"What a beautiful thing to be broken. Fractured and fused together again under my guidance. Painted in the finest colors, your bruises match that pale skin of yours wonderfully. Don't you think my darling?" Whumper mused.
The audience smiled, entertained. Whumper flicked the whip slightly, running it up and down whumpee's body. The whumpee flinched, their body twitching.
Wincing, whumpee shifted in their bondage. Their back had been turned and they absolutely loathed the limited positioning. They hated it when Whumper showed them off. Grinding their teeth, they were only able to hear the comments of the audience.
"What do you think, esteemed members of the crowd? Should we begin?" The Whumper asked with a devious smile.
What I like seeing is like... pet mages. Pet spell casters. Were they won in a war? Were they someone born with magic that didn't hide themselves from the town guard well enough? Either way, they get brought to whatever nobles or royals to serve all their magic needs, no matter how cruel or annoyingly frivolous.
Being tantalizingly powerful enough to kill their new master- they have magic and the noble presumably DOESNT- but certainly not being strong enough to get away from the guards or out of the grounds without being caught and punished.
Or worse, some kind of magical restraints that prevent them from casting spells whenever they want, only permitting magic to be used when the noble commands it. The magic itching under their skin, clawing to be free and making them sick as it festers in them.
And a step further on that, being forced all day to charge something maybe, a big battery that fuels the power in the castle, or a secret weapon that they've been working on. Getting exhausted day to day.
Perhaps they're used as a training dummy in the army or guard, learning to fight and catch more mages.
Just gosh, being having the power to partially escape, being subjected to that humiliation, or being used and used until the magic is all gone then being disposed of. Very fun.
I don't know if anyone said this before, but, I think the one thing that would put the fear of an alien god into an alien would be just how territorial humans are.
Humans generally have small territories tightly packed against others, sometimes even on top of each other. They are social creatures, after all, and seem to enjoy inviting each other to their territories that might even contain other species!
So, you would think they would welcome other visitors, right?
Wrong. Humans are wildly territorial to the point even something as harmless as a fruit fly is murdered on sight. Then, surely they must allow other predators that repel such creatures, right? Wrong again, even 'useful' ones likes spiders are shown no mercy.
Alien: I apologize but I'm struggling to grasp this concept. You said you killed that arachnid as there was a possibility it could come in contact with your sleeping quarters. Doesn't your feline companion frequent there? I'm sure it couldn't do more damage than an apex predator?
Human: Uhh, okay let me rephrase that; it isn't about coming in contact with my stuff. It's about me allowing it. Mr. Pickle Jar is allowed to be here and touch my things, that spider isn't. So, it needs to die.
Alien, writing DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING UNLESS SAID OTHERWISE in big bold letters in the notepad: Ah, I see. Thanks for sharing.
I wanted to rec this for a while. This is the most amazing humans are space orcs story I've ever read. It's called, "In Search of Home".
It's an original work so there's no fandom you need to know to read it, it's over 362,000 words, which is more than decently long, and has an ongoing sequel that's surpassed the word count of the first story (we love getting closure đ). It has a happy ending (not a spoiler, it says in the tags) so don't worry about your heart breaking too much.
I'm rereading the first story and I feel kind of cool knowing the alien words.
I cried reading it, I laughed, I felt victorious. I love it so much and want more people to know it exists because original works aren't as popular on ao3.
Restless far from a Wine Dark sea - Day 29 Extended Hospital stay
After 5 months of being restrained in hosptial beds or the obeservation tank, Nathaniel is well enough to be discharged and released into a swimming pool
I wanted to fit some more actual mer feeling into mermay and @medwhumpmay by going for a later point in the narrative than most of this
Tw Captivity, Traumatic apathy, betrayal of self, mental breakdown, medical whump, captivity, religious whumpee, dead dove Jewish vampiric whumpeeÂ
masterlist
⪠°â° âŤ
Nathaniel blinked awake to an unfamiliar ceiling, high vaulted and white.
He shook the fuzz of sedatives from his head, and listened for the sound of humans nearby.
He was alone.
Wow.
He tilted his head to the right. An expanse of cold water glittered just an armâs length away.
He had spent 2 months tied to a hospital bed, then a further 3 restrained in an observation tank, allowed to float but never swim. Being out in the open was almost surreal, being able to move for the first time in 5 months, and not having doctors or guards or his strange interrogators hanging over him constantly.
He ponderously raised a hand to touch his face, slowly, just in case the movement angered someone and they were about to swarm back in and he would lose the privilege of being unbound. No one came. He traced the bridge of his nose, the junction between skin and the perspex muzzle they had put on him as a condition for his new freedom of movement.Â
But back to the pool. He let out a long breath and slowly rolled onto his side towards it. His back ached a little and he wondered how long he had been lying on the rubberized floor.
Nothing could ruin the sight of the water in front of him.
He reached out with his left hand to touch the water, fingers skimming, feeling the pull of the surface tension, then dipping below the surface. The water felt like religion, gliding through his fingers, cold and smooth. He savoured the moment before lifting his hand out to appreciate the drops on his skin, before dragging his body to the edge of the pool.
He lingered only a second more before slipping in face-first, diving, submerging himself completely.
The water enveloped him. He could finally move.
And move he did.
Joy overtook him as he flicked his tail, stretching, and he jolted forwards, unrestrained, he moved, motions of swimming returning to him in a way he had feared it would never again after so long in the cramped observation tank with its restraints, after being so badly injured before his capture.Â
He twisted out of the way of the opposite wall, pivoting with ease despite his speed, and started doing circles, rising and falling through the water as the fancy took him. He twisted almost like dancing, feeling his body respond to the water, fully submerged and completely in the element that bore the mer.Â
He ran out of energy faster than he used to, gills rippling to supply his overstretched muscles. He took a moment to catch his breath, grinning after his joyride. He wasnât surprised; the doctors had put him through physical therapy tests to make sure his muscles hadnât atrophied before they discharged him, and he could feel the difference even as he flapped his fin ineffectively in the tiny tank. He couldn't be disappointed in this moment. He rubbed the deep ache out of his arms, careful of the bruises left by the IV that had been resident in his inner elbow for the past months.
It was as cold as the deep sea, blessedly so. A part of him wanted to sleep again, wrapped in the sweet chill, but mostly he was excited to just move under his own power again. He stretched out on the bottom of the pool, fanning his tail fins out as far as they would go. His scales were slightly dulled, and his fins could do with a bit of maintenance to help them fold more comfortably. Lord, this was the first time he was able to actually touch his own tail since his capture.
He hadnât been able to touch his own body at all in the months since his capture.
The realisation was like stepping off a cliff.Â
Fuck, what had he done? Letting them tie him to a bed, letting them sedate him and take him to he knew not where, months under medical observation barely able to move.
The water was very cold around him, colder than the observation tank. The sweet perfect chill reminded him of his ocean home, of the mer he used to live with, all that he had been taken from.
The feeling of loneliness was dizzying, the loss of everything, everything that made Nathaniel a person, with his own hopes and dreams, his autonomy, the ability to touch his own fucking body. He felt like he was on the edge of oblivion, nothingness stretching away beneath him, sickening and overwhelming and utterly terrifying. His sidefins were fully extended ready for flight, and his gills rippled frantically, trying to draw enough oxygen from the water to fuel his racing thoughts. A pain so deep it defied comprehension, impossible to process, swallowing him whole in its attempt to make him see the stark bland clarity of the world around him.Â
 Why was he here? why did he let them why why why him why was he here why did he let them why did he let them why why why him why was he here WHY DID HE LET THEM.
Stop.
Unreality blossomed.
No.
NoâŚ
It was actually fine. Nathaniel knew that all that data they collected from him was being used to save human lives. After all, being vampiric, mer had to hurt people to live, and that was wrong. At least if the information Nathanielâs body contained led to the capture of mer were captured they could be fed without having to kill humans. And that was a good thing.Â
Nathaniel had a purpose here. He was here because if he wasnât here he would have to hurt people and he didn't want that. And he did have control - if he genuinely didnât want to do a test he wouldnât. They just didn't ask for many tests that he hated enough to be worth giving up the rewards they gave him for cooperation. Rewards like this swimming, or a cup of hot weak tea, or 15 minutes playing those brightly coloured games on an ipad after tests. They valued him.
Here, he could make a difference.
The water was cold around him, his scales smooth under his fingertips, his muscles aching after his burst of movement.
He put all the bad feelings in a little box, and trapped them deep deep down where all his guilt laid to rest.
For now he could just exist, in this larger tank of cold cold water, and pretend the ocean would embrace again after all the things he had done.
a/n Welp both my swimming pool ones have ended up about the trauma realisations you start having when you are finally somewhere that feel safer.
Anyhoo Medwhump May is coming to an end but I do hope to continue posting about this character if there is sufficient interest. Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist? If you have enjoyed these 31 posts, please like and reblog so I can decide if I want to continue.
A Whumpee who, at the start of their captivity, challenged Whumperâs stare. Glaring openly, fists clenched around the bars of their cell, undeterred by the threat of Whumperâs approach.
That same Whumpee, weeks or months or years into their captivity, flinching when they hear Whumperâs footsteps in the corridor. Whimpering at the sound of a key fitting a lock. Curling up tighter in the farthest corner of their cell, unable to meet Whumperâs eyes.
Caretaker frowned. Whumpee had been so excited to see them just mere hours ago. Now, they sat curled up on the floor with a blanket wrapped around their shoulders, pressed up against the corner of the room in an attempt to escape them.
"What isn't real?"
"Everything," they breathed in response. "None of this is real. It- it can't be, right? I'm gonna wake up soon. I have to."
Tentatively, Caretaker took a few steps forward before crouching down in an attempt to appear less intimidating. They knew that trying to convince them that this was real would be impossible. So, they considered the next best option.
"What can I do to make you feel more comfortable, Whumpee?"
There was a short pause as the small being struggled to come up with a response. "Can I-" They cut themselves off with a sob. "Can I touch you? Please? I miss you so- so much."
Caretaker immediately sat down on the floor, ignoring the weight in their chest as they held out their arms for them. "Of course you can. I've missed you, too."
They almost couldn't bare to move as Whumpee reached out to touch the palm of their hand. It felt as though they were coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding.
As soon as they felt Caretaker's skin against their own, they let out another small sob and pulled their hand to their cheek. Every part of them trembled, as if frightened that it would all go away.
With a gentle smile, Caretaker held the side of Whumpee's face in their hand, stroking their cheek with their thumb as they held onto them. "See? I'm here, and I'm real. You're home."
"I'm ho-ome," they whispered, as if trying to convince themself of it. Then, without a second thought, they practically threw themselves into Caretaker's arms, pressing themself as close as they possible could. "I'm home."
You are a shapeshifter who has secretly taken on many fake villain personas across the world. Your goal is to fight each hero you meet with a persona that embodies said heroâs worst traits, forcing them to change for the better in order to defeat you.
Whumpee was nearly always alone now. Before, they had a life. They had friends. They even had a lover. But now, they were alone.
Unfortunately, there were times when they were not alone. It is unfortunate because the only times whumpee is not alone is when whumper is with them, and that is worse.
Whumper is a torturer. For fun. Who does that?
Whumper does the normal torture things, like cutting, and burning, and all the typical stuff. But their favorite is psychological torture. Whumpee is learning that the hard way.
In all the time that whumper has had whumpee, they have never touched, skin on skin. Whumper has always had a pole, or a whip, or something else similar. If they had to touch, whumper would wear thick, cold gloves.
And whumper never spoke. Whumpee found that out the hard way too. Speaking is not allowed. If whumpee speaks, they donât get food for a week, and they are left in solitary. This happened so often in the beginning that when whumper finally came to let them out, whumpers face was like a terrible angel. Whumpee had never been so glad to see someone they hated so much.
All of this meant that when caretaker finally found whumpee, they didnât believe it.
Whumpees door creaked open, and they looked blearily up from the floor. The light was bright behind the person, and all they could see was a silhouette.
The shadow walked slowly towards them, and their eyes adjusted to the light. This was not whumper.
Whumpee shrunk back into the corner, desperately afraid. They hadnât seen someone other than whumper since before they were taken. They must be dead.
âHey there,â the shadow said. Their voice was loud and grated against Whumpees ears. âIâm caretaker, whatâs your name?â
Whumpee shook their head, eyes wide and frightened.
âThatâs ok, you donât have to tell me. Is it alright if I sit next to you?â Caretaker advanced.
Whumpee shrunk even further back, but caretaker was undeterred. They plopped down right in front of them, criss-cross-applesauce.
âI need to ask you some questions, but itâs ok if you donât want to talk. Just nod yes or no, ok?â Caretaker assured.
Whumpee nodded.
âHave you been here a long time?â
Whumpee nodded.
âHave you been hurt?â
Whumpee nodded.
âCan we help you get out of here?â
Whumpee started. Get out of here? What do they mean, get out of here? Thatâs impossible. They tried. But⌠maybe these people knew how to? Speaking of that, how did caretaker even get in here in the first place? Who are these people? Maybe they arenât with whumper after all; maybe they really do want to help them!
Whumpee slowly nodded. Caretaker smiled.
âLovely. Can you stand?â
Whumpee shook their head. They hadnât been able to stand up since whumper broke both of their legs.
âThatâs ok, I can help you. Can I help you?â Caretaker was being awfully nice.
Whumpee nodded, and caretaker leaned over and took their hand.
Oh my. Caretaker was holding their hand. It was warm, and soft, and inviting. Whumpee was going to be sick. They pulled their hand back swiftly as if it had been burned, and cradled it to their chest.
âOh, are you alright? Did I hurt you?â Caretaker was worried. For whumpee. Caretaker took their hand. And it felt good.
What was whumper going to do? Would they put them in solitary for weeks? Months? How much food would they get? Touching is definitely not allowed.
But before whumpee could keep stressing, they felt strong arms wrap around them.
Whumpee immediately tensed, freaking out. But it was so warm, and comforting, and soft.
Whumpee couldnât do anything but melt into the feeling and allow caretaker to gently lift them up off the ground and carry them away.
CW: test subject whumpee, mobster caretaker, recovery
It was Loganâs first time holding a gun. He had seen people at the lab with them, security guards who always kept one strapped to their side. He had seen them be fired off in the movies that Cassius let him watch. He had heard one go off just before Derek found him huddled in the alley.Â
Now, Derek was standing behind him, showing him how to use a gun. All solid heat pressed up against Loganâs back, firm muscle where his arms brushed against Loganâs shoulders.
The gun was small; Derek wanted something with less ârecoilâ. Derekâs hands were big over his one hand, warm and certain. It would be a bit tricky shooting with only one hand, Derek told him, but not impossible. They would make it work until he could get Logan a suitable prosthetic.
It was distracting, Derek this close. Logan wanted to relax into the warmth, just like a hot bath. He wanted to turn around and breathe Derek in, noting how different he smelled from Cassius. Derek smelled of lavender and safety. Logan sometimes wondered if all monsters smelled that way.
âFocus,â Derek reminded him, giving his hand a light squeeze. âItâs important that you learn how to do this right. Youâll need to shoot bad people sometimes.âÂ
Loganâs attention went back to the target board.
âAim for the center dot. RightâŚthere.â
Derek moved his hand slightly to the left. Logan lasered in on the center dot, paying attention to nothing else. He would hit it. Not just because Derek told him to, but because he wanted to. He wanted to do this right.
âGo ahead.â
Logan pressed down on the trigger. The noise was muffled by the thing that Derek put on him to cover his ears; he couldn't remember the word right now. He felt the recoil that Derek described, making his body jerk back as the shock wave ripped through his arm. Derekâs body was right behind him to absorb most of it, his arm wrapping around Loganâs waist to keep him steady on his feet.
The bullet hit the ring around the center dot, a few inches askew.
âNicely done,â Derek said, a smile in his tone.
Logan took off the thing covering his ears to speak without raising his voice. Seeing that he wanted to talk, Derek did the same.
Logan asked, âHow do I know who the bad people are?â
âThey will try to hurt me and people I care about,â Derek said.Â
Logan processed this. It made sense to him. Someone would have to be bad if they wanted to hurt someone good like Derek.Â
âPeople you care about,â he repeated. âYour family?âÂ
The Bornachis were good too. They made Logan feel included, though he couldnât bring himself to call them his family. They were so much better than the people he called his family, and it hurt to think about.
Derek smiled at his question. âYes. Including you.âÂ
It shouldnât have surprised Logan. Derek must have cared about him, otherwise he wouldnât be treating him so well.
But then again, Cassius also treated him wellâŚor so he thought. It was still so confusing. A part of him worried that the same thing would happen with Derek and Logan would have to run away again.Â
But another part of him â it was still so weird, having conflicting emotions, separate pieces of thoughts and feelings instead of one single mantra of smile, obey, be a good boy â believed that Derek was different. Better. He was a monster, for one thing, and monsters like Derek were good. Not every monster was good, he knew that now, but Derek was. Derek cared about him.
Such a simple truth, but it made Logan smile until his cheeks hurt.
He had to make sure he understood though. âSomeone is bad if they try to hurt me?âÂ
âYes,â Derek said, no hesitation.Â
Logan paused.
âMy family from the lab? Cassius?âÂ
âYes. All of them are bad people, Logan.âÂ
He sounded certain. Angry too, but Logan was getting better at being able to tell when someone was angry at him or angry at someone else while talking to him.
Logan hesitated to ask his last question.Â
âWhat if you try to hurt me?âÂ
Derek looked at him. The anger softened into something sad. Missing. That wasnât the right word, but it seemed like Derek was missing something and was sad that he couldnât find it. Logan understood how that felt.
âI might hurt you without meaning to, Logan. Just like how you might hurt me without meaning to. That doesnât make us bad.âÂ
Logan nodded to show he was listening.
âBut if I ever tried to hurt you? On purpose? Yes. That would make me very bad.âÂ
His hand was still covering Loganâs hand. Logan looked down at it, at the gun being held by both of them, before looking back up at Derek.
Something felt tight in Loganâs throat.Â
âI want.â He struggled to get the words out. âI want you to tell me. If you want to hurt me. Maybe we can â we can talk about it first before I shoot you. You like talking.âÂ
Derek was smiling again. For a moment, Logan thought he had found the thing he was missing, and that was why he looked so happy.Â
âYes,â Derek said. It was a promise. âWeâll talk about it first.â
Whumpee growled, thrashing against their bonds. Once they were free, the freak that kidnapped them was dead. And until then, Whumpee was going to make them regret every second of their captivity.Â
âCalm down, friend. Donât want you degloving yourself with those cuffs.â Whumper remarked, striding into their cell.Â
Whumpee stared at Whumper, looking deep into their eyes, hoping the raw hatred that smoldered in their eyes unsettled Whumper.Â
âArenât you just the cutest?â
âFuck you.â
Whumper chuckled, then grabbed Whumpeeâs hair, pulling their head back and leaning in. Whumperâs face was inches away from Whumpeeâs, and Whumpee could feel their hot breath wash across their face. Whumperâs cold, dead gaze pierced Whumpeeâs soul, pinning them to the ground.
âDonât tempt me with a good time, baby.â Whumper whispered, grinning.
âYouâre fucked in the head, you knowââÂ
Mid-sentence, Whumpee flung their head forward, slamming their forehead directly into Whumperâs nose. They relish that delightful crunch, and laugh as Whumper staggers back, blood flowing down their lips, dripping off their chin, onto the floor.Â
"Yea, you like that, bitch? I loved it."
Staring at the ceiling, entranced by the delightful Whumper mumbles to themself.
âOh. Oh. Thatâs good.â
Whumperâs mouth opens slightly, blood dribbling between their open lips. Licking the blood off their lips, their mouth opens into a wide, toothy, shark-like smile. Training their gaze on Whumpee, their teeth stained crimson, they laugh softly.
Whumpee growled, thrashing against their bonds. Once they were free, the freak that kidnapped them was dead. And until then, Whumpee was going to make them regret every second of their captivity.Â
âCalm down, friend. Donât want you degloving yourself with those cuffs.â Whumper remarked, striding into their cell.Â
Whumpee stared at Whumper, looking deep into their eyes, hoping the raw hatred that smoldered in their eyes unsettled Whumper.Â
âArenât you just the cutest?â
âFuck you.â
Whumper chuckled, then grabbed Whumpeeâs hair, pulling their head back and leaning in. Whumperâs face was inches away from Whumpeeâs, and Whumpee could feel their hot breath wash across their face. Whumperâs cold, dead gaze pierced Whumpeeâs soul, pinning them to the ground.
âDonât tempt me with a good time, baby.â Whumper whispered, grinning.
âYouâre fucked in the head, you knowââÂ
Mid-sentence, Whumpee flung their head forward, slamming their forehead directly into Whumperâs nose. They relish that delightful crunch, and laugh as Whumper staggers back, blood flowing down their lips, dripping off their chin, onto the floor.Â
"Yea, you like that, bitch? I loved it."
Staring at the ceiling, entranced by the delightful Whumper mumbles to themself.
âOh. Oh. Thatâs good.â
Whumperâs mouth opens slightly, blood dribbling between their open lips. Licking the blood off their lips, their mouth opens into a wide, toothy, shark-like smile. Training their gaze on Whumpee, their teeth stained crimson, they laugh softly.
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