“I thought you were dead.” Villain stared in awe at the figure kneeling before them.
“Really?” Hero said with cocked eyebrow, measuring a hole in the soil to plant one of the bulbs next to them. “I don’t remember you killing me, so how do you reckon that happened?”
“I imagine you were felled by some monster in a dungeon, or perhaps one of my generals managed to defeat you and didn’t tell me. For what reason I don’t know,” Villain’s grip on their blade tightened and relaxed as they struggled to read Hero’s actions. “Or plague,” they added. “I figured you must have been dead for you to not show up at our final battle.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Hero smiled, planting a bulb and covering it with soil. “How did you find me?”
“Well, I happened to be strolling through hundreds of miles of wasteland when I spotted some honest to goodness greenery on the horizon and just had to see what that was about,” Villain explained, sounding rather annoyed.
Hero looked at the ruined village around them, overgrown with vines and moss and a multitude of flowers.
“You telling me that the other survivors aren’t trying to grow food?”
“Not to this extent.”
“Sounds like a waste.”
“This shouldn’t be possible on desecrated soil,” Villain clarified with a pinched brow.
“Suppose all that holy magic’s paying off then,” Hero shrugged, starting to dig up another hole before they noticed Villain’s staring. “You look confused.”
“This really wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Well for one, I thought you’d be angrier. Filled with an unbridled need for vengeance.”
“It’s not you I’m angry with.”
“With yourself, then? For losing to me?”
“Not sure if not showing up is the same as losing. Feels more like a forfeit.”
“So where were you then? I suspect you had a good reason .”
“Guess I was just busy.”
“Too busy to help all those poor people?”
“Such is the life of a hero,” they sighed. “You can’t be everywhere at once.”
“You’re dodging the question,” Villain scowled.
“I just answered it!”
“I want the real reason.”
“Why’s that? Are you annoyed destroying the world was too easy?”
“Didn’t figure you for a coward, is all,” Villain scoffed, trying to get a rise out of Hero.
“Again, sorry to disappoint.”
“For gods’ sake, just answer me honestly before I burn your garden to the ground.”
Hero’s fingers twitched.
“Same reason as you, I guess,” said Hero. “Maybe I finally saw that rot you were always on about and decided they were all beyond saving.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
“I must say you don’t sound too sure. The end of the world normally takes conviction. You’re not the type to stand back while thousands of innocent men, women and children are slaughtered.”
“Did you need something?” Hero snapped. “Or did you just come here to chat?”
“I came here in the hopes there was another vestige of humanity left I hadn’t killed or conquered when to my surprise I find you, oh great chosen one and legendary hero, hiding out in the middle of nowhere alive and well and planting motherfucking tulips.”
“It’s daffodils actually.”
Villain sucked in a breath.
“Stand up and fight me,” they hissed.
Hero buried some soil over a bulb.
“Not interested, sorry,” they said.
“I’m giving you the chance to die with some dignity.”
“Any chance you can leave me be and pretend you never saw me?”
“And let a potential threat run loose?”
“I don’t plan on being a threat.”
“You’re not the type to stand by and do nothing.”
“And yet, I did.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Villain spat.
“What else is there to believe?”
“That you’re a coward. A weakling. You knew you couldn’t defeat me and decided to hide away and let everyone else die rather than face me yourself.”
“Aww, did I bruise your ego? Is that what this is about?”
Villain swung their sword. A wave of dark energy emanated from the swing, striking the recently planted ground just millimetres away from Hero’s fingertips.
“Why are you really here?” Villain asked, eyes red and seething.
Hero stared at the thin crater before them, their work undone in seconds. With gritted teeth they rose to their feet, flicking their wrist and summoning their glaive.
“Maybe,” they said as they took their first step, “I didn’t see the point in saving a world beyond saving.”
They advanced slowly on Villain.
“Maybe I was sick of everyone coming to me with their problems.”
They continued to advance. Villain took a step back, a momentary lapse of confidence before they stepped forward to meet them, swinging their blade towards Hero. Hero deflected.
“Maybe I couldn’t stand everyone relying on a fucking prophecy that no one gave me any choice in.”
Villain swung again and Hero sidestepped to avoid it, advancing again and forcing Villain to step back.
“Maybe I hated those people who didn’t do a damn thing to help me or a damn thing to help themselves.”
Villain thrust their blade forward towards Hero’s face. Again, they moved to the side effortlessly, though not without the blade marking their cheek first, a spark of blood emerging from the wound. Hero shifted their foot, tripping Villain over and flat on their back. Villain fully expected to find the blade at their throat, but Hero stopped their advance as they stood over Villain’s prone body, glaive harmlessly by their side.
“And maybe you don’t get to know the real reason,” they hissed. “Maybe after everything you don’t deserve to know why I didn’t fight you- don’t fight you- won’t fight you.”
Silence rung loudly between the two for a long three seconds before Hero returned to the blight-scorched ground, gave their glaive a twirl as they muttered a few words of prayer before tapping the blunt end against the ground. A slight ringing noise sounded as the ground flashed in a soft golden light, scaring away the dark magic residue from Villain’s spell. The glaive vanished and Hero returned to their gardening, sighing and rubbing their eyes as they realised none of the bulbs had survived the attack.
Villain slowly stood up, still surprised Hero hadn’t taken the opportunity to skewer them and be done with all of this. As they stood, they noticed Hero rubbing their left leg and swearing under their breath.
“You’re hurt,” Villain stated.
“Can you just-“ Hero hissed under their breath. “Can you just fuck off already?”
“When did you get hurt?”
“Sad you couldn’t land the blow yourself?” Hero mocked.
Villain said nothing and instead looked around the overgrown ruins of the surrounding village.
“Where are the others?” Villain asked and was surprised when Hero flinched. “Those friends of yours-“
“Shut up.”
“-they never go far from you.”
“Shut up!”
“So where the hell are they now?”
“I SAID SHUT UP!!!”
A bolt of lightning struck the ground inches away from Villain. A warning shot, Villain knew. Hero could have hit them if they wanted to. Hero’s eyes glowed with a furious light, but beneath it all, Villain could see the prickling of tears.
“I’m not fighting you!” Hero cried as if the sorrow was strangling them.
The sight bothered Villain in a way they couldn’t explain. An old memory seemed to resurface. One of grief and loss and the wish to make others feel what they felt in that moment. And they did and they rejoiced in every minute of it. But seeing it now on this one felt wrong. Felt too familiar. Felt undeserving.
“I’m sorry,” Villain said, before they could fully figure out the feeling.
It seemed to shock Hero out of it. The glow in their eyes receded until all that was left was bloodshot blue. Villain thought Hero would scream at them. Tell them that they didn’t get to say that. That they didn’t get to be sorry after everything. But in the end, it wasn’t them that Hero was angry with.
“When did you get hurt?” Villain asked softly.
Hero wiped the tears from their face and huffed out a laugh.
“When did you destroy the world?”
“You couldn’t fight me?”
“I couldn’t even stand, let alone hold a sword,” Hero laughed again. The sound was painful.
“And the others?”
Hero hesitated, brushing away more tears as they tried to find the right words. Tried to figure out if they wanted to say any words at all.
Villain laid their sword down and took a seat on the grass beside it. Waiting patiently as Hero fumbled their way through their story.
Le general tagliste: @doctorsawyer, @neon-kazoo, @whumplicity, @stupidlypurplemist, @imgoingtobiteyounow, @elfwhump
"You surrender?" Whumper stopped right in front of Whumpee, who was kneeling on the wet concrete.
Whumpee gave a vague wave, gesturing to himself on his knees, but keeping his hands in the air to make sure there was no misunderstanding with the men behind Whumper keeping their guns trained on him. He looked up at Whumper. "I do."
Whumper hummed, making no haste whatsoever to take the man front of him in or even get him to his feet. "Those eyes say you don't."
Those eyes narrowed even further, twisting his expression, the rage and disgust seeping through, engulfing his entire face from the twitch of his nose to the snarl of his lips. A choked off sound came from his throat, biting away a comment that would certainly make things worse.
"I'm on my knees," Whumpee said in a barely controlled exaggerated calm voice. "With my hands up, not ripping your throat out. What more do you want?"
"Proof."
"What mor--"
"Put your hands behind your head."
A long, sharp inhale. A resigned exhale. Maintaining eye contact, Whumpee slowly raised his arms and laced his fingers behind his head.
With a casual flick of his hand, Whumper summoned two of his armed men to his side. "Cuff him," he said, also not taking his eyes off Whumpee's.
Whumpee clenched his jaw but besides that didn’t move a muscle. He let the two men approach, allowed them to grab his wrists, twist them down to his back. Whumpee kept glaring up, trying not to wince as the cold handcuffs bit into his skin with a harsh rattle, as tight as they could.
"Anything else?" he snarled as the men retreated again.
"Yes, actually." Now that he was secured, Whumper finally sank down to one knee in front of him. Those hard black eyes softened, suspicion making way for a confident glee. He produced a black hood, held it up, taunting, folding it open.
Whumpee recoiled lightly, but couldn't do a thing except let Whumper slowly drape it over his head. He saw that smug smile widen before the world went dark. A hand clamped over his shoulder; squeezed a little and the pressure increased as Whumper pushed himself back up. And he felt two pair of hands tug on his arms, pulling him up as well.
"A bit of guarantee," Whumper's voice gloated, too close to his ear. "I'm sure you understand."
And he was marched off.
-
General whump tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @auroragehenna @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @treasureguardingdragon @morning-star-whump
WHUMPTOBER 2025
DAY 2: TAKING ACCOUNTABILITY
@whumptober
Finn, a timid test subject, is sent to the mysterious "punishment sector" of the Daystar Research Facility after a minor infraction. He thought he knew what to expect, but the reality of the sector and the people he meets there is far more shocking and disturbing than anything he could have imagined.
WORD COUNT: 2,731.
CHARACTERS: Finn (whumpee), Juno (whumper).
SETTING: The Daystar Research Facility.
!! CONTENT WARNINGS !! Physical torture (performed with a knife), blood & gore, arm mutilation, restraints, creepy/kind of intimate whumper (non-consensual physical affection + pet names), implied lab whump & institutionalized cruelty.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had way more fun with this than I thought I would, honestly. This was also a great way to introduce my sweet Juno!!! She makes me giggle and kick my feet (there's something deeply wrong with me).
[tags: @ghostingwings @screams-n-shackles @loonybun @doctorsawyer -- go here if you'd like to be added to my tag list!]
Finn has never been more afraid in his life.
He’s thought that before, many times during his stay here, but this surpasses everything. At least the experiments, as painful and violating as they are, serve a purpose. He’s learned to anticipate them. As long as he obeys and stays quiet, the suffering remains bearable.
This, however, is something entirely different.
He's always been vaguely aware of the existence of some sort of punishment wing; a place where unruly subjects are sent to be corrected. It was not somewhere those belonging to the Docile class were often sent—likely due to their mild temperaments and general inability to cause serious harm—but he'd still managed to learn of it through the grapevine, as all subjects eventually do.
He'd imagined it to be quite similar to the experimentation wing, at least in its layout: endless sterile corridors, doors neatly labeled, every room with its own dreadful purpose. Maybe there would be isolation cells too, like the ones he stayed in during his intake. The thought was very unsettling, but at least it was familiar.
Still, no matter what he had imagined, nothing came close to the reality that met him when the elevator doors slid open.
For a moment, he wondered if he’d somehow been transported to an entirely different building. This place bore no resemblance to the orderly laboratory above. It's decayed, crumbling, on the edge of collapse; cracked cement floors lay underfoot, stained with filth. The air reeks of mildew something coppery. Exposed pipes snake across the walls and ceiling, and the weak, sputtering lights barely make a dent in the shadows.
His fear is eclipsed by shock as the guards usher him forward. If he didn’t know better, he might have asked what was happening. This is nothing like he'd imagined. In fact, it is so far from expectation that he almost feels as if he’s gone crazy. Why would they leave this place so… unfinished?
The further they walk, the darker the halls become. Finn can barely make out the floor beneath his feet. Rounding yet another corner, he finds himself facing a passage that feels different from the rest, though he can’t yet say why. Then, one guard steps forward, and the grating sound of a metal door being pulled open cuts through the silence. That sound alone tells him what his eyes are slow to confirm: these are cells. Not the sterile isolation cells he'd become so familiar with, but cages—cramped, cement-floored, and iron-barred, better suited for animals than people.
Before he can process it, he’s shoved inside. The door slams shut with a deafening clang that echoes down the hall. His shoulder collides with the wall, and he crumples to his knees, unable to catch himself with his cuffed hands. Pain resonates through his body, making him groan in discomfort. By the time his vision steadies and he looks up, the guards are long gone. He’s trapped.
All he can do is sit there, stunned, staring out through the bars. Darkness swallows most of the space, details blurred and indistinct. What is he supposed to do now? Sit… and wait? Wait for what? He understands, in this moment, why this place has been known to drive people insane.
He doesn't know how long he sits there for, alone in the dark, but it gives him plenty of time to wallow in his own thoughts. The morning’s events replay endlessly in his mind. They feel so far away now. He feels so stupid for ever trying to stand up to himself. He should have just let the other subject take his breakfast. Starving would have been so much easier than this.
His throat tightens as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. Ashley’s words echo in his mind: it hasn’t exactly been on it's best behavior lately. All this crying and blubbering… it interferes with our work. Is that really the crime they’re punishing him for? Being too afraid? How could anyone not be afraid of this?
He buries his face into his knees, sniffling. He feels so pathetic.
Time stretches endlessly as Finn sits alone, terrified and crying, his mind replaying every imagined failure, and every potential consequence. He hardly notices the sound of footsteps until they’re right in front of him.
"Uhm, helloooo?"
Finn startles, jerking back against the wall. A shadow looms beyond the bars. When he looks up, he sees glowing pink points where the eyes should be, staring at him from behind a strange mask.
"U-uhm—" he stammers. "Who— I—"
No, not yet! He’s not ready for this!
"Oh, goodie! You’re alive!" The figure’s keys jingle as they unlock the door, before swinging it open with a flourish. Before Finn can react, they’re grabbing him, hauling him to his feet and dragging him outside.
"Wh- wait, hold on! Where are you taking me? Who are you??"
The laugh that answers is wild and manic "Ooh, I've already gotcha scared, don't I? Don't worry, little guy; mama Juno's gonna take real good care of ya!"
Juno. He supposes that's their name—or her name, rather. Her voice is unmistakably feminine, and as they enter a slightly better-lit hallway, he notices the skirt she wears over a jumble of garish, patchwork clothing. A mask obscures her face, and stickers and bandages are scattered across her dark, scar-littered skin. Nothing about her looks like it belongs here. She isn’t a scientist, a guard, a nurse, or anything else he recognizes. In fact, doesn’t even seem like staff at all!
Once again, he finds himself stunned into silence. He allows himself be dragged along until they reach a heavy door.
The door opens onto darkness. He’s forced forward a few more steps, then shoved roughly to his knees. He can barely focus as his wrists are lifted above his head. A sharp metallic click echoes as cuffs lock onto something else. The woman steps back, leaving him dangling by his wrists. The cold metal of his shackles bites into his tender skin. Even as he winces from the discomfort, he knows this is only the beginning.
"Mmm, there we go!" Juno chirps. "Do me a favor and give those chains a lil' tug, would ya?"
Finn hesitates, then gingerly tugs at his restraints. The metallic clink of chains echoes in the dark, confirming what he already knew: he isn’t going anywhere.
"Lovely!! Can’t move an inch… just what I like."
A pit forms in his stomach.
Her boots scuff across the floor as she hurries around the room. Somehow she moves easily through the darkness, while he can’t see past his own knees. He's too worked up to wonder how.
"Lights, lights, lights… ahah!"
Suddenly, a light snaps on above him, illuminating his corner of the room.
Squinting, he sees that he's kneeling on cracked cement, arms suspended above his head. The floor beneath him is mottled with old stains. The faded, rusty color of them—accompanied by the distinct metallic smell—leaves no room for speculation. He feels bile climbing up his throat. His body trembles violently against his bindings, every little movement making the cuffs bite deeper into his wrists. The position he's in is already hurting him so much.
Humming cheerfully, Juno steps into the spotlight, rolling a metal tray beside her. It’s tall enough to block his view of what rests on top. His breaths come faster, shallow and trembling.
"Oooh, look at you," Juno laughs, tipping her head. "Shakin' like a leaf!"
Finn is very aware that he's shaking, but he's too terrified to be ashamed at this point. "I… I-" He stutters. "D- don't hurt me, please—"
"HA!" Juno barks out a laugh, tossing her head back with exaggerated flair. "Don't be silly! You know you're down here to get hurt! What, you thought you’d get a free pass or somethin'? Nuh-uh! This is what happens when ya act out!"
"I WASN'T ACTING OUT!" Finn’s voice shatters, splitting into incoherent sobs. "I-I just—I didn’t mean to—" He hiccups hard, tears streaking down his face. "Please… please, I can’t… I can't do this!"
Suddenly, Juno's crouching in front of him, gloved hands cradling his jaw. "Hey, hey," she murmurs, voice low and steady. When he forces himself to look up at her, he can see her eyes through the holes in the mask. Her pupils gleam an unnatural purple, illuminating her bloodshot scleras and sunken eyelids. The sight knocks the last of his courage out of him and e slides back into crying.
"You can do this, sweetie! You ain’t gonna die," she assures him. "We’re jus’ gonna play around a bit. Nothin’ permanent, okay? Promise."
She lets him go, allowing him to slump back into his bonds. "Actually, I got an idea! How 'bout you tell me whatcha did," she gestures as she speaks, "an’ I’ll pick a punishment that fits the crime! Unless the crime is somethin' like murder… then that’d contradict my whole ‘no dying’ spiel. Heh. So? What is it?"
"I… I don’t k—" Finn stammers, breath hitching.
"Oh, quit that! ‘Course you do!" Juno chirps, the words syrupy but wired. "Spill it, baby. What’d you do to end up in Juno’s house 'a horrors?"
"I… I got in a fight. In the cafeteria."
"Ooh, how scandalous!" She giggles, elbows on her knees, chin cradled in her hands. "What kinda fight?"
"S—someone tried to take my food ‘cause they were hungry, and I shoved them. They tripped and hit their head really hard..." Each word is quieter than the last.
"Oof." She makes a sympathetic little sound. "Did you at least get t' keep your grub?"
"I… I guess? I mean, they dragged me out after that, so—"
"Hehe, nice!" She claps once, delighted. "That means you won, right? D'aw, my little scrapper!" A soft, almost fond chuckle passes her lips as she reaches out to ruffle his hair. Then, she tips her head curiously, eyes bright behind the mask. "Wait, hol' up—that was all?"
"…Yeah?"
"No fuckin' way! They wouldn’t drag you down here over a shove! Someone must’ve had it in for you. Who squealed?"
"Uhm… Ashley?" He murmurs. "A- Ashley, uhm, Sunderland?"
"Ooh." Juno’s laugh is a low, rueful trill. "Yeahhh, that tracks. She loves pinning people to the wall. Makes her feel real important! What a bitch, right?" She leans in, almost as if she's expecting Finn to respond. Fortunately, she continues on before he has to muster something up. "Hehe, yeah.. that sucks for you, though! Superrr unfair. You should be hella pissed."
Finn's rounded ears perk up. "Does that… mean you aren't gonna hurt me, then?"
"Oh? Oh, no." Juno’s grin is audible, even under the mask. "I'm still gonna hurt you. I’m just sayin’ you don’t really deserve it. I mean, none of you do, but you were, like… really fucked over." She chuckles lowly. "And that's pretty sad."
Finn’s hope shatters in an instant. Juno snaps upright and, in one swift motion, grabs something off the tray. Polished metal catches the light—a blade glints at the end of her hand.
"What’d you say it was again? A shove?" she asks, rolling the weapon between her fingers.
"N-no! No, no no- please!" Finn cries, thrashing against the restraints, trying in vain to pull away from her.
She cackles, delighted. "That's what I thought! Let's do something to your arms, then."
Finn yelps as Juno lunges forward, locking her hand around his shackled wrists. He flails wildly, his pleas dissolving into incoherent babbling. She giggles cheerfully as she lifts the blade.
"STOP!" He cries. "Please, st- AHH!"
The blade rakes across his forearm, slicing open his flesh. Blood erupts from the wound, splattering the floor and streaking across Juno’s mask.
"Bahahaha, ewww!" Juno squeals, flinging her head back with a laugh. "You got me right in the eye! Now we're both cryin'!"
Finn doesn’t have the mental capacity to process a single word she's saying. The pain tears through his arm, overwhelming everything else, making him jerk and thrash uncontrollably. His fur grows sodden with blood, dark rivulets running down to his shoulder and neck.
After only a moment’s pause, the knife comes down on him again. It rakes across bicep, tearing a ragged scream from his throat.
His mind spins out, reeling under the agony. It's already too much. He doesn't think he can survive this.
He wails and chokes on his own cries, every sound ripped out of him by fire searing through his open, weeping wounds. Between that and the blood roaring in his ears, he hears almost nothing at all. It takes him a long time to notice that Juno is laughing.
"I knew it…" Her free hand slides over his mangled arm, roughly teasing his open wounds, making him whimper. "I knew you'd be fun, I could tell!"
Fun? Fun? How could this ever be fun? He knows this place and everyone in it is crazy, but this is on a whole other level.
"Oh my god, stop!" He wails. "Please just- stop!"
"In a second, baby," Juno coos, her voice dripped with faux-sweetness, "we still gotta do your other arm, m'kay?"
His other arm? No, no! He can’t take that! He sobs harder, thrashing against his bindings. The pain of the metal biting into his wrists is lost beneath the agony already screaming through his arms.
"Oh shush! And quit the squirming! It'll hurt more if I can't get a good angle…"
He thrashes as Juno wrangles him, her hand clamping down on his other arm hard enough to bruise. He screams nonsense, too terrified to form a coherent sentence.
She shows him no mercy. The blade drags across his wrist, slicing through skin and muscle. Blood pours from it in rivulets, soaking his arm and running over Juno’s hand. The pain is immediate and searing. A distinct ringing fills his ears. He utters a sound between sob and groan as he feels his strength drain away.
"Mm, maybe a little too deep…" Juno says, fingers tracing the rim of the cut. Her touch stings like nothing else; he gasps and flinches as she pulls at the wound. She cackles. "Hehe, sorry!"
Her hand slides down to his bicep. "One more cut to make it even, okay?"
Finn shakes his head uselessly. He can’t do this anymore.He feels like he's dying, which would be a mercy, at this point. He just wants this to end.
He can only cry as the blade is driven back into his arm, creating another awful, gushing wound.
His head swims, dark spots flickering across his vision. Pain folds over him like a blanket, heavy and suffocating, almost comforting in its totality. The edges of the world blur. He feels himself drifting, teetering on the edge of oblivion.
He sags in his bonds, his muscles twitching reflexively. The cuts, the blood… all it’s too much.
Juno's talking again. He hears words, but he doesn't understand them. He doesn't understand anything anymore. He doesn't know what he did to deserve this, and frankly, he doesn't care anymore. Nothing else exists but the pain coursing through his body. Nothing at all.
Then, suddenly, hands clamp around his face. "Hey, hey, stay with me, don’t pass out now!" Blood-slicked fingers press into his jaw. "Can you hear me?"
Finn jerks awake, panic flaring. "Y- yes! Yes I can! P- please, don’t hurt me!"
Juno laughs, almost fondly. "I don't got the knife anymore, cutie. I promise."
It takes a moment to sink in, but relief finally gets through to him. It's finally over?
"I’d call that… a solid first punishment!" She giggles. He slowly realizes that she's stroking his hair, almost lovingly, like he's a pet. "Let’s hope it’s the last one, hm? Hopefully you’ve learned not to shove anyone… or at least not in front of Ashley."
His brain is barely holding onto anything she's saying. Fatigue drags at him, pulling him forward, eyelids closing against his will.
Juno freezes mid-pat, eyes widening. "Oh, wow… you’re bleeding a lot." Her cheerful tone falters, replaced by genuine worry. "Uh—uhh, we need to—shit, I wasn’t supposed to… fuck, okay. Let's get you upstairs, yeah??"
As she begins to move, he finally lets exhaustion claim him, drifting off into the darkness, letting it decide what comes next.
To celebrate imminent vampire season (and also 400 followers!) I'm holding a free YCH raffle for the whump community!
What's being raffled?
The finished art will be a greyscale rendered sketch of any two characters you want, in the poses seen above. Any body types, outfits, hair, etc. are fine. You can also:
customize the restraints
add injuries/bruises/blood
change the expressions
make it NSFW
add speech bubble/s
Rules:
To enter, please reblog this post. That's all!
You don't have to be following me to enter (but I plan to do more of these, and I post cool whump stuff sometimes so, yknow, you could.)
The raffle will end on October 15th, and one winner will be drawn via a random name picker. The draw will happen around 4pm GMT (10am CST).
I will DM / send an ask to the winner to let them know they've won. They then have 24 hours to confirm, or I'll pick a new name.
[Optional] Add in your reblog tags who your favourite vampire characters are (OCs count!)
Thank you to everyone out there! I read every comment and every tag, and I'm very grateful to everyone who reads whump, interacts with, or enjoys art on my blog!
Good luck to everyone who enters! 🦎
Ideas for editing your story--to make it MORE INTENSE
(giving myself away here)
Give your characters dialects--it's ok to copy real-world speech patterns
Have your characters interact with the scene props (like kicking back their chair as they stand up from the table)
Check the pacing. How do you like your chapters laid out? (Ex. I always do three scenes: establishing the problem, whumpity whump, and processing + cliffhanger.)
Use visceral wording by describing how someone did something and suggesting the effect of their actions. Ex. "She sat down" -> "she thumped into the creaking chair with a scowl." (This way it advances the emotional plot!!)
Tell the story in the way your POV character would word it.
Emotional plot > physical plot! Stories are about feelings! (Yes, your protagonist got beaten up and escaped but. They got beaten up to protect their sister and they escaped by betraying her! More angst👍)
Turn words into pictures. "He felt sad" -> "he buried his face in his hands. He'd lost before he even started."
you ever think about just how terrifying it is for a whumpee to be tied up.
the helplessness they feel when they're not even able to cover themself for protection when someone strikes them. not able to run away from a threat. not even to curl up and writhe from pain. often forced into a position so uncomfortable that they start to cry and tremble from the agony of it.
and just the fact that they're forced to be like this until someone else frees them. be it caretaker or whumper. forced to be vulnerable and rely on others for all their needs (and possible rescue).
and they could stay like that for a long long time, freedom completely stripped away and life forcibly put at a stop.
I had some thoughts about Emmrich, Lichdom and how a romantic relationship with Rook might corrupt him.
I think that Emmrich would handle his immortality and Rooks mortality with grace after the gods are defeated (before He was skittish, worried and on the Edge due to impeding doom) but He will Not be fine with His state of being anymore after Rook dies one day.
He did Not do the mental work beforehand.
I think grief will get the better of him and He will do anything to either get His Love Back or to die.
Anyway I wrote a short fic about His grief and some of His spiraling thoughts.
New friends all discussing their regular human experiences with no second thought and whumpee recently free from captivity crashing out internally because they could’ve been living life like that, like THIS, the whole time?
Why didn’t you fight back sooner? Why didn’t you realise sooner? You could have had so much. You could have been so much.
Now a regular conversation leaves a pang in your chest…
I feel like a fun part of the conditioned through pain trope when put in the caretaking arc is, "if you don't want me to be like that then what was it all for? All that pain from beatings and shocks and starvation, of course I have to be like this that was the whole point of that."
Essentially sunk cost fallacy. The compliance at some point went from what you had to do to avoid pain in the now, became a worldview to avoid pain in the future. Eventually settling into the praise given for good behavior, the isolation from normal people, the repeated Purpose you're being remolded for. "If I wasn't made For you, then it was just cruelty. And I know whumper was cruel, but they had a reason, an end. It wasn't just for cruelty's sake, surely?"
i want to see whumpees completely oblivious to the torture they've been put through. whumpees that casually bring up the ways they've abused in an almost joking manner not realizing the horrifying implications behind their words. whumpees that can't even put words to what has happened, not even how they feel. maybe it's a neutral or numb feeling when the abuse happens. to them it is normal, it is just what happens to people like them. it's not painful until they get to experience what it's like to not be in pain and crying every single day. their days now are filled with such joy and happiness it feels unreal, almost unnatural, unearned. it's only when they reflect back on it now that any pain or sadness is connected with those old memories. when they finally understand the life they were robbed of this whole time, it finally hits them how fucked this all is.
big fan of whumpees crying AFTER rescue/freedom. when their guard was up so high and the adrenaline was pumping every second and defiance was all they could use to cope, and then - there's nothing. silence. the birds sing. and it reduces them to a sobbing mess
- Tail tangled in fishing net -> their scales torn, bleeding fingers as they try to get free, panicking, screaming for help, other merpeople trying to get them free but not fast enough
- Merperson beached on shore -> sunburnt skin, unable to breathe, being stared at by human onlookers, sand in their gills, dehydration, struggling to return to the sea only for humans to drag them back up the beach to watch them try again, helplessly watching as the tide goes out knowing that they won’t survive until high tide
- Caught and studied -> glass tanks with nowhere to hide, starving merperson trying to eat the plastic vegetation in their tank, being experimented on, scales being cut away, merpeople bred and brought up in labs, merpeople getting ill because of scientists’ ignorance of their needs
More mer whump:
- Hurt by their own kind -> getting taken to dangerous water by their “friends” and then abandoned, refusing to share food, deliberately cut by a whumper to attract sharks, half-mer/half-human rejected by both sides
- Getting lost -> getting separated from their group, straying into dangerous water and getting thrown against rocks in a storm or trapped in a whirlpool, tangled in seaweed forests and disorientated
- Habitat loss/destruction -> lack of fish to eat, or vegetation damaged/poisoned, coral reefs dying, accidentally setting off an old bomb on the seabed and losing their home/being badly burnt, change in water currents so the water is too cold/warm for their biology
- Turned human -> turned human against their will, suddenly too cold/loud/bright, struggling to walk, can’t find the right food and their previous diet making them sick, unable to understand humans or speak, treated like a child by kind humans or abused by others, desperately throwing themselves back in the sea and almost drowning/hypothermia
- Human’s pet -> kept in an enclosure with no privacy, electric shocks in the water, overly intimate owner that comes into their tank to pet them, taken out to the sea but wearing a harness/collar so they can swim but not escape, used by humans to capture other merpeople, their tank temperature being wrong because the human doesn’t care to learn how to keep them properly
- Boat whump -> a new shipping lane meaning a sudden influx of huge ships polluting the mer’s water, hair getting tangled in boat propeller, the noise of ships becoming overwhelming (especially if the mer navigates/communicates by echolocation), bright lights of ships disrupting their hunting/their sleep
(Mythical creatures whump series 01 - to be continued!)
Asphalts Whump Collection @screams-n-shackles - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
