers thankfully.
her first and primary reason is curiosity. rain has worked with plenty of exoliths in the past but nightfall is a huge edge case by all standards, so she wants to see the extent of his abilities and how much she can control them (and nightfall himself by extension).
second reason is that rain is big on control. since she isn't inherently very strong on her own, she tends to compensate in other ways by making connections with powerful people and, in this case, training and conditioning someone significantly larger than her to keep him in check. (i wouldn't describe rain as a very insecure person, she's just aware of her weaknesses and tries to close those gaps wherever possible.)
the final reason is pretty close to your guess, she wants him to be able to at least fight other exoliths if not kill them. rogue exoliths like the one who breaks in in chapter 3.5 aren't necessarily prolific but they do exist and can pose a serious threat to the right people, so having someone who can match or beat that level of power is always a plus. more details about this will be revealed eventually, hopefully in the next few chapters when i get those out.
Whumper studies in great detail how to care for a traumatised person and help them recover, then makes sure to link every awful thing they do to Whumpee directly to a recovery technique so anything anyone tries to do to help Whumpee in the future just sets Whumpee back even further.
Breathing exercises -> end up with choking & forced suffocation
Name 5 things you can see/hear etc -> everything whumpee names will be used in the next torture session
Grounding/comfort objects -> will be used to shame and belittle whumpee before they're taken away
Mindfulness -> whumper takes advantage of whumpee's eyes being closed to sneak up on them, or plays guided meditations that start out innocent but get increasingly louder and cruel until they're unbearable
lately i've been thinking a lot about the idea of keeping a whumpee in a very old house, especially one with unavoidably creaky floorboards.
no matter how much whumpee tries to shift their weight or walk on their toes or find a spot where the floor doesn't creak, it's impossible for them to move silently. who needs a tracking device when you can just listen for where your captive is at any given moment?
of course, there's also the flip side of how whumper deals with it. maybe there's a secret trick to moving quietly that they use to startle whumpee, or maybe they just don't care. if there are multiple whumpers involved, then there's also the possibility of whumpee learning who's approaching them just by the sound of their footsteps.
content: a bit of violence, stabbing, some narrowly avoided cannibalism, someone gets bound and gagged, emotional breakdown, a little emotional manipulation, subpar caretaking, nightfall generally has a bad time
(previous chapter | masterlist)
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The night before the dinner party, Nightfall makes his rounds through the house as usual. His changing sleep schedule hasn't had any effect on his newfound habit, so he roams the house floor by floor as usual, starting upstairs and working his way down.
Yet this time around, something feels different. Wrong, almost. The darkness is thicker, heavier in a way that messes with his vision like a physical presence. It places a sinking feeling in his chest that he hasn't felt since he was younger.
Nightfall breathes out slowly and continues his 'patrol' as usual. He makes his way down the carpeted stairs, keeping close to the handrail so they won't creak as he passes by.
He moves through the house's entryway, then the front room, then the dining room and kitchen.
Everything is in its right place. A mirror reflects a glimpse of him when he walks past. When he turns to look he can barely discern the outlines of his features.
The darkness seems even more present in the living room. A few things have been left out of place here, but he understands exactly why—a few books stacked on the arm of the couch that weren't there before, the TV remote left on a chair instead of the side table next to it. Small inconsistencies, nothing but signs of life.
It's only when he stops at the stairs to the basement that the feeling in his chest crystallizes into something more tangible. The air here seems a few degrees colder, chills rising on his skin as he stares down into the pitch-black stairwell.
But he refuses to be afraid. He knows this place, has patrolled it every day for nearly a month. The wall's smooth texture guides him down, step by step until the texture underfoot turns from carpet to bare concrete and he finally arrives at the house's lowest level.
Once he steps off the bottom stair he finally feels it in its entirety—an impulse, a twitching of energy that is noticeably not his own. It squirms inside him like something foreign, a sensation that makes his skin crawl and puts all his senses on high alert.
The basement is all the same at first glance but Nightfall's whole body sings like a dowsing rod, guiding him closer and closer to something in the far corner of the room near the window high up on the wall. As he draws closer it becomes apparent that there's a cold draft seeping in…
Not to mention the shadows pooling in the corner, just enough to hide a person of average height.
For a second, he freezes. Nightfall stays exactly where he is, a little less than arm's length away from this strange darkness, only really able to see it out of the corner of his eye. His heart rate spikes so hard he can feel it shudder in his chest.
He knows this kind of energy. Something more than human. He doubts Rain could handle them—he has to do it himself.
There's someone in his house. In his territory.
Slowly, with a measured strength, Nightfall reaches blindly into the shadows until his hand clamps onto something warm. A ragged gasp breaks the silence.
In an instant the darkness explodes outward, magic soaking into every corner of the room until he can't see a thing. But it doesn't matter. He feels the form jerk to the side in an effort to break his grip but he just holds on tighter, grabbing on with his other hand until his nails bite into skin and the intruder grunts in pain.
He doesn't need his vision to pull them down—all things considered he's much larger and more importantly much heavier than them, putting his full weight into getting this person to the floor. It's not without struggle, but by the time they're both on the floor he's barely broken a sweat. Metal audibly slides against metal and a dull pain spreads through his abdomen, but adrenaline quickly drowns out the finer details.
Right now he needs to get this person to stop squirming. He manages to pin their arms down, straddling their chest and bearing down with just enough weight to start squeezing the air from their lungs. Once they start wheezing and quit struggling, Nightfall finally relents a little bit.
In the brief stillness that follows, he can't deny what this is. He's known the whole time. The magic in the air, the darkness with a physical weight to it, the desperation they've been fighting him with. There's only one explanation.
"Give it up," he hisses through clenched teeth, "let me see you."
"Wh- what the hell are you?!" The panic in the intruder's voice gives him a sick rush of satisfaction, the kind he could only dream of getting before. "You're not—I'm not—"
"What did I just tell you?" He gives their wrists a mean squeeze until he feels the bones grind together. "Enough with the tricks. I know what you are." It takes a second for him to place it, but the air smells like fear—sharp and heady at once.
The stranger's chest heaves under him as the darkness retracts, shadows shrinking back to their original sizes… and oh, the terror on their face is priceless. Makes him feel like he's actually doing something with the strength he never learned to use. It makes him feel useful.
Nightfall looks them over for a second with an impassive expression. Their face isn't familiar in the slightest, not to mention there's no indication of an ID collar or bracelets. Not from the lab, then. "Tell me what you're doing here."
"Can't—" they gasp. "I- I was just—"
"Sure you can." The deadpan tone that leaves him sounds like it should belong to someone else. "Tell me, quickly."
"R-Rain—I was here for Rain! How do you even- how do you know what I am?"
Nightfall's eyes narrow. "I felt your magic. Can't get that from anything than an exolith, can you?" He places a hand over their chest, feeling their heart beat in time with the rapid pulse of magic in their system. If he really wanted to he could probably rip out the gemstone here and now.
"H-how-? There's no way you're—" Their eyes dart down to his midsection for some reason but he's had enough of their chattering.
"Quiet," he growls, hand moving to their throat and pressing just enough to make a point. He doesn't need to hear anything about how he looks like a freak, how it doesn't make any sense. Of course he knows it doesn't make sense!
The sense of control is starting to get to his head. This is what he's been capable of the whole time, had he only gotten the chance to catch something. He could've avoided starving in the woods if he'd just gotten his hands on something, anything.
In the moment, this person is nothing but prey to him. He's not hungry but the thought still makes his mouth water. A fresh piece of meat, a trophy—some proof that he could make it on his own. Proof that he's not helpless, that he could do more if he could just get out there and hunt.
Nightfall's salivary glands sting as he leans down over the intruder, studying them for a moment. A bite wouldn't hurt too much. An exolith could surely regenerate from the physical damage. With how he has them pinned, the column of their throat is fully exposed.
"Hey, hey, wait! What the hell are you doing?!" The intruder starts to thrash again, movements limited by the ever-tightening grip that refuses to let them squirm away. "Jesus, I'll get out of here, I promise! Please don't, please—"
Nightfall's teeth are less than an inch from that strip of tender flesh when a stair creaks behind him, the one he always avoids on his nightly rounds. He sits up like he's been shocked, though his grip doesn't waver as he turns to see Rain standing at the bottom of the stairs. She holds her cell phone in one hand, casting just enough light to illuminate the look of surprise on her face.
"What are you doing?" she asks. The silence that follows is brief yet damningly heavy.
"Get him off me!" The intruder shouts, giving a pathetic wriggle. "What is he, your fucking attack dog or something?! The fucker almost ate me!"
Nightfall can't move. All satisfaction of the moment evaporates and a cold dread settles in his stomach. "They broke in," he whispers numbly. "Said they were looking for you. I don't know why."
Rain stares quietly for a moment, then lifts the phone back to her ear. "Well, it looks like I was right. It looks like things are… taken care of right now, but we'll still need… mhm." She pauses. "I understand. We can wait. Thank you." She hangs up, pockets the phone, and flicks the light switch without warning—both Nightfall and the intruder recoil in surprise. Everything looks so much worse under the harsh glare.
"Hey, you!" The stranger shouts, still thoroughly pinned and lacking any clear exit routes. "You're the—"
"Please," Rain sighs, "keep your voice down. I've been trying to sleep, you know."
"Like hell you have! Come on, we all know your deal."
Rain tilts her head, the light disappearing from her eyes in a way that sucks all the warmth from the air. "Let's be civil, alright? You aren't getting out of this, so mind your tone."
"Are you sure?" Nightfall pipes up. "They're—stronger than you think. It's not…"
"Oh, I know." Rain stands over the two of them like she's trying to memorize the image. "An exolith, I assume?"
"Almost definitely. How can you—"
"I've worked with them before," she answers almost dismissively. "Keep them here, I'll be back."
Before Nightfall can say anything, Rain disappears into the furnace room and returns a minute later with a large coil of rope and a strip of fabric.
"…Rain?"
"Just a moment." She grabs a chair from nearby and pulls it up right next to Nightfall, metal scraping loudly against concrete as she pats the back of it. "Here—could you just put them here and hold them down for me?"
Nightfall blinks. "What are we doing?"
"Keeping them in one place until the police get here," she answers, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And hopefully keeping them quiet," she adds with a little glare at the intruder.
"Uh… right." The task proves easier than expected in the end. It's clear that the stranger has given up any hope of really fighting back, so they're mostly compliant as Nightfall maneuvers them onto the chair. It's almost like posing a ragdoll, keeping their limbs in place as Rain ties their ankles to the chair, then binds their wrists behind their back.
The intruder doesn't even make a sound until Rain approaches them with the strip of fabric in hand. "Come on, please, you really don't need to gag me, I'll be quiet," they say with an unsteady laugh.
"I'm not going off your word alone." In an instant she's back to that expressionless stare.
"You're- you're not gonna sic that guy on me, are you?" they ask, glancing nervously towards Nightfall.
"Him? Oh, no, there's no need for all of that." She shakes her head, smiling in a way that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
Watching this is starting to set off alarm bells somewhere in Nightfall's head. Whether it's the intruder's odd manner of submission or the way Rain is acting, just staying here is far too much for right now. He starts backing towards the stairs before he can even speak. "…Hey, Rain? I'm- I'll be upstairs if you need me."
"Go right ahead," Rain replies, waving a hand towards the stairwell. "I'll join you when I'm done… won't be long."
He doesn't need to be told twice.
—
Nightfall moves through the house in a daze, only stopping to take a breath once he's back upstairs in the safety of his room. He sits on his bed and stares into the darkness, not bothering to turn on the lights.
His stomach is little more than an empty pit. He can't salvage even a scrap of the accomplishment or satisfaction he felt just a few minutes prior—coming so close to doing the unthinkable has made that impossible. It wouldn't have been the first time he's done something like that, but at least he wasn't in his right mind before.
Isn't he supposed to be better than this? Why does the mere thought still make his mouth water? If Rain hadn't stopped him, then…
He was so close to becoming that mindless thing again. The thought twists his stomach painfully, saliva building in his mouth with a slight burn of acid and bile.
A soft knock at his bedroom door but after all that he's not sure how he could face her again.
"Nightfall?" Her voice is gentle, muffled. "May I come in?"
He swallows hard before answering but his voice still wavers traitorously. "…Yeah."
Rain steps into his room and quietly shuts the door behind her, a bit of a concerned look on her face as she turns on the light and looks him over. "…Oh, heavens. Stay here, I'll be right back." She disappears and comes back a minute later with a damp rag in one hand, quickly crossing the room to kneel next to his bed. "You're a mess."
"What? I'm fine." He's pretty sure he didn't just look like he was about to have a breakdown so the comment catches him a little off guard.
Rain looks a little puzzled. "Your shirt's covered in blood."
Is it? He's been too out of touch with himself to notice, but sure enough there's a large, dark stain on his shirt, still a little glossy in the light. The fabric is torn in one spot, just below his ribcage.
"…Oh. Uh. I might have gotten stabbed?" It's beyond him how it managed to escape his notice, but that does explain the pain he'd felt during his little altercation with the intruder.
"Hmm. Okay, let me see. We're going to need to check that out." Without asking, she reaches for the hem of his shirt and starts to lift it, peeling the blood-soaked fabric from his skin.
"Hey, hey, wait!" Nightfall jerks away, pushing himself up off the bed. Panic surges through him, so intense it makes the room spin underneath him. The look Rain gives him only makes him feel worse—he's never raised his voice around her and the idea of upsetting her this way makes him a little nauseous. "Please, I swear I'm fine," he whispers after a brief pause to collect himself. "…Sorry for yelling."
"You got stabbed." Rain doesn't seem angry, but her hands still linger not far from the hem of his shirt. "Please, at least let me clean you up. You can't expect to go to bed still covered in blood."
"I can do it myself." The tightness in his throat chokes the words on their way out.
"Nightfall…"
She should be angry. He really can't fathom why she's being so patient with him, but she is. Still, he really doesn't want to do this.
"I'm grown," he says halfheartedly. "I can take care of it."
"I'm sure you can," Rain answers, "but I want to take care of you. You're living under my roof. Can't I do you a favor after what you did for me?"
"…What I did for you?" He echoes numbly. "Are you talking about…"
"Of course I am."
"Wha—I almost killed them!"
"I wouldn't have blamed you if you had. You were trying to protect yourself, weren't you?"
"I mean, yes, but—" Talking is almost painful. Nightfall's eyes start to sting with unshed tears. "I just—I scared myself, okay?" His voice falls back to a broken whisper.
"I know, I know. It's okay. I'm not upset." She gently takes his hand and eases him back down onto the bed.
When he says nothing in response, Rain finally lifts up his shirt a little, just enough to expose the injury.
Or, more accurately, what's left of it.
In place of a stab wound there's a thin, pale scar about an inch and a half long just below his ribs. Half-dried blood clings to his shirt and forms mottled patterns on his skin, the only real evidence of any damage.
"Sorry," Nightfall mumbles. He's not sure what he's apologizing for—maybe for indirectly lying about not being human or for just being a hassle to take care of—but it slips out of him like second nature.
"I figured you were an exolith," Rain says, so quietly it almost sounds like she's talking to herself. Her expression doesn't give much away. "Still, healing so quickly from a wound like that is… impressive."
Nightfall swallows hard and wills himself to keep it together. Piece by piece the scene once again becomes so familiar it's almost unbearable. It's like he's back in the medical wing again, trying not to cry while some nurse bandages his wounds with no real care for his emotional well-being.
"Sorry," he whispers again. This time, he's not really apologizing for anything but being told it's okay would make this a little better. Any response would do it at this point, just to give him something, anything. "I'm sorry."
There's no answer. Rain continues to clean him up without a word like she didn't even hear him. His next inhale hitches painfully, then shudders on its way out like a support beam ready to buckle. With the way his eyes are burning he's not sure if he can keep it together.
But if he cracks that'll just make all of this worse. Even though it's starting to hurt physically and just being left alone in the dark would be vastly preferable to all this, he sits right where he is and refuses to look Rain in the eyes and does his absolute best to stay quiet. It doesn't take long for the tears to start slipping down his cheeks but even then he doesn't make a sound.
Rain notices, of course. She flashes him one of those sad, pitying looks as she finally sets the rag aside and sits up straight. "Hey… I'll give you some privacy if that's what you want. And don't worry about the shirt, I'll get you a new one."
"Thanks," Nightfall whispers, wiping his face with the back of his hand. This is just embarrassing. "I just… I'm sorry for all of this." Fourth time's the charm.
Rain gets up slowly, sitting next to him on the bed, almost close enough for their knees to touch but she keeps her hands folded in her lap. "I'm not upset with you. It's okay." She holds a hand out to Nightfall, waiting for him to take it—she doesn't continue until he does, giving him a gentle little squeeze. "You did what you had to. If anything… I honestly admire it. I had no idea you were so strong."
Is that really what she thinks? Nightfall stares at their single point of contact—her hands are so small compared to his. "I just… it really scared me. If you hadn't stepped in, I would've…"
"I know. They had some… choice words for me." She chuckles dryly.
"But that's messed up, isn't it?"
Rain looks at him a little more intently, that expression coming across her face like she's searching for something again. "You don't need me to tell you that you're different. It could just be… another side effect of all this."
"Exoliths don't usually eat people," he mutters.
"I know. What I'm saying is, it's not your fault. I mean, if you really wanted to eat a person you had the chance when you and I first met." She smiles a little. "But you didn't, did you?"
"Mm." Nightfall makes a noncommittal little noise and stares down at the floor. This isn't helping very much, but at least he's not crying anymore. "I don't know, I just think I've lost my appetite," he laughs weakly.
"Oh, I don't blame you. Let's just hope it's back by tomorrow night."
Despite the lighthearted tone she uses, he'd really been hoping she wouldn't bring that up. "…Can I sleep on it?"
"Of course." She rubs her thumb over his knuckles. "I do hope you'll join us, though. I've talked to Victor and Cecilia a little more and they're quite keen on meeting you."
To be honest he doesn't want to go, but the thought of disappointing not only Rain but her friends as well makes his breath hitch again. "I… okay. I'll think about it." He gives her hand a halfhearted squeeze.
"Thank you."
A heavy silence settles over them for a while. Almost instinctively, Nightfall finds himself listening for any noise from downstairs, but the house is still as death. "How long until the cops get here? Are you sure it's okay to leave that person down there alone?"
"It'll only be half an hour at this point. Our little friend won't be going anywhere until then."
"And you just… left them there?"
Rain shrugs. "Given the options I think that was the more merciful choice," she chuckles. If it's meant to be a joke it doesn't land quite right, but he keeps his mouth shut. When the silence stretches for a few seconds too long, Rain sighs and gets to her feet. "Well, I assume you'll want your privacy now. Don't worry about the rest, I'll handle it. And thank you again."
Rain reaches out, ruffles Nightfall's hair a little, and leaves without giving him a chance to get another word in. Not that he had much to say, though.
He turns the lights off after she leaves, then lays down on his bed as the darkness sits heavy around him. The distant wail of sirens eventually draws closer, then stops, followed by a long period of muffled voices talking back and forth and the faint sound of movement around the house. He doesn't relax until he's finally certain that everyone has finally left, and even then the silence is cold comfort at best.
Nightfall sits and waits in the quietness that follows, part of him waiting for Rain to come by and check on him again, but her footsteps pass right by his door on her way upstairs without so much as a moment of hesitation.
Whether or not he'd truly wanted her company again, her absence leaves a pit in his stomach that lingers until dawn.
Have you ever been so confused you just cry? Just. Nothing makes sense. You can't fix it. You're tired. Nobody is helping you. Nobody seems to even see what the issue is. So you just cry? Very pathetically?? With big wet eyes like a confused puppy?
Make your whumpee do this. ^^^ For me. Maybe they're drugged. Sick. Woke up somewhere unfamiliar. Surrounded by unfamiliar people. All of the above. Do it, To them. Disorient
a whumpee finally being left alone in the dark, aching all over, trembling, and so scared and sad all they can do is whisper, "I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here," into the empty space
As it turns out, this new form of freedom has its downsides. Though Nightfall quickly loses the hypervigilance that once haunted his waking moments, it soon becomes apparent that there's… not all that much to do. Having a place to live doesn't seem to do very much for his borderline-nocturnal sleep schedule, and if nothing else it means he rarely has a chance to speak to Rain before she's off to bed.
He wanders the house in his free time during the first few days, committing the layout to memory as he moves from room to room. It's not a very large house but Rain has obviously put care into maintaining every corner of the place. Even the basement, unfinished with its cold concrete floors, is utterly spotless—everything has a place where it belongs. Nightfall lingers here often, sitting at the bottom of the steps and staring at the room, all shades of gray in the dark. As the cold creeps in the basement gains a perpetual chill to its atmosphere, comforting him in a way he can't put words to.
For the most part he feels like he's haunting the place like some kind of restless spirit. During the first three days he barely even sees Rain—she always makes an extra portion of dinner for him and leaves it out with a sticky note, sometimes with instructions on how to reheat it but other times 'Enjoy!' is the only thing written in careful print. Maybe his standards are low, but most of the time he regrets not being able to ask for seconds. It would be nice to at least speak to her a little more and somehow show his gratitude.
Being fed regularly is still strange. Even as the first week comes and goes, Nightfall struggles to adjust to the idea. Rain doesn't do this for a job. She's not contractually obligated to feed him or house him or care for him at all, but as he starts to wake in the evening and they catch occasional glimpses of each other, she smiles at him every single time. The sense of familiarity about her never fades.
Yet slowly, in the most minute ways, the change becomes less and less bizarre. His wanderings become less exploratory and more patrolling until it becomes pure habit, moving through the house in the same way—still not searching for anything, just further detailing the map he's constructed in his head. He wakes slightly earlier each day until a certain point during his second week where he finally gets up before sunset, just early enough to catch a glimpse of Rain working from where he stands in the hallway—he makes his presence known, and after that the door to her office is always shut and locked.
It's not that bad, really. It's a privilege to be bored like this, but the monotony begins to drag on him as he comes up on his third week living with Rain without much fanfare.
It's not until this point in early December that he finally steps out of his comfort zone a little. He wakes in the early evening, stirring to the unusually bright gleam of sunlight filtering through the blinds. The hum of the heating system vibrates gently through the floor, but his room is still oddly chilly.
He shuffles out of bed and pulls a spare blanket around his shoulders as he takes a quick peek through his blinds—the glare of sunlight on fresh snow sends a sharp stab of pain straight to his temples and he's quick to step away.
Based on the muffled noise from downstairs, it sounds like Rain hasn't finished up for the day just yet. Normally he'd stay well out of her way, but with how dull his everyday routine has become, the anxiety of human interaction doesn't win out against the chance to do something new. Despite the lingering urge to stay right where he is, he creeps downstairs as quietly as possible. If Rain isn't open to talking, it's better to avoid disturbing her at all.
He finds her in the living room, half-curled up at the end of the couch with a mug in one hand and a TV remote in the other. Some magazine lays open on her lap, apparently forgotten. She doesn't seem to notice his presence, at least at first, so he takes the time to simply watch.
The longer Nightfall stares, the more Rain looks… different. It might just be the fact that he's barely seen her up close since she took him in, but the planes of her face seem like they've shifted slightly. The obvious details remain, of course: the perpetually tired look, the same mole under the same brown eyes, but… something is different. Maybe it's just the bridge of her nose, or maybe his brain is just trying to piece together the concept of a normal human face—
Rain turns slightly, catching sight of him and smiling. She's clearly surprised to see him, but there's no hint of any negative emotion in her eyes.
"Oh, hi!" She waves at him, inviting him further into the room like he's been subconsciously waiting for permission to enter, as if he's some kind of vampire. "I didn't think you were awake. Are you hungry?"
"…No," he says softly. For the first time, the constant ache of hunger has finally faded away completely. "I'm just… bored, I think."
Rain's face lights up in a quiet sort of way. "Oh?" Adjusting herself in her seat, she nods to the couch. "You can come and sit with me, if you'd like."
While the offer is welcome, it still gives him a little shiver of anxiety. Their schedules have been so opposite that Nightfall has been completely left out of whatever Rain does when she's not working or sleeping. But now he has the opportunity to find out, a chance handed to him with the same kind eyes he's begun to associate with food and safety. Quietly, he steps forward and sits on the opposite end of the couch, pulling one of the little pillows into his lap so he has something to keep his hands occupied.
Rain flips through the TV channels for a second before she finally settles on some nature documentary and her full attention returns to Nightfall. "You know, if this snow doesn't get any worse, I was thinking about going into town and getting you some things for your room."
"…Oh." That little proposal hasn't crossed his mind in weeks.
"Do you have anything in mind that you'd want me to get? Any posters or decorations?"
Of course there's no rational reason for him to say no, but it's starting to become clear that he has no frame of reference for what decorations might appeal to him. "No. I…" He looks down, fiddling with a loose thread from the pillow. Something comes back to him, more of an impulse than a memory, the image of suddenly being so small and uncertain again. "…Uh. I don't know."
Rain just looks at him for a few seconds, her brows knit together in an expression that's probably some kind of pity. Like he's an animal to be put out of its misery, as crude and violent as the notion might be. Despite the domestic living he's growing accustomed to, that line of thinking has yet to fade away.
Finally, Rain sighs and looks back at the TV as the narrator continues on about food chains and the like. "…Well, I'll tell you what. Staying here all cooped up isn't good for either of us—I have a few friends in the area that'll be visiting for dinner in a few days. You're more than welcome to say hi to them if you want."
Maybe that could do him some favors. It's not the thought of being around other people that pulls on a thread of anxiety inside him, it's the thought of strangers seeing him like this. Like something clearly inhuman. The isolation could have made him forget, but with this prospect on the table he finds himself torn again. The solitude of his old life hasn't quite disappeared, nor has the sense of longing for the community he'd had before, all united in their very specific predicament. Now that they're gone—or rather, now that he's gone—he's finally becoming aware of the quiet emptiness lingering in the hollows of his ribcage.
"That might be nice," Nightfall whispers.
"Perfect! They're all very understanding folks, don't worry. They won't have an issue with you at all." Rain takes a sip from her mug, her attention once again drifting back to the TV. Nightfall's attention lingers on her hands for a moment, on the long, reddish scar on her right palm. It looks… much older than he'd have expected, especially since he was there the night she got it.
Before he can look any closer, she readjusts herself and the scar disappears from sight as her hand drifts down to the magazine on her lap. He quickly shoves the question out of his mind. It'd be rude to ask.
It's probably better to forget about it entirely. Rain is giving him more than the bare minimum here, isn't she? Of course there are the obvious provisions of food and shelter—especially since this far north the snow will certainly go on for a while—but now she's handing him another chance to act like a regular person. How could he ever even think to squander that opportunity when it's the only thing he's ever wanted?
"What are they like?" The question leaves him without much consideration. "Your friends, I mean. Just so I can… know what to expect."
"Well, they're very upper-class," she says with a little laugh like it's some kind of confession. "They're very professional, but I wouldn't say they're too uptight. I mean, I made friends with them after all." She glances down, studying her nails as she continues. "I don't know about the others, but I know for sure Victor and Cecilia will be coming. Just some friends I've made through work."
Nightfall just nods, not bothering to press any further. Since Rain keeps her office locked at all times, the question of what she does for work is probably just as off-limits as the room itself. It's far better to play it safe. "Do they… know about me?"
"Somewhat. I told them I have a guest that's staying for a while but that's about it. I'll give them the gist of it ahead of time."
"And they won't be… uh, put off at all?" Nightfall gestures vaguely to himself.
"We've seen a lot of strange things in our time," Rain chuckles. "Don't stress it."
Nightfall just nods again and looks back down at the pillow, curling the loose piece of string around his finger—it catches on his nail and snaps. Maybe it could be fine. He'll just let Rain do the talking if it comes down to that. "So… when will they be over?"
"We're looking at Friday night," she answers, "so you'll have a few days. I'd hate to push you too far if you decide you don't want to be part of it."
"Thank you."
"It's no problem. I really do want this to be your home, Nightfall. I'm glad to do whatever you need to feel comfortable."
Home. Hearing her say it so bluntly feels a little odd, but she's right, isn't she? This is his home—he's tried to frame it as a temporary thing, but at this point he's so familiar with the house that it feels like his territory. The connotation isn't quite as reassuring, but that's the truth of it. He knows this house inside and out.
But maybe, when he finally lets himself leave behind those old habits, this really could be home. Just him and Rain.
im a fucking sucker for the “character gets so badly injured that they can’t think clearly and start calling for help in a distressingly vulnerable way.” characters who start using nicknames for their friends they haven’t used since they were kids. characters who start begging for their brother they haven’t seen in years to be there. characters who would usually use their parents’ names or call them mother/father/etc crying out mama when they go down. u understand.
put your characters in the fetal position as often as you can.
whumpee in the fetal position in the aftermath, or a self soothing ritual, or curling to ease the pain in their stomach, or desperately trying to make themself smaller, invisible. easy to pick up, easy to kick, easy to care for or curl up with.
caretaker in the fetal position after failing whumpee, or awake with intrusive thoughts and memories, or when whumpee is missing, or after experiencing their own harm at the hands of whumper for the first time.
whumper in the fetal position after their ultimate loss, whumpee or even more, the foundation cracking open and their power falling through. intimate whumper, wallowing in their own pain who no longer has whumpee to hold still and absorb it for them. sadistic whumper who takes it too far and suddenly, they lost the one thing they could ever truly say was their own, and after the rage or before it hits, they crumble for the briefest of moments.
overstimulation used as punishment for a neurodivergent whumpee???
harsh lighting in whumpee's room/cell/whatever. extra points if the lights don't turn off
forcing whumpee to wear clothes with a texture they despise (denim, sherpa, etc.)
forcing whumpee into large crowded spaces
only providing food with weird or bad textures. if they want to eat they'll have to power through it one way or another
only caring for whumpee or accommodating their needs right after they've already gone into sensory overload or had a meltdown
in a similar vein, reserving sensory-friendly things for very good behavior
not to mention the methods whumper might use to figure out what will work best. did they keep tabs on whumpee before taking them in? do they cycle through anything and everything to find what works? do they just observe whumpee in captivity and work from there? the possibilities are endless!
lowkey wanna write a recovery story that has no actual whump events happening during the course of the thing but are mentioned through horrifyingly vivid flashbacks and nightmares, conversations and the general behaviors of the mc.... do people write/read these typa things..?
Guard dog whumpees who were forced to become guard dogs.
They may have been manipulated or threatened into doing so and in the process, lose their autonomy. They hate the dehumanisation, the constant mockery and the way their master treats them like a toy.
Bonus points if the whumpee doesn't even like or is truly devoted to them. Even more bonus points if it stays that way.
