Hi thelazywitchphotographer! Of course! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!
Whumper pushed open the door to their quarters. They were greeted by the quiet cries of Whumpee.
“My darling,” Whumper said, approaching them, “what’s wrong? I would think you would be acclimated to your new life by now…”
Whumpee turned to look at Whumper with tear-filled eyes. Whumper’s own eyes widened at what they saw. Their darling mermaid’s body was littered with deep cuts and angry, purple bruises. Blood trickled down from a nasty gash in their tail, staining the water of their tub with crimson. When Whumper spoke, it was with a fragile, practiced calm.
“Who did this to you?” they asked.
Whumpee sniffled.
“I-I don’t know their name,” they said.
“Describe them to me,” Whumper said gently, “you’re not in any trouble, little fish.”
Whumpee took a deep, shuddering breath, and described their assailant as best they could.
“Crewmate,” Whumper cursed.
Whumper’s hand settled on the handle of their cutlass, they turned to leave when Whumpee’s sniffles brought their attention back.
“Oh,” they said, “forgive me, little Whumpee. Let me treat your wounds first.”
Whumper lifted Whumpee out of the tub in a bridal carry. They deposited them on their bed, then went to a nearby cabinet, fetching medicine and bandages from it. Whumper poured the medicine onto a cloth.
“This might sting, but it’ll help, I promise.”
With that, Whumper dabbed the cloth into the gash in Whumpee’s tail. Their screams made Whumper flinch, but they continued to work anyway. When everything was medicated, Whumper dressed the wounds in soft, white bandages. Whumpee’s screams had died down to pitiful, intermittent sobs by then. Whumper held their mermaid close and ran a hand through their hair.
“Shh, shhh,” they soothed, “you did so wonderful, my little fish. I promise, I won’t let this happen again.”
Whumper grabbed a bottle filled with a strange liquid. They lifted Whumpee’s chin and held the bottle to their lips.
“Drink,” they said, “you need rest. This will help.”
Whumpee knew better than to disobey, so they drank. Whumper smiled softly and helped them into a laying position, covering them with a blanket.
…
Whumpee slept for many hours. When they did wake, it was to the sound of the door opening once again.
“Whumpee,” Whumper said, “come on deck. I need you for something.”
Whumper picked Whumpee up and carried them out on deck. Whumpee shielded their eyes from the bright sun with a bandaged hand. Whumper sat Whumpee down in another tub that had been prepared for them.
“First Mate,” Whumper called.
“Aye, captain?” First Mate asked.
“Bring forward the scum that thought they could touch what’s mine.”
“Very good, captain.”
First Mate dragged Crewmate forward.
“On your knees, filth,” First Mate growled.
Crewmate shakily obliged.
“Whumpee,” Whumper said, “is this the person who hurt you?”
“I-”
“Tell the truth,” Whumper warned, “I will know if you lie.”
“…Yes,” Whumpee said quietly, “it was them.”
Whumper kissed Whumpee on the crown of their head.
“Thank you,” they said, “because you were honest, I’m going to let you choose their punishment.”
Whumpee stared at Crewmate. Even though the pirate had hurt them, they didn’t want anyone else to suffer.
“Um, maybe, put them in the brig?” WHumpee asked uncertainly.
Whumper smiled and nodded.
“A fitting punishment,” they said, “First Mate, throw Crewmate in the brig.”
Whumpee breathed a sigh of relief.
“-After their twenty lashes. Two for each wound I had to treat.”
Whumpee blinked. Not that!
“No! Captain, please!” Crewmate begged.
“Spare me your mewling before I decide to cut your tongue out,” Whumper said coldly.
“Whumper-” Whumpee started.
“They deserve it, my darling,” Whumper interjected, “you’ll understand one day.”
Whumper picked up Whumpee once again.
“I leave them in your capable hands, First Mate,” Whumper said, “my treasure doesn’t need to watch this.”
Whumper turned and carried their darling back to their quarters, just when Crewmate began to scream.
A prompt list for all the fun ways you can make a whumpee kneel, and what to do once they're there. A collaboration with the gorgeous @wormwriting.
Twining a hand into Whumpee’s hair and wrenching them down to the ground.
“Oh, did you not hear me?” Whumper kicks them to the ground. “That’s okay. I can be proactive.”
Electrocution making their muscles disobey - their knees buckle even if they can withstand the pain.
“Kneel” “No.” “No? Okay.” Whumper shoots them in the foot. “That’s better.”
Whumpee just stumbling down - trembling from permeating exhaustion.
“Good pet. I’m glad you can see that’s the only place you have any real purpose.”
Watching Whumpee pale and fall as they lose one drop of blood too many to keep standing.
“Either you’ll kneel now, or you’ll kneel later - and trust me - you won’t like later.”
Crowbar. That’s it. That’s the prompt.
“Get on your knees before I decide you don’t need them anymore.”
A whumpee who has been previously trained to drop in response to a signal or command. Caretaker accidentally triggering this response.
If your neck is within my reach for a second longer there may be disastrous consequences for your airflow, so it's really in your best interest to get down and stay down”
“This is your new default position - understand?”
Whumper builds a brace with iron pipes. They can either tie whumpee too it, or bolt their bones to the frame - either way, forcing them to stay in that position.
Whumpee kicking out at Whumper. Whumper grabs them harshly and holds them in place. “There is exactly one thing your legs should be doing right now. Do you think you picked the right one?”
“Do you want to live kneeling, or die kneeling?”
“I don’t think you really need legs if you aren’t going to use them properly.”
Whumpee trying to be defiant and stay standing, but they’ve just lost too much blood, so they crumple to a smirking Whumper’s feet. “At least your body understands who’s in charge.”
Whumper taking a mold of Whumpee while they’re kneeling and creating a case for Whumpee to reside in.
Keeping them there:
Drilling Whumpee’s legs into place.
Or supergluing.
Or cementing.
Binding them in place so that if they drop their perfect posture, they find the air just a little too sparse for comfort.
(tw: hand whump, amputation threat, manhandling, death mention, kidnapping, cael never shutting his fucking mouth no matter what you do to him.)
[Masterlist links go here when I have it :)]
Cael sighed as Flint’s fingers bruised into his shoulder, yanking him back through the doorway.
“You can’t be serious, Cae. You’re not going in there. Not without the money.”
Cael turned, batting Flint’s hand away. He brushed down his shirt, adjusting the collar. Even if it was a little stained and worn, he liked to look presentable. The long leather jacket did a pretty good job hiding the stains, anyway. It was a nice coat. He had bet an emerald ring against it - absolutely worth the risk. And now he had both. Well…used to have. The ring, he lost in a game the week before. But he still had the coat, and he looked dang good in it.
Cael flashed Flint a grin. “No sweat. Dun loves me. We go way back.”
Flint raked his fingers through his hair. Cael didn’t know why he was so fucking nervous.
“You go there, and he will kill you. We gotta get the money first.”
Cael shrugged. “It’ll be fine, it only took me a week to get the first time. I can get it faster if Dun lets me in. Then he will get his money and everyone goes home happy.”
Flint’s teeth ground together. “I can’t believe you’re this stupid. You can’t just walk in there. He will kill you.”
“Pfft, why would he kill me? He knows I can get him his money, why would he want to hurt me and lose that opportunity?”
Flint pursed his lips. “This is so incredibly stupid. I’ve seen you stupid, but this is…fuck, Cae, this is a whole new level.”
Cael laughed at that. He reached out to roll down the collar on Flint’s shirt. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
Flint glared. “Yes. Many, many times.”
Cael rolled his eyes. “But we always get out unscathed. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. I’ll go in, win a few rounds, and if I do well, we can pay off Dun and have food money for a month. It’ll be great.”
Flint slapped his hands away. “This isn’t about paying Dun back, it’s about the game, isn’t it?”
Cael cracked up at that. “Of course it’s about Dun. Let’s just get this over with, okay? Get in, get out, get back to what we do best. Sound good?”
Flint narrowed his eyes. “Don’t spew that bullshit. I know you. Your voice pitches like that when you’re putting on a show.”
Cael’s face screwed up. “Does not.”
“Bet.”
“...Okay. Rude??” He crossed his arms. “What do you suggest we do instead?”
Flint let out a long slow breath, puffing his cheeks. He glanced up the street. “I don’t know, man…we could…” He took another deep breath. “Maybe we could just…avoid him? Go uptown for a while? Hit up the manors and upper markets?”
Cael shrugged. “That sounds great, but if we dodge Dun, he’ll definitely kill us.” He jabbed his thumb toward the door. “Let’s just get it over with. We will be out by evening and we’ll have Dun off our backs.
Flint turned a wary eye to the tavern door.
“Let’s get to it, then.” Cael shoved him playfully. “And wipe that look off your face. Worry-wart doesn’t suit you.”
Flint thinned his eyes at Cael before pushing through the door.
Cael chuckled. “There’s the dashing hero I know.” He caught the thick, rough grain of the door before it could slam in his face, stepping over the threshold after Flint.
The tavern was dark, firelit, and bustling with life. What little light was left in the sky had no windows to wriggle through. Small, crowded tables filled the space.
Cael’s eyes scanned the tables, finding one with only three players. By the tiles on the table, Cael assumed their game was almost over. Perfect timing.
He ran a hand through his hair, striding toward the table. Flint eyed him from across the room. He glanced at the table Cael was approaching, then took a seat at another a few steps away, opposite the empty chair Cael slipped into.
It was a good system. Flint tracked the tiles, then placed his own bets loudly to a code - one they changed every few weeks. Flint hated doing this, but he had better ears than anyone Cael had ever met, and was actually clever enough to play three games at once. Sure, they lost a ton of money on Flint’s shit bets, but compared to what Cael was raking in a table over, that loss was negligible. And it threw Dun off their scent. Win-win.
Most importantly, Flint could make sure no one saw his hand. What he would or wouldn't have. The bets he would make. Seers weren’t common by any means - and usually not nearly discreet enough to actually use their abilities in a quiet place like this - but Cael and Flint had made that mistake before and weren’t about to be out-conned again. Both droppers (short of eavesdroppers - Cael always liked that name) and prophets could fuck up their game bigtime - seeing the future? Really? I mean cmon. That's just cheating.
Anyways. Getting conned as a con artist is just downright embarrassing. It had happened more than once.
Now Flint paid closer attention, and was able to use his gift to feel and block any potential seer’s view of Cael’s future. Or present. Which left Cael footloose and fancy free, ready to work his own brand of magic.
Which…admittedly was just being really good at cards. Well…Bluffing. He was good at bluffing. That counts for something though, right? No need for fancy visions to clean house when he was that good at Tiles.
Now, if Flint had been born with the gift of seeing rather than blinding, they would really be in business. But…eh. You work with what ya got.
Cael leaned back in the chair. The other three at the table narrowed their eyes at him. “We’re in the middle of a game,” One woman, Kess, spat.
Cael shrugged. “No worries, I can watch. Maybe I’ll pick up on some of your genius techniques while I wait.”
She raked in the tiles, then slid them across the table to the other two. “You could also find another table.”
Cael gave her a warm smile and crossed his ankle over his knee. “No no, I’m good here, thanks.”
“No, you’re not.” Cael suppressed the urge to flinch at the voice behind him. It ground against his eardrums, nasal and gruff.
He didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. “Oh, hey Galn.”
No response. So rude.
Cael sighed dramatically as Galn gripped him roughly by the arm, yanking him to his feet. Cael did his best to not twitch away as the fingers bruised his flesh against bone.
“Okay okay, I get it. No need to get handsy. It’s not my fault you’re touch-starved.” He tried to swat the hands, but Galn’s grip didn’t let up.
Kess’ snort of amusement hit the back of his skull like a dart as Galn shoved him toward the back room.
Cael turned to raise a brow at Galn. “Geez, you can just ask. Did you consider that? Just asking nicely? Maybe a please every once in a while would get you further in lif-” His voice cut off as Galn shoved him. Cael stumbled back, almost tripping over the uneven floorboards that creaked in time with his footsteps.
“Do you ever shut up?”
Cael grinned. “Where’s the fun in that? You’d be so bored all the time if it weren’t for-”
“Just go. Dun wants to talk to you.”
Cael dodged back as Galn reached out for him again. “No, no, no~ No touchie. I do have legs. I can walk by myself, thank you very much.”
Galn’s jaw tightened. “Then walk.”
Cael turned, but shot a look over his shoulder, catching Flint’s eyes.
They were sparking. Cael could practically see the wheels turning. He furrowed his brow slightly while playing a card. What’s going on?
Cael pursed his lips. I don’t know.
Flint stared daggers at him. Don’t be stupid.…Well. Or maybe it was What did you do?
Cael shrugged. An appropriate response to either.
Galn’s hand shoved at the center of his back, forcing him forward again. Evidently he’d stopped moving.
Cael forced his feet to carry him, thinking through step after step as he approached the back room door behind the bar. Sour fear pooled in his stomach, sliding up the back of his sternum, but he forced his legs to move. He didn’t let his swagger drop. He didn’t let his hands twitch as he reached for the door knob, even if the engraved metal was so surprisingly cool pressed against his palm, sending a shock of something akin to pain snapping up his arm.
He shoved the door open with no hesitation. It swung smoothly and thunked against the wall. His eyes found Dun, sitting at the table, pouring over a few books and crease-lined letters.
“My guy! How’ve you been? It’s been weeks. What have you been up to, ‘ya old goat?”
Dun drug his eyes up to meet Cael’s. He took in a long, slow breath, looking entirely unamused. “Just sit down.”
Cael stood behind the empty chair, gripping the back with his fingertips. He couldn't stop from moving, so he let his thumbs drum against the wood. “Nah, I’m good standing, thanks.”
Dun’s eyes flicked to Galn, and suddenly Cael’s legs buckled. Then he was sitting - half falling off the chair with a bruising shoulder, but sitting.
Cael rolled his shoulder out, scooching to the center of the chair. “Okay okay, no need to be pushy.” He scooted the chair back a few inches. If this went sideways, he wanted a clear line for the door. Not that that mattered much with Galn’s hands still pressing down against his shoulders.
Cael glanced at them, then tried to shrug them off, but Galn gripped harder, rough fingertips bruising against his collarbone. “Do you mind?”
Dun sighed, closing his book.
Okaaaay, so evidently Galn wasn’t going to let go…Great.
He…might.. be in trouble…
..ha.
“Where’s my money, Cael?”
Dun reached across the table, plucking up a letter opener. Which really was just code for ‘really sharp fucking knife’.
Cael pinned his lips together. Yeah……He was definitely in trouble.
He flashed a grin. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about it. I’m about to get it. Three days, tops.”
Dun ran his thumb idly across the blade, eyeing Cael. “I’m getting tired of waiting.”
Cael tried again to shrug off Galn’s grip, but it tightened further. Candlelight glinted off the blade. A whimper threatened to crawl up Cael’s throat. He turned it into a light chuckle.
Dun let the tip of the blade bite into the wooden table. He spun it idly, eyes never leaving Cael. The wood groaned and chipped, splintering away under the sharp metal. Cael’s stomach curled. He smiled anyway.
“Really, you don’t have any need to be stressed about it. Flint and I have a good gig picked out. Oh man, you should see that house. It’s practically made of gold. Flint’s been scouting it for-”
“Shut up, Cael.”
His teeth clicked as his mouth snapped shut. His heart slammed against his ribs as Dun stood smoothly from his chair. He was still fiddling with the edge of the blade as he stepped slowly around the table.
Cael gripped the arm rests of the chair. His eyes snapped to the wall in front of him. He wasn’t going to stare at Dun during his stupid-ass intimidation circling. That would just egg him on. Instead, he just stared at a crack in the bricks. His eyes followed it as it trailed down, twisting and curling through brick after brick, straight down to the foundation. He forced his eyes up again, to the top of the crack, as Dun stepped up beside him.
Cael could practically feel his gaze burning into the side of his face.
Words were spewing before he knew his lips were moving. “I don’t know why you’re being so dramatic right now, I’ll get it to you just a soon as I-”
Dun’s voice was soft. “I said stop talking.”
Cael flinched as Dun’s fingers curled around his wrist, but he didn’t fight it as his arm was pulled up and forward, then set on the table - palm flat down. Cael swallowed thickly as the tip of the knife traced the tendons on the back of his hand.
He bit his lip to keep it from trembling. “Dun, come on - you know me, you know I’ll get it.”
Dun shifted, eyes searching Cael’s face. “Kess said you did get it. Two weeks ago. Then gambled it away the same night.”
…..ah fuck.
Cael swallowed again, trying to push down the knot in his throat. “Did she? I was - I was just trying to get you more. I thought I could do it, I was really just looking out for you. It isn’t a big d- Nngh!” Cael’s teeth ground together as the blade bit in. A small drop of blood welled under the tip of the knife. It wasn’t deep by any means, but the jolt of pain spiked up his arm, squeezing around his lungs and slamming his heart rate into the next gear. He tried to jerk his hand back, but Dun’s grip on his wrist was unrelenting. Galn pushed his harder into the chair, a silent warning to not to try again.
Dun sighed. “Sorry, I can’t let shit like this slide. I need to set an example. I hope you won’t take this personally.”
The knife blessedly retracted from his skin. Cael didn’t have a moment to melt in relief before the metal pressed against his pinky, nestling into the joint at his knuckle.
“Wha- what are you doing!? No. No no no, come on, Dun!”
Suddenly the room seemed so small. It was small before, but fuck was it small now. Short ceiling. Dark brick. The rough wooden armrests pushing against his thighs, boxing him in. The blade pressed down a little harder, splitting the skin. The sharp burn scraped along the inside of his bones, wrapping his hand in the small, shivering agony.
“Wait - stop!”
Strangely, Dun did. His eyes slid to the side, squinting at Cael. “What?”
Cael’s mind scrambled. For something. Anything. He wasn’t sure what. He couldn’t keep his breaths from punching out, short and shallow. “W-we- uh- we can cut a deal or something! There has to be something else you want. I can get anything. I swear. I’ll do a job for you. Heck, I’ll do ten jobs for you. Whatever you want, I can get it. I’m your guy. I swear. Let me. Let me make it up to you.”
The pressure on the blade eased ever so slightly. Cael forced himself not to cringed as a bead of blood pulled down between his fingers as pooled against the wooden table.
His mouth kept fucking running. “C’mon there’s got to be something. I need my fingers - fuck, that’s how I make a living. I’m a pickpocket, not a scholar. I need those if I’m going to pay you back.”
Dun didn’t respond. Cael wet his lips anxiously. “There - there has to be something you want. Anything. I’ll find it. I’ll get it. I swear Flint and I can get anything you need.”
Dun’s eyes flicked up to Galn. something almost…sparking behind them.
Galn’s grip tightened again. “Sir, he couldn’t.”
Cael snapped his hand back into his lap as Dun let go. The man straightened, leaning against the table. He folded his arms. “Well, he could try.”
Cael tried to turn, flickering his eyes between Dun and Galn. “Whatever it is, I can do it. I swear, I can do it. I’m good - you’ve never seen me work, but I’m good. I promise.”
Dun rolled his eyes. “At least he’s expendable.”
He sounded pissed. Which wasn’t far from normal, so Cael didn’t know why it stood out so much right now. “They have a present seer on crew - there’s no way he’d get in.”
Cael’s ears perked up. A dropper??? On their crew?
Fuck yes. He could do this.
Dun spun the blade a few times between his fingers. “Wishful thinking I guess.” He turned back to Cael.
Cael squirmed, staring fully and frantically up at Dun. “I can! I can do it. Whatever it is, I can do it. No seer can catch me!”
Dun scoffed, gripping his wrist again. “You can dodge a dropper? Fat chance.”
Cael ripped his arm from Dun’s grip. “I can. Flint’s a blinder. He can cloak me long enough to get in and out.”
Dun narrowed his eyes. Considering. “...a…blinder? Really?”
Cael nodded quickly. “Yeah a blinder. The dropper won’t know what hit ‘em. And security will probably be lax because they’re relying on the fact that they have a seer.”
Dun pursed his lips. He glanced up to Galn again.
Cael forced his breaths to slow. “Just…tell me what I have to do.”
