First Request! Hope you don't mind the Hero and villain thing. I've been interested in something like your request mixed with a Hero whumpee and a villain whumper. Sorry if it's a bit short.
Welcome Home
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Hero stared at Supervillain in a mix if shock and fear. Hero had always dreaded the day they'd have to face off against Supervillain, the reason was unlike the other hero's, sidekicks or superheros. It was the fact Hero had been raised by Supervillain.
"Ah! There you are Hero!" Supervillain spoke, love and care in their voice but the heros knew that more sinister things layed below their voice.
"You act like you don't know where I've been." Hero responded trying their hardest to not let any fear slip into their voice as they let water curl into their hands.
"How could I?" Supervillain started a small speech "I mean you left me without a note or goodbye. I raised you and you still leave me?" Supervillain questioned the Hero.
"Stay behind us Hero." Other Hero said, moving do their body was infront of Hero's, blocking Supervillain's vision of them.
"No." Hero said firmly, they were going to face the past they've been running from for so long. But sidekick and Superhero agreed with Other Hero and blocked their way to fight Supervillain.
"Keeping my own child away from me? Isn't that kidnapped Superhero?" Supervillain taunted the hero smirking as if they weren't outnumbered.
"Other Hero, Sidekick get Hero out out of here." Superhero ordered, summoning fire at the tip of their hands. Hero felt Sidekick touch them and freezing them in place.
"Let me go!" Hero screeched as they were grabbed by Sidekick with Other Hero not being too far behind. Hero needed to face their past, even if it ment disobeying Superhero's orders. Hero could hear the fight between the two supers, they saw dust and debris scattering. They felt something hard hit the back of their head before blacking out once they were hit again, thud time harder.
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Hero groaned as they reawoke after the few hard hits they took to the head, they felt the soft cotton wrapped around their head. Hero blinked as they fully became aware, they looked up at the roof. It didn't look like one from a hospital, non that they'd seen but it still felt oddly familiar, it put them on edge.
Hero managed to shift their body into a sitting position wincing as the painful bruises that formed on their skin from being hit by rouge debris were eritated. Their eyes then flicked around the room once.... then twice.... then a third and a fourth. Their breath started picking up as they hyperventilating from realization of where they were.
Hero started to disassociate soon after hyperventilating. They curled up on the bed not noticing a tall slender adult with fancy clothes on with a shock blanket slip into the room and pulled Hero close in a protective manner as the figure sat on the bed with Hero in their grasp.
The figure held Hero close and gently kissed their forehead as they're fingers brushed through Hero's hair. "Its ok little Hero. You're parents here. I'll keep you safe and sound." The figure switched from brushing their fingers through Hero's hair to rubbing their back. "I won't let them brainwash you any further. They'll call me a supervillain but you my child. You'll call me parent."
Two child Whumpees coming from similarish backgrounds of having Whumper parents. One having physical abuse, the other having emotional abuse. Once they move out or realize how they’re treated isn’t right, they both promise themselves that they won’t turn out like their parents. First one promising to be an actual man and to never hurt anyone, and if they do then they’ll own up to it. The second promising to be more than what their mom told them they were.
Howdy, first time writing stuff like this publicly, so I’m gonna speed right through so as to not cause myself inner turmoil.
Just an idea on writing psychological abuse: matching the responses to the character
Yes, I am using myself and my siblings as an example here.
Now, I personally have been kicked out 3 times by the same person AKA my old man. And I’m still living with the dude half time because court order. But I’ve learned some knowledge over the situation now, so there’s a bright side to everything, eh?
Regardless, few facts (remember, based off of personal experience, I can’t help outside of that):
When the Whumper in this situation is drunk, there’s a possibility they’ll constantly be contradicting themself or forgetting things they said almost instantly, switching up, etc. This does not happen for all people ‼️‼️ Some Whumpers might be different
Each whumpee is different. I wasn’t the only one removed from residence, my younger brother was as well. I faced the situation rather too calmly for what it should have been and my brother attempted to fight our father with a metal bat
Adding onto that, the process of psychological whump is different for everyone. And yes, all these example with be based off how me and my siblings reacted.
Some might be overly angry about the whole thing. They’ve maybe been lied to and manipulated for a long time and they’re pissed. They want to relieve the anger. They may retaliate with mocking or screaming matches or even physical disputes. It’s easy to affect the way they act and manipulate them again
Another whumpee might be overly distraught by the whole thing. They might just be a bystander! But golly, that doesn’t stop them from being absolutely messed up. To see someone they care too deeply about cause potential harm to someone else they care about is too much. They may stay silent. They might try and shield the eyes of another party. They may try and change the mind of whumper, desperate for things to be fixed. They might sob their eyes out. They might scream at the top of their lungs, wanting to fix this, but not wanting anyone to get into trouble.
Or maybe your whumpee is almost completely fine. They’re emotionally numb to the whole encounter. Maybe they were playing clown tricks not a minute ago. But they’re being hurt mentally and they know. They don’t care enough. They just leave calmly and do what they’ve been told to do.
Your whumpees shouldn’t all act the same. They need character. They need a personalized reaction to the situation. Have they seen this before? Have they been in this situation before? Are they new to this? How does that affect their way of acting?
What do your Whumpers say to manipulate the whumpee?
Maybe one whumpee is showered in praise. A golden child. They’re such a kind soul, who’s being tainted like sallowing newspapers. Maybe they pull away from everyone else that they were close to. They’re more aggressive to others, more defensive, more secretive. They want- no, NEED this praise
Maybe your whumpee is a scapegoat. Something to be cast aside. A copy of a past whumpee. So naive and hopeless. They want what the other has, they want better, they’ll do anything to prove they’re better. And then there comes a moment they know it’s hopeless.
Most people write long dramatic speeches or yelling matches where the whumpee realizes it’s hopeless. They need it explained to them. When all it takes is one sentence. You know what my father said about me, when he assumed me to have already fled? That I wasn’t listening.
“She’s like her mother. She’ll come crawling back later.”
That’s all it takes. One small sentence and you know. It’s hopeless. To be compared to another who you look up to, but they’re compared to absolute garbage.
So do it. Break them. Make them feel hopeless. Make them know that from now on, there’s no going back in your mind. Those words won’t leave.
Rob glanced at the door, then let his eyes fall back to the wall. “Hi.”
Spencer sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed next to where Rob lay. “Bad day?”
“It’s only just started,” Rob grumbled.
“You know what I mean, hon.” Spencer brushed a strand of the hero’s hair out of his face and behind his ear. “Is today going to be hard for you?”
Rob’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I think so,” he whispered, not meeting Spencer’s eye. He had noticed it as soon as he woke up; there was a weight on his chest, stronger than usual, keeping him anchored to the bed. He could hear, distantly, as if through water, the sound of his parents arguing. His hands shook with phantom cold, and he was back outside, and it was freezing, and he was alone-”
“Oh, Rob,” Spencer murmured, and Rob realized with a jolt of panic and shame that tears had begun to stream down his face. “It’s okay, philatos. You’re at home with me, and I’m not going anywhere.”
A hand landed on Rob’s own, rubbing comforting circles to soothe the trembling. He could hear Spencer, vaguely, but the wind was picking up and the snow was getting thicker and his parents were there, watching calmly as he was dragged away.
Rob let out a broken sob before he could stop it, and Spencer carefully slipped into the bed, sitting cross-legged beside him.
“Come here, hon.” Spencer helped Rob reposition himself, head resting on his partner’s lap. Rob gave another sharp cry and shivered, curling in on himself further. Spencer took to stroking his hair, laying the occasional kiss on his forehead or cheek.
They both had these days, but Rob’s were worse in the winter. The snow reminded him too strongly of the day he was taken.
Rob could feel Spencer’s hands in his hair, gently worrying at knots and tangles. He could hear his voice, droning softly as a distraction. “You’re not alone, Rob. I’m right here. Neither of us is going anywhere, okay?”
“C-Cold-”
Spencer pulled the blanket over Rob’s shoulders, tucking it under him carefully. “You’re inside,” he said quietly, carding his fingers through the shaking hero’s hair. “You’re out of the snow, in your own bed, at home. I’m right here.”
Rob’s trembling slowly subsided, his breaths becoming more even as he relaxed more into Spencer’s hold. “A-At home,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around Spencer’s waist and squeezing. “You’re here”
“I am.”
“I’m safe.”
“You are.”
“I’m sorry,” Rob muttered, lifting his head to meet Spencer’s eyes. “Just- something about today, I don’t-”
Spencer shushed him softly, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “It’s alright. It happens to the best of us.”
thanks for reading! please comment/submit an ask if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist. Asks and questions about characters or plot are always welcome!
365 writing challenge taglist: @stabby-nunchucks @sapphobugz
Fall From Grace taglist: @thekittyburger
As Ciliren and her adventuring party approach the underworld, they encounter the goddess of rest: Req. Equipped with soul gems to ensure that their lives remained intact, each person steps onto the scale to have their souls weighed, just like any deceased mortal falling into the veil. Amber’s vanity grants her one weight, Nesta’s life as an assassin gives her soul seven, and Ash possesses four (most notably: killing undead). As Ciliren steps onto the infernal scale, Req’s voice rings out, "Five weights, accumulated from a combination of conspiracy, extremism, assassination, and heresy.”
This miniseries will follow my favorite D&D character, a bardlock revolutionary named Ciliren. The above scene (which actually occurred in the campaign I play her in) was my inspiration for writing a few short stories based on each listed weight. I wrote the original stories about 1 1/2 years ago, and my DM even included some of the backstory elements I wrote about in future campaign sessions. Now that I’m writing again and have a good place to share it, I’ve decided to rewrite these stories with a more whump/angst element. I’m excited to write more about Ciliren in the future, she’s my baby <3
CW: ultra-big-time family trauma, angst, betrayal, political (insurgency & fascist/authoritarian) themes in a d&d setting
Ciliren’s plan to create a diversion by turning the party hosts against each other would have been a complete success, if it weren’t for the fact that she got caught. She sits on the floor in the middle of a spell circle, her hands shackled and her magic temporarily disabled.
She glares straight at her mother, High Princess Meriele Lianodel, who is currently pacing around her study, “In MY house?! One of MY daughters?”
Meriele bellows, “First you reject Count Vasily’s proposal, you already are at my wits end with your ungratefulness, and now…I can’t even bear to say it…”
But she does, anyway, “You have brought shame to our family and to our country.”
“Wait--” Ciliren retorts, “you mean to tell me they weren’t shameful before?”
Her mother’s voice raises to a shrill pitch, “I am DONE with your talking back! For years you have been on my last nerve--I’ve tried to help you find your place in society, make connections, but you are going down the wrong path,” She stops, turning to face her daughter and pinching the bridge of her nose with a perfectly manicured hand, “Treason? You really have left me with no other choice.”
Ciliren doesn’t even have to ask to know what she means. It was almost as if her mother was just waiting for a reason to send her to the Reform Camps in the tundra.
“You’re proving my point.”
But Meriele doesn’t care, “I have already called for the head of the Emethlian guard. Maybe now we can finally get rid of these rebels,” she laughs, an ear-shattering indication of her ignorance, “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. Of course there was a pesky mole within our ranks!”
Rage bubbles in Ciliren’s stomach. At her mother, at her family, at this country, at everyone. “Those people were unjustly imprisoned just because they were critical of The Council. People should have a right to speak their minds without fear.”
“They were proven guilty of conspiring against the state--”
“Without trial!” Ciliren interjects, “And not every criticism is the same as conspiracy,” she huffs, “You cannot tell me that the publisher of the Kavehil Press was conspiring when he simply approved an article that criticized the royal family?”
Meriele’s expression is pure disbelief, as if she had just encountered a talking bear. “You cannot tell me that distracting law enforcement from a planned mass prison break is justified…”
“I’m not talking about me. I did what needed to be done to help the people of Elyris,”A dry scoff escapes her lips, lacing her words with magical venom, “It’s better than anything you’ve done.”
Meriele winces from the spell and her brows furrow. She is about to go on another lecture when the door is pushed open.
“Your grace...es…?” a servant stutters, looking awkwardly at the traitor in the room. He looks to Ciliren’s mother, “You are needed on the council...they are formulating a response to the attack.” The High Princess looks to her daughter one final time. She says nothing, and turns to walk out the tall, ornate doors behind her.
Ciliren is left alone with a few palace guards, but there’s no way she can go anywhere. The spell circle prevents her from casting any of her signature teleportation spells, and she doesn't have enough energy left to take down all five of her guards. She begrudgingly stays put.
It takes a while for the Emethlian guards to come and get Ciliren. At least her diversion was at least somewhat successful; she was able to distract the council from an attack on the Royal Reform Camps in the tundra. Most of the guards are probably scrambling to find the escaped political prisoners. Her former professor at the conservatory and the person who introduced her to the rebellion, Xilodon, is hopefully among them. As her legs begin to cramp from kneeling, she adjusts into a more comfortable position, placing her bound hands in her lap.
Until this magic dampening circle gets dispelled, she’s powerless.
Fifteen minutes later, there is a rapping at the door, and one of Ciliren’s assigned babysitters opens it. A comforting voice sighs, “Issy…”
“Why did you come?” Ciliren’s eyes are downcast and she lets out a defeated sigh, staring at the faint glow of the spell circle’s runes. “Let me guess--I’m a disappointment to the Lianodel family and my views are misguided bullshit. Mom already gave me her speech,” she snaps, “Thanks, but I really don’t need your pity.”
Fenya bites her lip and takes a sharp breath, “Varik and Althaea didn’t want to see you...but I just...I came to say goodbye…” she pauses, “Things have been tense recently, but you’re my sister. Your involvement in this…this insurgency…” she exhales, her expression knitted with disappointment, “this hurts.”
“That’s the point.”
“I know, I know,” she heaves, “I just never thought it would come to this.”
Ciliren doesn’t know how to respond to that. Some part of her didn’t want it to come to this either. Nobody really wants to screw their family over or rebel against the government that has granted them wealth and political power. Maybe if things had been different...if Althaea had been a little kinder...if she hadn’t been shamed her entire childhood for not being the perfect princess...She could have had a better relationship with her family. But if she stayed complacent, she would still be a part of the problem today.
“I’ll miss you,” Ciliren starts, then cringes a bit at her sudden vulnerability. “Thank you...for being there for me when mom and dad weren’t.”
She can’t fully read her sister’s facial expression as she swallows and responds, “I love you, Issy...I just,” her eyes break contact, “I have a lot on my mind right now, sorry…”
She looks at Ciliren again, this time with resolve. “I hope we can see each other again, when you’ve reformed your ways,” Tears well in her eyes and she sniffles, “Our family may not have been very...healthy, but we’re family. We’ve gotten through everything...I-I know we can get through this.” Fenya isn’t getting it, but frankly, Ciliren doesn’t have the heart to tell her.
“Farewell, sister.” She bows her head slightly, offering a formal gesture to a treasonous snake. She leaves too, albeit more reluctantly than her mother had.
All those years of studying theory and recently being recruited by the College of Whispers had led to this. Ciliren would be sent to the camps that her comrades-in-arms had freed 1,000 people from. At least she didn’t become a puppet like Fenya and the rest of her family.
The now disowned daughter of the Lianodel family had finally conspired against her country and her family. But, she did it for a reason. And she’ll never regret it.
Spoiler: Ciliren was rescued by her fellow rebel Mylla, but I liked that final line too much to not end it there. If anyone out there is interested in a taglist for this series, feel free to let me know!
