You've Made it to the Whump Tier

Congratulations. This side blog is for my whumping needs :)

[whumptier]

Masterpost

Attention. All works are on hiatus for the foreseeable future. I'm writing a book, and my focus has shifted away from whump. I probably won't post much here other than a reblog or two, but I'm not taking my work down. Feel free to keep enjoying it.

You have my full permission to write fanfiction of my characters and the world they are in, and yes, you can use your own characters. Same for fanart. Please enjoy improving on the art you are reading. I'd love to see it! And thank you to all who asked - each of you are a peach ;)

All of my works in one place. Some are part of a series, some are not.

Everything not in a series, except for prompts, will be placed in Drabbles (god, I love the word drabbles).

Prompts will be placed in their own category.

Names might change as they are workshopped, btw.

Series

R-Tower Masterlist

Monsters and Shadows Masterlist

Love is a Fire Masterlist

You Will Learn to Love Me Masterlist

You Have Failed Me Masterlist

Kill Them With Kindness Masterlist

Lost Trust, Lost Love Masterlist

Sorcerers and Slaves Masterlist

Drabbles

You Will Always Be Perfect to Me

I’m Insulted You Picked Me Since You Have Terrible Taste

A Kind, Caring Master

The Mafia is a Possessive Lover

Innocence That Lasts

My Master

Hopeless

Waiting For Master to Come Home

She Felt Nothing

A Pet’s Plan

Beastly Vampire

Symbiosis

Prompts

Power is Intoxicating

No Mercy This Time

Researcher of Special Things

Summer Day

[whumptier]

Religious Mimicry

Masterlist

CW: religious talk, medical/lab whump, numbers as names, it as a pronoun, medical torture reframed as religious ecstasy, dehuminzation/denial of humanity, Chimera/cyborg whumpee, handcuffs, violence, kind of looks like a drug situation but isn't, female whumpee, female whumper, male whumpers

______________________________________________________________

Day 249 Accomplishments: Null Setbacks: Religious Mimicry

It had taken Subject One 249 days to invent God.

Rolan tapped his pen against the metallic back of his tablet, the soft click-click keeping time with his measured footsteps through the tower’s sterile halls. Two hundred and forty-nine days. One more, and the creature would have survived a full year. Already, she—it—was replicating humanity’s oldest, most persistent flaw.

He drew a breath, letting the tower’s cool, misty air fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. The pale cloud from his mouth made his fingers itch for a cigarette. His pen struck the tablet a little harder.

Pausing by a window, he adjusted his glasses on his nose. The world outside was all that existed: sluggish gray clouds, a gray ocean chewing at gray sand, gray mist becoming ghosts haunting skeletal trees. The only variation came from the bombs – brief, violent eruptions that left behind deeper, darker shades of gray.

And now this. This would complicate everything. A fortnight after Subject One’s activation, the more sentimental members of his team had begun sending in their petitions for an ethics committee to be established. He had shut the idea down, of course. This was why he preferred machines to people. These were scientists. They had chosen this path to end a war, to restore color to a bleached world. And now they balked at the necessary costs.

They knew what they were building. A machine. Flesh of dead soldiers grafted onto cold alloy, a voice box installed for data retrieval and the facsimile of comfort. Comfort for others, not for its own sake. It was not human. But its pathetic, imitative faith – a crude mirror of mankind’s first fumbling steps toward meaning – would make that truth harder to defend. Better not to argue. Better to remind them of the goal and remove those too weak to pursue it.

He should not be too harsh with them. Warfare of all kinds was too harsh a pursuit for most souls. That was why they were even building this machine in this first place. This...Chimera of animal and metal.

He looked down at his tablet, the screen glowing in the gloom. His stylus hovered, then made a few precise edits.

Accomplishments:  Null Religious Mimicry  Setbacks: Religious Mimicry Misplaced Empathy

Every development was data. Every data point was progress. It was all according to plan. The mist seeped through the window frame, a damp breath on his skin. He removed his glasses, cleaning the smudged rectangular lenses on his lab coat before settling them back into place.

But once they were on, he simply closed his eyes to the gray and continued his walk, the rhythmic tap of his pen against the tablet echoing down the hall. Click. Click. Click.

“Comfort me. Colors, and Taste, and Textures Soft and Spicy and Smooth... Comfort me.”

Subject One’s prayer was a whisper of grinding gears and desperate breath. Its short fingers strained upward before curling inward again, digging into its own palms. Its body was a discordant symphony of trembling muscle and locked, clicking joints, refusing the stillness it craved. The warm metal cuffs on its wrists offered a constant pressure it tried to find solace in, but today, the comfort wouldn’t come.

It pressed the balls of its feet into the hard stone, willing itself to be as immovable as the floor. Stillness was required. Stillness brought the Medicine, the glorious, glowing Liquid. The only source of Color.

It looked up, wide eyes tracking the two scientists. Male and female. They were looking at each other, communicating in the silent, cruel way that often preceded denial. Hateful.

It stretched its cheekbones, a gesture that nearly swallowed its eyes, and bared its teeth in the prescribed smile. A signal that all was wonderful!

“I am ready for my Comfort, doctors,” it chirped, its voice calibrated for cheer. It was important to keep the patients calm. It had an 82% compliance rate. It hoped to boost that to 88% within the next 20 days to receive more Comfort.

“Try to stay still this time, Number One,” the female said with a sigh, plunging a syringe into a vial of – oh! – violet liquid. A refulgent purple against the unending gray. Once inside its veins, that Color would explode, filling its hollow core with a searing Heat. Only the Liquids provided real Heat.

Fear could make its animal and human muscles twitch. So could stress, excitement, and anger. Especially anger. The Liquids did that, too. They made its arms thrash against the cuffs, made its stomach convulse. Sometimes the precious Colors would surge back up its throat, a loss that the cogs making up its heart shudder with sorrow.

It couldn’t fail again. It had been good. It would not let this trembling – this human fear of losing the Texture, the Heat – spoil the reward.

So it held its position, a tense coil on the balls of its feet, and though its fingers would not unclench, it did not flinch away. It held the smile. Calm in its patients was necessary for the Feelings.

“Shit… Danuta, look at her eyes,” the male said. He stood uselessly empty-handed, running a stressed hand through his hair. Subject One’s internal databank flagged the micro-expression.

“Doctor, I am quite alright,” it assured him, modulating its smile from eagerness to reassurance, lowering its cheekbones and simultaneously widening its mouth. “You know this. I feel no pain.” No pain. The Head Scientist had decreed it. Subject One agreed. It felt only Texture. Sensation that existed nowhere else, born from a substance of impossible hue.

“You’re not supposed to use ‘her’ in front of it, Art,” the female murmured. Her hand, holding the syringe, was warm. An inferior, biological warmth. Not like the Heat of the Liquids.

Subject One closed its eyes, letting a sub-process maintain the comforting facial expression as it focused on the coming sensation.

“Comfort me,” it prayed.

The world was gray. The stones, the slabs, the metal table, the nutrient paste—all gray.

But with the Burn came the Color.

The needle pricked. It was good it had set its expression to autopilot, preventing a shift in expression or a malfunction of its voice box some scientists disliked. This Liquid Burned less than usual, but its Colors detonated behind its eyes all the same.

Like the bombs it knew existed. It longed to see one. To watch the gray world flash, for entire  minutes, in a conflagration of Orange and Yellow and Red and White, to see the sky then blotted out by Black for days on end.

Here, in its head, it saw the female’s face bloom Pink, the male’s flush Green. A sublime Yellow manifested above. Perhaps that was the true sky, hidden behind the stone and cloud. A sky of Light that Burned hotter than anything.

Perhaps that was how the sky looked when not blocked by gray stone. A sky made of Light that Burned more than Subject One could in its imperfect state.

One day, Subject One wanted to see the sky. It wanted to Burn as hot as the sun. Enough to Burn the world.

______________________________________________________________

Masterlist

Taglist: @neverthelass, @turn-the-tables-on-them, @boahamcock, @whumpdreamz, @whatwhumpcomments, @honeybees-125, @whump-on-a-log

Yeah, yeah. I'm on hiatus, blah blah. I don't want to hear it. I got too many asks from you guys and now my brain is trying to work on whump again and now I'm awake three hours passed when I wanted to be in bed. I hope you're happy! >.<

This one is when Sascha is the only one alive and she's coping with her situation solely on her own. Once other people (the other chimeras) show up, her ability to cope well deteriorates. She's much better at handling her own pain than knowing someone she cares for is being hurt. This is also before her hatred of humans really sinks in, though it's clear she already doesn't think of them as her superiors or even equals.

[whumptier]

Would it be okay to make fanfiction about your R-Tower series? I want to make sure to stay respectful just in case, but I'm mentally gnawing on your series like a dog bone right now that haunts my dreams 🩷

Lol, that's a new one I haven't heard before. And yes, of course. I like the idea that my little universe could be a springboard for ideas.

I'd like to see what you make if you're alright with eyes other than your own seeing your writing. Would you mind sending me a link or something when you've finished? No pressure; my answer is yes either way.

[whumptier]

I was going through my following list and found you again! I hope you're doing ok and that life isn't being mean. I loved reading your writings and I hope to see you again someday!

Oh, hello.

You're so sweet to check in. I’m hanging in there, just not writing whump anymore. I lost the tingles I once got from it :(

I really appreciate that you still remember my work, though; it means a lot to know it stuck with you. I hope each day is better than the last for you ♥️

[whumptier]

How long did Rolan and the other humans get tortured before the change?

Many years. Over five, not quite twenty. I keep it vague on purpose because at some point not even Rolan nor the Five know. They're become consumed by their revenge to keep track and enjoy their freedom in other ways that don't include pain.

[whumptier]

Symbiosis

He was so cute, wiggling there on the floor, eyes wide and hopeful. He was like a puppy being trained to sit and wait for its treat. Eager but trying its best to be good.

She smiled.

“You hungry, baby?"

He nodded, so excited it made his whole body rock. He was still wiggling with want but he stayed in his kneeling position like a good boy, and she couldn't resist the urge to pet his soft hair.

But puppies were excitable.

She grunted. She had a high pain tolerance but a vampire’s fangs were long and sharp. She tutted at him.

“Sit."

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't…Sorry!”

He was quick to kneel again, though he licked his lips to savor the dark redness there. He looked guilty, head bowed and body slumped. He was looking up at her through his long lashes, wishing for her approval. He was just a puppy. She couldn't get mad at a puppy.

She stood up straight, covering the wound on the dark skin of her forearm before the blood pooling there could fall.

"I know, hon. So sit up straight for me. Mm-hm, just like that. Now tilt your head up like we practiced."

He obeyed quickly, nibbling a lip just as pale as his long,exposed throat. He knew what came next.

This time, at the bite, she only grimaced. She held his cheek with her free hand. Watching his eyes, which should have been ancient and weary instead become sweet and warm like chocolate, and oh so grateful, made her blood pump faster. And he drank it faster.

They fed off one another just like that. The puppy and its master. The human and her vampire.

"Good boy."

[wintertraumaposting]

"I'll be good!!"

"You'll be obedient. *I'll* decide when you're being good."

[harbingersecho]

you will regret this for the rest of your life

[sarahdraws16]

Hurt

[whumptier]

Choose

Masterlist

CW: Multiple whumpees shown, multiple whumpers mentioned, whumperee, carewhumper, whumpee's perspective, mention of torture - specifically a beating, pretty short I think, no real plot just some emotional whump, whumpee forced to choose others for punishment

_____________________________________________________________

Rolan tried not to make a sound as he was pushed to the ground – slaves were meant to be silent if they were not told to beg or cry – but a yelp escaped his torn lips anyway. The stone was always so hard on his bruises…He missed the soft carpet of the bedroom already, even though he knew what pain came with it.

He sniffled and pushed himself up onto his knees, deliberately keeping his eyes to the darkness of the floor. He did not look to the other prisoners for comfort, or for pity. He didn’t deserve it, and they were all looking elsewhere anyway. They were all being very still and quiet, trying as best they could to hide away from Master Oleh’s hard gaze. But he wasn’t interested in any of them in particular today. Not yet.

“Choose,” he grunted. Rolan tried in vain to swallow, but his throat was too dry. He could feel the others’ trembling from here. That voice was like a tiger in the darkness, prepared to spring and bite and claw each of them. If that tiger struck, their skin would be shredded into ribbons and their screams drowned out by his roar. Then they would be left with nothing but a faintly beating heart and agony before being dragged back to health by a touch that was anything but kind. The tiger was never allowed to finish off his prey. Maybe that’s why he was in such a bad mood.

“I-I don’t understand, Mas–”

“One of them is being beaten today. Choose who,” Master Oleh snapped down at him. Rolan flinched like the coward he was and his eyes widened. He could hear his former coworkers whimpering and shuffling backwards even more, like mice hiding in the dark of a storeroom, and he almost wished he could join them. He didn’t want to make this choice again, and it was almost always him!

But somehow worse was the completely irrational feeling of betrayal. This was a game. Master Oleh never played games! He was a soldier, a tank meant to punch and kick and fight until whatever he’d been pointed at stopped moving. He wasn’t made for cruelty or manipulation. He wasn’t Master Adrik or Master Érik.

“M-Master, I don’t understand. Y-You don’t have to d-do this,” he whispered. “You don’t need to play games to discipline us, r-right?”

He didn’t like talking back to any of his masters, but sometimes…well, sometimes it was clear he hadn’t fully learned his place.

And sometimes, his masters forgot their place.

“It was Adrik’s idea,” the monster said, arms crossed. His face seemed permanently drawn in a glare, his mouth twisted in a snarl, his eyes almost glowing with hate.

Rolan bit his lip and looked away. That was his fault, just like everything else that happened in this place. He had taught his masters hatred, and pain, and disgust for humanity. He had taught them war. How else could he have thought this would end?

Then he looked into the crowd of faces. He could name each of them if he so chose. Kirill, Boris, Sofron, Artur, Gena, Bronislav…He had chosen each of them to be sacrificed on the pyre they all once had a hand in creating. The pyre Rolan himself had lit.

Each of them looked directly at him, trying to catch his eye. He was not without a heart, unlike their creations. If they could just catch his eye, he might not choose them. He might spare them pain that day. It was a twisted form of power, one Rolan had once not thought twice about owning.

He lowered his eyes. He didn’t want to see any of their faces, the relief at not being chosen in most, and the horror in the one he chose.

“Díma, Master,” he whispered. Díma cried out, high and pleading, and the jingle of chains said he was straining to crawl even further back, but it was impossible. Their cells were small, and there were already too many of them crammed inside. The only place to truly run was out the front door…through their master.

Without delay and without a word, Master Oleh stepped through the crowd. They all scrambled away from him, and the unlucky few he stepped on cried out as bones cracked beneath his heels. Díma was crying, but it did him no good now. It never did. Master Oleh did not stop for false comfort, nor even to insult or jeer. He unlocked the chains and dragged the man into the light of outside, and soon the sound of their footsteps and cries faded into silence.

Rolan lied down and covered his face with his hands. He had not been chained, either to the wall or to the others. It was a privilege to have this amount of freedom. He should be grateful. But all he felt was despair.

______________________________________________________________

Hope y'all enjoyed this short one. If you weren't aware already, I'm taking a break on writing whump for the forseeable future. I'm focused on writing my novel, and my inspiration for seeing pretty boys has been lacking. It's been real, tho

Taglist: @neverthelass, @turn-the-tables-on-them, @boahamcock, @whumpdreamz, @whatwhumpcomments, @honeybees-125, @whump-on-a-log, welcome-to-the-whumpfest

[whump-on-a-string]

Doodle inspired by @mj-iza-writer's comforty whump story because it's so cute. ;_; Caretaker gave them ice cream and a big ol cozy blanket and is so nice and aUAGFDSBJKGHFD MY HeaRT

[whump-on-a-string]

Doodle inspired by @mj-iza-writer's comforty whump story because it's so cute. ;_; Caretaker gave them ice cream and a big ol cozy blanket and is so nice and aUAGFDSBJKGHFD MY HeaRT

[mj-iza-writer]

"Whumpee can I see your teddy", Caretaker reached out for it, "it needs to be cleaned, I'll give it right back when it's done."

"No, no please", Whumpee squeezed it tighter, and shook their head.

"I'm sorry Whumpee, but you were very sick last week. I'm pretty sure you have puked on it", Caretaker knelt down beside Whumpee, "I know it's your comfort item, but how about we find something else for a few hours while I take care of Teddy."

"Nuh-uh", Whumpee squirmed away.

"Whumpee, do you want to help me clean it, or we could make cookies while Teddy gets washed", Caretaker rubbed Whumpee's back comfortingly, "I promise Teddy will come right back to you."

A friend of Caretaker's was listening in.

"If I were you I'd take it from them, they're to old to be acting like that. Honestly to old to have a stuffed toy", the friend frowned.

Caretaker watched Whumpee's eyes squeeze shut as tears streamed down their face.

"I think you need to stop freaken talking", Caretaker growled at their friend, "you have no idea what is going on here. Just mind your business, and let me do my job."

Finally, after a few more tears and bartering Caretaker was given Teddy.

Caretaker had promised to make Teddy smell really good, and Whumpee now walked around the house wrapped in giant soft blanket.

Lastly, Caretaker handed Whumpee a bowl of ice cream.

"I still think it would have been easier to take it away, and let them get over it", the friend frowned as Whumpee walked past with the ice cream.

Whumpee stopped and looked at Caretaker.

"Don't worry about them, go eat your ice cream. I started a movie for you", Caretaker slapped their friend in the back of the head.

"Oww", the friend complained.

"Are you dumb?", Caretaker gritted their teeth.

"No, I just...", the friend started.

"Whumpee came here with that toy. The person who hurt them gave it to them to signify that they were done hurting Whumpee", Caretaker sighed, "if they had the teddy bear, they wouldn't be hurt. They were safe. If it was pulled out of their hands, torture was starting. It wouldn't end until the toy was given back to them."

"Do you see what kind of issues could have happened if I just pulled that away from them. What kind of trauma response I would have to deal with for the next several hours", Caretaker looked at the friend, "it does take more time, I'm aware of that. I had to have some losses to get the win of getting that from them."

"You told them it needed to be cleaned and it had puke on it", the friend pointed out, "you knew what was best, and they didn't listen to you."

"You should have seen how bad it was when it first came here", Caretaker sighed, "covered in blood, and probably several other body fluids. It was dirty and absolutely disgusting. They still clung to it. To them, it means safety. It's familiar to them."

The friend still frowned.

"You smoke right? Do you have your box and lighter?", Caretaker stood.

"Feeling like a smoke Caretaker?", the friend chuckled as they pulled out the box and lighter.

Caretaker quickly grabbed the box and lighter and walked away.

The friend followed, "where are you going? You don't smoke."

"I know, just proving a point", Caretaker went into his office and closed the door behind him.

The door was locked before the friend could grab the door knob.

The friend gulped when he heard the heavy safe door slam shut. Caretaker came out soon after.

"Where's my smokes", the friend went into the office and pulled on the safe door, "Caretaker?"

"I figured I knew what was best, so I took them away. You won't like it for a little while, but I'm sure you'll get over it", Caretaker grinned as their friend tried to guess the combination, "you're acting like a child you know, aren't you to old to have a crutch like cigarettes."

"Okay, okay, you've made your point. I'm sorry", the friend frowned, "can I have my smokes back now?"

Caretaker grinned as he pulled the cigarettes and lighter from his back pocket.

"That's cold", the friend frowned as they grabbed their things back."

"What's cold is telling a trauma survivor, one who has been through so much more than what we will ever know about, that they need to grow up", Caretaker frowned, "have some sympathy."

Caretaker heard the timer for the teddy's wash go off.

"You could have easily went out and bought another pack and lighter. You would have soon forgotten I had those", Caretaker sighed, "Whumpee doesn't get that luxury."

Whumpee rounded the corner, "is Teddy done?"

"Not quite Whumpee, I just need to dry him", Caretaker held up a few scent capsules, "which smell do you like?"

Whumpee smelt every capsule twice until they picked one.

"Good choice Whumpee", Caretaker smiled, "I promise thirty minutes you will have Teddy back."

Whumpee nodded and sat beside the dryer.

"Can I wait here?", Whumpee's lip quivered.

"Yes, you can. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me", the friend followed Caretaker.

"So what did we learn here?", Caretaker looked at his friend.

"That I shouldn't judge. And, that you have a harder job than what I realized", the friend sighed.

"I think you owe Whumpee am apology", Caretaker frowned, "that was quite mean of you to act like that when you didn't know the whole story."

"Caretaker?", the friend frowned.

"No, no", Caretaker waved in disgust, "you know I am protective of my patients that stay with me, if you can not make yourself safe to be around, you will not be welcomed in my house when I have patients here."

"Okay, okay", the friend sighed, then turned to walk back to Whumpee.

They rounded the corner in time to see Whumpee wiping away a tear.

Whumpee looked at them nervously.

"I'm sorry for being mean earlier, Caretaker explained the importance of that bear. I'm sorry if I caused you any flashbacks", the friend tried to make a comforting smile.

Whumpee nodded, "thankyou", they whispered.

The dryer dinged, causing Caretaker to quickly walk in.

"Alright let's see", Caretaker opened the dryer.

They carefully pulled Teddy out and handed it to Whumpee, "I made sure to use the gentlest wash and dry cycles."

"Careful Whumpee, we have another hole to patch", Caretaker frowned as they looked into the dryer to see clumps of cotton.

"Another hole?", Caretaker's friend eyed Whumpee.

"Yes Teddy is well loved, they need some patching every once in a while", Caretaker sighed, "Whumpee do you want to fix it now or later."

Whumpee gently cuddled their face into the toy, they took in the warmth and scent.

Whumpee's body shook, "what if... what if there is a time Teddy can't be fixed? What do I do then?"

"We will have to figure something else out then", Caretaker frowned, "I'll try my best to make sure that doesn't happen. Here come help me, you can hold Teddy's hand while I sew."

The next day Caretaker's friend called.

"Hey I have an idea, do you think Whumpee could go to the mall", the friend asked.

"They can, though they are having a hard day, so they will need their wheelchair", Caretaker smiled, "what are you thinking?"

"It's a surprise, can you meet me their with Whumpee", the friend asked.

"Yeah, I can do that. Whumpee probably wouldn't mind getting out, they've been distraught because of Teddy", Caretaker stood, "see you soon."

Caretaker pushed Whumpee through the mall until they found their friend.

"Hey Whumpee", the friend knelt down to eye level with Whumpee and smiled, "Caretaker", they then looked up.

"Hello", Whumpee whispered.

"Whumpee is being extra brave right now. They decided to let Teddy stay at home to rest", Caretaker gently rubbed Whumpee's shoulder.

"That is very brave.... I know that now", the friend smiled and patted Whumpee's leg.

"So we are both curious. What brings us to the mall?", Caretaker smiled.

"I had this thought last night while I was looking at online pictures of my niece and nephew celebrating their birthdays", the friend stood.

"There is a store here where you pick a stuffed toy and they stuff it for you", the friend smiled, "I was hoping you would allow me to buy one for you. You could pick whatever you like. There are even some cute outfits to dress the stuffie in."

"But what about Teddy?", Whumpee whispered.

"This will not replace Teddy at all, but maybe give them a little break", the friend smiled, "you're also trauma bonded to Teddy, maybe you are holding onto a lot of bad memories. Maybe a new stuffie will help you move forward in your healing, and you can make new memories."

"B-but Teddy deserves to heal with me also. They went through everything I went through, then helped me", Whumpee let out a small sob, "I don't want Teddy to be forgotten."

"We will never forget Teddy" Caretaker quickly came around, "I promise Teddy will never be forgotten. Can you take a deep breath for me."

Whumpee nodded and took a shaky breath.

"How about this", Caretaker smiled, "we can set up a place for Teddy. A place of honor. Teddy will be able to watch over you, and you will be able to get them at all times."

"We can even pick out a stuffie for Teddy to cuddle, and they can start healing as well", the friend smiled.

Whumpee thought for a second before nodding, "I-I think Teddy might like that."

"Yeah?", the friend smiled.

Whumpee nodded with a weak smile.

The friend looked up at Caretaker and smiled.

Caretaker smiled back and nodded, "you might have it in you to be a caregiver yourself."

"I don't know about that", the friend started to wall and Caretaker followed pushing the wheelchair with Whumpee, "I don't think I would be able to do what you do. I'm sorry I just now figured that out."

"That's alright", Caretaker winked.

Whumpee shook as they walked toward the different stuffie options the store had.

Caretaker helped hold them up as they looked.

"You said they were having a hard day today... I didn't realize", their friend followed with the wheelchair.

"Yes, Whumpee has good days when they can get around just fine. Days like today, their body just doesn't have enough strength", Caretaker continued supporting Whumpee, "their captors did a lot of bad things to them. Their body had to hold up to a lot of abuse, and it's broken."

Caretaker watched Whumpee, "are you doing alright? Do you want to sit down?"

"I-I think I should", Whumpee wobbled forward, but Caretaker held them up.

"Do you see any you like?", the friend held the chair still while Whumpee sat down.

Whumpee nodded, "uhm, I keep looking at that tan bear. It kind of looks like Teddy."

"It does?" the friend went back to look. They thought about the old bear.

"Well I guess what Teddy used to look like", Whumpee was pushed closer.

"This one?", the friend held it up.

"Yes, but are you sure about this?", Whumpee whispered, "you don't have to."

"No, I would absolutely love to get this for you", the friend smiled as they handed the bear to Whumpee, "I was very mean to you yesterday, and I feel bad that Teddy is falling apart on you. Are you sure this is the one you like though?"

Whumpee looked it over, then nodded, "yes... please."

Whumpee helped push the peddle to stuff the bear, and followed the instructions on the heart.

"Give it a big squeeze to see if you like it", Caretaker smiled.

Whumpee squeezed it tightly.

"How does it feel?", the friend watched.

They both watched as Whumpee began to cry.

"Good", Whumpee whispered, "really good, thankyou so much."

Whumpee didn't pick out any clothes until the friend pulled down a shirt that said °Emotional Support Bear°

Whumpee giggled lightly and then nodded.

Caretaker had just covered Whumpee with a blanket when they heard their phone vibrate.

"How are they doing?", their friend had texted, "did the bear work out?"

Caretaker grinned as they sat down across from Whumpee.

They looked up and watched Whumpee's chest rise and fall. They were deep asleep now. The new bear cuddled tightly in their arms.

They snapped a picture and sent it to their friend.

"I can't tell how much this meant to them", Caretaker wiped a tear away from their eye, "you helped them take a big step forward in their recovery. As their caregiver and your friend, thankyou so much for helping heal them."

"You're welcome, I'm glad I was able to do that for them and for you", the friend replied, "have a good night."

"You too", Caretaker stood and retrieved Teddy.

"Alright my dear friend", Caretaker gently carried Teddy to a shelf Whumpee had agreed on.

This shelf overlooked Whumpee's bed, and they would have easy access if they ever needed extra comfort from Teddy.

Caretaker sat Teddy in a weaved basket chair. They rested Teddy's head on a pillow. Lastly, they pulled out the stuffed toy Whumpee had picked for Teddy, and cuddled the arms around the toy.

"Rest well Teddy, you did a good job protecting them. It's my turn now", Caretaker poked the bears faded nose, "I promise they will heal."

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

[whumptier]

One. Two. Three.

CW: fear, timeskipping through misery, punishment memories, whipping and cutting and beating memories, mind-breaking, semi-brainwashing, repetition, rationalization of pain, mention of lady whumper

Previous: I Want to Be Good

Next: Mood Swings

Masterlist: R-Tower Masterlist

___________________________________________________________

One. Two. Three.

Rolan’s life was repetition. Recitation of who he was, in a trembling voice when he was cold and filthy in his cage. A scientist. An officer. A hero who saved lives by the millions. Someone respected. Educated. Feared.

One. Two. Three.

Before the incident, he had repeated it in his mind alone. Not where it could be heard by others. He wanted to keep who he was. Who he had worked to become. All of it had to be kept inside his chest, safe and his.

He had thought he needed it back then. He hadn’t. Not like now.

Now, to the tune of a whip he promised and pleaded that he knew what his masters told him. In whispers or shouts they said it, and through tears and screams he repeated. Monster. Human. Pathetic. Evil. Weak. Afraid. He was afraid, yes, he was. Of the belt. The bed. The knife. The cold. The laughter.

One. Two. Three. He pushed wet rag against hard, chilled stone. His hands were put to something useful now.

One. Two. Three. Kneel down and ignore the ache in his knees, the trembling of his thighs and back.

One. Two. Three. Scream for the master. Yes, the one who liked his screams most. He needed his pain. He’d made this future for himself in making them.

One. Two. Three seconds of looking into those green eyes. Watch like he had watched before…Apologize. Again. Again. Again.

“Mistress…Master…My masters…”

One. Two. Three scritches around his ears and scalp and neck. He had been a good pet.

One. Two. Three cracks over his shoulders. Pain to break him, and pain to heal him. He needed it. He would become better. He would stop being a monster. He would become a good pet.

One. Two. Three.

One. Two. Three.

___________________________________________________________

Taglist: @neverthelass, @turn-the-tables-on-them, @boahamcock, @whumpdreamz, @whatwhumpcomments, @honeybees-125, @whump-on-a-log

I'm not dead. I'll sue anyone for libel who says otherwise!

[whumptier]

Sascha

Masterlist: R-Tower Masterlist

CW: lady whumpee, medical whump, dehumanization (robot isn't a human kind), hints of awakening sentience/sapeince, emotional whump, implied pregnancy (not whumpee's), and mention of animal cruelty, "it" as a pronoune

______________________________________________________________

Sascha was still. That was it was made to do. Better one of the computers for the job, it thought privately, but it refrained from speaking these thoughts. Sascha was a tool. The same as the syringe they filled with fluid that made its arm burn and its mind too big for its container. Sascha was not meant to have thoughts.

It counted the seconds, and minutes, and hours left alone, standing wherever it had been put. It did not sleep. That was for humans. Sascha was not human. Sascha was…unknown. The doctors around it, watching it, speaking about it, always so loud, always touching…they argued about what it was.

“An animal,” one said, male and dark haired. His lips were pink. “It has bodily fluids and a heart. Self-sustaining creatures are animals.”

“That’s old-fashioned thinking,” said another, female and blonde. Her waist was thin now, but it could change. It had done so, many times, and her stomach had rounded out. Not like Sascha’s waist, which always remained the same. “If machines can be self-sustaining now, so can androids. That’s what it is. It can mimic, but mimicry of life isn’t life.”

“You don’t name androids. Not unless you’re a child,” someone behind and above Sascha’s head retorted. The voice sounded male and haughty. “And yet we call it Sascha. Obviously it’s alive, even if it isn’t sapient.”

Sascha was an “it” like the frogs held floating in clear fluid or the apples levitating over metal contraptions. There was no difference between Sascha and the frog and the apple. It blinked.

“Of course she’s sapient!” a male with pale skin and long eyelashes argued, walking into its line of sight. Dr. Thompson, Sascha thought. Ah. Stop thinking. “Watch.”

“Where is Sascha’s right cheek? Can you point to it?” Dr. Thompson always scrunched his nose up and cooed like a parent to a little child in the videos Sascha was given to watch. Sascha pointed, the chill and softness of her cheek surprising against the heated hard material of her digits.

“And who is Sascha? Who is she?” Dr. Thompson cooed. Sascha blinked. She was Sascha.

“Me.”

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @neverthelass, @turn-the-tables-on-them, @boahamcock, @whumpdreamz, @whatwhumpcomments, @honeybees-125, @whump-on-a-log

Took a while for me to post and it's short, but I accept no criticism because being tired is my ultimate excuse. Lol, but for real, hope it tickles your fancy just a tidge :D

[whumptier]

Hi. I hope you're doing OK. You haven't been on in a while so I'm just checking in! I hope all is going well with you.

You're kindness itself for checking. I'm alright. Just tired.

Btw, your handle doesn't become underlined when I type it in. Is @boahamcock not your address? If it isn't, that would explain why you aren't being pinged. Edit: It works on the computer if I copy and paste it, though. Odd. Maybe speak to the devs about it?

[whumptier]

Can we get a crumb of Rolan-comfort? Pretty Please 🥺

The Quiet of Night

CW: Fluff. It's just fluff. And birds! And emotional vulnerability with oneself. And Rolan reconnecting with a childhood joy, yayyyy

Previous: The Taste of Kindness

Next: Contentment

Masterlist

Tossing out whump chapters like bread crumbs to the birds is fun 😁

______________________________________________________________

Rolan knew the night.

Ever since he had been allowed to live full-time with his dear Master Érik, he had been able to see the sky through the large window overlooking his master’s desk. He had seen, with sight always fuzzy, the stars. Those burning balls of gas Rolan had the privilege of witnessing twinkle had made him feel seen. Watched. It had been humiliating at first, and then terrifying, but now…all he felt was comfort. He was never alone when the stars shone.

When the moon rose, ghostly pale and shining as bright as a spotlight on the weak scientist, he felt small and weak. But he did not resent this; unlike any human, or chimera, the moon could not judge him for his past misdeeds. How he craved this feeling. To be seen, held, bathed in light without the judgement he knew so well…more than he deserved, yet what he desired most.

So Rolan knew the night.

He knew the night in its stillness, the lapping of ocean waves on beaches and shores far below him. He knew it for its occasional scream in the darkness, from outside or within the tower. He knew the night for the candles burning low as Master read books or wrote poems.

But Rolan had never known a night like this.

It was one like any other, but within himself he found not vulnerability, or the desperate search for safety.

No.

Instead, he found, to his great surprise, a sense of peace.

Peace was a strange idea, so strange it was never uttered, even in the darkest corners of the minds of any human in the R-tower. But it was, that night, what Rolan felt.

The moon was near full, but not quite, and Rolan’s naked eyes watched it from the bed. He felt warm, despite the open window, covered in soft linen sheets and thick wool blankets Master provided him. His stomach was full, and he felt filled with warm soup from this night’s dinner. His body was clean and soft thanks to the gentle soap and heated bath he’d been allowed.

It was one of the good nights. The ones filled with kindness, and gentleness. Soft and careful.

But even better than all of this was his companion.

Animals rarely came to the R-Tower, something Rolan suspected was out of instinct; his masters rather than scent or traps like before. The tower had been quiet recently, however, and perhaps this was proof they were to stay that way for a while longer. Owls were known to be wise, after all, and their yellow eyes saw everything, and yet this one had decided to come down and rest on the window’s sill.

Rolan watched those yellow eyes watching him, and with a voice no longer parched he whispered, “Hoot hoot…”

Such a silly habit from childhood he had broken long ago. But no one was around to make fun of him for his childishness now. The owl hooted back, gentle and quiet in the night, eyes unblinking.

Rolan’s lips twitched, and he didn’t try to stop a smile from spreading across his face. No one to see but this pretty thing, with its dark scribbles and curved beak. The stillness of the night gave way to a soft, pleased sigh that sounded like the ruffling of fluffy feathers. One floated down to the desk beneath the window, landing lightly on the wood and prepared parchment.

Rolan whispered again, “Hoot hoot…hoot hoot…” staring in quiet amazement at what he hadn’t realized he had missed. How long had it been since he’d watched the birds swooping or calling or building their nests? He must have been young then. Not so busy with all-consuming schooling, or the desperate cries of war, or the creation of monsters become masters.

Rolan was no longer young, though he had forgotten his exact age. But as the cool gust of the ocean breeze made him snuggle more comfortably into his blankets, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could return to the simple pleasures of who he had once been. His father’s hand, gentle and worn, would never again brush the locks of his hair from his face, but his eyes could still watch the moon. The stars. The birds. He could watch them sit, and live, and fly as high as they dared.

So he did.

___________________________________________________________

Taglist: @neverthelass, @honeybees-125, @whump-on-a-log, @welcome-to-the-whumpfest, @whatwhumpcomments, @boahamcock, @whumpdreamz, @turn-the-tables-on-them