Alphabet Of Whump 2024
A whump prompt event running throughout September (run by @pigeonwhumps)
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Alphabet of Whump: H is for Home
A recently discarded, desperate pet approaches a house he hopes might hold kind people.
(or, Charlie finds a home)
CWs: BBU, pet whump, zip ties, restrained, mention of possible amputation (non-medical), starvation, implied non-con, self-dehumanisation, crawling
Alphabet of Whump 2024 – Name
The Beauty of Suffering // Series: A Coven’s Violence // Warnings: dehumanization, it/its pronouns for a person, intimate whumper
It didn’t have a name, not really. The host had a name, Mistress had a name and It wasn’t allowed to refer to her as anything but Mistress. Names were important things, titled were even more important, and the Weapon wasn’t important enough to have a name. “Weapon” wasn’t a name, It new, “Weapon” was simply what It was. Something Mistress had in her hands, with a trigger ready to be pulled by her.
Mistress hand was warm on the back of Its neck, nails digging slightly, the touch sent shivers down Its spine. The touch made the girl in the back of Its mind squirm, make gagging noises, clearly disgusted by the touch. The Weapon didn’t know why, she should be used to Mistress touching their body by now. Hands grabbing arms and shoulders and neck, fists hitting every soft flesh, nails finding home into tender skin.
“Calling you weapon is a little inconvenient, don’t you think?” The Weapon doesn’t respond, Its not allowed to. Mistress hummed in approval for the small obedience. “Violet. Your name is Violet.”
The girl hissed in the back of Its mind, I already have a name! I’m not a weapon. She wasn’t wrong, the girl wasn’t a weapon, she just happened to be the original owner of the body Mistress decided was a proper body to turn into a killing machine.
Violet sounded satisfying enough, It guessed, having an actual name was something It could get used to.
Alphabet of Whump 2024 – Lies
The Beauty of Suffering // Series: A Coven’s Violence // Warnings: implied abuse
Mackenzie didn’t enjoy lying, but she didn’t really have a better option, did she?
She knew Robin didn’t believe her, the healer knew better than that. She lied like there was no tomorrow, even if she was aware that Robin could see through her words. But only Robin seemed to even try to see something was wrong.
Maybe because she was the one who took care of Mackenzie’s frequent need of medical attention. The girl didn’t go to the healers’ ward every time she needed, she learned how to handle bruises that didn’t seem to indicate internal bleeding and open wounds that didn’t need stitches. She tried her best to avoid needing Robin to handle her injuries, to avoid lying as often as she could.
She hated the feeling that she was nothing more than an impostor. That she was barely human at this point and that she was pretend to be a person.
It made her want to throw up.
Alphabet of Whump 2024 – Emotion
The Beauty of Suffering // Series: Hunting Dangerous Safety // Warnings: mild wound
“You keep getting hurt, why do you keep getting hurt?” Hunter asked, she was carefully cleaning Mack’s stitched up wound. “Sometimes I think you’re fucking suicidal!”
“I’m just doing my job.”
She wanted to punch and hug her. Hunter was careful, of course she was, as she cleaned her up, but it still should hurt. It should sting at best. And anyone would have at least a small reaction, maybe panting a bit or making a face. Mack didn’t. Mack just watched her after accepting help, the most emotion she showed was a sigh of irritation when Hunter insisted in taking care of her wounds.
She asked Jace once, he said Mack seemed to frequently struggled to accept she had emotions. He implied Mack would forget she was allowed to be a person.
“I’m selfish, you know,” Hunter started, voice soft but laced with emotion. She didn’t even know which emotion. “I hate when you’re hurt, I hate this constant fear that one day you just won’t come back.”
Mack frowned: “You shouldn’t care.”
“I know. I can’t really control what I feel, like you seem to do.”
“You shouldn’t care,” she repeated.
“You’re not helping with the way you come to me.”
“I do come a lot-”
“Mack.”
“Do we need to talk emotions?”
“I’m trying to tell you that I worry about this.”
“I got worse. I got sent to more dangerous missions, this is nothing.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Ok, ok, I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. I know humans have all those pesky feelings.”
“You’re human too. Mostly human, very human-shaped.”
“ I don’t think my brain really works like a human’s.”
“I noticed, I noticed.”
Alphabet of Whump 2024 – Food
The Beauty of Suffering // Series: A Coven’s Violence // Warnings: dehumanization, it/its pronouns used for a person, mild descriptions of injuries
“It’s feeding time,” Mistress smiled, a cruel and sadistic smile that sent shivers down Violet’s spine.
The mission had been a bust, a failure, Violet only survived because It wasn’t as human as the other member of the team sent out. The girl kept saying it was a suicide mission, she was right as she seemed to be a lot of the time. Violet was injured, It could feel the bruises on Its back and chest and arms, cuts scattered across Its body, hitting every spot the uniform wasn’t thick enough to keep It safe.
Violet was still conscious only out of years of stamina training.
Mistress had hoosed It down, the ice cold water left It shivering. It was still soaked and shaking as It stood in the middle of the secret room. Violet didn’t look up as Mistress roughly out the bowl a couple of steps away from It. The metal against the ground echoed against the walls.
“You don’t deserve to eat anything,” she stepped closer and poked a nasty cut on Violet’s left shoulder. “But not even you can heal without sustenance. Be grateful that I’m not giving you literal dog food. Eat.”
Violet kneeled. The metal bowl, probably bought from the nearby pet shop, was filled to the brim. It seemed to be a mix of leftover rice, grains, some potatoes and carrots and other pieces It couldn’t identify. There was also pieces of meat that would usually be discarded, red meat and chicken and pork.
It was garbage, dog food would be more pleasant.
But Violet had been using Core magic to stay up for the last several hours, any sustenance was welcomed. It was thankful that Mistress didn’t tell it to not use hands. Hands that had blood caked under fingernails, fingers covered in scrapes, shaking from exhaustion. But Violet dug in, stomach craving for anything to fill it and turn into energy.
Violet knew an actual punishment would come eventually, It could appreciate a meal for the time being.
Alphabet of Whump 2024 – Quiet
The Beauty of Suffering // Series: Mack and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day(s) // Warnings: past abuse
The world felt too quiet, sometimes.
Or maybe her brain was too loud.
Mack hated those days. They were days in which the Weapon kept pushing at the divide, it was somewhat of a gentle push but it was a push nonetheless. She knew Its intentions (she hated that part of her was an It), and they were good. Deal with the loudness of her mind as she was curled up in a corner, in the cold, dark quietness she learned it was safe for monsters.
There were these bad days, in which being in a dark, quiet room didn’t help as much as it should.
She found this small storage room in one of her explorations of the headquarters, more specifically of the healer’s area of the headquarters. It was tiny and warm, it reminded her a lot of the small room hidden behind Robin’s office. A safe place, safer than her room after a certain point. So she crawled in there when her brain was a cacophony.
She felt almost like a scared child, curled up on the corner with her hands pressed against her ears to muffle the leftover noises coming from the outside. Let me help, let me help, the Weapon said, almost chanting, It didn’t quite have a voice of Its own, so It sounded like Mack’s inner voice but monotone. Even like that, she could hear the concern and the genuine interest to help.
Mack couldn’t keep relying in this part of herself to deal with bad days. But she still allowed that concern to comfort her through the next hours of hiding like a scared child.
Alphabet of Whump 2024 – Kneel
The Beauty of Suffering // Series: A Coven’s Violence // Warnings: fade-to-black noncon, dehumanization (it/its pronouns for a person)
“Do you know how much I hate punishing you?” Liar, the girl in the back of Violet’s mind growled. “Kneel, dear.”
It could smell that, something almost alluring even if the girl and the body kept fighting against the hunger almost boiling at the bottom of her stomach. It could feel too much warmth spreading in response to the smell. Violet was great at self-control, It learned how to not make a noise unless It had permission to. But Violet couldn’t stop certain intincts, much less after that stupid “puberty thing”.
Punishments like this one might hurt, but the feeling stayed there after. Violet didn’t know how much the divide between their emotions was Its effort or hers, but it was there nonetheless. And it was thinner when Mistress did this.
The room was small but comfortable, a luxury for the most important person in the coven. Violet didn’t know if It liked it better in the hidden room or when Mistress didn’t care enough to not do it whenever they were. It was used to the office, sure, but the room was somewhat better than anywhere else.
The carpet was soft under Its knees, much warmer and nicer than the rough floor of the office. Mistress rounded her like a predator, It could feel her scorching look. After doing it twice, she stopped behind It, her fingers quickly unatached the mask, she put it away. Her fingers combed through Its hair, humming at how soft it was.
“Sometimes I forget how pretty you are,” she pulled Its hair until Violet was staring up at the ceiling. “How fuckable you are.”
“I’m anything you want, Mistress,” Violet kept Its voice soft.
“I thought you well, didn’t I?”
She releases Violet’s hair and circles to stop iin front of It, keeping eye contact as her hands reach for the belt buckle.
Alphabet of Whump 2024 – Bawl
The Beauty of Suffering // Series: A Coven’s Violence // Warnings: teen pregnancy
Crying was not allowed, demonstrations of pain (physical or emotional) weren’t allowed and would be received with punishments. Punishments that usually hurt more than whatever injury made tears come to her eyes. Even in normal training, with her peers, she couldn’t react even to things that made the others whine and spend the next week in bedrest.
Apparently her body did not care, the hormones didn’t care. Because Mackenzie had bawled for seven minutes straight and she couldn’t even tell why she was crying like a pathetic toddler. Robin kept whispering comforting words and caressing her back in soothing circles. It was almost weird, how she never flinched around Robin.
She was out of breath, which was almost as pathetic as the show of tears and noises and runny nose.
“It’s normal,” Robin said, gently swiping sweat from her forehead. “Hormones can make someone emotional.”
“I know, I live with Heidi.”
“Sometimes I forget you don’t have periods.”
“I’m fucking pregnant, you’re allowed to forget I don’t have periods.”
“Your biology is fascinating.”
“I just acted like a toddler, my biology is inconvenient. I spent the last three days holding this back.”
“I’m sorry,” she hands Mackenzie a glass of water. “You know you have to tell someone before you’re sent to another mission. I already think it’s dangerous to keep your regular training regime.”
“Pregnant, not crippled,” she mumbled.
“Does, uh…”
“I think It knows, It has been concerned, like,” she gestured towards her head. “Pushing at the back of my head like It wants to take control, but in a way that It wants to keep me safe.”
“Well, the Weapon’s supposed to protect the coven. I’d say you’re the most important member to It.”
“Mother is the most important member.”
“She’s not the host. She hurts the host a lot, actually.”
“Whatever. Can you give me something to control whatever this is?”
“Nothing that won’t possibly hurt the baby.”
“Fuck.”
“Hey, you’ll be fine. Everyone can bawl sometimes. You’re basically toddler-aged anyways.”
“And you’re so old you’re a fossil.”
“Don’t be rude.”
“Don’t be annoying.”
Alphabet of Whump 2024 – Gag
The Beauty of Suffering // Series: Mack and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day(s) // Warnings: restraints, implied past sexual abuse, implied threat of sexual abuse
Mack was trying her best to keep herself from panicking.
She was nonchalant about most things, indifferent to the usual torture methods. She could have the shit beaten out of her and give zero fucks about it. She’d collapse on Jace’s kitchen with a stab wound that was terribly infected and not even care about the pain inflicted on her as he cleaned it up. Being tied up was uncomfortable, but she had been trained (conditioned) better than that.
Being gagged was fine, since they usually just slap a tape over her mouth. She was more annoyed than anything.
The golden-eyed, with a face too perfect to be human, woman was smirking as she shoved the bundled up piece of rag on her mouth. Fingers pushing between her teeth until part of the gag had slipped into her throat. The carved leather bounding her wrists did not help her to stay calm.
“I heard you’re the stoic type,” the woman placed a foot on the edge of the sitting, in the space between Mack’s thighs. “They die or get a fate worse than death before they break you. I don’t believe anyone’s unbreakable,” she tugged the gag and then pushed it further in. “I can have some fun with you.”
It was a lot harder to keep herself from panicking when she couldn’t tell if it was an empty threat or someone’s actual intentions. And what “fun” meant for her current tormentor. Certain things meant immediate escape mode, and meant she was much more brutal when fighting her way out.
Just the gagging was enough to make her want to go animalistic on her.
“Half-humans like you really do smell good,” she leaned closer, into Mack’s personal space. “I wonder how desperate I can make you,” her foot nudged forward, which cemented her intention to Mack. “And what kind of desperate I can make you.”
For Mack, the golden-eyed woman just signed her death certificate, and for a painful gore death at that.
