Imagine keeping Whumpee in a cursed/magic display case 24/7. They're fed, they don't need to use the restroom, but there's not enough room to lay down, and they're completely deprived of human contact, and even if Whumper completely abandoned them, they can't die while they're in there, but is it really living, when they're trapped behind glass?
I thought about this a lot and I've come to the conclusion that this would be like being bound to an object entirely. Like living in a mirror, or being inside an amulet kept close around someone's neck. Caged, only ever being able to watch, but never even being allowed not to, never being able to sleep, or experience anything themself. All they have is what they see.
It would be indescribable torture to exist like that no matter what. If they are somewhere busy, watching over a street or something, all they can think about is how badly they want to be one of those people, free and happy. Meet with family, have dreams, goals, things to do, food to eat, hobbies to try.
But if they are abandoned, forever locked away somewhere where nobody goes, nothing happens, for years... Imagine setting free a whumpee like that. One that not only hasn't had an ounce of control over their life, but also not even a body to really speak of. How could a whumpee like that live? How would they act around others? How would they know that they need to eat and sleep eventually?
And what if its the worst of both worlds. What if they are fortunate enough to be stuck in a busy space — it's just unlucky that that place is a front row seat to the most demented torture of others, perhaps even people they personally know. They have something to watch, but they wish they didn't, they wish they didn't have to see all the suffering, they wish they could just close their eyes or stop existing altogether.
But also, being put on display is just a whole other flavour of awful. Imagine a fallen king... The kin of a rare species... The snitch... An example... So many reasons they could put somebody on display for, and have others stare at them all day.
Hellooo!! Again, tysm for the art!! It's wonderful✨✨✨ <33
But I do have a request, and that is for a hurt/comfort writing mayhaps (if you're up to it ofc 👉👈)? It can be any trope really. I usually read hero/villain stuff cause I'm basic/j
Or if you're not really up to long writing at the moment then having your ocs comfort y/n is okay too!!
Or if you're not up for both then that's completely okay! I don't mind whichever you choose because both are fun to munch on either way. And please, have a good day (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+
Hi friend! I’m so glad you liked the art! And yes, of course I can write this for you! Thank you for the request, here you go!
I used my Storymatic cards for this one!
This ended up being way longer than I intended it to be, so it's going under the cut!
The Rarest Collectible
Hero stirred to the feeling of being dragged across a hard surface. Their bleary eyes fluttered halfway open, revealing the stars above. They stared at the moving sky for a few moments before coming to their senses. They struggled to free themselves from whoever was dragging them by under their arms.
A voice above them tutted softly. They sat Hero up against cool metal. Hero craned their neck- the back door to an ice cream truck. Their assailant crouched down in front of them, producing something from their jacket. They took Hero’s arm and injected something into their system via syringe. They ruffled Hero’s hair and opened the truck doors. Hero’s world began to blur as they were dragged into the chilly interior. The freezing cold would have been a welcome feeling under different circumstances.
The doors to the truck slammed shut, and Hero drifted off a moment later.
…
Hero stirred again, this time to the feeling of something squeezing different parts of their body in place.
“Good morning,” the voice from before greeted.
Hero opened their eyes, staring into their kidnapper’s.
“Who… what…”
“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re confused,” they said, trailing a finger down Hero’s cheek, “you’ll wake up properly in a couple minutes.”
Hero knew their knees would buckle if they tried to stand right now, but they could’ve sworn they were in an upright position. They looked down as their kidnapper tightened straps across their ankles. Sure enough, Hero was strapped upright against some kind of padded board.
They blinked away the sleep clinging to them and cleared their throat.
“Yes?”
“Who are-”
“Civilian,” they answered.
Civilian closed a glass door, sealing Hero in some kind of human-sized display case. They turned a key into a lock on the case, then stepped back to admire their work.
“You look perfect,” they sighed dreamily.
Hero was properly awake now, and they immediately started to struggle. They formed ice crystals, hoping to compromise the integrity of the restraints. Civilian chuckled, pressing a button on the side of the case. Thermal vents in the ceiling and the floor of Hero’s box filtered stifling hot air all around them, clouding up the glass. Beads of cold, icy sweat formed on Hero’s skin, and the ice crystals they had formed quickly melted.
Civilian wiped off some of the steam from the glass, peering into Hero’s case. They smiled, waving.
“Thanks to you, my collection is finally complete!” they said.
“Collection?” Hero panted.
“Of course! No one has more Hero merch than I do! Especially now that I have the rarest collectible of all! Just wait till the server sees this!”
Civilian pulled out their phone, throwing up a peace sign and snapping a picture of themselves with Hero behind them. A few moments later, their phone pinged over and over again with several notifications.
“Ha, jealous amateurs!” Civilian grinned.
Hero scanned the room. Dozens of posters of them adorned every wall, along with collectible dolls, figurines, trading cards, comic books, and… a body pillow? Hero shuddered. There were also collectible mugs, keychains, spoons, plushies, and just about any kind of merchandise one could think of. Since when did Hero have this kind of fan-base? They usually tried to avoid media attention, and this was one of the reasons why. They didn’t need people idolizing them or becoming obsessed.
“Um…” Hero started, “I can see you... admire my work…”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Civilian said.
“How exactly am I supposed to do my job if you’re keeping me here though?”
Civilian scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.
“You’ve done enough for the city! You deserve retirement, you poor old thing…”
“I’m barely old enough to drink!”
“Irrelevant.”
“Let me go.”
Civilian stared at them, their face holding genuine disbelief.
“Why on earth would I- wha- no! What kind of request is that? You’re staying in my Hero room, and you’ll like it! I can take you out of the display case for meals and hygiene stuff and whatever, but this is your home now!”
Hero wanted to argue some more, but Civilian turned the button like a knob, and more heat flooded the little glass box. It was unbearable. Hero felt like they were baking in a glass oven.
Civilian sat down at a desk- covered in Hero paraphernalia, and put on some streaming headphones. They opened their laptop and turned on the webcam.
“What is up, everyone? Today I’m going to be giving you all an updated Hero room tour- featuring some new collectibles and-”
Something creaked overhead. Civilian paused, then shook their head, continuing.
“As you’ve probably seen, I’ve got the best collectible of all! But patience, Herolings, I’m saving that for the end. Now I know Hero Trading Card number thirty-seven is a pretty rare find, but I managed to snag one just last week-”
Drywall and insulation rained down on all of Civilian’s merchandise, and a figure dressed in dark colors dropped down after it.
Civilian turned in their gaming chair.
“Ugh, Villain,” they rolled their eyes, “nobody likes you, you know. You’re interrupting my-”
A blast of power rammed into Civilian, sending them crashing into their desk and the wall behind it.
Villain looked around the room, their eyes landing on the display case. They rushed over, trying to find a way to open it.
“Heck with it,” they muttered, “brace yourself!”
Villain put their hand on the case and released a jolt of red energy. The glass shattered into shimmering dust, and Villain caught it with their powers before it could cut Hero. They discarded the glass to the side, then worked at the straps holding Hero down. Hero tumbled out, limp like cooked pasta. Villain caught them in their arms.
“How did you find…” Hero spoke with great effort, trailing off when it became too difficult.
“I’ll always find you,” Villain said.
Hero flashed a weak smile before their eyes fluttered shut.
“Hero? Hero!”
Villain cursed, flying out of the house through the hole in the ceiling.
…
Freezing cold water being dumped over their head made Hero wake with a start.
“Easy, easy,” Villain said, “you’re safe.”
Hero relaxed in the ice bath, their relieved sigh coming out in a little, white cloud.
“Shh,” Villain said, carding their hand through Hero’s soaked hair, “one thank you is sufficient. No one is going to take you again. You have my word.”
“I love you…”
“I love you, too.”
Hero settled further under the ice while Villain worked to cool them down. Afterwards, Villain would have a list of people to find. It was most convenient that everyone who would dare to take Hero were all in one place online. It was just a matter of tracking them down and making them wish they had never been born.
It's Mermay so I had to draw one oc as a mer and whump them. Gahvon was the chosen victim, and they seem to be in a bit of a bind. Guess some lucky sailor wanted to show off the prize.
Had the big brained idea to turn their Korácen'kor scars into those suction cup scars from giant squids.
I just wanted to say that I appreciate a very extremely blatant used as bait, where whumpee is dragged out to a public place and shown off. The threat, implied or outright stated, is that things will get worse for whumpee the longer Caretaker stays away. (Could be via Whumper actively torturing them or it could be as simple as, well, who knows when the last time they had any water was. And it's hot today. They already look sort of out of it. They may have lost blood recently. Or not, who knows. Oh no I'm not going to give them any water or move them to the shade. Come move them yourself, Caretaker.) And whumpee stays out and on display with things getting worse and worse for them until Caretaker comes and either successfully rescues them, is caught in the attempt, or surrenders themselves.
(Is Caretaker nearby, able to see it all, unwilling to walk into the trap until other options have been explored but tormented by the knowledge of what Whumpee is going through? Or are they far away, desperate to do anything at all to help but forced to wait until they actually get there? Does Whumpee beg Caretaker to come and save them or do they shout for them to stay away, to keep themselves safe, and possibly get gagged for their efforts?)
Oh this is very, very DELICIOUS. I love that!!!! Especially if there's a crowd that is overseeing this too!!! Maybe the crowd did nothing about it and they just watched it all happen... maybe Whumpee at first begged for Caretaker not to come save them, but as time goes on, they began begging them to save them...
...This is giving me Brennus and Althorn vibes. I should write this 👀 Thank you anon for the inspiration!!!
You wanted to be asked to elaborate on a Barry in Doomworld AU? You have made me curious, please do elaborate. How many problems is Eobard Thawne causing now
GLADLY. Thank you for asking :D! First off, the post that prompted this ask.
I’ve got many ideas for how Barry could fit into (read: be whumped within) Doomworld, and that post solidified another one. Tbh now that I think on it the initial premise is similar to Armageddon/Reverse-Flashpoint but I’m gonna say it anyways.
…This is going under a cut. And I really hope it’s coherent.
Edit: I’d recommend reading this version for extra angst
So, Thawne frames Barry for some pretty awful murders. A Lot of them (probably in the hundreds. Speedster ya know, can get a lot done fast). (And he does it while wearing Barry’s face and mimicking his lightning color too (…yeah it’s what Armageddon did ik. It makes sense though!)). Anyways there’s a few ~specific~ kills that will come into play later.
Since Eobard has his usual red lightning and the murders were clearly committed by someone with yellow, it rules him out as a suspect and makes it easy for him to play the hero and ‘catch’ Barry in the act. Now. Could he just be thrown in prison? Sure. But I’m already onboard my Make It Worse train so choo choo motherfuckers we’re making the whump public.
Legally speaking who knows how this works but hey. Doomworld sucks so anything goes.
As far as everyone in the city knows, it’s a dangerous serial killer who’s trapped in a cage with transparent walls, kept on display in a public square. Sure he’s literally tortured sometimes, but why would anyone care when it’s just an awful person being punished for his crimes? And if anyone does have an issue with it, perhaps even suspect they got the wrong guy… Well they can take it up with Thawne! Oopsies their body will never be found. ANYWAYS. So Barry’s been kept like this for a while, but till let’s say the Doomworld episode, he’s just Barry Allen, a speedster but never The Flash— then our Barry’s mind and memories are essentially dropped into him (quick tangent— this is an implication of time fuckery that we never talk about. Post-Flashpoint, for example? The Barry everyone knew in that timeline is just Gone. The one who refused to save Dante for Cisco, probably had conversations with Iris about her anger with Joe, did and said some other things we couldn’t even know about— by time traveling with memories from a different timeline, Barry essentially erased this new timeline’s version of himself and replaced him. And this is NEVER ADDRESSED (I mean ofc it’s not. It’s really fucked up and the writers wouldn’t want to deal with it (…but frankly neither do I. It’s just something that occurred to me while making this post. ANYWAYS). So our Barry essentially replaces the other Barry, and he has no idea what the fuck is going on. One second he’s doing whatever he was doing at that point in Flash season 3; then the next he’s here, injured and trapped. He has his speed but he still can’t get out of the box. Anyone he asks for help, or even why he’s in there, gives him disgusted and angry looks, with no real answers.
And honestly, maybe Thawne doesn’t even stop by. He knows it’s his Barry now, he’s the one who chose that with the spear after all. So maybe he just lets him sit and wonder who did this to him, and why.
So Barry’s already asked random people for help. He’s probably increasingly desperate in this situation, even just for an explanation. Just imagine how he’ll react when he sees one of his loved ones walk by. And please now remember what I said about some specific murders that might come into play later… Can you hear my evil laughter from here?
Imagine he sees, let’s say, Iris. And he’s so SO relieved to see a familiar face, and of everyone who’s scorned him so far— She wouldn’t, right? She’d help him, right? Can you see his heart shatter when she looks at him with such intense hatred in her eyes, and walks past him without a second glance. And that hatred would be justified, if he actually did kill her father like she thinks he did.
And this repeats, when he inevitably sees his other loved ones look at him with that same hatred. Because Thawne killed people close to all of them intentionally. Except Cisco. But unfortunately not for any good reason.
There’s some things even the spear can’t modify, and Cisco’s powers appeared to be one of them. Eobard found out he still could vibe after killing Dante, and decided to kill Cisco too. He certainly didn’t want to (1x15 ya know), but the ability to vibe made Cisco too much of a threat. (Fun bonus of this is that he killed Cisco with Barry’s face. So when the timeline is put back to normal, Cisco may get some vibes of that death :) Just for funsies).
For the love of every god I went way off track too many times I’m so sorry. Also quick note that I probably don’t need to say but brain’s making me; as he did with all the Legends in the episode, Thawne definitely fucked with Team Flash’s heads and morals to make them ok with this whole situation. Pipeline-prison hell aside, this is obviously out of character and that’s part of the point.
Anyways back to the Barry suffering. He does figure out what happened eventually, and makes the connection that Thawne’s definitely the one who framed him. But what does it matter when no one will believe him? It’s like he’s 11 again except somehow worse. My braincells are running out but mix some classic Barry Allen Guilt Complex, 24/7 captivity, torture, everyone against him, and the fact that this is Season 3 Barry— and you get some inevitable thoughts about how, while he didn’t do anything to anyone in this timeline, he has hurt people, and killed people… Yeah this whole situation’s gonna get to him eventually.
Which I think is the perfect time for the Legends to rescue him. And he gets the desperate relief of someone believing and helping him. Plus, luckily everything’s gonna be fixed anyways so it’s fineeeeeeeee
Anyways. I’m done. Hope you enjoyed because it felt like I just wrang my brain out and let the thoughts spill like water out of a wet towel (not a bad thing. I just really hope this was coherent). Goodnight.
CW: Pet whump, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, lady whump, lady whumper, lady whumpee, bound and gagged, non-consensual drug use.
A/N: Inspired on @writinglittlepains ´s The Party original story (Go check it out!!!).
Fidi observed the luxurious lounge from behind her glass cage. The room was illuminated by low, warm lamps that gave the atmosphere a sense of comfort and secrecy. Jazz music played softly from a speaker somewhere. The table was filled with bottles of wine and beers in ice buckets, and an army of glasses—some empty, some still full—covered the remaining surface, along with plates of cured meats, fine cheeses, and crackers.
Around the table, lounging or sitting in their respective armchairs and sofas, her captors laughed and chatted.
"Oh, this is definitely something we all need from time to time," said Madame Lavenza, sipping her glass of rosé wine. "An afternoon among friends, surrounded by beautiful things, eating and drinking something delicious, and above all, enjoying our belongings."
As she spoke, she ran the fingers of her other hand through the curls and ears of Tigri, who lay on his side on the sofa, his head resting on the woman's lap. Fidi caught sight of her friend’s half-open eyelids, revealing just a sliver of the gold in his eyes.
He was drugged. That morning, when Madame Lavenza announced that her pets would accompany her on an outing, the tiger boy had been... uncooperative. Unwilling to deal with his rebellious attitude, the woman ordered her servants to restrain him and then injected a syringe filled with an unknown substance into his neck. Within minutes, the tiger boy had slipped into a semi-conscious, docile state, where he still remained.
Fidi wondered if Tigri was aware of where he was and what was happening around him. At least an hour had passed, and he continued dozing in Madame Lavenza's lap, unmoving and silent. Despite his inactivity, his wrists were bound with faux leather cuffs in front of him, and a thin metallic bit was wedged between his teeth. It was merely protocol; the boy neither had the strength nor the clarity to attempt anything.
"I always say yes to any gathering or outing where there’s alcohol," said Fredrik, pulling a cigarette from his mouth and flicking it into an ashtray. He reached for a bottle and drank straight from it. "And well, it also gives me a chance to bring this one out."
By "this one," he meant Neli, whom he pointed to with an indifferent nod. The rabbit girl sat by a low table. Her legs were folded to the side in a mermaid-like pose. Her entire body—arms, torso, and legs—was bound and immobilized by bright pink rope, arranged in an intricate and artistic shibari pattern. Hearing her owner refer to her so casually, the girl couldn’t help but lower her long golden ears in embarrassment, her plump cheeks flushing a rosy hue. A simple cleave gag separated her lips.
"Whoever did that did a marvelous and incredible job," added Madame Lavenza, her gaze fixed on the intricate rope design. "You’ll have to introduce me to your contact."
"I don’t get why you waste money and effort on a mere animal," Graus remarked, leaning back in his armchair. "It’s not like the animal will thank you. You’re just deluding yourselves."
"Weren’t you the one who said a pet is also a toy, a possession?" Madame Lavenza accused, arching a perfectly drawn eyebrow. "I can do whatever I want with my belongings. If that means investing in them to keep them always beautiful, so be it." She brought the glass back to her lips, finishing her argument.
"Honestly, I don’t care as long as it makes me money," Fredrik said, taking another swig from the bottle.
"Yes, sister, you’re right," Graus continued condescendingly. "But in my case, I prefer practicality. To me, a pet is more than an object. It's a company you can unwind with when needed, a creature you can train and mold to your liking. That’s how I keep my Dog in line."
The one referred to let out a growl.
The dog boy was on the floor, not far from his master’s armchair. His hands were tied in front of him, connected by rope to a metal ring fixed to the tiled floor. Shackles bound his ankles. A thick spiked collar encircled his neck, and a leather panel gag muffled his growls. His bloodshot eyes seethed with rage, but all he could do was struggle briefly against his restraints before falling still again, kneeling. He had already learned that resistance only wasted energy.
"And what about your little snake, Lav?"
Suddenly, all eyes turned to Fidi. Fine silver chains wrapped around her torso and ankles, securing her to the column behind her. A strip of thick silver duct tape covered her lips, preventing her from spitting out the wad of cloth stuffed in her mouth. The girl shifted uncomfortably behind the glass walls of her cage.
"She’s my favorite. Don’t you think she looks like a museum masterpiece? The jewel of the collection?" Madame Lavenza said, gazing at the snake girl with adoration. "Like a doll brought to life, the perfect blend of the dangerous and the divine—almost like the serpent in Eden."
"I think Lav’s had too much to drink and has started talking nonsense," Graus said mockingly, biting into a piece of cheese and standing up. "I’m bored. Let’s do something. We have four pets to play with and plenty of things around. Don’t you want to play a game?"
"Maybe. What do you suggest?" Fredrik finally showed some interest, leaning forward in his seat.
"You’re all so crude," Madame Lavenza said disdainfully. She had lifted Tigri and now cradled his head against her chest. Tigri seemed just as unconscious as before. "Do whatever you want, but don’t count me in. Unlike you, I prefer my pets to remain pretty and quiet."
"As you wish," her brother replied, pulling out a deck of cards. He and Fredrik began to play.
"I won!" exclaimed the platinum-haired youth after a while. He stood and, without warning, kicked the dog boy. Caught off guard, the boy took the blow to the abdomen, folding over as the air was knocked out of him. A pained howl escaped his throat.
They played again. Grauss won the second round. The man walked over to the rabbit girl and slapped her, turning her head to the side. The sound echoed in the lounge. A muffled whimper escaped Neli's gagged lips, and an unintended tear slid down her cheek, marked with the imprint of fingers and a bleeding cut from a ring.
The game continued for about six more rounds. Fidi watched helplessly as the violent and needless abuse unfolded. Rage twisted inside her. More than anything, she wished she could break free of those chains, shatter the glass cage with a kick, and defend those who, like her, had the misfortune of falling into the hands of these vile excuses for human beings.
"How boring. Your dog doesn’t move anymore," Fredrik said, disappointed, pointing at the motionless boy on the floor. Fidi wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw blood trickling down Dog’s forehead. It could easily have been from the blow he’d taken from the glass bottle.
"Oh, what a shame. I suppose the game is over," Graus said, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. He gave Neli one last look. The rabbit girl could only stare back with fearful eyes. Bruises were already forming on her face, and threads of blood dripped from her split lip and the cuts left by the ring.
The man grabbed the girl’s long ears roughly, forcing her to lift her head.
"I hadn’t looked at you properly, but you’re quite pretty," he murmured.
"Mmmmnhh!"
Fidi couldn’t hold back any longer. She struggled against the chains, drawing attention back to her. Her yellow eyes blazed with fury as she stared at the blue-eyed, ash-blond man—the bastard who dared hurt Neli. Graus looked at Fidi with mild curiosity. Their staring contest lasted until he shrugged and released the rabbit girl.
"Party’s over."
With the same ease they used to clear the table, they gathered their pets and returned to their homes. Tigri was still under the effects of the drugs, so the servants simply dumped him in his room and left. Fidi was also locked in her room after being given some water and food. Once alone, the girl threw herself onto the bed and screamed into the pillow.
As she lay there, waiting for sleep to come and temporarily erase the events of that afternoon, one question haunted her: Would this damned show ever end, or were they forever trapped in an endless cycle of parties, displays, and falseness?
