#wij21day10

[whumpmasinjuly]

Whumpmas in July - Day 10

Day 10: Share a snippet from something you're working on

Calling all creators! Give us the sneak peek we're all dying for! An excerpt from your latest chapter, a sketch of some upcoming art, a behind-the-scenes look at your gifs in photoshop—whatever you're making, drop a little teaser here! And if you aren't making anything at the moment, peruse the reblogs and cheer on the creators who provide the whumpy content we all love to enjoy!

[whumpsy-daisy]

DAY 10: a snippet from something your working on.

CW// abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, noncon strip. creep intimate whumper, implied previous non con kind of?

Sidekick lay on the floor, their breaths shallow. Small whimpers spilling from their torn throat. Flinching when Villain's hands began caressing and cupping their bruised face. They wanted the punishment to be over already. Why was he messing with them like this? Why couldn't he just hurt them like Hero would? No games or begging needed. Sidekick couldn't even stop themselves from melting into the touch of Villain.

"See how easy life can be when you just submit to me willingly Sidekick, you don't have to stay with hero anymore. You don't need her, or anyone else." He said, with a tone so sweet it made Sidekick nauseous.

"You know I'm nothing like her, but you keep fighting me, leaving me no choice but to punish you. It's for your own good, you'd have run away trying to get back to hero. Just for her to put you back on the streets. We can't have that. You need someone to keep you safe, to remind you how fragile you really are. You should be thanking me, Sidekick."Villain. Sidekick had long forgotten their hate for Villain as they melted into his touch sobbing at the gentle caressing of their face. Hero never held them like this, let alone spoke so softly when reprimanding them. He was right, sidekick felt a tinge of guilt. They deserved that punishment they should have never left Villain's side.

"I-I'm sorry! Villain, I d-didn't mean it. Thank you! I n-need you." Sidekick hiccuped, Villain's smile grew wide as he pulled Sidekick into his lap.

"Such a good pet, you learn so quickly." Villain purred, continuing to pet Sidekick. Villain's touch was overwhelming, feeling as if they were being engulfed by something they shouldn't have.

______________________________________________________________

Sidekick sobbed painfully begging willing to give up anything to stop Villain's henchman from revealing the bruises from under the shirt of their costume. Their frequent apologies to hero became nothing but slurred words and hiccups. Villain's eyes surfed over Sidekick's pale skin every bruise and gash and scar was practically illuminated on them. Whumpee was beyond the point of tears, they'd shut down completely for their own sake. Their eyes glossed over in terror, tears still spilling down their cheeks.

Sidekick didn't even flinch when he reached to touch them. Their eyes glazed over as they stared off blankly. Pulling sidekick into his own arms stroking their hair as he took them from the cold floor.

"Whumpee, Hero's not gonna hurt you anymore. You belong to me now."

[forthetaintedsorrow-whump]

@whumpmasinjuly Day 10: Share a snippet from something you’re working on.

Here’s a snippet from my Chuuya Whump Bingo - #5: Made a Slave, where Chuuya is undergoing some nice cold hydrotherapy to cool his attitude.

Contents: hypothermia, hydrotherapy, asylum whump, bath whump

The chill water circulated around Chuuya’s skin, and his heart beat frantically as he tried to leverage the lid off up, but it was locked tight.  His legs kicked out, thumping hollowly, and his fingers scrabbled at the edges, at the seam down the middle, but there was nothing to grab onto.  He squirmed, trying to squeeze his fingers through the cutout his neck was trapped in, but to no avail.  It was shut tight.  He sat there, panting and shuddering under the onslaught of water pouring down. After several long minutes, he found himself wishing for the warm straightjacket.  But all he had to do was hold out.  It was just three hours in some cool water.  He crossed his arms and drew up his legs.  He could tough it out – he’d been in worse conditions before, he wasn’t hurt, wasn’t injured – just sitting in cold bathwater.  

It was a half hour before Chuuya was shivering constantly, a bare whimper coming out, his face tilted downwards toward the lid of his metal coffin.  His mouth hung loose as he breathed, the water tracing pathways down his face and creeping across his lips, teasing at his mouth.  The relentless stream pressed into his head, chilling his brain, curled its fingers around his neck, no matter which way he turned his head to find some ease to the pressure.

[whumpwillow]

wij day 10

Day 10: share a snippet from something you’re working on

—

“I order you to let me go!” Emory shouted.

Zane pivoted on the ball of his foot and looked at Emory with something that could have been described as pity on anyone else’s face. He dipped into a mock bow.

“You must know that you hold no power over me, Your Highness.”

Lightning flashed.

“Very few people do, anymore.”

—

“Imagine what I can do to you with this,” Zane asked in a low, breathy tone.

He leaned in far too close and tilted his head. Emory strengthened his resolve and steeled his expression.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Zane gave him a look that was almost pitying. “Then why are you shaking?”

—

this is two snippets but oh well 🤷🏻‍♀️

[brighteyewrites]

[WIP] Battlefield Snippet

Echos of the shots ring out We may be the first to fall Everything could stay the same or we could change it all Meet me on the battlefield - Battlefield [SVRCINA] Whumpas In July: Day 10 [Post a Snippet of Something You're working On] | Fandom: Overwatch (Pre-Fall) | Angela / Gabriel | TW: Injury, Violence, Death

AO3 | FF.net | Works

Time slowed as Angela realized that this was it. Angela knew her duty - she lived for her duty. With Jameson still unconscious and no one else around, his safety was her responsibility. She was the only thing left to keep Jameson alive - and for once, it wasn’t because of her medical prowess. She’d trained for this - hours and hours and hours had been spent on simulations for exactly this situation. Her hands moved of their own volition; she had to protect him, to keep him alive - that was her job. The staff was gone, dropped as if it weren’t a one-of-a-kind, expensive, tool. Angela didn’t hear the staff land over her roaring heart, but the attacker did. As she drew her blaster, hands just as steady as they were in a surgical theater, the man turned in surprise. Her finger squeezed the trigger. For a moment, she forgot. Forgot her training. Forgot that this was what she risked every time she went into the field. Forgot that she was the cold Dr. Ziegler. Forgot that she was the unflappable Mercy. Forgot her calm facade. Forgot everything as she stared at the man before her in mounting horror. In this moment, she was only Angela. Her throat was too tight, forcing her breaths to come in desperate pants despite her burning lungs. Angelas’ fingers were numb, hands empty again. Her eyes were wide with the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Blood was rushing in her ears, making it impossible to hear anything around her. Distantly, she thought she was shaking. Then, the man fell to his knees, and the moment passed.

I meant to post much earlier for this event, but I got busy with life :(. This is a scene from a songfic I’ve been working on as I can, based around the song Battlefield by SVRCINA. The first half is mostly finished; I’ve just got to figure out how to wrap it up. I have the major plot points of the second half noted, but I have to actually write it >>;. For a brief intro [Day One], I’m Brighteye - or Bright for short. I use she / her pronouns. Unlike many of the creators I’ve seen and that I follow, most have OC’s where I do fanfiction for Overwatch. I find it hard to create my own characters, so instead I like to explore the personalities of established characters. I find whump really interesting from a psychological point of view. I wrote my series Breaking: My Heart for the November NaNoWriMo challenge because I wanted to explore Angela’s personality pitted against torture. Honestly, I like to explore Angela’s personality in any scenario that’s particularly distressing, because that is interesting to me. Everyone reacts differently to stress and crises; I enjoy delving into the various reactions and the repercussions of them. I love seeing these various events but I never get to participate much; hopefully for this one I can be more active!

[whumpinggrounds]

Something I’m Working On

okay so this is deeply late as it is the 13th and i’m posting the prompt from the 10th BUT

a new idea has seized me by the throat and refused to let me go sooo maybe let me know what you think?? if this sounds even vaguely interesting?? to give an incredibly brief summary of what i am thinking so far:

lab whump?? magic?? some of me intentionally misleading you over who is whumpee and who is whumper and who is doing what to whom? (does that sentence make any sense at all? time for me to stop.)

____

“You can’ be in here.” Jasper’s words are so slurred, they hardly sound like speech. “Needa…stay out…”

Setting his jaw, Wilder shakes his head. “Not gonna happen. Jasper, you need help.”

“No’…not fr’m you.”

Wilder grits his teeth and tries to pretend that doesn’t bother him. “I’m the only one here,” he reminds Jasper, keeping his voice level, calm, businesslike. “Now c’mon. Let’s get you up off this floor and into your bed.”

“Leave…leave me.” Jasper is clearly trying to sound authoritative, but at the best of times, that’s a losing game. Their current position, weak-limbed with their cheek pressed to the floor, doesn’t help much. “Can…c’n handle myself.”

Wilder crouches down beside them, rests one hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “I’m here, though. You don’t have to do that.”

For a moment, Jasper is stone still, and Wilder gets to look at the stunned expression on their face. Then they shut their eyes, block him out. Turning their face fully into the floor, Jasper draws in a few hitching, unsteady breaths. The sound echoes off the floor.

“Okay,” they say finally, just when Wilder is about to remove his hand from their shoulder and try another tactic. Their voice is little more than a whisper, but at least it’s coming steadier now, and clear. “Help me up.”

[i-see-no-whump-up-here]

Whumpmas in July (Day 10): Share a snippet of something you’re working on.

I’m working on a more rounded out version of Cassius’s origin story…

————

“Elys, take a horse and ride into town. Get the Friar and tell him to bring supplies for the burn. Go!” Mother commanded their messenger. “Cassius and I will get bandages.” She grabbed Cassius’ arm and dragged him toward the keep. Cassius stumbled for a moment but fell into step with his Mother. Once inside, she closed the door and made sure no servants were listening.

“Was this your doing?” Mother questioned. Her eyes were angry and her nose flared.

“It was an accident. I got spooked,” Cassius explained quickly. “I didn’t mean for--”

“We told you to be more responsible!” Mother hissed. Cassius dipped his head.

[vanne-whump]

WIJ Day Ten: Share a snippet of something you’re working on. @whumpmasinjuly

This is part of my WIP ORNATE, the first time Elliot meets Alistair. I’ve been working on it for so long and still never really finished it because this is such a mundane scene compared to the rest of the story. I guess it’s important but I’d much rather write the ~exciting~ chapters.

Content: Manipulative Whumper, Minor Whumpee (Elliot is sixteen), Alcohol Mention

“Hm? That one was a pleasure to shoot,” Alistair agreed. “You don’t need to be so on edge around me, you know? Eve mentioned to me that you’re studying at the Eyck Institute, studying what?”

“Photography and design,” Elliot responded quickly, face flushing at the interest.

“You’re rather young to be doing that, aren’t you?”

“Graduated early to move away from home,” he kept this part vague. “Seriously, thank you for letting me attend tonight.”

“It’s not a problem,” Alistair responded, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly. “How old did you say you were?”

“Uh — sixteen,” Elliot mumbled.

“And what? Your family sends money for you to go to college?”

“No, sir — I’m there on a scholarship and I work,” Elliot explained, not even stopping to think that he didn’t owe Alistair an explanation.

“So you live close?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Elliot trailed off as he tried to work out what Alistair was trying to indicate. “Actually, I have a couple of questions, if you’ve got time — just to go along with the write up, maybe to boost my grade.”

“Of course! We can speak in the back room, away from all of this,” he made a vague hand gesture and was already walking away from Elliot.

Elliot jogged to catch up, weaving between older guests as Alistair led him through to a back room. Undisplayed pieces lay on the floor and Alistair stepped expertly over them before gesturing towards a couch.

“Sit down. Would you like anything to drink?”

“No — uh — I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble,” Elliot shook his head as he sat down on the couch, sinking into the blue velvet cushion.

“Nonsense,” Alistair scoffed. “Red wine or white?”

“I — I really shouldn’t be drinking,” Elliot spoke again.

“Red, then,” Alistair ignored Elliot’s protests as he turned his back. He returned to the couch with two glasses of red wine, offering one out to Elliot.