sanders sides whump blog

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[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee was arrogant and far too confident for their own good, believing themselves to be practically unstoppable, until they crossed the whumper. The whumper had no trouble breaking the whumpee down, making escape a far away dream and giving them more scars than the whumpee could event count. All the while the whumper treated torturing the whumpee like business as usual, after all, they just wanted to see if the whumpee was all talk- and they were.

[tss-whumper]

guys i’m gonna answer more requests today and write some special spooky whump in honor of halloween!!!

is one going to be about how roman is expected to be the brave one and yet he’s the most afraid of jumpscares and gore and things like that and he gets made fun of for it? maybe.

[tss-whumper]

so. had an idea which was like. caretaker-turned-(accidental)-whumper virgil and whumpee roman. its w a superpower au and virgils powers tend to go haywire if hes overly anxious or just generally feeling strong emotions. and he hurts roman. and this happens often, accidentally or not, because roman cares about him!

so virgils trying his best to apologise, to make things right again, and romans terrified of him. because hes just gonna get hurt again, isnt he?

-🌙

( i LOVEEE this request dude. it's been on the backburner for so long cuz i was waiting for the perfect time to do it justice. that time is now!)

(i also love stories where the whumper doesn't know they're the whumper or doesn't know the extent to which they are whumping. so i snuck some of that in here for fun!)

whistle of the wind

word count -> 1.7k

cw -> physical violence, emotional manipulation, victim blaming, dubious consent (and by dubious i mean that it basically doesn't exist), unhappy and foreboding ending, sexual themes.

---

Roman carefully cradled his rib as he slowly tightened the bandages wrapped around his torso. The sterile white cloth was doing a great job of hiding the bruising that had bloomed overnight.

The result of last night's argument.

Roman tried his best not to hold it against Virgil. He knew his boyfriend was not abusive. Virgil had destructive powers, but he didn't use them against Roman on purpose. It was just when Virgil had that look in his eyes, that fear of being out of control, that things spiraled out of his hands. And Roman was always in the way.

It was his own fault, Roman tried to tell himself. He never should have provoked Virgil to begin with.

"Roman?"

There was a meek knock on the door. Usually, Roman stood up to answer the door himself, but he was preoccupied with his bandaging job.

"It's unlocked!" he called out from where he stood at his vanity.

Virgil came in, wringing his hands anxiously. The very same hands that threw Roman across the room with a tornado-like wind. The same hands that picked him up and carried him to bed after.

"I'm so sorry, Ro," Virgil whispered, "I can't believe I let it happen again."

Roman's mouth hung open for a moment. He didn't know what to say. At first, it was only a couple times a month. But as their relationship grew, these incidents grew more frequent. Roman was needing to bring concealer and bruise cream to work. His doctor kept telling him to be more careful going down stairs.

Virgil apologized like this every time. But things were not getting better. They were only getting worse. Roman did not know what to do anymore.

"You promised," he said softly, "You said it would never happen again."

"I know, Princey," Virgil choked out, "I'm trying my best here, I just couldn't control it this time."

"Can't you try a little harder?"

Roman's words rang off the walls of the otherwise silent bedroom. Virgil took a step back, shocked by Roman's harshness.

"I just- I just told you I'm trying my best," Virgil stammered, "If you had powers like this, you'd understand-"

"Well, I'm tired of understanding!" Roman burst out, staring into the mirror, tears forming in his eyes as he looked at the bandaging around his ribs. "I'm so tired of it, Virgil. I just got cleared to dance last week. After what you did to my leg last month, the doctor said I might never dance again. And he just told me I could dance last week. I was so excited."

"What are you even saying?" Virgil demanded, "Why are you telling me this? I told you, I can't control this, I can't do anything about this!" I didn't tell the wind to knock you over- I didn't make it do anything!"

"But you made it!" Roman shouted, gripping his own hair in utter frustration, "It's not fair! It's not fair, it's not- you still get to do everything you want to do! Your wind never knocks you down, or- or anything! Your wind never hurts you!"

Virgil stared at Roman for a long moment.

"Yes," he said lowly, "It does."

His hands balled into fists, and instinctively, Roman took a step back, clutching his injured rib tightly. There was that look in Virgil's eyes. Roman could recognize it from a mile away now. Virgil's face was paled, his eyes were fixated on the floor, his shoulders were rising and falling with heaviness and urgency.

"No," Roman whimpered, "Please- Virgil, you can't- I'm already hurt- it hurts- don't do it again, please, please don't do it again!"

"I'm trying!" Virgil exploded, glaring up at Roman, tears rolling down his face. "You have no idea how hard this is for me! Do you have any idea what it's like to be berated and screamed at, like- like I'm a fucking monster, for something that I can't control? I hate it! I hate it, I hate this! I never asked to be this!"

"Virgil, please- please don't- please- I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Roman cried out, his back now pressed against the wall as his chest rose and fell shallowly. "I'm sorry! Don't hurt me- please! I'll do anything, I'll do whatever you want!"

Virgil let out an animalistic, choked noise. The whistling of wind filled Roman's ears, and dread pooled in the young man's stomach.

Whistle.

Thwack.

Snap.

All three sounds happened in such close proximity that they were practically in unison. But it didn't stop. Roman could feel himself being carried off, again and again, trapped in a storm, flailing helplessly against the walls, the shelves, the dressers and drawers. Pain burst through his chest, and his arm. His throat went raw from screaming.

But then, as quickly as it started, it ended. Roman didn't even realize it was over. He was on the floor, surrounded by strewn about clothes and papers, still screaming and begging for it to stop. He could still hear the wind in his ears. He could still feel himself being thrown against walls.

Virgil could not say a word. What could he say?

When Roman heard Virgil's footsteps gently echoing against the floor and the door shutting behind him, he could finally breathe again. He was safe now. As long as Virgil was gone, so was the wind.

---

"Roman, did you want to do anything special for your birthday?"

Virgil had been doing things like this all week. Trying desperately to make it up to Roman. He bought him gifts, took him shopping, complimented everything he worked on. Roman honestly really enjoyed being treated like a prince, pampered and doted on. But he still couldn't help but shiver whenever Virgil's hands came close to his body.

"I...I'm alright, Virgil," Roman said, "It's just a birthday. And there isn't much I can do like this anyway. The doctor said I need to rest for another week before my ribs will be healed."

"Please," Virgil implored, "Isn't there anything I can do? I feel...so awful for everything I've done to you. You don't deserve any of it. I want you to have a good time. I haven't seen you smile in...in so long, Princey."

What was there to smile about?

Roman bit his tongue before he could snap that remark. Nowadays, he knew not to say anything to Virgil that had the chance to provoke him. It would just lead to another tornado from Virgil's hands.

Come to think of it, would another tornado come if Virgil was upset about Roman rejecting his advances? Roman bit his lip when he thought about it. He could hear the pangs of distress in Virgil's voice. That was always the first sign.

"You know what?" Roman said abruptly, "I do want to celebrate my birthday. Let's just- stay in and have a movie night. There's a new Disney princess movie that I've been dying to see."

Virgil raised his eyebrows, astonished by Roman's decision.

"You're really changing your mind...?" he asked hopefully, a smile already forming on his face.

Roman nodded rapidly, and he was able to breathe again when he saw the tension leaving Virgil's body. Who knew it was that easy? If he just did what Virgil wanted, then nothing bad would happen to him. The wind would stop.

---

Roman sighed as he sunk onto the cozy brown couch in front of the television, relieved that sitting down didn't hurt his ribs anymore. It had taken about a month for everything to heal, but Virgil had not created anymore wind storms.

It was stupid, Roman thought. How did he not learn the secret sooner? If he just placated Virgil and kept him happy, then there would be no wind. No harm. Everything would be perfect.

"Happy birthday, Princey," Virgil said, holding out a box wrapped in ribbon.

"Another present?" Roman asked eagerly, tearing it open as Virgil fiddled with the television remote.

"I was coming out of the store, and the lady at the counter told me that this is the hottest new thing, and- I know you like being hot, so I thought you'd like this a lot," Virgil rambled.

As Virgil was speaking, Roman pulled the present gently out of the box, his face going bright red when he saw the beautiful, lacy lingerie that Virgil had selected for him.

"Is it alright?" Virgil asked, growing nervous as he shifted from place to place.

Oh no. Roman looked immediately into Virgil's eyes, and saw that familiar twinkle of fear. No. Not again. Not today.

"I love it!" Roman quickly placated, putting a hand on Virgil's shoulder. "It's beautiful! I'll put it on right now, okay?"

Virgil's face budded with relief, and it was honestly adorable. Roman rushed off to put on the lingerie. It was itchy and tight, but Roman knew he couldn't let Virgil knew about that. Besides, he looked good. In the mirror, he could see how tantalizing the clothing made him look.

To not keep Virgil waiting, Roman raced out of the room, flaunting himself enthusiastically.

"Tada!" he cried out, hoping that the desperation in his expression wasn't obvious. "Do you like it? Is it great?"

Virgil's eyes trailed down Roman's body, to the point where he was practically drooling. Roman giggled at the sight.

"You look beautiful," Virgil whispered, "So perfect. Can I touch you? Please?"

Roman didn't want to be touched. He wanted to watch a movie and be with his boyfriend. He didn't want to do this tonight, not really. He didn't want it to hurt, like it sometimes did when Virgil got caught up in the moment. He didn't want to spend his birthday serving somebody else.

But what else could he do? Virgil looked so nervous as he asked. If Roman said no, then Virgil would overthink it, and get even more upset and afraid, and then, more wind would come. Roman was sure of it.

It had been such an amazing month. No meltdowns. No wind. No storms. Roman just wanted it to stay that way. He couldn't handle getting hurt again. Not today. Not on his birthday.

"Touch me however you want," Roman whispered, batting his eyelashes, not to be seductive, but to blink away his tears. "I'll do whatever you want."

[tss-whumper]

gang i am so sorry i haven't been on this blog in a second.

i got pnemonia. i am currently in a play! shit's crazy. but i will be answering requests and making fics more regularly now!! i cannot wait!

[whump-galaxy]

The whumper training their child/apprentice to use spells on the whumpee. The whumpee is as obedient as possible, but it’s so difficult seeing the whumper be so kind, so loving to someone. And that someone, in all their innocence and naïveté, being kind to them, the lowly whumpee. Only after lessons though, of course.

[tss-whumper]

I keep thinking about touch-starved whumpee Roman and caretaker Logan. Roman knows Logan doesn't like touch much, but then Logan hugs him after realizing Roman's touch-starved, and...Roman kinda breaks. Logan is steady and precise, and Roman is so so cold and confused and never wants to leave.

Anyway, no pressure to write this! (/gen)

I love how you write Patton & Roman bc it feels accurate to me, lol. Haven't been here in a while, but wanted to see how you were doing. Glad I returned to read some of your awesome fics!

Take care :D (/pos)

aww, thank you so much for all the kind words, anon!! i really appreciate the support. this idea looks amazing, and i'd love to write something with it. i hope this is what you were looking for!

---

Roman was cold.

He wasn't quite sure why. This had been happening for a few weeks now, Roman woke up and was cold. He ate breakfast and was cold. He even was cold while taking his hour-long hot showers. No matter what he did, he always felt like he was freezing from the inside out. It had only just recently gotten to the point where he was shivering every moment of the day, his teeth chattering whenever he was not talking.

And that was why Roman was where he was now: wrapped in a blanket, on the couch, in front of the fireplace. While all of the other sides were wearing tank tops and shorts, Roman was secretly wearing pajama pants underneath a second pair of pajama pants.

Roman was focusing on keeping warm, but the sound of arguing started to emerge from the hallway into the living room, causing the creative side to carefully listen in, as he tended to do.

"Patton, I don't want a hug. Get off me."

Logan was clearly losing his patience with the overly-affectionate side, and Roman watched from the couch as Logan's muscles tensed and his breathing grew more labored. It was not a secret that the logical side generally disliked physical touch, especially when he was not the one initiating it. The only thing he hated more than physical touch was not being listened to.

"Oh, Logan, stop being such a sourpuss!" Patton chided, "I'm just showin' my favorite logical guy some love! Hug me back, and then I'll let you go!"

Logan rolled his eyes, and they flashed with irritation as he reluctantly hugged Patton back. The paternal side squealed and let go of Logan, skipping out of the room to likely do the same surprise bear hug to Virgil that he had subjected Logan to.

Roman huffed softly from his spot on the couch. Once again, Patton hadn't even noticed that he was in the room. Recently, it had been like that more and more. Patton gave all his attention to all the other sides, but when Roman was around, he awkwardly shuffled away. Roman had tried to make amends from what happened in the past few episodes, going so far as to try and protect Patton from Janus, but it never seemed to be enough for him.

But that wasn't the important thing right now. Roman shivered, a bit cold in the room as he stood up and approached Logan.

"Hey, pocket watch, wanna watch musicals with special effects and try to figure out how they do them?" he offered.

Logan offered a small, tired smile.

"Sure, Roman," he said, "That would be lovely."

Together, the two sides went to Roman's room. Though most of the fans saw the clear animosity between Roman and Logan, the two were rather good friends off-camera. When there was nothing at stake for Thomas, they found good company in each other. Logan helped Roman listen to reason when he was being overly idealistic, and Roman helped Logan find hope and inspiration where there seemed to be none at all.

And best of all, they both loved to watch musicals with special effects and try to figure out how they were done. They giggled and kicked their feet and shouted like children when they guessed correctly.

Something about being with Logan made Roman feel as if he could be himself for a change. He didn't have to put on a performance that he was some grand, indestructible prince, simply because there was no point. Logan could always see right through Roman's acts. Logan knew that Roman was not really a prince, that he really was very sensitive. And though that was scary sometimes, it was usually refreshing, not needing to pretend. Especially because it was obvious that Logan knew how it felt to be put on that sort of stifling pedestal.

Roman was the only person who Logan felt safe to be himself around too, though not for the same reason. Logan struggled to be taken seriously by the other sides, often seen as a joke. Though Roman teased Logan, it was clear that Roman did not view Logan as lesser-than or pathetic. Roman listened to and respected Logan's wishes, especially off camera. He made Logan feel...listened to. And almost appreciated at times? It was something Logan was generally unfamiliar with. But with Roman, it tended to be abundant.

"Roman? What's going on?"

Roman blinked, and looked over at Logan. He clutched his blankets closer to himself as he felt a terrible chill come over him.

"N- no- nothing," Roman stammered between his chattering teeth, "I'm just cold is all."

"Cold?" Logan asked sharply, extremely concerned, "It's eighty degrees in here, and you have two blankets on. I'm surprised you aren't overheating."

Roman was not expecting that level of worry from Logan, who was usually so level-headed.

"Um...I dunno," Roman shrugged, "I'm just cold. I don't know what to tell you. It's been like this for a few weeks now. I figured my room just had a draft or something."

Logan felt Roman's forehead. Roman shivered, subconsciously leaning into Logan's gentle and warming touch. Logan's fingers delicately brushed the hair away from Roman's forehead.

"You don't feel feverish or unwell," the logical side mused, "You don't seem to be sick at all. But I can't think of any other reason why you might feel like...this."

Logan paused when he saw how Roman reacted to his touch.

"You're so warm," Roman murmured, an almost delirious smile on his face, "I've never felt anything warmer, not in all my life."

Logan did not think he was particularly toasty. He frowned a bit, and put his other hand on Roman's shoulder. When the creative side practically keened into the touch, Logan realized what the problem was, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his head in one immediate snap.

"It's touch," he realized, "Roman, when was the last time somebody touched you?"

"Three weeks ago," Roman said, as if he had the time and place memorized, "When Patton petted my head after I did the dishes."

"So you've gone three weeks without being touched..." Logan mused, "And you're cold. And the moment I touch you, you're warm."

Logan decided to try something else. But when he leaned in to hug Roman, the creative side quickly pulled away.

"Logan- please, you don't have to do that," Roman said quickly, "Patton said I need to work on my selfishness and pushiness. I- I don't want you to hug me if you don't want to. I know you don't like touch. I'll be fine. It's just a little cold."

"Roman."

Logan's voice was so sharp that Roman looked up from his rambling in surprise. Sure, he was used to Logan sounding stern, but this was more than that. His violet-blue eyes blazed with an intensity that Roman rarely saw from his friend. Logan was considerably vexed.

"I mean-"

"Roman."

"I didn't mean to-"

"Roman."

"But I just wanted to-"

"Roman!"

Roman ceased.

"I understand what you intended," Logan said, with an awkward chuckle, and warmth seeped into his tone, making him sound almost friendly. "And I know I've expressed that I'm not particularly fond of physical affection. But this is different. You need me, and...honestly, it's not the touch that I dislike. It's the suddenness of being touched without permission. When Patton surprise hugs me, it...makes me nervous. When Remus elbows me out of nowhere, or when Virgil ruffles my hair, it just unnerves me. I like hugging my friends, Roman. I like it when I get to decide when it starts and ends. Does that make any sense?"

Roman couldn't hide the bright grin that formed on his face.

"It makes sense," he reassured, but a shiver ran through his body, causing him to let out a whimper as he hugged himself in an attempt to preserve body heat.

He rushed to put the blankets around himself again, but Logan stopped him gently. And then, he pulled Roman into the softest, gentlest, warmest hug that Roman had ever experienced. The prince's doe-like brown eyes went round as saucers. And then, he hugged Logan back, with the same gentle strength that Logan exhibited.

And they hugged for a good, long time. Until Roman stopped shivering. Then, Logan got to initiate exactly when it was time to pull back. The two sides looked into each others eyes for a long time. And Logan did not for a moment expect to see tears shining in Roman's.

"Roman...what's the matter?" Logan asked, quickly bringing a hand to Roman's cheek to swipe away the glistening tears.

"I don't know- I- I-" Roman whimpered, "I've never felt so warm. This feeling, it's- it's not bad, but I'm just- I'm so overwhelmed..."

He sobbed and sobbed, and Logan pulled him close, allowing Roman to sob into his shoulder. Logan did not show it on his ever-neutral face, but his heart clenched whenever he heard his dear friend's cries. Roman was a crier, whether he was happy, sad, or angry. But despite how common it was to hear and see, Logan still never quite got used to it. Logan just hated to see Roman look so confused and lost. The creative side had never looked more like a child than he did in that moment.

"It's alright, Roman," Logan hushed gently, "It's alright. I've got you. And I want this. I know you're a lot colder than I am. But being here with you, I've never felt so warm either. It appears we have that in common. So relax. Please. I want you here. I...I love you, Roman."

"I..." Roman's breath caught in his throat.

God, how long had it been since somebody said those words to him with such sincerity and sureness?

How long had it been since somebody said them to Logan?

"I love you too," the creative side replied, the words coming out his mouth as easily as water poured through a stream.

There was much more hugging, and staring, and hugging, and staring. The touched-starved prince and the typically emotionally unavailable teacher both felt more alive when they were together. It was such a beautiful feeling they shared, something that could not quite be described or otherwise replicated. All they knew was that together, in that room, surrounded by blankets and all by themselves, Roman and Logan felt trust.

"To think," Roman laughed, in higher spirits already, "The solution was right here this entire time!"

"How absurd of me to be so dense!" Logan cried out, "To have only noticed this now, I'm very ashamed of myself."

"Don't be," Roman reassured, "I couldn't be more grateful for you, Logan."

"And same to you, Roman," Logan said, "If you ever need some warmth from me again, you can always ask. Alright?"

Roman beamed and nodded enthusiastically.

"You got it, teach! he said, "And the second you want it all to stop, I'll pull away. Okay?"

Logan sighed softly, and the smile that grew on his face was so wide and free that it surprised him. To think. Having the choice. It was nice to have a physical relationship that did not feel conditional.

"Okay," he affirmed, adjusting his glasses. "It's a deal."

[tss-whumper]

egotistical - a sanders sides whump oneshot

(this was requested by a few of my friends, and inspired by an interaction i had while talking about roman in a discord server!)

summary: "Uh oh, better not give Roman a compliment. It'll stroke his ego, and we don't need that!". Roman is used to being the butt of the joke, the clown, the silly ingenue, the stupid prince. But what happens when the constant mistreatment and berating break him down past repair? After all, the ego needs praise and approval to survive. If Roman is constantly starved of the one thing he desires more than anything else, then he might just shut down.

word count: 4.4k

content warnings: verbal abuse, manipulation, all of the sides can be considered unsympathetic except for roman, virgil, and remus.

Roman was the ego. And nobody let him forget it.

Ego has a lot of different interpretations when it comes to the definition and what it could mean for Roman as a representation. Is he the Freudian ego, a part of the conscious mind that acts according to reality? No, that didn't sound very much like Roman at all. Is he the literal ego, which is a sense of personal identity and self-worth? Roman would like to think so, but he wasn't completely sure.

The definition of ego that all of the other sides, as well as Thomas, as well as the fandom interpreted Roman as was the figurative ego. Selfishness. Snobbiness. Inflated self-importance. In their minds, ego was seen as a flaw. Something that needed to be fought and suppressed in order to better Thomas.

It only made sense. Thomas was raised in a religion where greed and pride were both deadly sins. Wanting things was an aspect of Roman's purpose. He was the reason why Thomas reached for the stars to begin with. Along with this, was appreciation for Thomas' achievements. Roman was the cheerleader, the one who helped Thomas steel his nerves at auditions, the one who reminded Thomas that he was born to perform, and that the only thing stopping him from doing his best was his own doubts. That was all Roman.

But that wasn't the stuff that was noticed. And as hard as Roman tried to deny it, wearing his prince persona like it was a mask, his sash like a bulletproof vest as insults and backhanded compliments were constantly hurled at him, his visage was slipping.

---

"Look, look, guys, look!"

Roman ran as fast as he could out of his bedroom to the other sides, who were eating their lunch in the kitchen. Bouncing on his toes, Roman spun around, showing everybody the new outfit he had created, using red, orange, and brown accents instead of his usual red and white. It had taken all afternoon, and Roman was so happy with his work. Sewing and needlework did not come easy, and the prince spent a lot of time, trial, and error to ensure that this outfit would be impressive.

"Tada!" he cried out, "Do you like it? Isn't it cool? I can make you guys new outfits if you want! If you like this one, I can make a matching one!"

"Looks good, Princey," Virgil said with a small smile, between bites of salad, "I like what you did with the sleeves."

"You do? Really?" Roman's eyes glimmered with joy and he squealed, "Oh, I'm so glad! See, what I did was I puffed out the sleeves, and then-"

"Aww, come on, Virgil, why'd you do that?" Patton asked, a slight frown showing on his face as he grimaced, "Now he's not going to stop bragging about how great he is."

Roman felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Yeah, Pat's right," Janus chimed in, gazing at Roman's outfit with a critical eye, "And your needlework could use some, well, needleWORK, Roman. The stitches are so crooked."

"I made it for practice," Roman protested quietly, gazing down at his sleeves, hiding them with his hands, suddenly feeling extremely insecure.

Logan sighed with relief when he saw Roman duck his head.

"Oh, good," he said, "Now I can finally focus. Roman, there's really no need to constantly try and show off how great you are. We all have much more important things to focus on than your preening."

Roman forced a smile so big and splitting that it hurt. He hoped that nobody could see the tears that were starting to blur his vision.

"Got it," he said through his gritted grin, "I'll go fix these stitches, then. See you guys later."

He rushed back to his bedroom, only realizing after he closed the door that he had forgotten to grab a plate of food. But it was just as well. After that interaction, Roman's throat had closed up. His stomach was in knots. He wasn't hungry anyway.

---

"I chose the movie for Movie Night last time," Janus mused out loud, "Roman, why don't you choose this time?"

"Really?" Roman asked excitedly, "You guys never let me choose anymore."

"Don't act like it was for no reason," Patton teased, "You kept singing during the movies, even after we told you to stop. You'd better promise not to sing this time, mister!"

Something invisible stabbed through Roman's chest.

"Uh-huh!" he squeaked, trying to hide how much that comment hurt, though honestly, he was so excited about choosing the movie after weeks of not choosing, that he focused back on the DVD collection quickly. "I wanna watch Brother Bear!"

There was a collective groan.

"Is...is that okay...?" Roman asked hesitantly.

"I love Brother Bear!" Remus said enthusiastically, "The moose are so funny, and the faces the bears make are the best."

"It's...alright, I suppose," Janus shrugged, putting in the DVD, sighing as he did, "What led you to choosing that one, Ro?"

"It's about brothers!" Roman cried out happily, before sheepishly smiling over at Remus. "I like stuff about brothers."

Remus grinned in response. "Yeah! Me too!"

"Aww, how adorable," Janus cooed, petting Roman's hair, "You're so valiant, Roman. So considerate of others."

Roman's heart lifted. "You mean it?" he whispered.

"Of course I mean it, doll," Janus purred, "You're such a sweetheart. You ask that like you don't hear praise often. Now, I just know that's not true."

It absolutely was true. But Roman did not dare argue and risk ruining this perfect moment. He was smiling so big that his mouth and face hurt, but it was a real smile this time. He started to rock back and forth on the couch, so joyful. Janus was being kind to him! Janus was giving him a real compliment!

The movie started, and Janus hugged Roman gently as all six sides watched it together. By the time it was over, everybody agreed that Brother Bear was a great choice of a movie. Roman was positively glowing.

"Roman," Janus mumbled, grabbing Roman's wrist before the prince could go back to his room for bed, "Can we...talk for a moment?"

Roman smiled and nodded. "Alright! How can I help you, Janus?"

He bowed courteously, the way royalty tended to. But it was clear that Janus, in all of his smooth, elegant, almost sultry glory, was all business right now.

"I need you to come with me to talk with Thomas tomorrow," Janus whispered, "We have to tell him that Virgil is messing up Thomas' recharge time by constantly filling his head with worries the whole time. I'm sure Thomas has noticed it, and he's more likely to listen if it's both of us."

"Oh, um...I don't know," Roman admitted, wincing slightly, "I think Virgil's doing a good job, as well as he can, at least. Anxious thoughts are always gonna slip through the cracks, right? And- I thought Thomas said that his recharge time has improved."

"Huh," Janus remarked, his expression growing colder, "And here I was thinking that you actually had some sense, Roman. Some basic observation skills when it comes to people besides yourself."

Roman's eyes widened, and he took a shaky step back, confused and astonished.

Janus had just been so sweet to him. What happened??

"I'm sorry," Roman said immediately. By now, he had learned that the sooner he apologized, the better. "I didn't mean to be- um- to not- uh- I-"

"Spit it out!" Janus snapped, before pinching the bridge of his nose and regaining his composure, "You should know by now that an apology means nothing if you don't even know what you're apologizing for. And I thought I was the manipulative one."

"I'm not trying to manipulate you," Roman protested, a tear rolling down his face that he desperately wiped away, but it was too late.

"Crocodile tears don't work on me, sweetheart," Janus cooed, "I give you all these compliments, I build you up and support you all night, and you can't even do this one little thing for me? You just have to argue with me and be right? No wonder the fandom can't stand you. You need to be knocked down a few pegs."

Roman winced as Janus turned on his heels and walked away, muttering under his breath. When the sound of Janus' footsteps faded away, Roman finally let out the sob that he had been biting back. It hurt to restrain it, burning his throat and stinging his eyes, but he didn't want Janus to think he was only crying to make him feel guilty.

It wasn't fair, Roman couldn't help but think. He had really thought Janus' compliments were real. He should have known that the only reason Janus would ever be nice to him was to get something out of him.

After all, Janus said this out loud on camera. And nobody even batted an eye.

Manipulation, the prince learned, was only a sin when Roman was the one being accused of it.

---

"Woah, good flip, Ro!"

Remus laughed in delight as he watched Roman flip pancake after pancake. Roman was not usually great in the kitchen, but when it came to Pancake Saturday, he had grown to master the art. He absolutely adored dying the batter different colors and making silly shapes for each of his fellow sides, so they could wake up to a new art piece.

This morning, as usual, all of the sides were chatting while waiting for their pancakes, and Roman glowed at Remus' praise.

"Thanks!" he said eagerly, "I've been practicing since last week! I think I'm really improving my form, though, I guess it makes sense. I have a pretty strong left arm!"

"Oh, here it comes!" Patton interjected, grinning at the others as he pointed to Roman, "The ego express! Choo choo!"

"Careful, now, Remus," Logan said, a small, amused smile on his face as he cut into his asteroid-shaped pancake, "If you keep inflating Roman's ego, he'll become even more insufferable."

Roman's eyes widened, and his face flushed so with embarrassment that he started to sweat. Quickly, he turned to face the pan, realizing with a jolt of panic that his pancakes were going to burn. He quickly flipped them over and turned down the heat with a trembling hand.

All Remus had done was give him a compliment. Was that not allowed anymore? Was Roman just so insufferable that it was impossible for him to get any sort of kindness without it being immediately reversed into something bad?

"The last thing he needs is more ego-stroking," Janus chimed in, "All he ever talks about is himself."

"All he ever cares about is himself," Patton added with a disappointed sigh, "Maybe we should all lay off on the praise. It's spoiling him rotten."

Roman's grip tightened on his spatula. He was making custom pancakes for everybody, not eating a bite until everyone else had eaten their fill, and somehow, he was still being accused of thinking only of himself?

The prince's mind raced as he thought about all of the things he had done. He had given up the callback, his livelihood, the one thing he wanted more than anything. After bringing up the idea of communicating with both the director of the callback and the fiances of the wedding and being shut down, Roman was the one who had been punished for deciding on the wedding after the fact. It was always his fault. Everything was always Roman's fault, and he apologized, and groveled, and did everything he could. He listened to every degrading joke about him with as much grace as he could. Sure, Roman wasn't perfect. Sometimes, he was pushed to his limits and he just had to fight back. But it wasn't often. Roman went through so much pain to make the others happy. He gave up so much.

When would the sacrifices ever be enough for them?

"Aww, is Princey crying?" Janus taunted, snapping Roman out of his thoughts.

Roman realized that he was indeed softly sobbing, his tears landing on the hot pancake griddle and sizzling as they evaporated. This always happened to him. He got so lost in his own mind that he started to cry before he realized it soon enough to stop. Now the others would think he was being manipulative!

Immediately, Roman reached forward and turned off the heat on the stove. He scooped up the pancakes on the griddle and placed them on Remus' plate. And then, he ran as quickly as he could out of the kitchen and back into his room, hearing laughter echoing behind him. Roman could hear everything

He wished his door was thicker.

"Goodness, that Princey," Patton sighed, "He can't handle any sort of criticism, can he?"

Did Patton realize how hurtful receiving a constant barrage of criticism every second of the day was?

"No, he certainly can't," Logan agreed, "Frankly, it's very disturbing to see him acting so childish. He throws a tantrum every time he doesn't get his way."

Did Logan have any idea how often Roman did not get his way?

"He never listens," Janus scoffed dismissively, "I've tried to tell him to knock it off, but I swear, he's even more spiteful than Virgil."

How could Janus call Roman spiteful after throwing him under the bus in front of millions just because Roman didn't do exactly what he wanted?

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

Roman wasn't an idiot, as much as people liked to call him one. He read every single hate comment. He saw every single poll. Nobody liked him. The other sides didn't like him. The fans despised him. They called him a brat, a narcissist. They made him the butt of every joke, and wrote him as a bully in all of their stories. They only ever saw the person he had practically killed himself trying to erase. They only cared about what Patton and Janus said, and not at all about what Roman did.

"If so many people hate me, then maybe I'm the problem," Roman whispered to himself, gazing into his mirror, pristine and crystal clear. "I can't remember the last time I read a nice comment about myself online. I don't know if there was ever a time when Janus or Patton genuinely complimented me. Maybe I don't deserve compliments. I'm just stupid, old, egotistical Roman! And no matter how hard I try, I'll never, ever be who they want me to be! Never...ever..."

He collapsed against his mirror and cried bitter, desperate tears. His chest was being clawed from the inside out. Roman felt like the world was spinning, and like there was no way out of the hole he was being buried in. There was no winning on Christmas, no winning any day for the prince.

No matter what he did, Roman would always walk away the loser.

---

"Do you have any idea how fucked up that was?"

"You're sitting there eating the pancakes he woke up at 6am to make for you, and you're calling him selfish?"

Virgil and Remus were up in arms, side by side as they angrily questioned the other sides. It was rare that this ragtag duo agreed over anything. Their purposes were so opposite. But in this moment, the one thing they shared was their extreme concern for Roman.

One thing about Roman was that he was horrible at pushing down his feelings. But recently, more and more, Virgil and Remus had witnessed the prince putting on a perfect, flawless mask in order to hide his brokenness. Why wouldn't he? It was clear that when he did show his sadness or anger or frustration, it only resulted in punishment. Humiliation, or chastising, or exclusion. Even on camera, in front of millions, Roman couldn't escape the endless barrage of hate and torment.

"You're bullying him, and you don't even care!" Remus spat angrily, "Do you realize how much Roman has given up, just to make you all happy?"

"I can't even remember the last time you guys have been genuinely nice to him," Virgil seethed, "It's always followed by some smartass, backhanded remark."

"What are you talking about?" Janus asked, narrowing his eyes at Virgil, "You're always teasing Roman."

"Not the way you three do," Virgil snapped, "Always getting after him just for feeling happy? Making him think that he can't ever be proud of himself, that he can't ever express self-worth. You guys are all suppressing the most important part of Roman! I know he can be a bit braggy and over-confident sometimes. But that's his literal fucking job!"

"It's not like we humiliate and dogpile on Janus whenever he lies to us!" Remus exclaimed, "Because we know that's his job! We don't make fun of Patton when he has a bug up his ass! Everyone is allowed to do their job, everyone is allowed to make mistakes and take wrong steps except for Roman. And it's fucked up."

"You two are being ridiculous!" Patton exclaimed, tears forming in his eyes, "Why are you blaming us? Are we not allowed to critique Roman anymore? He has a lot to learn. He's the reason why everything's been going downhill to begin with!"

"Don't you ever fucking say that again," Virgil hissed, getting up in Patton's face, which was something that Virgil hardly ever had the courage to do with Patton. But when it came to Roman? Virgil was ready to unsheath his claws at a moments notice. "Roman was the one who suggested that Thomas talk to Lee and Mary-Lee about the callback. We all shut him down. Because we didn't think Roman was capable of having a good idea. Janus, Patton, you two kept pulling Roman in opposite directions, using him as a pawn for your stupid fucking games! Treating him like a trophy, or- or an accessory instead of a real side with feelings and wants!"

"Nobody ever asks Roman what he wants," Remus added, "That's why he's so outspoken. Because nobody ever asks him anything. Nobody ever even tries to make Roman happy, so he, because he's a big, stupid, naive, oblivious idiot, tries to make himself happy! But it never works, because you sick fucks can't stand to see him happy! All three of you use Roman like your free punching bag. Say and do whatever the fuck you want to me. But leave my brother alone. He's fragile, and you know that. He would never fight back hard enough to actually match the amount of hurt you've caused him. And that's why you chose Roman."

"You know it's true," Virgil muttered, grabbing Remus' wrist and walking away, "Come on, Re. Let's go check on Princey."

"He's the egotistical side," Janus said as the two sides walked away, "He needs to be knocked down a peg."

"The only sides who need to be knocked down a peg are you three," Remus responded icily, "Not Roman. Anyone with a brain can see that he's already at the bottom."

---

Roman? Wow, he's a horrible person!

I can't stand Roman. He's so annoying.

Don't tell Roman that you made him happy, it might boost his ego.

By now, Roman was crying so hard that he could barely read the words on his screen. He swiped the top of his hand against his eyes as he tried to move the neverending tears out of the way. Deep down, he knew this wasn't a good idea. Reading hate comments was never a good idea.

But Roman felt like he deserved it.

After all, he was the egotistical side. If he didn't change, then he would never escape this endless hell of insults and deception. Roman had to choose between his own well-being, and the happiness of the others. It was tearing him apart inside. The deepest core of his identity was being stretched thin.

Roman was the ego.

But he could no longer think of himself without feeling disgust and hatred.

"Hey! Open the door, fuckface!"

Roman gasped as he heard Remus' voice. He struggled to his feet and stumbled to the door, wiping and wiping at his face to try and get rid of the tears. He opened the door and tried to smile, in the most unassuming way.

But Virgil and Remus were not having that.

"Stop that, you fucking idiot," Virgil said, before quickly correcting himself, "I mean...Princey."

"What's going on...?" Roman whispered hoarsely, "Did I do something wrong? If you're here to get angry at me, please- just do it. I'll fix whatever I did wrong. I'll change it. I swear."

Virgil and Remus stared at Roman, slack-jawed, for a long time. Roman squirmed.

"Did I say something bad...?" Roman asked hesitantly.

"I'm going to kill them," Remus said simply, his face relaxed, but his eyes manic. "I swear, I'm going to fucking slit their throats."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Virgil mumbled, guiding Roman to his bed and sitting him down on it, "You're Roman. You're...you're the ego."

"I know," Roman said, his voice pained, "Please don't remind me."

"I have to remind you," Virgil pressed, "Because- you- you're throwing away the most precious parts of yourself. Just to appease those stupid sons of bitches out there. Janus, Logan, and Patton? They have no idea how hard it is to be you. For months, I've watched them bully you and treat you like- like a toy. They never stop pushing you around, and I don't understand how you've survived it this long."

"I haven't survived it," Roman whispered, curling in on himself, "I picked the wedding."

"Because Patton basically made you!" Remus pointed out, "He kept guilt tripping you! He knows how much you care about being a good person, and he used that against you!"

"I- I made fun of Janus' name, though," Roman protested, squirming where he sat.

"After he manipulated you to hell and back and openly admitted that he was only ever nice to you to get something out of you!" Virgil cried out, "I wish you'd done worse!"

"I can't," Roman said firmly, staring at Remus and Virgil with a chilling sureness to his gaze, "You can, Virgil. And you can, Remus. But me? I can't. I can't do anything about this. If I do, it'll just- it'll make everything worse. Every time I try and say something- every time I try and defend myself- it just doesn't work. I just become the villain again. I'm always outnumbered, and- and nobody cares about how the egotistical, stupid prince character feels about anything."

"You're right," Remus said, surprising both Virgil and Roman, "That's why we have to make them care. We should make our very own video, all about you. Telling the fans about everything from your perspective. There are people who care about you. I know it. There are people who call you their favorite side. I just know that there are. We just have to find them."

"But- I can't make a video all about me," Roman whispered, "That's so self-centered."

"Yeah," Virgil said, gently putting a hand on the prince's shoulder, "That's your literal job, Roman. You're supposed to be a bit of a self-centered brat. Just like Remus is supposed to be a dirty-minded fleabag, and I'm supposed to be a paranoid bitch. We're all supposed to be a little flawed. Everyone expects you to be perfect without expecting that from anybody else, and it's...it's fucked up. But the only way we can change that is by you embracing who you're supposed to be. Instead of constantly trying to be who everyone else wants you to be."

"Virgil...that is the most High School Musical pep talk I've ever heard," Roman remarked, "Except for the calling yourself a bitch part."

"Thanks," Virgil snickered, "I learned everything I know about cheesy pep talks from you. You're Thomas' cheerleader, kid. But- you can't be Thomas' cheerleader without being your own cheerleader too. And I know it's hard. Those other sides are dicks."

"Total limp, floppy, teeny tiny dicks!" Remus piped up.

"Yeah, that," Virgil agreed, before continuing, "But- we just have to be stronger. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you were all alone, because...I want you to know that I always have your back. Always. We fight, but- you're a good guy, Princey. A great guy."

"And you're my brother!" Remus exclaimed,"We're supposed to fistfight each other to the death every full moon! But...you never forget about me. You never act like I don't deserve to exist. What we have isn't exactly friendship, but...I'd call it brotherhood. In that rough-and-tumble, dysfunctional, indie 90's movie way."

"I like that," Roman admitted, "You guys are the best. I- I'm sorry if I haven't been the greatest to either of you before. If I'd known you felt like this about me...I just- I've always been scared to get closer to you two."

"Of course you were scared," Virgil pointed out, "You had no reason to believe we wouldn't treat you just like Patton, Janus, and Logan do. Why would you risk adding to the bully collection? I get it, Princey."

"I get it too," Remus said, "Now come on, guys, can we please stop being cheesy and start getting some revenge?"

"I don't know about all that right now," Roman said, smiling as he let the tears pour down his face, though now, they were tears of joy. "I don't know if I'm ready yet. But one thing's for sure...from now on, those three can make their own damn pancakes!"

All three of them dissolved into giggles. Together, they turned Roman's room into a blanket castle, with pillows stacked to the ceiling to make towers, and string lights hung around the walls to create a nice ambiance. They watched all of Roman's favorite movies, and together, they all sang as loudly as they wanted to.

And it was wonderful.

Roman realized as he tussled and roughhoused with Remus and Virgil between the pillow columns that it was okay to be the egotistical side. And that even though it was hard, Roman was so happy when he was thinking highly of himself, and bragging, and showing off. And he was even happier when Virgil and Remus were supportive, showing off their own flaws with devious pride.

Pride was okay. Here, pride could be, for just a little while, a good thing. And it was so refreshing.

[tss-whumper]

please believe me - a sanders sides whump one-shot

summary: roman has always been a little bit more fragile than he wants to admit. he gets dizzy spells and vertigo, and struggles to walk often because of this. but when he discovers that he can use a cane to better his mobility, he's amazed and delighted...until he tells the other sides, who do not take this well.

word count: 4.3k

content warnings: internalized ableism, ableism, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, bullying, emotional abuse, concussions, dry-heaving, all of the sides except for roman, remus, and logan could be seen as unsympathetic.

Roman liked to consider himself strong. Though he knew that all of the other sides were stronger than him physically, he also knew that he had a lot of stamina and fortitude of his own. After all, he was the only side who would regularly go on adventures of his own imagining, slaying pretend dragons and running through the forest. He also knew that he was often the one asked to do strenuous tasks, because he was the only one who had the energy to go from start to finish without slackening even a little.

But lately, that energy had been burning out quicker than usual.

Roman would be walking through his imaginary forest, and then suddenly, his vision would blur. His head would hurt. His heart would pound. And he would stumble and fall, gasping to catch his breath as his heart raced. But by the time he realized what was happening, he was on the ground, and it was going away. At first, Roman thought nothing of it. Probably lack of nutrition. So he ate more. It helped a little, but not a lot. Lack of sleep? He got his beauty sleep, ten hours a night. But even when he increased to eleven hours, the dizzy spells did not stop.

The longer it went on, the worse the spells got. They would last longer, and be more severe. There would even be times where Roman had to stay on the floor for minutes at a time, just to get his heart to stop pounding and his body to stop trembling. He was always thirsty, always hungry. No matter how much he ate and drank. And he started to grow wary of going into his forest alone. What if he collapsed and couldn't get back up? Each time he fell, it grew harder and harder to pick himself up. It started to feel like his bones were becoming brittle and useless.

Until one day.

He went for a little walk after a frustrating argument with Remus, making sure to keep close to his bedroom door, just in case. But this time, when his vision blurred and he teetered to the side, he held out his arms, grappling for something to keep him upright. And his hands wrapped tightly around a branch of a tree. The dizziness was still there, and Roman could see the world around him moving. But he was still. And he knew that he was still, because the branch did not move. The branch kept him steady, and helped him figure out where to slowly and shakily move his feet to keep walking. The branch made things feel less terrifying, like he had more control over his body and the situation.

It was revolutionary.

Ever since that day, Roman started to cling to branches and trunks and whatever he could to keep himself upright. And it went from being whenever he felt dizzy to all the time, that way, it didn't take him by surprise, and he would know that he had something to hold onto if the dizziness came on in a flash, as it tended to. And Roman felt so safe and secure, and more than anything? He felt brave again.

---

"Janus, your cane is so pretty," Patton marveled one day as all the sides gather for a movie night, "You never did tell us what it's for. Is it just for decoration?"

"Not really," Janus shrugged, sitting on the couch, "It's to help keep me from putting too much weight on my weak joints. It's just easier to walk when I'm holding onto something."

Roman's eyes went round as saucers when he heard this. He stared at Janus' cane, black polished wood, with a curve on one end for Janus to hold onto, and a flat base on the other for it to keep his body steady on the ground.

"You mean you just use the cane, and it keeps you from falling down?" he blurted before he could stop himself.

Janus wrinkled his nose, clearly confused by Roman's fascination with his cane and his disability. He pulled his cane closer to himself.

"I don't fall down," he said, "But it does help with keeping me upright when I'm feeling a lot of pain."

The other sides asked their own questions about Janus' cane and his disability, but Roman couldn't hear any of it. All he could think about was that cane. It was just like the tree branch in the forest. It kept Janus grounded, it gave him something to support himself with when his body gave out. It was perfect.

Roman gracefully excused himself, rushing to his room, stumbling inside and falling to the ground as another dizzy spell hit him. But he didn't mind being splayed out on the carpet, grinning like a child in a toy store as he started to conjure up a cane. The perfect cane. It wouldn't be black like Janus'. It would be red, so Roman could always find it. And instead of having a curved area for the hand, it just went out horizontally a few inches, and the handle was a nice plush material that was nice to hold. The bottom was flat like Janus', but it was wider. Roman thought about the strong trunk of the tree, how the wider the foundation was, the stronger the tree stood. Roman made the bottom of his cane about two inches wide, so that there was plenty of sure flatness for him to lean upon.

And then, it was finished. Using the cane, Roman struggled to his feet, clutching the cane tightly. Getting up was much easier when he had something to hold onto. The world rocked and spun around him, but as he gripped the plush handle of the cane, Roman didn't feel so scared. He didn't feel like one wrong step would cause him to crash back down. Slowly, he dragged the cane forward, and then, he took a step. He did not lean heavily on the cane, but he did rest about half his weight on it. The cane was perfect for orienting himself. Letting his body know where it was in space.

It was amazing. Roman almost cried from joy. How did it take him this long to figure out such a simple solution to his problem? Now, he would never topple over from a dizzy spell again!

---

The very first day Roman walked to the kitchen with his cane, he was all smiles. He dragged it gently in front of him, the way he had in his bedroom. Now, it was decorated beautifully. Roman had gone to the forest and delicately wrapped chains of dried flowers around his cane, making for a simple but elegant decoration. Roman felt as if he was glowing from the inside out. Every step was so certain. Every step felt like flying.

"Roman, what the hell is that?"

Air deflated from Roman's chest as he heard the intense hostility in Virgil's tone.

"It's my cane," Roman said, smiling at Virgil as widely as he could, though fear danced in his eyes. "It helps me walk. I get dizzy a lot, and I've been falling over. The cane keeps me from falling."

"You fall over," Virgil repeated, very deadpan in his delivery, "I've never seen you fall over."

"Well- yeah, it mostly happens in the forest," Roman explained, "When I've been running and playing for a while. But sometimes it comes on all of a sudden. I'm glad I found the cane before it happened in front of any of you guys. It's very unbecoming of a prince to be collapsing at random!"

But Virgil did not laugh at Roman's lighthearted remark. His gray eyes narrowed and he stared at the cane for a long time.

"You know, I hate Janus," he said slowly, "You know that. I hate him more than Thomas hates carrots. But there are some lines you can't cross when making fun of him. I can't believe you'd do something like this, Roman. It's a real jackass move."

"What...?" Roman felt tears form in his eyes, "What are you talking about? What's a jackass move?"

"This! All of this!" Virgil cried out, gesturing to the cane, "Faking some dizzy thing to try and get attention? To try and make some sort of mockery of Janus' literal disability? That's not cute, Roman!"

Footsteps could be heard, and Patton and Janus entered the hallway from the kitchen. Patton was holding a mixing bowl. Janus was holding a spoon in one hand, and his cane in the other. Roman was trying his hardest not to cry, biting his lip so hard that he could feel blood dripping down his gums inside his mouth.

"What's going on in here, kiddos?" Patton asked, "It's a Saturday morning, there's no need to yell."

Then, Patton laid eyes upon Roman's cane. And Janus did too.

"It's another one of Roman's little ploys for attention," Virgil hissed, glaring murderously at the creative side, "He must have seen Janus' cane yesterday and gotten all pissy. Because the attention wasn't all on him."

"That's not true!" Roman choked out, desperate for support as he gazed imploringly at Patton, "I swear, it's not true- I- I've been getting dizzy for weeks! Before I even knew about Janus' cane, I was struggling with this- why won't you believe me??"

"If you were struggling, why didn't you tell us?" Janus asked quietly, "Everybody knows that little Princey can't keep a secret to save his life. Why now? Why this?"

"I..." Roman choked on air. "I didn't want to worry you guys. I didn't know what it was, and- I was trying to fix it on my own. I don't understand. The cane helps me walk, just like it helps you."

"Roman, honey," Patton said gently, approaching Roman and placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure you do get a little dizzy from time to time. That's normal for somebody as active as you. And your diet isn't exactly the healthiest, what, with all that fruit you eat. So much sugar, and you barely eat anything at mealtimes."

"I eat plenty at mealtimes," Roman tried to reassure, "I swear it. This isn't something that can be solved by that stuff- at least, I don't think so."

"I know you want people to pay attention to you," Patton interjected, his voice gentle, but his eyes glistening with a warning, "I know you like being the center of everyone's focus, buddy. But you're a big, strong prince! You're Roman. You're supposed to be a valiant and brave prince. Don't you want to be a prince, Roman?"

"Of course I do," Roman whispered, a tear rolling down his face.

"Can you name any princes who use a cane?" Patton asked sweetly, and when Roman faltered, Patton continued, "Exactly. You're a big boy, Roman. You don't need stuff like this. Let's leave the canes to the actual disabled people, alright? It's the respectful thing to do, sweetheart."

Roman started to feel dizzy. He was not sure if it was from a dizzy spell or from the extreme overwhelm of emotions that were weighing him down. Perhaps it was both. All he knew was that he needed to get out of here. He gripped his cane and turned to go, but he found that something was keeping him there.

Virgil's hands were holding tightly onto Roman's cane, keeping him from moving it. Roman's fragile, trembling fingers were no match for Virgil's strong and certain ones.

"Please," he whispered, "Give me my cane."

"No," Virgil glowered, "You can walk ten steps to your room by yourself. I know you can. I've seen it. You're being a real dick, Roman. I just want you to drop the act, okay? I'm not asking for much."

"I need my cane, please," Roman begged, more tears dripping down his chin and his upper lip. "I feel dizzy."

"Of course you do," Janus muttered, rolling his eyes, "Of course you magically feel dizzy while we're calling you out. And here I was thinking I was Deceit."

Janus turned and walked back into the kitchen. But Patton stayed standing in the doorway, and Virgil stayed holding Roman's cane.

"I'm not backing off from this," Virgil said, "Go. Walk."

Roman realized that he was outnumbered by a long shot. Nobody pitied him. Janus was giving him the cold shoulder. Patton was staring at him with such disappointment in his eyes. And Virgil looked ready to kill him. There was nothing Roman could do. No other way to escape.

Slowly, his grip on his cane loosened. Immediately, Virgil snatched it from underneath Roman, causing the dizzy man to stumble. He caught himself, but it was clear that Roman was trembling wildly, not just out of fear, but out of fragility. His vision was going blurry, and it kept blacking out on him. His heart was pumping blood through his body so fast that Roman felt as though he might burst from the inside out.

But he had to walk. He had to escape.

Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other, even though he couldn't tell which way was truly forward. The ground seemed to zig-zag and contort. But Roman closed his eyes, hoping that the lack of vision would help him better figure out how to move in a straight line. It did not. He only felt more unsure. But when he opened his eyes again, he felt his knees give out, and before Roman could get his bearings, he had crashed down onto the bright white carpet of the hallway.

He didn't even hear the thud of his body hitting the ground. But what he did hear was the cruel, barking laughter of Virgil.

"You can't fool me, Roman!" he called out, "That's some good acting, though!"

"Roman, come on, honey," Patton goaded, "Walking is not hard for you. I've seen you do it hundreds of times. No more of this silliness, okay?"

Acting.

Silliness.

Maybe Patton and Virgil were right. Maybe Roman was faking all of this. Slowly, he tried to sit up. His head hurt so badly. A whimper escaped Roman, but he kept going. He had to keep going. He had to get away from the laughter, from the stares.

So he pressed his hands tightly onto one knee, and tried to prop the other upwards. So he could try to stand up. But as his body lifted off the ground, shaking like a fawn's, the walls and the ceiling swirled around him in such a confusing and dizzying haze that Roman fell right back down again. White hot pain burst through the wrist he fell on, and a sickening crack resounded through the hallway.

Roman waited for more laughter and taunting. He waited for more critiques, more chastising. But none came. Only a deep bellow from a voice that was typically so composed that it sounded like a computer.

"Give me the cane, Virgil."

Roman blinked blearily. He was facing away from where Patton, Virgil, and now, Logan, were standing. He could not tell if Logan was mad at him like the others were, but he could hear Logan's quiet footsteps moving towards Roman's shaking body.

"You gonna beat him with it?" Virgil sneered, "I guess I wouldn't expect anything less from Mr. Anger Issues, but maybe Roman deserves it. He's being such a bitch about this whole thing."

"Maybe he needs a little punishment," Patton agreed solemnly, "I'm not a violence guy. You know that, Logan, but- well...Roman isn't listening to us any other way."

Roman froze up for a moment. Was Logan really going to beat him with his cane? There was not a lot of strength left in Roman's body, but what little he had, he used it to curl up tightly, protecting his neck with his hands, and tucking his head between his legs. He held his breath and waited for the first strike.

But none came.

"This is ridiculous," Logan snapped, "Utterly ridiculous."

The logical side leaned down towards Roman, trying to make eye contact. Roman looked up, but everything was foggy and hazy. He could see three Logan's, but at the same time, he couldn't quite make out the details of any of them.

"I'm sorry," Roman mumbled, "'m so sorry...I didn't mean to- to make fun of anyone, honest! I just- I- I just wanted- to- to-"

"Shut up," Logan whispered to Roman, "You're a bit dilated...you hit your head on the floor, didn't you...?"

Roman didn't know what to say. He didn't know what the right answer was. He opened his mouth to try and say something, to try and plead for mercy, but when he did so, a wave of violent nausea passed through his body, and he retched, dry heaving in writhing spasms on the floor. He had not eaten yet, so nothing came out of his body except for a few globs of saliva.

"He's concussed," Logan mumbled to himself, and before Roman could figure out what was happening, he felt himself being lifted into the air by two large and soft arms. Instinctively, Roman leaned against the touch.

"Oh, please," Patton said with a little laugh, "I never knew you as somebody to coddle, Logan. Especially Roman. You've got to know he's faking. In all the years you've known him, have you ever seen him get dizzy?"

Roman whimpered as he waited for Logan to change his mind. To stop with his kindness and drop Roman onto the floor, joining in with Patton and Virgil.

But no.

"I have," Logan snapped, "I have seen it, and if either of you had a speck of intelligence, you would have seen it too. Roman's been compensating his whole life, probably before he was even aware of it. Don't you remember when we were younger? Roman would always cling to the stair rail when going up and down stairs. Ever wonder why? In the kitchen, every single time I've seen Roman in the kitchen, he's leaning against the counter and gripping onto the side of it."

"If all of this is true, then- then why haven't you ever brought it up?" Virgil snapped defensively.

"It's not my business, first of all," Logan shot back, with just as much ferocity, "And second of all, Roman's a stubborn idiot. He would never admit to having a physical problem, especially because of the torture you two are subjecting him to the second he tries to do something about it! If I'd known that you two would react like this if I had a disability, then I would never tell you anything!"

"K- kiddo, that's not what happened," Patton stammered, "You've got it all mixed up! We weren't doing anything akin to torture, that's- that's such a nasty word, and-"

"Yeah? Is it nasty?" Logan asked, "Well then, consider yourselves nasty. You really thought I would beat Roman with his own cane when he's already showing signs of a concussion? He collapsed right in front of you, and you still don't believe him? It's clear that you don't care at all. And the problem is not the disability. The problem is that it's Roman who has it. You call Roman a fake? You're the ones that are faking, pretending that you care about him. If Roman has any sense in his head, then he'll never trust either of you again after today. Though knowing him...he'll likely give you a lot more mercy than you deserve."

And with that, Logan turned on his heels and marched out of the room, carrying Roman and holding his cane tightly. Roman could not speak. He could not move. Everything was fuzzy and far away, like he was being shoved farther and farther towards the center of the world's largest teddy bear. And throughout it all, his head throbbed, each pulse stronger and more agonizing than the last.

"It's alright, Roman," Logan mumbled, setting Roman down on a surface that he recognized as his bed.

Roman blinked and let out a soft noise as he felt his soft red comforter be pulled over his trembling body, and an eye mask be put over his tear-filled eyes.

"Sleep now, Roman," Logan goaded gently, "You need rest. I'll be here with you. Don't be afraid. Just let yourself sleep."

So Roman let himself sleep. And soon, the room was silent, other than Roman's soft snoring echoing off his bedroom walls.

---

When Roman woke up, his head hurt, and so did his wrist. And the very first thing he saw when he took off the eye mask was Logan's face, staring down at him with an immensely worried gaze.

"Hi," Roman said, a bit awkwardly, "What's going on?"

"Seriously...?" Logan asked dryly, "You get your cane stolen from you, you fracture your wrist and get a concussion due to Patton and Virgil's mistreatment, and the very first thing you have to say is hi? What's going on?"

"What am I supposed to do, make a royal proclamation?" Roman quipped softly, groaning as he tried to sit up. "Why did you say all that stuff to Patton and Virgil? Now they'll be mad at you. Besides, they're right. I am faking. This stupid cane was just a way for me to get attention."

Logan glared sharply down at Roman, causing the man to shrink back against his numerous pillows.

"Don't you ever say that again," he snapped, "You are not faking. And you did not make the cane to get attention. Perhaps you were looking for positive attention when it came to the decorative aspect. But you were not using your disability as a ploy or a game. Don't let the others convince you of something that is so nauseatingly untrue."

"Don't talk to me about nausea," Roman mumbled, "I feel like I'll throw up just looking at food."

"Well, that tends to happen when you're concussed," Logan replied, "But don't worry, Remus is coming back as we speak with some medication that should ease that. But we need to talk, if you're feeling up to it. We need to do something important."

"I'm up for important," Roman said, "Anything but more sleep."

"Alright," Logan said, and he picked Roman up, soon setting him down on a strange cot-like appliance.

Roman winced as he felt straps tighten around his form, keeping him tied down to the table. And he did not remember much after that. He just remembered feeling everything tilt up and down, up and down, over and over. Like a hazy, torturous roller coaster. Throughout it, Roman wondered if this was Logan's special way of punishing him. If Logan had been waiting until Roman trusted him to harm him the way Patton and Virgil wanted him to.

But when Logan was finished, he quickly unstrapped Roman, and placed him back onto the bed, waiting a few moments for Roman to reorient himself and feel well enough to listen and speak again.

"I'm sorry about that," Logan said, "But that was a tilt table test. I was monitoring your levels while moving the table, to check a theory I have about you. And I was correct, as I tend to be."

"A theory...?" Roman mumbled blearily, "What theory...?"

"Roman, it looks as if you have postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome," Logan said, "Otherwise known as POTS. This is a medical disorder that would explain your, as you describe them, dizzy spells."

"You mean...there really is something...?" Roman asked softly, "I'm not faking it...?"

"Yes," Logan said, "There is something. But even if there wasn't something, you are not and never was faking anything, Roman. Mobility aids are nothing more or less than what they are defined as. Items that aid mobility. It does not matter the medical conditions of who uses them as long as they actually help the person in question. If you were getting dizzy spells and you found that a cane helped you in day-to-day life, then whether or not you have a medical disorder, that is a valid thing you can do."

"But Patton and Virgil said-"

"Patton and Virgil are wrong," Logan said firmly, "And so is Janus. It was abundantly clear that you were not mocking or making fun of anything. You were not playing a prank. They were merely uncomfortable with the idea of you being more fragile than they expected. They didn't want to challenge their preconceived notion that you were some...invincible, endlessly strong caricature."

"Princes are supposed to be strong," Roman murmured, his eyes dimming, "Patton's right. There isn't a single prince who uses a cane."

"You are very strong, Roman," Logan protested, "Regardless of whether or not you have a cane, your physical and mental fortitude are unmatched. Why, I don't know anybody else with so much energy, even in the morning. I don't know anybody else who has the determination to live out each day the way you do. It's...astounding. It's admirable. The cane is inconsequential. All it does is help you. The amount of help you need from an inanimate stick does not determine your strength."

"Thanks, Logan," Roman said after a long moment of bewildered silence, "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"I know we have our qualms," Logan admitted, seeming a bit embarrassed, "But nobody deserves the abuse you endured. The abuse you've been enduring. You shouldn't have to hide your struggles to be treated with respect. I won't agree with you on everything, but...I'll always believe you, Roman, if you come to me with a personal problem. I trust you."

That was the only thing that Roman had wanted to hear in the whole wide world at that moment. By the time the door opened and Remus was there with medicine, Roman was crying, and Logan's eyes were a little bit teary, and Remus was admiring Roman's cane and threatening to light it on fire, the way that siblings tend to.

"I love you both," Roman sobbed, a wide, grateful smile on his face, "Thank you so much. Thank you for believing me."

---

(hee hee. yes i have pots and i am projecting onto roman. hush. also, i will be coming out with a part two on this one if i remember to, so stay tuned for that!)

[whumpismyjam-blog]

When the whumper ties the whumpee’s hands high above their head so they are all stretched out. And then the whumper can invade their personal space with no obstacles. When the whumper strokes the whumpee’s chin and they can barely move away because they are stuck, so they just grit their teeth and look away. It’s just great.

[mj-iza-writer]

Warning: infantilized Whumpee. Whumpee is baby and Whumper agrees.

"Are you my cute little baby?", Whumper cooed at Whumpee as they changed their diaper, "smelly baby is more like it, geesh."

Whumpee wiggled away while Whumper cleaned up.

"Don't go too far", Whumper spoke over their shoulder.

Whumpee tried to reach up for a higher shelf. They climbed up on their feet to get a better reach.

"Whumpee no", Whumper came from behind and smacked Whumpee's butt.

Whumpee jumped from the warning and slap. They fell to the floor with a bang.

They looked up at Whumper with tears threatening to fall.

"Oh no, did baby go boom on the floor", Whumper knelt down, "did that cause an owwy?"

Whumpee's lip quivered as they nodded.

"It's okay baby", Whumper scooped them into a hug, "that's why babies shouldn't be standing up", Whumper grinned and kissed Whumpee's forehead, "let's put on your bootys."

Whumpee struggled to get away, "ymhmm", Whumpee shook their head no.

"We have to Whumpee, you know better than to say no to me", Whumper reached for the slippers, "do you want another spanking?"

Whumpee watched Whumper for a second before pointing at the item they were trying to reach.

"Does baby Whumpee want their chewy?", Whumper reached up and grabbed it.

Whumpee nodded as they watched Whumper carefully.

"Alright, come here then, let's clip it on you", Whumper held it up.

Whumpee crawled to Whumper and stopped a few steps away.

"Very cute attempt", Whumper watched them stretch as far as they could, "you need to come a little closer."

Whumpee scooted a few inches.

"You're being ridiculous. These don't hurt you unless you stand up, and you know better than to stand up", Whumper sighed, "come here before I get up and get you."

Whumpee huffed in annoyance.

"Don't huff at me", Whumper warned, "I'll give you the icky syrup if you keep being disobedient."

Whumpee quickly scooted closer... anything to not have that sludge go down their throat.

"That's what I thought", Whumper clipped the toy holder onto Whumpee's outfit, "I have a feeling my mind control is losing its edge on you", Whumper tickled Whumpee's sides playfully, "do we need to fix that?"

Whumpee quickly put the toy in their mouth and happily chewed on it.

"You're probably hungry. We'll get breakfast once these booties are on you", Whumper grinned, "is my baby grumpy because your hungry."

Whumper slipped the booty onto Whumpee's foot, and made sure the bottom sat right, they then buckled the boot and locked it.

Whumpee whined as cold metal touched their feet.

"I know Whumpee, just don't stand up. The spikes won't hurt you then", Whumper started to put the other one on.

These boots were a soft padded slipper with a belt around the ankle. They could be adjusted and locked into place . Inside the slipper, a removable insert with a few dull spikes waited for the wearer to stand up. This would cause severe pain and cause the person to fall over. It normally didn't cause bleeding though.

Whumpee rolled onto their stomach when Whumper was finished.

"Let's go get breakfast", Whumper watched Whumpee try to pull at the slipper, "nuh-uh", Whumper smacked Whumpee's hand away, "do you want me to add the mittens?"

Whumpee cowarded away and shook their head no.

"Let's go get breakfast then", Whumper sighed.

Whumpee sat in a highchair type seat in the kitchen. Whumper fed them while also eating their breakfast and packing lunch for work.

Whumpee realized the weekend was over.

"Please don't leave me", Whumpee whispered, "I-I don't want to be alone."

"Wow a baby who can speak... amazing", Whumper turned, "who gave you permission to speak."

"I-I'm sorry, I just don't want you to leave me", Whumpee looked down.

"As much as I enjoy hearing that, I do, in fact, have to go to work", Whumper frowned as they gave Whumpee another spoonful of food, "trust me, I'd rather stay here and play with you all day, but I can't. I had a feeling you were breaking out of my mind control. You've been a bit more difficult than normal this morning."

Whumpee let another tear fall.

"No need to cry, little baby, I have something fun planned for you. Considering you just talked to me, I think you already know what that means for you."

Whumpee panicked, "no master please....I-I'll be go..."

Whumper forced another spoonful of food deep into Whumpee's mouth making them choke harshly.

"Save it", Whumper grinned, "sometimes the brainwashing wears off and you lose your edge. Nothing a little coaxing won't solve."

Whumpee was strapped into a sleep sack and tied into their crib. They could only wiggle now.

"It's a shame, you normally get to play while I'm gone now you have to lay here until I get home. Don't worry though, I'll let you have plenty of screen time."

Whumper adjusted a screen directly in front of Whumpee's face. They gave it a few wiggles to make sure it didn't fall on Whumpee.

"Please, I promise I'll be good", Whumpee panicked as Whumper attached an electrode sticker onto Whumpee's neck.

"I know you will be. It's okay, you just need a little mind adjustment, it happens occasionally", Whumper grinned as they attached a wire to the sticker, "this will send a small shock every ten minutes to make sure you stay awake while I'm gone."

Whumpee whimpered, "please."

Whumper showed Whumpee a pacifier gag, and forced it into Whumpee's mouth and locked it into place.

"You'll be able to drink water through that, you have a full container of water to keep you hydrated", Whumper laughed as they turned on the screen, "I'll be checking in on you throughout today with this camera here."

The first shock stung Whumpee.

"Ymph", Whumpee jolted, "pwease."

"Enjoy the screen time", Whumper chuckled as they snapped a picture and left.

Whumpee screamed into the gag as the video started. A never ending black and white spiral took over the screen. Next an extremely annoying song played in several different volumes: extremely loud to almost quiet.

Whumpee fought against restraints. They squeezed their eyes close and wished they could cover their ears, especially knowing what was coming next.

Another shock went into their neck, making them scream again.

"Whumpee open your eyes you cute little baby", Whumper's recorded voice came on. This video was a continual loop of Whumper saying the same de-aging triggers over and over. This mixed with the hypnotic spiral and sensory overloading music would put anyone in a trance. Then, to add being shocked every ten minutes to make sure you do not fall asleep, which is both painful and torturous, Whumpee was doomed to go numb again.

They had already felt their body stop fighting. Their eyes widened as they stared at the screen.

Their mind kept yelling to move... or do something to fight for their freedom.

All fight left them. The spiral was just to beautiful and Whumper talked in such a soothing voice. They wanted their master back to see how good they were being. This song was so catchy.

"Ah, ah, ah", Whumpee tried to sing along until their eyes closed.

A shock jolted them awake again.

Drool pooled down the sides of their mouth now.

'Pretty colors', Whumpee thought to themself.

Whumper grinned as they watched Whumpee from their desk at work.

"They are long gone", Whumper chuckled, "they still have a long time to. Their brain will be like jello at the end of this."

A little before Whumper was to leave work they logged on to see Whumpee again.

Whumpee was crying uncontrollably. The overstimulation had gotten to them more than Whumper had wanted.

Whumper watched as Whumpee's back arched up in pain as another shock came through.

"Yep, you have definitely had too much now", Whumper sighed, realizing nine hours was probably too long for the mind control program to be watched.

Whumper hurried into Whumpee's room and hurried to turn the program and shock mechanism off.

Whumpee shook weakly.

"Aww, is my little baby okay?", Whumper cooed.

Whumpee sobbed as they tried to get out.

"That was scary for my baby... I'm here now. You're okay", Whumper hurried to untie Whumpee and free them from the sleepsack.

Whumpee quickly rolled to the further side of the crib and sniffled.

"It's okay baby come here, we'll get your diaper changed, and we can have a snack before dinner", Whumper tried to reach for them.

Whumpee tried to stand up.

"No Whumpee the slippers", Whumper tried to stop them.

Whumpee screamed as they fell over.

"Whumpee, it's okay, I need you to take a deep breath for me little one", Whumper tried to pull them out of the crib, "come here."

Whumpee continued to cry as Whumper finally got a good grip to pull them up.

"My poor baby", Whumper lowered themself and Whumpee to the ground, "I over did it."

Whumpee struggled for a second before finally burying their face into Whumper and crying.

"I know, it's okay. Let it all out", Whumper rubbed their back, "you've never had to go that long with that video playing. That was not a good idea for my little baby."

Whumpee quieted, but their body shook. They jolted again as though the electrode was still on them.

"Ahh, my baby", Whumper sighed, "come on let's get your diaper changed, and we can have some cookies while I make dinner. You are such a good baby."

Whumpee thought for a second before weakly nodding.

They laid quietly while Whumper changed them. No happy babbles like normal.

Even after watching the video for a while, Whumpee hadn't been this disoriented by it.

Whumper sighed, "I guess next time I'll just tie you down and regress you later. I shouldn't play with mind control so recklessly. I don't want you brain dead... not yet at least."

Whumpee watched them, but they didn't react to anything Whumper was saying. Their eyes were dull.

"Look at those lifeless eyes of yours", Whumper sighed while booping Whumpee's nose, "let's see if my little baby is in there still."

Whumpee was sat in their play pen in the living room. Some of their favorite toys were spread out for them to play with. Whumper then carried in a sippy cup of milk and a container of cookies.

Whumpee crawled to where Whumper sat the cookies and grabbed one.

"Well that's a good sign", Whumper stated in relief, "you're still food motivated."

"Hu-hu", Whumpee mumbled.

"I bet you're hungry... dinner is almost ready", Whumper smiled, "is my baby coming back?"

That evening Whumper lifted Whumpee to the couch and started to cuddle them.

"I see a little more life in your eyes now", Whumper grinned, "I bet you're sleepy though."

Whumpee rested their head on Whumper's chest.

"Aww my poor baby.... so sleepy", Whumper patted their head, "tomorrow will be a better day."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

[tss-whumper]

i'm writing a really whumpy concept about a whumpee who has been in captivity since early youth.

even though he's grown, he still has the mind and soul of a little boy because he was never taught how to grow up, and in fact, his youthful energy was encouraged.

but he knows so much pain, more pain and suffering than any child or adult ought to know.

but the most devastating part about this whumpee is that he has no idea what it means to be a person without suffering. caretaker tells him to please...just be a kid. just act normal. don't scurry to do the chores immediately, don't act like a machine, don't try everything possible to please or pleasure caretaker. just exist.

but whumpee does not know how. he remembers the games he watched kids play through his window outside, while he was all alone and nursing wounds.

he tries his best to recreate them. but there are chunks missing.

he plays hopscotch, but all he does is hop on the ground, not knowing that one must draw squares and numbers on the ground to play hopscotch properly.

he plays ring around the rosy, but he's all by himself. so he does not even make a circle. he just skips around and chants the song.

and caretaker is watching this, and trying to convince whumpee that he's doing a great job, that he's doing good, so that whumpee will not be so afraid of failing his mission of being "normal".

but it's just so heartbreaking to watch a boy who doesn't understand childhood, and has only ever seen it from afar.

[whumperly]

"Litte [animal]" type pet names for whumpees will always drive me feral, especially if they're prey animals.

"Little mouse."

"Little rabbit."

"Little deer."

"Little bird."

Oh, man, little bird is my favorite, actually. It scratches a very particular itch and has a specific undertone of affection that the others don't. Whumpee is just a little bird in a cage for whumper, something for them to admire and play with until they get bored or whumpee stops singing for them (literally or figuratively!)

Prey animal pet names don't work for every whumper or whumpee, but they are sooooooooooo good when they do. I'd love to see them used more often.

[justtorturewhump]

Whumpee is tortured in front of a whole dinner party of people as the “dancing bear” of the evening, being shocked or beaten until they are a quivering mess, but no one around seems anything but mildly entertained

Except the future caretaker, who is a stranger to this situation and watching in horror

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Whumper A meets Whumper B online, and they bond over a shared fascination with pain and torment. As time goes on, sadistic fantasies gradually turn into hypotheticals, what-ifs turn to plotting, and one day, B suggests they meet up in-person and find a victim they can share.

A is nervous. Sure, they want to do this, they've dreamed about it, but the thought of actually kidnapping someone has them on edge.

At first, they plan to kidnap B, because at least then they're inflicting pain on someone who wants to hurt others, and that makes it more moral, right? But then they meet, and B is much bigger, far more prepared, and far more serious about their mission. So A says fuck it, at least I don't have to call the shots here, and plays along.

But even through the thrill of it all as they capture their first victim, the satisfaction they get from dragging out screams, A can't help but wonder what will happen if they stop living up to B's expectations.

[saccharin-simper]

“I’m— I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry.” The Whumpee mumbles to themselves, despair and fear and disgust crossing their eyes at the broken shards scattering the floor, the mess they’d made. Their wrist hits their temple once, twice, thrice. “I’m so sorry, I’m— s— the worst, useless—“

“Quiet.” The Whumper murmurs, and those sweet and tearful eyes look to them uncertainly, not quite daring to reach their face. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you, [Whumper]...”

“And look around you. What things do I enjoy?”

They look hesitantly, at the cuffs around their wrists that were carved into delicate curls like jewelry, at the expensive vases like the one they’d broken, at the ornate paintings and sculptures lining the room.

“... Nice, nice things...”

“Very good.” The Whumper smiles, caressing their cheek. “Even if your other owners didn’t know that they were handling something valuable, even if they tarnished you, you are mine, and things of mine are—” They snort softly at the bland phrasing— “‘nice’. I won’t have you insulting me by implying I’d settle for less.”

“Y— yes, yes, [Whumper].”

“Very good.” They say again. “Now clean this up, [Whumpee]— and do be careful not to scar your hands.”

[abhainnwhump]

Whumpee had been bought and sold so many times that the head of the group that kidnapped them threatened to euthanize them if they fail again. Whumpee, just wanting to survive, panics and begs to their new Whumper. They have to do everything perfect because too many wrong moves will kill them.

[itsbrucey]

Big fan of sun motifs in characters not necessarily being about positivity and happiness and how they're so " bright and warm" but instead being about fucking brutal they are.

Radiant. A FORCE of nature that will turn you to ash. That warmth that burns so hot it feels like ice. Piercing yellow and red and white. A character being a Sun because you cannot challenge a Sun without burning alive or taking everything down with them if victorious.