#i drabble

cw: psychological horror, possession, insecurity, gaslighting

“Go on,” Whumper’s taunting voice whispered in Whumpee's mind. “Tell them.”

Whumpee looked at his friends. They were laughing, bumping shoulders as they teased each other about their conflicting music tastes. It was all so…normal.

Whumpee hesitated, just for a moment, and Whumper seized the opportunity to creep back in.

“You know how selfish it is, to keep worrying them,” It said, amplifying the shame already reverberating inside Whumpee. “Always a bother. Never can just join the fun, can you?”

Whumpee frowned. He pushed back at the force in his mind, arguing, They’ve told me- they want me to tell them, when I need help. 

“Because they’re good people, who deserve good friends. But you only stay friends with people if they enjoy being around you. If you don’t always-“ Whumper’s voice cut off, reacting to the emotions bubbling inside Whumpee. “Oh, but look, you already know all this, don’t you? You know it’s true.”

Whumpee could feel Whumper’s words whipping up a whirlwind inside him, and he stifled the urge to whimper. Violent emotions battered against the wound in his side, making him feel nauseous.

I’m gonna throw up, he thought, and Whumper purred, “No, you’re not. You’re fine.”

Whumpee swallowed it back.

I- I need to tell them.

“Then do it.”

Whumpee opened his mouth. He tried to speak, but a thick wall of shame and fear and regret blocked his throat.

I can’t!

Whumper hummed. “Dont blame me for that.” They gestured to the burning emotions. “It seems like you just know that I’m right.”

Whumpee didn’t know what to believe. His mind felt like it was slowing, his thoughts becoming slippery as he tried to grasp at them.

Fear began to spark in his belly. I need help, he thought desperately. I’m going to bleed out…!

all i need is your warmth

(hurt/comfort, 1086 words) (for @dbdapromptober - “lake”) (fanart in the collage by the incredible @ouchmyghostskin)

Edwin noticed that Charles was moving slowly across the surface of the ice. Edwin didn’t think much of it. Technically, Charles did not need to be careful, but if Charles expected the surface to be slippery, then of course it would seem that way to him.

Edwin wasn’t really paying attention, so he only caught it out of the corner of his eye- when Charles turned too suddenly, and one of his feet slipped out from under him.

Charles fell as though his body still had weight to it. He landed heavily, shattering right through the ice and into the freezing water.

Edwin was almost tempted to laugh at his partner’s clumsiness, as he waited for Charles’ head to re-emerge from the darkness of the lake.

But Charles did not resurface.

cw: implied violence

“I just…wish there was something I could do to help,” Caretaker said. The scalding emotions came through in their voice, goddamn it- Caretaker pressed their lips together, hoping Whumpee didn’t notice. 

It seemed like Whumpee didn’t. He was looking at Caretaker with this horrible, heartwrenching expression, and he said,

“You could…hold my hand?”

Caretaker furrowed their eyebrows. “While…it’s happening?” Caretaker tried to manage their expression to look neutral, but they weren’t sure if they succeeded.

Whumpee looked like he was going to say something, but just clamped his jaw instead. He nodded. 

Caretaker had to look away. 

“Please?” Whumpee said, voice broken and desperate, “Please?”

Caretaker bit back a whimper. 

To even stay in the room with Whumpee while he was hurt...it took everything from Caretaker. Every time, they just wanted to go and hide until it was over. To disappear until it was time to reemerge, to pick up the pieces of Whumpee again. 

The very last thing Caretaker wanted to do was to be right there. To hear the pleading and the screaming, to see Whumpee’s face and their blood… so close, too close-

But how could Caretaker say no? 

Caretaker had the chance to offer Whumpee a tiny bit of comfort, when he needed it most. To be a reminder that Whumpee wasn’t alone. 

Caretaker could do that, at least, for Whumpee. They had to.

Caretaker stood there for a minute, breathing, before they trusted themself to speak steadily. Then they turned back to Whumpee and said,

CW: possession, psychological whump, self-inflicted harm

“What will you do now?” Its voice was a velvety-smooth purr, self-satisfied in a way that made Whumpee’s blood boil. “There’s no escaping me.”

Whumpee fixed their gaze on the wall in front of them.

Whumper seemed to realize exactly what they were thinking. It laughed. “Really?” It asked, voice sounding both condescending and genuinely amused. “You know that won’t hurt me, right? Only one of us actually exists in this body, Whumpee. I’m just in your head.”

Whumpee clenched their jaw, determination overriding their self-preservation instincts as they moved forwards quickly. 

Whumpee smashed their head into the wall. 

It hurt with a dull, broad sort of pain, reverberating throughout Whumpee’s skull and into their neck. But it also silenced Whumper’s voice and the buzzing sense of its’ satisfaction, finally, finally, returning Whumpee’s mind to an echoing peace and quiet.

Almost as if Whumpee’s mind was their own.

Then after a moment, Whumper asked “What, exactly, were you hoping to accomplish?” Whumpee snarled. Then they turned, and threw their head against the wall again, and again, and again, until they felt Whumper reeling too.

Silence, for a long, beautiful moment. Whumpee gasped, feeling like they could breathe again.

Then Whumper’s voice, thick as honey, 

(cw: possession/ mind control, flashbacks, amnesia, gaslighting, implied violence)

Whumpee stared at themself in the mirror.

They recognized the face: the dead eyes: the skin marred by thick, dark scars. But they didn’t recognize themself. 

As always, they couldn't help but wonder who they were...what had happened to them. Whumpee began again to prod at their memory, hoping maybe this time they would unearth something…

Leave it, Whumpee, came the voice in their mind.

“I just want to know,” Whumpee grumbled, speaking aloud to the reflection in the mirror. 

Whumpee felt the muscles move on their face, and the reflection’s expression turned disappointed.  I’m your conscience, it reminded Whumpee, I’ll guide us. Remember? 

“You already know that I remember.”

Then trust me. It’s for the best. 

“So I just get no memory at all?" Whumpee demanded. “I don’t need every single memory. Even just one or two- anything!” Whumpee looked down at their body. Their eyes caught on a particularly thick braid of scar tissue on their abdomen. Their fingers reached out to touch the tough skin-

And suddenly Whumpee remembered- the knife slicing through their skin, shoving deeper, the pain, the blood, the pain the screaming the begging the fear the pain the pain the pain the-

Whumpee was on the bathroom floor, shaking, sobbing. 

Whumpee’s body felt even less connected to them. The body was still running on adrenaline, and it started dragging Whumpee across the floor and into a corner, where it could tuck its knees up against its chest and rock and rock and rock

That hadn’t felt like a memory, just now- it felt like reliving it. The aftershocks of pain were still tingling in Whumpee’s body, electrifying Whumpee into a desperately buzzing ball of fear. Whumpee wimpered.

See? Whumper’s voice reverberated through Whumpee’s head, drowning out all the noise. That's exactly what I’m holding back for you. 

Whumpee murmured pathetically, “T,,tthank you."

That’s more like it. Whumper said, pleased. We’ll have to remember this, yes? You know, when you ask me for memories… it gets so hard for me to keep them all back. Some of them just… slip through. 

Whumpee distantly felt their arm move. Suddenly, the back of Whumpee’s own hand brushed against their cheek. Whumpee jumped. Whumpee recognized the contact point in both their cheek and their hand, but neither sensation felt like it was theirs. 

We got lucky this time… Whumper continued thoughtfully. There are far, far worse memories up here. The hand moved away from Whumpee's face. It landed on Whumpee’s shoulder, arm stretching across Whumpee’s body like a straightjacket. 

Trust me. 

“Okay." Whumpee took a shuddering breath.  "I trust you.”

(cw: dehumanization, brainwashing, it/its pronouns, implied violence and death)

Weapon adjusted its grip on the scythe. In the five years since Weapon had finished its training, it had never hesitated. Not once.

Weapon was good at its role. It had spent its whole life being honed by Whumpee- a grueling twenty years of training alongside the Other weapon.

A neverending night directed only by Whumper’s instructions, Weapon’s existence held constant only by the Other’s presence. Weapon and Other learning to be lethal, obeying Whumper’s every whim, until they didn’t even need Whumper’s commands to know what to do. 

Weapon and Other had practiced on each other, plenty of times. Of course they had. They needed to be able to act without things like emotions getting in the way. To remember that loyalty didn’t exist in any context, except in their complete devotion towards Whumper.

But now. 

Weapon could tell this different. 

Other was huddled on the floor. Other’s face had finally broken out of the conditioned neutrality. Weapon barely recognized it, Other’s features marred by terror that was utterly unbecoming of their position. 

Weapon looked over its shoulder, like Whumper would still be in the room- but Whumper were gone already. “Weapon,” Whumper’s voice echoed through the room, and that one word was enough to make Weapon’s body snap into position.

Weapon forced its body to hesitate. Before it could take the swing, Weapon needed to be sure. It raised its hand to the sky.

Weapon held its hand out flat, then clenched it into a fist. Hurt, or kill?

“I told you,” Whumper’s voice boomed. “Other has proven that it is not loyal.”

Other desperately grabbed onto Weapon’s leg. Weapon looked down at it slowly.

Other’s eyes were open wide, begging silently. Then Other opened its mouth, and creaked out a broken, misshapen word- “Wea-pon…”

Weapon recoiled. Weapon didn’t know that their mouths could speak-

cw: possession, body horror, violence

Whumpee’s hands were shaking so hard, they didn’t think they could hold the knife if they wanted to.

But Whumper managed to navigate Whumpee's trembling body just fine, grabbing the knife’s handle and spinning it deftly with Whumpee’s usually clumsy fingers.

Whumpee watched helplessly as their own hands moved the blade closer, until the tip was pressed against Whumpee’s stomach.

Whumpee sobbed. Please don’t, they begged inside their mind. Please. I’ll do anything, just-

“Oh, you will?” Whumper asked, amused. Whumper’s tone turned more serious, though Whumpee could still feel every drop of sick amusement Whumper got as it spat, “Then keep begging.”

Whumpee pressed their lips together. Whumper used the body’s teeth to bite down on the flesh of Whumpee’s lips. Whumpee whimpered. Whumper bit harder, until Whumpee tasted blood.

“What did I say?” Whumper demanded, and Whumpee swallowed their pride.

Please, they tried again, desperate. Please, I- I know you’re in control, I know it now. You’ve proved it. You don’t have to-

“I know that I don’t 'have to',” Whumper snapped. “I don’t have to do anything.”

Then, then why-?

“Oh, please. You already know 'why'. I know you do.” Whumper tightened Whumpee's grip on the knife handle. 

Don’t-

Whumpee felt Whumper react to the attempted instruction, slicing the blade through Whumpee’s skin. Whumpee screamed, but Whumper kept the mouth jammed tightly shut. 

cw: religion/ cults. implied violence and brainwashing

Whumpee knew they were the most devout believer who had ever walked the Earth- how could they not be? Whumpee was chosen specially. Being a conduit of the powers was a privilege, the greatest calling a human being could possibly have.

Everything had been leading up to today. Whumpee had been waiting for this their whole life. All the training, the suffering, the blood and the tears, it would all be worth it, when Whumpee got to see the Temple.

Whumpee was deep in meditation on the Rites they would be receiving today.  “Whumpee.” Whumper’s voice made Whumpee jump. Whumper was already in long, black robes.

Whumpee's chest erupted with emotions and anticipation, but they managed to nod evenly at Whumper.  Whumpee tried to focus on being present, on being a good conduit, as they began to prepare for the sacred rite of entering the Temple.

The Helpers dressed Whumpee in the ceremonial garb, careful not to touch them. Whumper stood silently, observing Whumpee as they got changed. Whumpee was careful to be good, moving evenly and smoothly.

Whumper led the way outside into the Citadel, where the Temple towered above them. It didn’t feel real to Whumpee, as finally, finally, they got to climb the giant marble steps.

Whumpee’s steps faltered as they entered the building- it was enormous, gold-painted and shimmering in ways Whumpee hadn’t known were possible. Whumpee barely managed not to stop and stare, only muscle memory keeping them moving. Whumpee was beginning the Holiest of Rites... now was not the time to stumble.

Holy People lined the walkway, all watching Whumpee serenely. The Speaker was beginning the sermon- beginning the ceremony. Whumper led Whumpee to the center of the room, then stopped.

Whumper turned back to Whumpee, and held out their hands. Whumpee poured the oil into their cupped palms. Whumpee lowered their head respectfully.

Whumper’s oil-coated hands came to rest on Whumpee’s head- it was all Whumpee could do to not gasp.

Whumpee had never been touched before, not that they could remember- it was too much, and Whumpee couldn’t help the tears that sprang to their eyes. They felt like they were flying. They was absolutely dizzy with the sensation of it, the Holiness, the strength of it overwhelming their nerves- 

Whumper’s hands retracted, and Whumpee swallowed back the whimper. Whumpee knew that was just a taste of the Holiness they would experience, once Whumpee completed their Rites.

Whumpee knelt on the ground. In Whumpee’s periphery, they saw the Anointer preparing, but they kept their gaze obediently on Whumper. 

Whumper was looking back at Whumpee. For the first time that Whumpee could remember, Whumper’s gaze was not entirely blank. Whumper looked…fond? proud?

The Anointer raised their arms to the sky. Beneath the drone of the Speaker’s voice, Whumpee heard Whumper chuckle.

“What a good little lamb,” Whumper murmured, and Whumpee’s chest filled with pride.