#implied whumper

[whumppromptoftheday]

"why are you telling me this?" hero asks, backing away from villain.

villain shrugs and takes a step closer to them, "I just want you to know what they're capable of."

[good-boys-cry]

They sucked in a breath through their teeth. They’d been doing that for a while, each one making her even more nervous, but this one seemed final somehow.

“So. I can remove it. But…” they clearly didn’t want to say the next part. She didn’t want to hear it, either. “But it will give you one last shock.”

Her gloved hands flew to the collar. Trying to pull it away. Gripping either side of the prongs and desperately pulling them away from her neck. It didn’t help. It never helped.

“It’s—” they hesitated. “It will be bad. Actually, it'll be the worst it can do. But I think I can get it off you before it does any real damage.”

She closed her eyes. Trying not to show cold nor fear. Her eyes leaked, but she stayed quiet. She was good at quiet, now.

“How much?" she whispered.

"Damage? Nothing permanent, I think. If I'm fast enough"

"No," she whispered. "How much will it hurt." She could withstand a lot, she knew now. They both knew now. But not everything. And if she screamed, and the collar activated...

They shivered, but not from the cold. They were uncomfortable answering. "...A lot. I'm sorry, I really am. There's just no other way. Unless you wanted to wait months for the battery to run down?"

She shook her head vigorously. The sooner this thing was gone, the better. As long as it didn't let him know where they were.

She spoke softly. She always spoke softly, now. "Can we practice?"

They looked on at her, confused. "Practice what?"

She gestured to the collar, and whispered again. "Taking it off."

They looked at her, confused. "We can take it off all at once. It won't hurt for more than a second. We don't need to practice".

Now her voice was just a faint rasp. An onlooker could scarcely tell she was speaking at all, despite the blistering cold. "But if it goes wrong."

Their gaze went to the collar. Just like everyone else's always did. A stark reminder that she wasn't like the others. She was owned.

"It won't. I checked."

They always said stuff like that. So confident in themselves. The last group she'd found had had someone like that, too. That one didn't make it. She looked at them, prepared to say as much, and then stopped. It made sense, she supposed, why the crew followed their lead.

Eventually her attention wandered. She stared out, past them all, to the empty ice. That's where she'd be, if she forced them to abandon her. Alone except for the occasional penguin crossing her path. At least, until he came for her.

They were still there, next to her. Watching sympathetically. Always sympathetically.

"Please take it off," she said, and squeezed her eyes shut.

[whump-allthe-way]

caretaker wasn’t supposed to be doing this, they weren’t a caretaker, and surely whumpee is capable of taking care of themselves, right? surely they’re old enough, so why does caretaker need to be there? they hate it, waking up every morning to an overly excited whumpee rambling about their dreams, they make breakfast and attempt to tune out of the annoying endless chatter, and they spend their evenings praying to everything above that whumpee would just go to bed-

until one day whumpee’s gone. they dropped them off at school without a word, watched them as they happily waved them off before turning to their friends. but now they’re gone, they’re not waiting in that same spot out of the school, there’s no sight of them or their backpack riddled with dozens of cute keychains and pins. caretaker jumps out of their car, heads towards the friends they pretended not to notice, demanding to know where their charge is. the shrugs tell them nothing, so they go home.

maybe whumpee will show up later, the peace and quiet will be nice after all.

a few hours pass, and caretaker cooks them a meal for when they’re home.

they watch the clock tick by and pass their favourite channel as they scroll through the tv, their show is on.

whumpee never comes home, and soon they’re at the police station. the police call them a few days later, and all caretaker hears is “i’m sorry- kidnapped-“

caretaker waits in the silence, they cook two meals every night in case whumpee comes strolling through that door with their giddy smile and endless stories, they save their show so they can catch up, and they practice their “i don’t care about you, but don’t do that again” lecture.

it’s months before caretaker gets the call, and this time the only word they hear is “hospital”

caretaker isn’t worried, or angry or scared, not by whumpee’s pale, bruised face, the frail form or the scars that peak out from the covers. caretaker doesn’t care- and they’re not crying from relief, they’re not gripping their hand tightly as they thank every god above, because whumpee is nothing more than an inconvenience-

whumpee is so small now, they shake and stutter, and the small smiles they manage don’t reach their eyes. when they’re home, whumpee doesn’t talk, not really, they answer caretakers questions and they mumble a shaky thank you when they’re given food, but they don’t ramble. not like they used to.

and caretaker finds themselves filling in the silence, sat on the couch talking and talking, about what whumpee’s missed, their friends and hell- even caretaker’s friends. they hand them the remote to watch their show and they tuck them in at night, and they pray that one day whumpee will smile again, perhaps wake them with that annoyingly cheerful “morning caretaker!” once more, or even just talk about the meaningless things in their life.

the whumpee they let crawl into their bed after they wake up screaming, the whumpee that hides behind them in front of strangers, the whumpee that quietly asks them questions isn’t their whumpee. and all caretaker can think is that if they’d just listened; payed a little more attention to their endless stream of words, their whumpee would be here.

[paintcrab]

The Inn (mimzomworld x Old Spruce Inn)

Go check out my crossover buddy! @oldspruceinn has a really great world full of wonderful characters, and I had fun working on this with them!!

Contains: broken bone, past child abuse/capture, accidental harm to child (iron burn), threats of dismemberment, and plenty of cute <3

•••

After more than a month in this strange world, Nightcaller finds a furry legged person-creature on a hunt.

A whisper-whimpering creature with a broken, bleeding leg caught in metal teeth. Tipping thons head at it, thon asks, “Can you understand me?”

Louder whimpering. Tears.

Leaking tears the way mimics don’t, ey speak. Quickly and choking, so thon only picks out ‘ran’ and ‘please’ and ‘hurt’ and ‘help’ and something about being trapped. Of course this creature—this pup—is trapped.

Opening thons mouth, thon echoes as much of the voice as thon can to identify the rest “—ran away and they’ll—again, please don’t let—find me again. I—I—I had to— Help, please, I ca—please I can’t go back, please, they ca—caught me before… hurt last time and I don’t know what to do—”

No packmates. No one worth searching for.

Prying the teeth open, thon holds the strange pup to thons chest under thons cloak. A louder cry and the scent of burning until thon puts em down and shoves the iron-leather neck guard into thons bag.

A four legged prey animal (horse?) stares at thon. Thon hisses.

Unfortunately, it’s by someone’s den, which means it belongs to someone who might be sad if it vanished.

Also, Nightcaller’s prey-pup eats plants, and carrion makes young pups sick. It’s too big not to spoil before it can be eaten, so thon can’t kill it even if it’s unclaimed prey.

The den is an option.

The pack there might know how to feed thons strange pup.

How to feed em well, not just show em different plants and ask if they’re safe to eat.

Thons pup said people are scary and not to trust them.

Thon is a well armed adult mimic with bone-breaking teeth.

Shoving open the door, thon finds a tall horned person with red hair and a shorter horned person with curled horns. People like thons pup. Hopefully allies.

Growling softly, to not disturb the pup, Nightcaller stares up at Tall. Bares thons teeth.

“If you don’t help this one—” thon opens thons cloak to reveal the sleeping, wounded pup— “I will eat you. If you hurt this one more, I will bind you with iron and eat you limb by limb.”

“I’ll be right back.” Short’s voice wavers, slightly, but ne returns with a blanket.

“Can I have her?” Her. Gender is strange, with these people.

Tall offers thon a meal.

“Can… have,” thon echoes in nir voice, handing over the pup. Watching to be sure ne’s gentle with the pup.

“I’ll eat. Anything meat, even carrion. I’m not from this world, so I didn’t know what to feed the pup other than plants and soup.”

Might as well admit the insanity of ending up somewhere with barely anything familiar.

Might as well admit to not knowing what to feed Bugchaser.

Might as well pull off thons hood and veil to introduce thonself properly.

Might as well introduce thonself, since Short—who is apparently not a healer like thon thought—already gave thon two new names.

“Nightcaller,” thon says, offering a hand to Spruce. People here like doing that for some reason. “I’m a… library, for my people. A guardian of history.”

They bare their teeth.

Only a few days of practice with Bugchaser has thon slow-blinking in response instead of hissing.

“I’m Spruce—the owner of this inn. It’s nice to meet you, Nightcaller.” Ce shakes thons hand. “I’m glad you’re here—wherever you came from. You saved that little satyr’s life.

“I’ll go see what Felix has stashed in the fridge.”

“The satyr answers to Bugchaser,” thon corrects softly, borrowing cir voice for the new word. It isn’t a traditional name, but she accepted nothing else.

“And thank you.” The food looks nice.

Bugchaser makes a poor imitation of the finding-call thon taught her. Thon answers. Curses in thons language, rushing towards the sound.

“Bug?”

“You said—” she sniffles, making that awful cry-choke sound. “You said you’d stay. You promised.”

“I know, pup, I did. And I will. But you need someone to help with your leg, and I’m not a healer. I didn’t even know iron hurt you until it did.

“You need more than I have.”

Healer Katy watches Nightcaller. Thon ran into her nest, after all. “You are welcome to stay down here while we work. She trusts you—stress only makes things hurt worse and heal slower. Just wash your hands first, please.

“There’s a sink over there, with a few kinds of soap in case one is toxic for you.”

They’re labelled, but thon can’t read their words well. Picking one that smells like medicine, thon listens to her words.

Bugchaser was hurt by humans.

“If that hurts you, Bugchaser, I’ll eat them.” Thon bares thons teeth, touching thons forehead to hers with realistic prey-crunching noises for effect.

She giggles, taking thons claim braid in her hand. “Don’t be scared, Nightie.”

Better. Thon stands back, trying to place the odd scent in the room. Slightly off from human: metallic and sickly-sweet, masked by medicinal herbs. Are the herbs masking it on purpose, or is it just convenient?

“Healer,” thon says after a moment, “are you a sick human or something else?”

Her teeth are slightly sharper, and the scent of fear creeps into thons awareness. A pair of eyes on thon. Felix.

Felix knows, then.

Felix knows, and it’s something that doesn’t get calm reactions.

She hums, “No one has asked me that in a long time.

“I used to be human. Humans now would call me a vampire.

“While I do have the parasite, I’ve been successful at preventing its growth for over two hundred years now. I wouldn’t quite call myself either, so I just call myself a healer.”

“New question: what is a vampire?” It sounds like a thrall, but a pup’s venom isn’t a parasite.

“Oh, your world doesn't have vampires? How interesting,” she says, explaining what she means. Explains what the parasite does, how it spreads, and how she has a treatment humans are too afraid to learn about.

“Thralls?” Thon tips thons head. “We can make thralls, too.

“If a pup bites a human, it will prioritize the pup’s life over its own. Until it dies, or the pup finds a proper guardian.” It isn’t thons voice. It’s a close translation of healer-lorekeeper Lifetracker’s words, and it would be disrespectful to speak them as thons own.

“We usually return them so they can be cured, but I’m not sure how it works.”

Many questions. A hailstorm of questions. Thon echoes her words, trying to pick out something coherent.

“Mimicry?” She writes something in her book (where did the book come from?), muttering something containing the word ‘cricket’. Which is a bug. A delicious, creak-chirping bug. What crickets have to do with thon’s voice, thon doesn’t know.

“Talk later?” Thons food might spoil if thon leaves it any longer, and prey is fragile around spoiled food. “Bugchaser needs to eat, and—

“Felix, you’re the same kind of prey as her. What does prey eat?”

Old Spruce Inn Masterpost | Nightcaller Masterpost

[genesissane]

Writing Prompt 350

“I can’t do this,” X whispered as they lay curled together that night, “I can’t keep doing this.”

“You can, we can do it together,” Y pulled them closer, “and someday, we’ll find a way out.  This is just another storm to weather, like we did when we were out on the boat.  Just endure it and do your best to keep going and it will be over soon enough.”

[whump-allthe-way]

whumpee being so dehumanised and stripped of their human rights that when they’re rescued a simple “what do you want for dinner?” sends them spiralling >>

[whump-allthe-way]

“i think what whumpee means is-“

“stop.”

“whumpee-“

“no. i can speak for myself, caretaker. i said what i said;” their gaze never shifts from whumper’s, cold and empty. “fuck off, you worthless bastard.”

[whump-allthe-way]

multiple whumpee’s chained in a room together and forced to watch each others torture, their wrists running red as they scream and beg for it stop, quiet sobbing in the night as they lean on each other for a glimpse of comfort

or

multiple whumpee’s kept in separarte cells, the screams echo against their walls but they can do nothing to help, each night they’re left alone and in pain, yearning to see their friends again and feel a gentle touch