Over the past few months, i've been a little tired, but progress is going well. The story is being outlined, but the characters and concepts are being finalized. Puppet, or hopefully now better known as: The Red String
Will likely be coming to tumblr (and maybe ao3) sometime sooon! I would really appreciate it if you would spread the word or show this to Moots who you think would be interested in it! I would love interaction and making friends if anyone would like to say hello or to know more. (This is my first time making a web series, go easy on me ;3)
Genres: Modern Hurt/Comfort
Themes: Love, Perserverance, Freedom, Family, Personal Worth, Jesus
POV: Third (Limited)
Plot Structure: Hero's Journey
Status: OUT! IT'S OUT NOW! RAHHHHHH GO READ IT PLEASE! IT'S JUST STARTING!!!
Knives and targets, blood and tears. A Shadow, a chameleon in the crowds of the nobles, a hundred identities, a hundred faces. But he knows only one name as his own, Puppet. That’s what she calls him. The woman who owns his every thought. Lady Eilene Hallon. Her wish is his movement, her life is his breath. Not a person, but a possession. 026. The Northwing Facility’s newest weapon. And as long as 026 can remember, that’s all he’s ever been. A life lived in a ditch, the constant taste of blood and lingering agony of Eilene's rage. Pulling himself back to his feet, alone.
Raised since childhood for the scope of a gun, 026 should know better than to feel remorse for his prey. After all, that's all they are. Prey. But the blood on the walls and the screams for mercy haunt him, his only semblance of freedom found in high nights and Dreary mornings. Everything slowly goes from bad, to worse as 026 begins to lose his grip on everything that kept him sane. Until he fails. His target leaves alive. And Eilene is furious.
Tortured for half the evening and left to die, 026 accepted that he would, ready to meet the darkness with one last sigh, anything would be better than this. Until he wakes up, temporarily blind with a couple dozen broken bones in a place he doesn't recognize and people he doesn't trust.
Eve, the farmer's daughter who fished him out of the alleyway and hauled him home. Cole, the easily-excitable little boy with a lot of questions and an empty space in his life for a protector. Iris, the matriarch and the watcher who waits for 026 to prove himself to her. Lucian, the friendly church book-keeper and retired Therapist. And the Watchful eyes of a God 026 never believed in, whispering that his life has a purpose, and it's not his time to die just yet.
Characters
#026 - Puppet - Male - 26 yrs old - Mixed Ethnicity/Biracial - ISTP
A Young man raised for as long as he can remember to believe he was a weapon, taught to supress himself for his job, but bits of his spite and grief still poke through. Defiant and angry with a wild streak. This causes him to often lose control of his emotions and abuse any substance he can get his hands on to cope with his situation.
Dislikes: Being called out, Sudden loud noises, Specifically red dice, Grease, Mud & Dirt, Complete silence
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Lady Eilene Hallon - Whumper - Female - 41 yrs old - Greek - ESTJ
A charismatic Noblewoman with a penitent for blood and violence, she has high-expectations and little patience for mistakes. Her favorite toy is of course, #026, who conveniently gets rid of all of her problems for her
Likes: Things being quick and easy, Rich flavors, red wine, The colors Red and Blue, Night, Stars, Silence
Dislikes: Slow processes, Failure, The color orange, Fish, Birds, Most flowers, Loud noises, Swearing
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Evelyn (Eve) Sparrow - Caretaker - Female - 24 years old - Caucasian - ESFP
A Sweet young woman who recently moved back into town from college to help her aging mother on the farm and care for her siblings. She's generally a very happy girl with a heart of gold who tries her best but sometimes misjudges the situation.
I'm trying to buy a prop gun but I don't have a lot of money. If anyone wants to help fund some gun whump, I'd love it if you would be willing to buy some of my music,
Here at Work Rhymes
You don't have to listen to it, just consider it supporting more videos! Thanks!
When a werewolf child comes out of the woods covered in cuts, burns, and bruises tries to murder Ephraim outside his own cottage, the vampire takes him in to heal him and figure out who did this and who carved their initials into the child's arm.
Content: Werewolf whumpee, human sorcerer whumper, vampire caretaker. It's got weapon whump vibes, but less weapon and more 'sacrifice I've spent years preparing' vibes.
Main Story line - Complete
Part 1 - Silver Stake
Part 2 - A soiled Blanket
Part 3 - Goldenrod
Part 4 - Food and Bath
Part 5 - Training
Part 6 - Bookmark
Part 7 - Teeth
Part 8 - Macabre
Part 9 - Travelling Merchant
Part 10 - Encounters
Part 11 - Unburied Grief
Part 12 - Why?
Part 13 - Play?
Part 14 - Heat Exhaustion
Part 15 - Quiet Grief
Part 16 - Faerie Circles
Part 17 - The Pit
Part 18 - Fight Back
Part 19 - Chandelier
Part 20 - Trapped, Trapped, Run
Part 21 - No Monologues
Part 22 - Good Hosts, Good Guests
Part 23 - Up a Creek
Part 24 - Guest Rules Only Apply to Guests
Part 25 - The Procession
Part 26 - Preparations
Part 27 - Alliance
Part 28 - Sleepover
Part 29 - Hungry
Part 30 - You're Mine
Part 31 - Funeral Feast
Part 32 - Blood in the Mirror
Part 33 - Home
Epilogue
Extra Content
Voltober - Stubborn as a Mule
Voltober - It's So Easy When You're Evil
Voltober - When the Lambs Become the Wolves
Art
Hyrum (Chained in Jack's basement)
Hyrum (After first bath and stitching)
Ephraim (Actual reference)
Ephraim and Hyrum (Happy times)
Ephraim, trapped and useless
Benny, design and whump
Halia and Kortops designs
Whumpee sliced by a swordsman so quick and intricate that they fail to realize how bad their injury is until later
There was nothing more terrifying than when whumpee noticed that whumper’s favorite sword once had a life of it’s own. A life that had their previous whumpee’s name attached to it
Whumper threatening whumpee with a sword’s point to the bottom of their chin
Whumpee was confident in their sword fighting skills, until whumper came by and showed them how it’s really done
Whumpee being saved by a sword fighter, terrified of caretaker all the same as whumper
Whumpee was wounded in a sword fight. They already thought they had it the worse, before the poison kicked in it.
Whumpee once was a sword fighter, but lost an arm at some point. Living without the same danger depresses them, and they take the journey to magical whumper in hopes of change.
Content: Creepy whumper, intimate whumper, pet whump, weapon whump, werewolf whump, stress positions, marking a person as property, silver burns, muzzle, whumpee kept in a cage
So, I wrote a lot of comfort and now I have to show why all that comfort was justified. :)
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Hyrum knew something big was happening when Jack came into the cellar room with a bucket full to the brim with silvered objects. He tried not to whine from where he sat in his cage, his tail curled under him between his legs. He kneaded his paws nervously as Jack stood on a step ladder to attach wires and chains to the ceiling.
“I think it’s about time that I teach you how to stand in a proper fighting stance,” Jack said cheerfully. He stepped down and opened the dog cage. “Alright, human form, now.”
Hyrum did so, shifting as he stepped out of the cage and pulling on his pants from the pile of rags next to his cage. He glanced at a small crack in the wall to see what time it was, even though he already knew that it had been about an hour or two since the light had faded.
“No shirt for now, boy,” Jack said, adjusting the chains and looping some of them, sticking pin locks between links to hold them in the loops he shaped them into.
Hyrum dropped the tunic he’d been about to put on and he waited quietly, head bowed and his hands folded in front of him. Jack finished what he was doing and gestured for Hyrum to stand under the wire with the collar attached to it. Jack fitted the collar around Hyrum’s throat and Hyrum found himself glad that this one wasn’t the silver one. Jack gently showed Hyrum how to stand, what was the most steady stance for going into a fight and Hyrum was dismayed when he started to feel the burn of being in the half crouch for only a few moments. Jack took his hands and slipped them through the silver chains, careful to keep Hyrum’s wrists from touching any of the links. Jack took a pole, one end set with a silver spike and tied it to another wire so it would swing into Hyrum if he let go. He then gave the pole to Hyrum, showing him how to hold it between the two bands of silver properly. Then, Jack clipped weights around Hyrum’s ankles to make it harder to move his feet from their position. He checked everything twice and then grinned.
“Good boy,” he said, roughly stroking Hyrum’s head, snagging his fingers in the knotted strands. Hyrum leaned into it, eyes half closed. “If you do really good and stay just like this for as long as I tell you, I’ll take you outside.”
Hyrum’s eyes flew open in excitement. “Really?” he whispered.
“Yup,” Jack said. He removed his hand from his weapon’s hair and turned to leave.
“Remember Hyrum,” Jack called back just before he closed the door. “Don’t move.”
Easy enough. Hyrum could hold still. He could do anything if he got to go outside. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would feel like to have the sun on his face again. It had been so long. He stood patiently, occasionally shifting ever so slightly to get a better feel for the stance.
Time passed. And more time. And more. His calves were burning, the pain extending to his thighs and growing behind his knee caps. He felt his legs begin to shake and he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t fail now. He was going to see the outside. He could do this.
He was just glad he couldn’t really feel his feet. He hadn’t been able to feel his heels or toes since the last time they were broken and burned.
Hyrum closed his eyes, concentrating. His arms were aching with the weight of the pole. He had to do this. He had to. He could do this. He knew he could.
Hyrum screamed as a burning sensation lit across his wrists. He lifted his arms off the silver chains. Tears streamed down his face as his shoulders trembled. He could do this, he could do this.
The pain was endless. The hope for sunlight started fading away with each minute. It was just him in the basement, struggling to keep his arms up. His arms fell lower and lower, only finding strength to lift when the burning lanced across his wrists. He sobbed, fighting to keep his arms up, but he couldn’t and the burning started. Hyrum tried to lift up, but he couldn’t. His arms wouldn’t move. Not even adrenaline could lift them now.
The burning was terrible, it traveled into his bones, up through his tendons. It gnawed and flayed at him, mocking him for how weak he was being. He stood like that forever, the pain almost becoming a numb sensation. His fingers trembled around the pole, cramping and locking up. His tail lashed out in his pain, his ears folded close over his matted hair. Then, without any warning, his legs gave out.
His grip on the pole nearly slipped, pinpricks started up in his ankles as blood moved in a different pattern with the shifting of his muscles, and the collar pulled tight on his windpipe. It was so hard to get his feet back under himself and to push himself back up, but he managed it somehow, giving up on his arms and just trying to make sure he didn’t hang himself.
The small crack in the wall that led to the outside was starting to show hints of blue light by the time he heard Jack moving around above. Daytime. Hyrum choked on a sob, his wrists still burning. He couldn’t help wondering how he was still hanging onto the pole. Maybe his fingers had locked in place. Maybe he would never be able to flatten out his hands again after this.
His legs gave out again, Hyrum only barely able to get back up. He stared into the fog rolling over his eyesight, trembling. His fingers were numb, his ankles tingled, his calves burned as if they were dusted with silver, his back ached, his throat tingled from the friction burn the collar gave him, and his wrists had become unfeeling almost an hour ago. He doubted he would be able to feel them again after this.
Just when Hyrum wondered if he was going to collapse and strangle himself again, the door opened. He forced himself to look up and Jack grinned at him.
“Look at my pup,” he crooned, which, after everything, still made Hyrum’s tail sway side to side in an exhausted wag. “You’re still standing and holding the pole.”
“I couldn’t keep my arms up,” Hyrum whispered. It hurt to speak, his Adam's apple riding on the collar and exacerbating his friction burn. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“It’s okay, my pet,” Jack said, waving his hand. “I can’t expect you to be perfect on your first try. Now, I’m going to unlock you, but we have to do one more thing before we can go outside, okay?”
Hyrum nodded and Jack yanked the pole out of Hyrum’s grasp, causing the werewolf to gasp in pain, his fingers suddenly alight with a stiff sort of pain that stole his breath. He was kind of surprised he could feel it all considering the pain in the rest of his body.
After Jack took his time unhooking the pole from the wire, he turned. Hyrum yelped as the silver end of the pole caught on his ribs, burning him. Jack took a long moment to realize what happened and pulled the pole away. “I’m sorry, my weapon,” Jack said with a frown, despite a delighted look in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
He put the pole down slowly, ignoring Hyrum’s whines. Jack must have been in a good mood to not punish Hyrum for whimpering. He usually did.
Jack lifted Hyrum’s arms and pulled them out of the chain loops roughly, the links sticking for a moment before pulling away layers of Hyrum’s skin.
Hyrum closed his eyes, tears streaming down his dirty face. He wished he was stronger. He wished he could be a better weapon for Jack.
Jack finally undid the collar and Hyrum stumbled, falling to his knees. He tried to get up, but Jack put a hand on his head.
“Stay down, boy. I have just this one more thing and then we’ll be done.”
Hyrum nodded and felt Jack come around him. Jack stepped on Hyrum’s tail and Hyrum bit his lip so hard it almost bled. He wasn’t going to whimper. He wasn’t. He couldn’t push his luck anymore.
A familiar object cupped out his face and Jack pulled the muzzle tight. The muzzle had once been silvered, but years of use on Hyrum meant that the silver had worn away so it only tingled when it touched Hyrum’s face anymore.
Jack knelt beside Hyrum. “Lay down.”
Hyrum did so without even thinking.
“Good boy.”
Hyrum smiled a little to himself. He was a good boy. Jack said he did good. Maybe he would still get to go outside.
Jack grinned and straddled Hyrum’s stomach, keeping Hyrum’s right arm tucked between Jack’s knee and Hyrum’s side. Jack turned his attention to Hyrum’s left arm, something shining in his hand.
Hyrum gave a startled yip when Jack knelt on his left wrist, the pain dull and throbbing as his nerves there gave up to the burning hours ago.
“Hold still, bit. It’s about time that I labeled you as my property.”
The silver knife slid easily into Hyrum’s skin, but was just dull enough to rip and tear, and it of course burned. Hyrum kicked his legs in surprise and howled with pain. He clenched his jaw and then screamed again as a new cut was mad. He threw his head from side to side as the knife dove in and out of his arm, pain layered upon pain. His wounds didn’t have time to bleed as the silver cauterized it in the most painful way possible.
Hyrum screamed again and Jack chuckled. Finally, Jack leaned back to admire his work, flicking the knife in and out a couple more times to correct the lengths of lines.
“There,” he said with a grin. “Perfect.”
Jack got off Hyrum and the werewolf curled in on himself, sobbing. He looked at the cuts.
H Y R U M
J F N
Hyrum took a moment to calm down, his limbs shaking and his head so full of pain from a compounding headache that he nearly blacked out right there.
“Thank you, Master,” he whispered, moving just his lips as the muzzle wouldn’t allow him to open his mouth far at all.
Jack nodded. He opened the door and waved his hand towards it. “Are you ready to go play outside?” he asked, as if he wasn’t still holding the silver knife, as if he wasn’t smiling down at the trembling werewolf.
Hyrum whimpered. He wanted outside. He wanted the wind even though it would hurt on his new wounds. He tried to get up, at least to his knees, but now that he’d been laying down, even for just a moment, he was jello, his muscles becoming almost unresponsive. He tried again, weakly crying as he tried to drag himself to the door. He tried not to think about how hard it would be to get up the stairs, but he would worry about it when he got there. Jack disappeared up the stairs, chuckling.
Hyrum could do it. He could make it outside if he could just get to the stairs.
He never even made it to the edge of the open door.
