They had promised to help you, promised to fix you. They had lied. For weeks they had fed you things that made you ill, things they claimed would weaken the curse long enough for the cure to take place. Now you know them for what they really are. Poisons. 

They had been feeding you poisons specifically meant for werewolves, knowing very well that you would be left too weak to fully transform on your first full moon. Their “cure”, their “help”, was weakening you to a point that you couldn’t fight back, and then dumping you into another wolfs territory.

You had grown up hearing terrifying things about werewolves, about how they would kill anything in sight on the full moon, how they would hunt anything that smelt weak or human and rip it to shreds with sickening pleasure. They were aggressive, monstrous, evil, barbaric, creatures. That’s that you had always been told.

In a twisted way they were fulfilling their promise they made when you came home crying, a fresh bite marring your shoulder. After tonight, you definitely wouldn’t be a werewolf anymore…. you wouldn’t be much of anything. With their poisons, they had ensured that there was no way for you to make it out of this alive, not once the owner of this territory found you.

As the moon began to rise, you felt waves of agony start rolling over your already weak and injured form, ripping helpless screams of pain from your throat. It felt like forever until it ended, though you could tell that it was wrong, that you hadn’t fully changed, thanks to the taint in your blood. 

You laid there, weak as a newborn kitten as your chest rose and fell shakily, soft pathetic whines and whimpers slipping from your inhuman throat. Your poor heart damn near stopped as you heard the branches crack, and saw those glowing eyes peering out at you.

Slowly, a massive werewolf stalked out of the darkness of the trees, it’s eyes never leaving yours as it slowly closed the distance. Some distant part of your new instincts urged you to flee or bare your throat in submission, but you could do neither, whining in fear and pain as the creature came to a stop looming above you.

You waited, certain you were about to be torn to pieces, but minutes passed, and nothing happened. Slowly, its large muzzle lowered, and it gently nosed your weak unmoving form, carefully inspecting the wounds you had been given, and the tainted scent of poison that practically oozed from your deformed body. 

With a loud huffing sound, the wolf abruptly laid down beside you, partially covering your weakened body with its own as it curled around you, protecting you. Gently it rumbled, nuzzling its nose into your hair with a huff, the meaning clear even to your pain filled distorted mind.

“Safe. Rest.”

They're just having a little fun.

Art/Reuben©Hirochuu Thatcher©Coreath

I bet Gortash would still love you if you turned into a ravening murder beast and put a cute explosive collar on you and sic you on his enemies—

Some old doodles about Sladejay

Whump Art 10

Caretaker feeding pieces of apple to an injured tiny Whumpee.

“They’re very well trained” “It just tore apart three of my men!” “Because I gave the word. Now it would be in your best interest to speak carefully. Do you have the package we agreed upon?”

[other version under the cut] Mafia Au drawing I did of Alien and @whump-queen. 

Honestly love it when characters are just...really out of it but in a very specific way.

I love scenarios when someone's going through Some Crazy External Shit that's really extreme and traumatizing and draining and they're absolutely exhausted and their brain is just not in the right place & they're kind of seeing things.

Like okay if they're in an intense battle that's been going on for hours and they're bleeding and staggering and are still on their feet with adrenaline alone, but then they're hit badly again and kind of bleeding out and there's gunfire or lasers or magical explosions going on all around them and they're trying to stay conscious while also disassociating completely and when somebody grabs their injured body and starts to drag them from the battlefield they look up and all they can see are the shadowy arms of death before they pass out

Or someone on the run through a forest at night with a storm raging overhead, lightning threading through the sky and thunder booming with alarming volume, they're terrified and cold and certain either the storm will kill them or their pursuers will, and suddenly a lightning bolt strikes a tree near them and lights up the whole world for an instant, now there's fire and water and wind all around them at once and their ears are ringing and they're sure they must have already died somewhere in their chase

Anyway whumpees being in that panicked, adrenaline-ridden, in-bad-shape-in-a-multitude-of-ways state and then something just absolutely bonkers happens and they can't process it (usually followed pretty quickly by them losing consciousness either from exhaustion, cold, their injuries, or sheer panic)...just gets to me

Quote Prompt

“I think you were very young when they put the weight of the world on your shoulders. And there might not be any way of undoing it. But, I’m willing to try.”

Short Prompt #1169

CW: kidnapping, threats, toxic relationship.

“Now, now, gentleman!” You croaked nervously, raising your hands in a placating manner. “No need for all the fancy sharp things, I-I’ll gladly cooperate.”

There wasn’t much you could do, hands and feet tied together with thick rope. And your stomach dropped when none other than the gang leader slinked in from the shadows. “Oh, will you, darling? You always seem so supportive of your husband’s endeavors.”

They cornered you against the wall, leaning down and taking over your personal space. “Whatever changed, hm?”

Tears started gathering in your eyes. “W-Well, how else am I supposed to avoid getting murdered by that maniac!? T-This is the first time in three years since I’ve managed to get away from him! And it’s only because I got fucking kidnapped!”

Just thinking about possession

The longer whumpee is possessed, and the further their soul is suppressed, the more likely it is they will endure acute to permanent neurological damage if they make it out alive.

When whumpees been possessed for so long that their soul is barely clinging by a thread. The entity taking them only hearing a whisper of their captive in their head.

Imagine the recoil when the entity is expelled, the force of it leaving and the exhange of souls/energy causes a large electrical disruption in whumpees brain.

Whumpee collapses, having been completely drained from fighting their possession, not to mention the physical toll the entity inflicted while using their body. Upon hitting the ground they begin convulsing to their teammates horror.

For minutes they seized, being held down for their safety, their frantic friends in hysterics yelling at each other about what to do, so terrified and helpless on how to help whumpee.

Somehow, they’d survive the shock. Their body stilled, and color began returning to them- though their breath remained ragged and strained.

Barely coming to, moaning and eyes fluttering they feel the warm hand of someone touching their cheek. So cold… So tired… Whumpee cant muster the energy to focus on their surroundings, the light hurts, the voices echo around them, they feel so nauseous and being conscious hurt so much. They couldn’t hang on, and succumbed to their desire to fall under.

44. Dropping him off

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe

He was so… so big. Lydia had forgotten about that. Not much taller than Cory, but muscular and solid. The difference between the two pets was the difference between a rottweiler and a saluki.

Brutus followed meekly along the gravel path, head down, one full step behind his master and Cecilia. Lydia held open the front door.

“Welcome, welcome. Come on in.”

“Hi Lydia, dear.” Cecilia gave her a quick hug, summery in her white dress patterned with large, red poppies.

Lydia shook hands with Wayland, who greeted her with a jovial smile.

“Lydia, so nice to see you again. I remember that we met just briefly at the party.”

“We did. Nice to see you again.”

Lydia studied him surreptitiously. In the broad daylight, compared with the candlelit atmosphere of the party, his slightly receding hair line was clearly visible. Very fit and smartly dressed, neat, expensive-looking dark blue jeans, pale blue shirt and a dark blue jacket. Sunglasses in his brown, short hair. Lydia could see why Cecilia fancied him, though there was something smarmy about him that bothered her.

Brutus wore a black polo shirt, black trousers and carried a suitcase. The guard dog looked up at Lydia standing on the porch with huge, surprised eyes.

“I-I remember you, Ma’am, from… from the party.”

Lydia smiled.

“I remember you too, Brutus. I’m happy that we’ll get the chance to get to know each other a little bit better.” She made a gesture towards the young man kneeling behind her in the hallway. “This is Coriander.”

”Hello, Coriander.”

“H-hello.” The pet ducked his head and hunched his shoulders. As soon as the guard dog entered, he rose and slunk out into the kitchen. Lydia watched with concern, sure, she didn’t expect Cory to just shake hands, but she hadn’t expected him to behave like a frightened kitten either. Shouldn’t pets enjoy spending time with other pets?

After a while, they were all seated in the kitchen with some coffee and cake, the pets kneeling on pillows on either side of the table. Brutus had looked surprised at the pillow, and even more surprised at the cake.

“I can see that they’re going to spoil you here, boy.” Wayland had commented, in a good-natured tone.

“So kind of you to take in a second-have pet.” He told Lydia. “I hear that they often have behavioral challenges, is that something you have to struggle with?”

“No, not at all.” Lydia said breezily, glancing at Coriander with a smile “Coriander’s the best. I couldn’t ask for a better companion.”

“Well,” Wayland said, sounding a tad disappointed. “That’s good. I guess companion pets are trained to be easy to handle. Brutus can be kind of feisty. It’s a thing with guard dogs, you know, spirited critters. It takes a firm hand to keep him in line.”

His voice sharpening, he turned towards Brutus. “You’ll listen to her every order as if it were my own, do you understand what I am saying, mutt?”

“Yes, Master.” The guard dog kept his head down, just flickering his eyes up at his owner.

Both Cecilia and Lydia started at Wayland’s hash tone. Both women exchanged a glance, Cecilia looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to hear that you have been any trouble, is that understood? You obey her in everything, or there will be hell to pay when I get back.”

“I will obey, Master.”

His suave demeanor returned immediately when he turned towards Lydia “I’m sure he’ll be no problem. Thank you again for agreeing to watch him.”

Wayland nodded to the two women. “So, how did the two of you meet?”

Cecilia and Lydia smiled at each other.

“We met in our first year at university. We shared the same courses and the same professor and we thought it was so hard.” Cecilia said, and continued, mimicking the deep gravelly voice of an older man. “Miss Winterthorpe, what is the difference between iambic pentameter and trochaic rythm, if you please?”

They both laughed.

“He was so inspiring, too.” Lydia said. “The whole class adored him. He talked of all those long-dead writers as if they’d been his personal friends. As if he knew them and their passions through their word alone.”

Cecilia nodded, slightly wistfully. “So it seemed to us, but we were young and naive, I guess.”

Lydia grew more serious, looking over at her friend. “Cecilia has actually helped me a lot.” She told Wayland. “She lent us some money, when me and Carla started our business. The bank didn’t want to give us the loan without collateral. She really believed in us.”

“And I got the money back after the first year. Lydia’s quite the entrepreneur, let me tell you.” Cecilia smiled.

“I don’t know about that, Carla’s the one with the shrewd head for business in our company.”

“Carla also makes the best cappuccino, we need to go to have brunch there one one morning, dear.” Ceci added. “Wayland’s quite the entrepreneur himself, tell Lydia about your current project.”

“Well…”

Under the table. Coriander looked down to avoid Brutus’ gaze.

And Brutus has arrived! Enjoy! 💖

In other news, I have 200 followers, you guys! That is so awesome and incredible! Thank you all so much! 🌼 And, as always, thank you for likes and reblogs and comments. I am so excited that you want to come along with Lydia and Cory (and Brutus)! 🐩🐕 A big hug to all of you!

Tag list: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper

You know what I love? Respectful caretaking.

When the caretaker makes sure to check that the hurt one is comfortable, offering to narrate what they’re doing, provide a blanket for modesty etc. Or just asking “are you okay with that?” Even though they don’t seem scared.

Or when their charge is unconscious or incoherent and the caretaker still treats them like they will remember this and are capable of being traumatized by it. 

Or when they don’t want something done and the caregiver’s response is: ‘I know I can’t make you do anything; here’s why I think you should let me,’ followed by questions about why they’re saying no and suggestions on how to make it easier. Love can be many (unhealthy, abusive) things, but if you respect someone as an equal individual, you’ll meet them where they are and make adjustments.

WORDS FROM JENNY HOLZERS 1980'S 'THE LIVING SERIES'

LOL I POSTED WITHOUT CAPTION OOPS

But yeah, naive demon Lance visiting the Surface for the first time, and getting snatched up by a crooked angel Shiro ;^) this was a post for my patrons last month, and I really wanted to share this here as well! Bad Angels/Innocent Demons are like…such a trope but I love it so u///u I drew this with kurotsukki and hetalia too back in the day ahaha no do not ask me to post it

The caretaker is friends with the whumper but doesn’t know it. The whumpee goes missing and the caretaker is looking for them while the whumper gives “sympathy” and accidentally reveals something they wouldn’t be able to know about the whumpee being missing.