whumpee can’t take anymore.
struggling to walk on an ankle that’s break never healed right.
holding something delicate when their hands shake too much, but if it falls and breaks, so do they.
the mental load of everything being too much and not being allowed to stop no matter how much it hurts.
Sorry for the wait, here are Geist’s answers! Questions were from This ask game <3
Masterlist | Writing | Prompts
Content Warnings: Conditioned Whumpee, Memory loss, living weapon Whumpee, Military/Facility/Institutional Whump
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35) If you were given an opportunity to escape, what would you do? Where would you run to?
“I… well. Why would I run..?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he looked away with the awkwardness of a child getting caught stealing cookies from the cookie jaw. He wasn’t lying tho. Why would he run?? He got food, water, a bed, hygiene and sometimes even praise here. He wouldn’t have that anywhere else. If he were on the run, he’d just get punished or be forced to live the rest of his hiding from anyone and anything. And why would he run??? Sure, Varley and the Facility wasn’t… the best. But it was all he knew. He had no memories of a life or place before this. No family or friends to run to, no home to seek a way back to. All he had was this. His eyes shifted to the floor, trying and failing to remember any place outside the facility that wasn’t for a mission or Varley taking him somewhere. There was nothing, “I-… I don’t like that question…”
40) Does your whumper listen to your pleads, complaints or requests? What would you never ask them for even if you absolutely needed it?
“I mean… it.. depends?” He shifted from foot to foot, still very much not liking the situation. Geist didn’t really… ask for things. He knew his place. Everything he did or didn’t get was for a reason, so there was no complaining about that. Well, he did complain, but not truly with the hope anything would change. And Varley liked seeing his little charge crumble from his usual stoic, obedient, sometimes sarcastic self, so he always tried not to give the man that satisfaction. “He- Sir Varley usually listens when I ask for something. I don’t usually ask for things, so I guess he knows when I do, it’s serious? I try not to though. I have everything I need,” he attempts a small, victorious smile, but it felt brittle, even to himself. “So… eh, I guess he does listen? When… when it’s important, he does. When he feels like it, he does…”
hey whump community !! if you’re looking for a new whump rp server centered around living weapon/medical/captive whumpee tropes, you should totally join my server below !! it’s brand new and we’re just getting started !! i hope to see you there !!
Join the ⌖🗡 the armory — living weapon whump rp Discord Server!
hey whump community !! if you’re looking for a new whump rp server centered around living weapon/medical/captive whumpee tropes, you should totally join my server below !! it’s brand new and we’re just getting started !! i hope to see you there !!
Join the ⌖🗡 the armory — living weapon whump rp Discord Server!
My Ocs masterlist:
[[MORE]]Drizzle: Cane user, 5'1, terrified of the world. Fawning whumpee. Here’s her character sheet.
https://characterhub.com/character/drizzle-cabanara
Snow: Drizzle’s main whumper who sells her out in the fantasy au.
Shelia: A lumberjack built woman who accidentally finds people walking on her murder and kidnaps them instead of killing them due to her morals.
Celia: Drizzle’s creepy manager in the modern au, likes harassing her and remaining her of her trauma.
Tristah: My short, scrappy, power-hungry whumper that tortures and rapes for fun.
Shay: Emotionally unstable whumper that kidnaps people who reject them, or who they think reject them.
Ellie: Lab whumper who enjoys using drugs to bring people down.
Feel free to ask about any of them. I’ll try to get character sheets up soon. I’ll also start putting more of their writing here.
hey whump community !! if you’re looking for a new whump rp server centered around living weapon/medical/captive whumpee tropes, you should totally join my server below !! it’s brand new and we’re just getting started !! i hope to see you there !!
Join the ⌖🗡 the armory — living weapon whump rp Discord Server!
The only thing I have written beautifully in this book, are the whump scenes. 😅
“I knew that, you know-it-all.”
Xal’s ears burned. He shut his eyes, not to block out the light, but to avoid Kian’s stupid, smug face. He visualized the gesture: index finger and middle finger to his lips, the whispered chant, then pressing them to his earring. When he opened his eyes, the world had become brighter again. The floating threads still drifted through his vision, red, blue, yellow, insistent and annoying.
He blinked until his eyes adjusted, then looked at Kian.
“You changed the color of your tattoo?”
Kian’s hand twitched toward his own, where black ink had once curled across his knuckles. Now something darker lived there. Not quite red. The color of an angry, darkened red under the skin.
Kian’s arm shot out to cover it, then froze. Too late.
“This…” His throat worked. “This isn’t a tattoo. A burn mark, I guess.” A hollow smile. “I got it the day someone died.”
“Because of me.”
He couldn’t look at Xal. His gaze fixed on the floor as if he were studying evidence at a crime scene, and Xal thought of Tera, of the way Kian had carried that failure like a stone in his chest, heavy enough to drown in.
There was no world where this man killed anyone deliberately.
“Because of you?”
Kian exhaled slowly.
“I was asked to cure this girl. Her father’s spirit came to me.” His fingers twitched faintly at his side. “I told him it was too late. I told him I couldn’t save her.”
“But he kept begging. He just… wanted her to live one more day. So she wouldn’t die alone.”
His voice thinned.
“He followed me everywhere, pleading.”
A pause.
“I was exhausted, but I’ve handled worse. I—”
The words cut off. Kian knew the feeling too well. The sudden urge to tear something off his own body, anything, to balance the weight of a life lost because of his decision.
His fingers twitched toward his collarbone, hovering over the fabric.
Xal watched curiosity calcify into worry.
Kian’s breath caught. The body gave up before his mind. His torso convulsed, once, twice, jerking upward as if his body were trying to shrug off its own skeleton. The spasms made it impossible to pull in enough air. His lungs hitched and stalled.
“Hey.” Xal was standing, tension snapping through his voice like a wire pulled too tight. “Hey, you don’t have to talk about it. It’s okay.”
Kian managed something resembling a smile. His upper body kept shuddering, each spasm driving the air from him in sharp, useless bursts.
“Sorry. Need- outside.”
He stumbled through the door leading outside. Slammed it. Collapsed on to the floor and finally, finally, let his body take over.
Xal didn’t follow.
The gratitude for that lasted only a moment before the coughing started. Wet, desperate sounds tearing up from his chest while his muscles seized, clawing into themselves, turning his arms and back into knots of fire.
He gasped. Choked. Curled inward until his forehead pressed to the floor beneath, and still his lungs wouldn’t cooperate, still the panic kept winding tighter.
Then, slowly, it stopped.
He felt his jaw unclenched, teeth aching from the pressure. Then his fingers, one by one, stopped their desperate grip on his own arms. The worst of the trembling faded into something softer, a static feeling rather than a convulsion.
His breathing found a rhythm, shallow and careful, each inhale tested like a foot on thin ice.
Kian melted into the floorboards, boneless and hollowed out. The wood was cool against his cheek. Exhaustion clung to him like wet wool, settling into the spaces between his ribs where the panic had been.
He stared at nothing and catalogued his options: pretend this hadn’t happened, or face whatever came next. The fear crept in sideways. He might have already disappointed Xal by being so weak, not being able to admit his mistake, and own up to his actions. Kian slowly got up, lethargic, making up his mind to face either criticism for a healer who failed to save a life or to see the empty kitchen.
His hand found the door handle. Gripped until the metal left angry red marks, until he could feel the shape of it imprinted on his palm. Stepped inside.
Xal hadn’t moved. He sat exactly where Kian had left him, eyes fixed on the door, and something in Kian’s chest crumpled at the sight. He had waited, he actually waited, even as he forced his gaze to the floor.
He did not want to talk about this. But if he didn’t do it now, he never would.
He sat. Locked his trembling hands between his knees. Stared at the scuffed leather of his boots until the grain blurred.
Xal cleared his throat making him jump
You can read it in WebNovel - https://www.webnovel.com/book/34851070300997305
About a year! It’s mentioned very briefly in (I think the second?) post for this story!
Thank you so muchhhhhhh!!!!! I’ve been in a really difficult patch of life for the past couple of years and my consistency in my writing (and therefore this blog) has suffered. I think I’m starting to get out of some really toxic things going on, though, so hopefully I will be writing more often!! I love to write stories like this so much and it makes me genuinely so happy to see people enjoy them as much as I do >.<
Hiiiiiiii!!! I’m doing relatively good 😋😋
Spoilers about some things I have planned for this story under the cut:
[[MORE]]My characters tend to have minds of their own, so what I can say at this point is that it is not in my plans for them to try to escape. I cannot be held to this decision later if Aven changes their mind 😂
The other thing I can for sure say, is that Aven will not be complacent or cooperative in the long term. Once they get over their current state of hopelessness, they will take certain actions.
I would say there’s no “escaping” the regime, but there are little pockets of peace. If a man has a woman to “claim” him, he can pretty much chill depending on the situation.
Preston and Rami weren’t super nice brothers, and even then, their sisters protected them from the Ninth (only to sell them off later….but it beats most other situations)
There is the case of the unclaimed. They are in a weird limbo of their own.
We have loners with no fam, a la Thomas, who were in a Depot. He got something of a better shake because Depot workers have short shelf lives. There will be a character soon revealed who had a very deserved and very uneventful death in a Depot. Because it’s just that common.
Fields are your best bet. We, of course, also have Jake and David, whose mother/wife and sister/daughter were murdered on the Ninth. Field 741 was a pretty messed up Field, when not all of them are that bad.
Vicky’s field in If Facts Were Simple had potlucks, community dances, and even a mini-market. There was a medical bay, a cooling zone for hot days, clean community restrooms, and no food shortages or nutrition issues. She made the best of a system she and everyone else there were forced to participate in.
Everyone in the regime, every citizen, is registered. There are no exceptions. If you refuse to register, you are labeled an insurgent. Lin’s surveillance goes so deep and is so pervasive, most people don’t believe there’s a way around it.
Nicky is an EXTREME exception. NO ONE else, in the entire world, is hidden like Nicky. He is only hidden because Lin wishes at the current moment for that to be the case.
Lots of people love their brothers; no one else has the ability to hide their brothers from Lin’s drones. Case in point, Caleb, Zara’s brother, for whom she gets many proposals despite his being mostly nonverbal, with high support needs.
The only reason Lin’s AI (fuck AI, right?) hasn’t gone full force with cameras in every nook and cranny to eliminate rebels is that it would require attention and focus she has no interest in giving anymore. She has other bespectacled interests.
If you don’t rock with the regime, I would say, without spoiling too much: one side will fold you in like honey to tea…eventually.
Before he joined Aya and integrated with the Northerns…Max was that particular hot guy, an upcoming excerpt from his flashback that will be included in the Blitzkrieg:
Lt. Max
[[MORE]]He gets the hell out of there, leaving without looking back. Leaving their little abode, their home, for the last time. There’s nothing for him here anymore, anyway.
Time fades.
There are more attempts that he deftly manages to get away from. He’s as strong as they are. And he quickly learns…the other men are not. He still gets hurt, and he isn’t as fast or durable as they are, but he can defend himself to a point.
He wanders through the cities. The towns. Dives into the rural areas. As the day descends further, the evening light shows itself more clearly in the sky, the clouds more red than orange. When those props declare the rise of the regime and display his lover’s murderer, he loses it. Literally and figuratively.
He throws fire. He spews lightning. Causes anything on top of him to ignite with yellow flame. He roars out and punches dents in buildings. Nearby structures crack and erupt. He swipes at anyone who’s close. His world has gone from bad to fucking worse, and he can’t take it anymore. It hurts.
He’s just gone North. Maybe if he can continue this forever, it’ll exhaust himself. Maybe life can’t be that much worse.
For the first time in days and weeks, his mind finally has an interruption.
“Hey, you!” someone calls out. “There you are!”
Fuck that! It’s just another woman approaching him. Another one!? He doesn’t have time for bullshit right now. He’ll fight the attacker off no matter what. He faces her, fully committed, ready to spew sparks if need be. Something about her makes him hesitate. She steps over building rubble.
“You look a mess,” she tells him. “Tell me, darling. Would you like to stick with a fool’s journey or get some real training? Think you’re tough shit?”
She’s walking forward again, not responding to his display of dangerous forces. With a relaxed rhythm to her limbs, she steps forward. Steadily and slowly, in a style that comes across as relaxed.
Chestnut hair, pale skin, dark jeans, and a green top. Her leather jacket gives her a casual look, the kind that isn’t threatening or alluring or meant to inspire hostility, but one that emphasizes ease.
“I think the real question is…” he scoffs. “Have you ever heard of ‘personal space’? Is there a sign over there that I can’t see that says, 'Max for sale, price reduced’?”
She cackles, her golden eyes shining in amusement.
“Damn son, you’re a smartass, aren’t ya?” she whistles. “Maybe this will be worth it. So you’re Max? Nice to meet you.”
She holds out a fist. When he doesn’t move, she chuckles again.
“The real, very simple question, sir, is would you rather waste your power here…” she drawls. “Or become the person you were meant to be? Is there anyone in this fucking regime that you absolutely want to destroy, for the rest of your years and then some? Is there someone they’ve taken that you want to save? Well?”
With an exasperated breath, Max eventually returned the fist bump. He doesn’t know why. She looks quite pleased and begins to pace around him.
“Then come with me,” she insists. “Because we need people like you. I can sense you’re an extraordinary soul. The name’s Aya. And I am one of the founders of a brand new movement.”
Max huffs. He’s done with all of this. She can go to hell. Just another delusional woman who, let’s be honest, is only trying to recruit him to fuck him. Why wouldn’t she? He knows the drill.
She’s another bitch to escape.
“Spending time with you means trouble,” Max drones. “What does your deal entail? How many guys are in your super harem? If this is a cult, tell it to someone else. I’m not joining a cult.”
Aya’s head tilts to the side, and she chews on her bottom lip. “Harem? Sweetness, I have the most amazing boy I’m disgustingly in love with,” Aya discloses. “It’s not you. We’re not officially official, but no. You don’t have to worry about what you think you’re worried about. I’m not going to make you do anything either. The only person I can make choose to do anything is myself and anyone who chooses to give me their heart. Nobody is used against their will.”
His brow furrows a bit. Who even is this? Why is she all up in his grill?
“I’ll be totally up front and honest with you,” Aya shakes her head. “It won’t be easy. And you’ll see what we have and wonder why we aren’t just beating them to hell right at this moment. But we’re patient. And you need to be too. If you join us, really join us…you’ll see the truth. We’ll give you the option to leave. However, after what I sense in you, you may wish to have seen this from the beginning.”
It might be his mind, or the loneliness, but damn. What a recruiting technique. He steps in and shakes her hand.
“Everything was taken from me,” Max grits, unsure as to why he’s still speaking to this woman in the first place. “Someone very special. I’m going to die before I let this slide.”
Her smile doesn’t falter, and her golden eyes don’t brighten or dim, not at all.
“Looks like we have ourselves a new friend,” Aya smirks. “Would you like to taste what being part of something more means?”
To test, she grabs his face. Inwardly, Max screams, but he doesn’t resist. A blip of power shoots through him from her. He instantly feels a certain warmth, an unusual type of comfort and belonging. It’s the exact same warmth… the warmth he felt with Penny in their times together. Love and affection. Peace.
He doesn’t say anything. Hell, he can’t even think anymore; he feels just that weak. His eyes are going bleary, and he has to hold back a damn sob.
“Aww,” Aya kisses him on the cheek. “Shhh. Little one, you’ll be alright. You’ll survive. Trust me.”
She draws back. He whimpers.
“W-What was that?” Max trembles, that unfamiliar power inside of him still simmering. “What was that feeling?”
The girl looks amused and hums. A faint glimmer surfaces across her skin as her eyes flash yellow. She smiles and gazes into Max’s eyes.
“Did you like it?” Aya grins. “Something special I can do.”
The feeling fades in his chest, and he instantly feels emptier than he had before. He wants more. He doesn’t want to live like he has. Nothing has made sense.
But that… he can believe in.
“ Take me, ” he asks of her, voice soft. “Please. I-I need more of that. Help me find more of that. I have to. I have to find that again. I have to…”
Aya strokes his cheek with affection as her smile twitches with emotion. She gives the sweetest, purest look. Max swallows. Something’s changed inside him. And he likes it.
She offers her arms, he leaps into her warm embrace, and when she does, he feels the feeling come back. He needs more. The woman gently pats his back.
“No man is an island,” the Northern leader chimes. “Thank you for choosing to join the greatest family there is. Will you work with us?”
Well, what the hell else is he going to do? He’s broken, he’s done. Max has no choice.
“Why not?” he sniffles, his voice a bit broken up. “Let’s do this, then.”
Aya beams, a comforting aroma hitting his senses. “You will protect us and we will protect you. No one is alone and no one is forgotten.”
Her words, however alien, are genuine and soothe his innermost desperation. At last. He has been found. Even if he’s broken. Maybe if he’ll just listen, he can keep this feeling. The spark in him will grow. Right?
“What are you, anyway?” Max asks her. “Because I know I’m something. And I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”
Aya releases him and Max is surprisingly filled with longing for the energy she possessed. Energy that seemed to make him feel home.
“You’ll learn,” she smirked. “That’s a life question. I think you need to ask yourself. Even I don’t know. But you have time.”
He really doesn’t. But he wants to cling to the only thing that’s seemed to give him purpose since. He can always walk away, anyway. If he really wanted to.
“Alright,” Max resigns. “I’ll bite. Lead the way, I guess.”
“That’s a good boy,” Aya laughed. “We have a lot of things to take care of. You’ll see and learn much. I promise you that. It’s late and I’m starving. Let’s get to it then.”
The brunette offered her hand to him. Max accepted it. There’s just an eerie sense of something pulling him towards her. Or anyone she seems connected to.
