#whumpe

[luunarmoonar]

“I can fix her” well I can subject her to my experiments. I’m keeping her in a cage in a laboratory

[jasonsilver009]

Cazador Wins

I had the absolutely worst idea that I don’t think I have the heart to write it up properly.

tw: torture, death, the worst ending possible

Astarion’s siblings succeed in kidnaping him from your camp and brining him back to Cazador. But he resists Cazador’s commands and proves that he can’t control Astarion any more. Of course this makes Cazador livid but he doesn’t have time to solve this issue he has a ritual to complete. He keeps Astarion in complete agony torturing him and taking his frustration out on him. He asks Astarion why he’s so convinced Tav would come looking for him. Astarion breaks down crying that Tav loves him. Of course Cazador laughs at this but it gets under his skin. Astarion belongs to him and as long as Tav’s around it seems his favored spawn has the means to resist him. 

“They love me. And no matter what you do you can not take that away from me. Someone in this world looked at me saw me for who I really am, all of it the good and the bad and they chose me.” 

So he sets up a trap. Tav and the team infiltrate his castle using well placed clues and have to fight off a few minor minions, just enough not to be suspicious. When they get to the ritual chamber Astarion isn’t in his position as a ritual component. He’s chained down next to Cazador in a pool of blood. Tav and friends fight hard but they rushed into this too quickly so desperate to get Astarion back. Their friends are just simply slaughtered but Tav is brought before Cazador. They’re turned into a vampire and then the ritual symbol is carved into their back. 

They see the blood mess where Cazador had flayed Astarion’s scars off. So he could keep Astarion once he’d acceded. So he’d have centuries to break his favorite toy again.  Cazador make a whole show of it, draining tav in front of Astarion, offering him a drop of their blood one last time just to laugh in his face. Immobilizing them and taking his time with the ritual symbols. Then sending them to their place and completing the ritual. 

Maybe with his new powers Cazador is able to overcome the tadpole. Maybe not. Maybe he takes the netherstone and artifact from Tav’s body and pieces it together. Maybe he works with the emperor and rids everyone of the tadpoles so he can finally have complete control over Astarion. Of course this whole time he has Astarion impaled in a coffin deep underground where he’ll keep him for at least 5 years this time to ensure his obedience. 

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Small snippet from the fic 'Price,' which is a dark fic that deals with captivity and slavery and the difficulty of recovery.

-XOXOX-

“I remember how scared you were the first time we fucked you because you couldn’t stand anyone seeing your scars, not even us. And then you go ahead and make yourself even uglier,” Ryker chuckles and squeezes his arm.

Hiccup grimaces and groans, the stitched lacerations under the bandages burning, one even rips open and bleeds.

“You should be lucky we’re not planning on branding you. With your scars, it would just tank your value even further.”

“… Tank... my value?” Hiccup breathes as he grows cold, horrified at the implication and Ryker’s smirk grows bigger.

“For when we eventually grow bored of you. And right now, you could fetch us a couple of coppers at most.”

[jordanstrophe]

Ship wreck whump:

Stranded on an island with whumper, forced to work together for survival -But both are constantly expecting the other to stab them in the back. 

Stranded with a caretaker where whumpee gets injured from the wreck. Caretaker has only scarce resources to patch them up.

It’s easy to fall sick when all you have is salty sea water and fruit of questionable origins. The day is blazing, and the night is a frozen wasteland. When whumpee falls ill with a fever, all caretaker can do is try and keep their temperature level. 

Bonus points: Whumpee falls ill with whumper, and they’re forced to take care of them. If they die, they both surely will.  

Bonus bonus points: Whumper falls ill <:

[whumppromptoftheday]

whumpee finding out something about their family and confronting their parents about it

[purple-heart-x]

A Trade- Chapter 11

Hi guys I’ve been very unmotivated to do much :/ Sorry about that. Here’s a chapter though! The mans is still pretty pathetic, but he was coherent for a few seconds too… Interesting. :)

—

Tagging: @redwhump, @whumpsday, @shydragonrider, @equestrianwritingsstuff, @stuck-in-this-mortal-form

Taglist is always open! I keep forgetting, but I did comb through every single post on my blog since last time I posted an update to A Trade. If I've somehow misplaced your name, feel free to remind me <3

Anyways, enjoy!

—

"Y-You can't do this!" Theo wailed, scrabbling at the restraints with his free hand.

"Spite, you need to calm down," Yoru said firmly, placing a hand over the man's flailing one.

Eyes wide, Spite jerked away, sobbing in terror as the taller man, Crimson, approached. At the last moment, he hid his face, curling up to protect himself.

Had he stayed watching a moment later, he would have seen the way the hero froze at his reaction, horrified.

---

Isaac stood stock-still, staring at Spite's cowering form. He had seen his enemy go from a sneering, cruel, self-assured criminal to an injured, whimpering, terrified shadow of his former self within days. But despite everything he had witnessed, despite seeing him whimper and beg Aki for mercy, he had never expected to be seen as the threat. For a closer-to-coherent Spite to fear him.

Aki caught his eye, asking silently if he was okay. Taking a breath, he nodded. Spite had everything to fear here. It only made sense that he was terrified.

Slowly, he approached the bed once more.

---

Theo's heart beat wildly as he huddled in the corner of the bed, just waiting for them to hurt him. There was only one reason they would restrain him, and they had every reason to hurt him. His heart sank as he heard a shuffling footstep draw closer. He wanted to curl up so badly, but his back was already on fire, and he couldn't bring himself to struggle any more.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he wondered whether he would even bother to cry.

The decision was automatic. The minute the footsteps stopped, he let out a sob, terror eroding at his defenses.

Hysterical and alone, all he could do was beg. He pleaded as hard as he could, sobbing that he was sorry, that he'd be better, or at least to please not hurt his back anymore. Please.

Please.

All of his increasingly desperate bargains were ignored as a hand drew closer. And closer. And closer.

His breath hitched and his vision mercifully blacked out before he could feel the pain he knew would follow.

It didn't last for all too long. He woke a short time later, though how short he did not know. The moment he blinked his eyes open, though, something moved. 

His breath hitched involuntarily and he shifted away from the sudden movement. Froze when his wide eyes met dark brown ones. 

Oh god.

“Are you thirsty?” the familiar voice asked.

He didn’t know. Am I?

“Y…Yes,” he decided, still tense as he watched the hero move around his bed. 

His head felt fuzzy, still catching up with the situation. His heart, though, still dropped when Yoru put the cup down on a counter and paused, body blocking Spite’s view of the cup. 

The hero turned and approached the bed once more.

Spite’s eyes were locked on the cup, only to squeeze closed as the pain in his back flared once he tried to sit up. He shook his head, clamping his mouth closed.

Distorted voices drew his attention, but he ignored them, curling up as best as he could and turning his face away from the cup. The voices got louder and demanded answers, but it was so loud… Too loud…

He couldn’t hold in a whimper as someone tried to hold the cup to his mouth. He thrashed, feeling liquid spill over his face and neck, until he was sure they weren’t near. He didn’t open his eyes or mouth, terrified of falling back into the darkness again. The voices around him were quieter, perhaps watching him.

They didn’t pursue him, so he hid his face once more and sobbed silently into the pillow.

Aki sighed. "Spite. It's just water. You said you were thirsty, right?"

The man only sobbed harder, shaking his head violently. 

"Do you want something to eat, then?" Aki asked, trying to keep his voice gentle.

Another violent shake of the head, the supervillain's breath stuttering as he hiccuped, distressed and evidently terrified of ingesting anything.

Aki ventured a hesitant step closer to the bed. "Okay, Spite. That's fine. That means you'll need some more fluids in your IV, though."

His head shot up at the mention of the IV. "N-No," he cried, starting to pull at the restraints. "No, you c-can't-!"

Aki laid his hand on Spite's, doing his best to go slowly. "It's okay now, that's okay. Can you tell me what made you so scared?"

“Please,” the man whimpered, tensing visibly.

And even as he shuddered as his eyes began to flutter, he repeated it.

“Please.”

[jasonsilverafterdark]

The Price of Admission  Part 1

The Whumpers' Soirée

Prompt/Event details from @the-whumpers-soiree

No warnings for this chapter, Part 2 is where the spicy stuff happens 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Serge observed the crowd before him and wondered if any of this fellow blue bracelet wearers knew the price of admission. He himself wasn't entirely certain but he knew one thing, it sure as hell wasn't free as advertised. Free drinks, free hor d'oeuvres, a chance to network with San Francisco's wealthy and successful, please he wasn't born yesterday. It didn't escape his notice that those given a blue glow stick bracelet at the door (automatically it seemed without questions or explanation) were the young, attractive, and those not in possession of a tailored suit.

  He adjusted his own slightly, didn't quite fit him in the shoulders, a little too tight and snagged every time he reached out for one of those delicious little mini-mini-minced pie things. He really had no idea what was in any of them but damn did they taste good. Serge had found himself a not as well lit corner to observe in before deciding what, if any kind, of moves he wanted to make. The gold and blue lighting scheme made everyone in the room look slightly unearthly in an alluring way. Mostly blue banded people were crowed around the bar chatting amiably and glancing around. Surely he wasn't the only one to pick up on the differences between the two different colors of bracelets. Although no explanation was given. Perhaps, he laughed to himself, this was all some sociology experiment from UC Berkeley.

  May people regardless of bracelet color gathered by the large ornate window. It was a half circle done in the art deco style the rest of the building boasted. You could see the whole city from up here, all glittering lights and ant like people crawling around bellow. Serge had no desire to push his way through to get a closer look, he'd guess many of his blue bracelet companions weren't native San Franciscans or they'd know this very fancy lounge was open to the public when events such as this weren't being held.

  Movement caught his eye. Although everyone was moving to some extent these where the first people he'd seen heading towards the door rather than coming in. A red braceletted woman in an equally red floor length cocktail gown lead a smaller college age man out the door. Serges thought's jumped to the many many many unoccupied penthouses and suites bellow them. And this particular hotel's infamy for soundproofing. Well he himself was no stranger to these particular arrangements although never having done so he'd come prepared to sell his body for a wealthy backer to his startup. At this point without a success tonight the company would go under in a few weeks, maybe less. And he and his 'business partners' dreams of their little indie game making it big time would be squashed. Of course if Asher had any idea what he was about to do to insure that didn't happen he'd forbid it. That's why Serge had snatched up the invitation for himself instead. Asher was brand new to all this, straight out of college from middle of nowhere Idaho, but he was the best damn programer Serge had ever met. Completely unable to handle any social, business, or economical aspects of their company but that's where Serge came in.

  The price set in his mind he stepped forward and began his hunt.

The first group he got pulled into had three blues crowed around one red man who stared them all down with a calculating gaze. More college students, looking for grants to fund their research which would change the world. Some doing so in such a clumsy manner Serge had to excruciate himself from the group before he burst out laughing. Yeah those idiots had no idea what they were getting into.

  Next he got pulled aside by a red woman asking about his career goals. She was delighted to hear about his little start up but when he mentioned growing up in San Fransisco she suddenly noticed a friend across the room and swiftly left.  

Closer to the large window now he allowed himself to be pulled into a conversation by two red men. On the older side to be sure but still quite handsome. They wanted to know his thoughts on 'small, intimate' theater production they had attended and were trying to settle an argument over what style it was aspiring towards. Serge called upon any knowledge he may had gained via osmosis from his theater-kid-dropout-former-roomate.

  "But see if they were going for absurisum why even try to have a coherent plot?"

"It's a ploy." The taller man nudged his partner and rolled his eyes affectionally. "And you fell for it hook line and sinker, you old fool."

"Oh if I'm and old fool what does that make you?"

"Now settle another question for us young lad, who do you think is older?"

Yeah this conversation wasn't going anywhere. He quickly made his own excuses. While he was prepared for some things, double timed by a couple of theater gays was not on that list.

  Then his eyes caught a man across the room lounging in one of the ostentatious armchairs. He was unoccupied at the moment but surveyed the crowd with sharp eyes. Old money, but maybe not as wealthy as he'd once been. Suit not quite up to the news fashions but definitely worth more than all of Serge's savings put together. Stalky but handsome, slicked back brown hair, broad shoulders, and just a hint of a tattoo peaking out from his coat sleeves. Dangerous, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. But who ever said this evening had to be just about business and not pleasure?

  In what he hopped was a smooth move he took the seat next to Mr.-Old-Money-Handsome started with his prepared opening line.

  "Wow, when I saw this building my first time in San Fransisco I never thought I'd get the chance to be way up here." He'd decided to impersonate Asher's 'young fresh face innocent' personally as well as stealing his invitation to this event. The man fixed his gaze on Serge. "I had to shoulder my way through the crowd just to get a glimpse at the view."

"I never saw you by the window."

"Oh, have you been watching me?" Serge leaned forward laying the flirting on a bit thick.

  "Yes." The man's smile was all teeth.