they/them | aroace || i write pieces about the lore in my head, all of them can be read as stand-alone chapters if that's what you prefer, but if you want to find out what happens after feel free to ask me! i might even write a whole chapter on it :p || don't hesitate to comment on my works if you feel inclined! i love to talk about my thought process and creative process!!
Hello friends! You can call me violins✦ I use they/them pronouns and am in my 20s! I like to experiment with my writing style, such as dialogue (heavy on this one), descriptions, and using words in a unique matter! I've been writing or fantasising about whump since I was child, I found this community in 2023 during one of my lowest times – mostly a lurker, barely interacted – and am eternally greatful I had a safe outlet. Now, I sparked my whump interest back to life and decided to engage more with the community itself – so happy I did!
✦ Messy as hell in disguise as organised.
// MASTERLIST //
NOTE: I plan to repost my current writing posts with all of the characters' names. I had kept them anonymous for now, as I didn't know when I'd continue sharing their stories, but that time has come! The links here have been fixed as such!
My favourite whumpy tropes are:
✦ anything neck, collars, choking, just Whumper's hand holding/staying there, UGH
✦ electrocution, fire/burning, gunshots, LOTS of gunshots
✦ manhandling, physical restraints, or both in one
✦ living weapon whumpee & brainwashing/conditioning
✦ evil organisations, institutional whump
✦ when multiple Whumpees have to take care of each other <3 with Whumper watching <3
✦ hurt/NO comfort, sometimes comfort, bittersweet ending
✦ found family (mostly siblings), they've been through much together, how can they not call themselves brothers and sisters???
✦ “everything was a simulation, welcome back to the real world.”
✦SYNOPSIS: J (they/them) now finds themselves as a prisoner taken in for questioning, however it doesn't go as planned. Keeping stealth and convincing the enemy suddenly turns into remaining unharmed and alive. They'll have to think on their feet to wriggle out of uncomfortable situations.
The cell wasn’t spacious. Metal beams protruded from the wall, metal planks laid horizontally across, supporting a thin and… off-coloured mattress of sorts. Under it rested empty space, the floor was concrete and stained. The smell was somehow more intense than in the hallway. Rust, blood, and the traces of something dead. The light from the floor above made it hard to see much, which was only a benefit in J’s book.
An unassuming pile laid at the far-back wall below the metal frame. J made sure to seize the opportunity “wtp” had suspiciously let them have – not getting searched for weapons. A privilege of a resist-less capture? Maybe. It didn’t matter as much. As long as the guards were gone, J had to act quickly.
They brought their arms over their legs to the front. They twisted their wrist just enough to get hold of the bobby pin at their sleeve. It look a couple tries to fully set all the cuff’s lock pins. But soon enough, their hands were almost effortlessly free. And they didn’t waste time either. J took off the cover of the mattress and laid it flat on the narrow floor.
Their goggles were placed down. Folded up their mask. Their knee brace made from metal and leather. Their embroidery needle stuck in a small square of fabric. The bobby pin went snug on that piece of denim too. A swiss knife whose main blade glistens chipped. A small pistol in the middle of the sheet. Having been secured at their back under their belt, they shook their head at the fact their little thought worked. If they hold my hands behind my back, they won’t feel the gun. A butterfly knife twirling by command of their fingers – they couldn’t resist spinning it for one last time before placing it down, too.
They held their switchblade in their hands.
It was a nice weapon. Easily sharpened, spring-drawn, little resistance when closing. It held firm as their main weapon. If they were honest, the butterfly knife was more a way to pass uneventful resting days. Embroidery, too. A way to lay their overactive mind to rest for a few hours, training fine motor skills and focus. Though they could feel the next few days were going to be nothing but full of events.
They decided to slip the switchblade on the inner side of their trouser waistband at their back, their belt would cover the bump and it was easily accessible. They would jump into action smoothly if needed. They gathered up the edges of the fabric, tying a knot. They left a space where two edges met – easy access.
Then, lastly, their phone. Messages from James.
> J why did you do it?
> you absolute madman. madwoman?
> you didn’t say anything to them did you??
> J i’m sorry
> they’ll torture you one way or another it doesn’t matter but J you have to lead them on if they find out you’re not following their dark water bullshit they’ll
> J you have to trust me i fucked up
> stall for as long as you can and then bear it and choose the dark water don’t test it
James seemed to have already undergone the “wtp” treatment.
>> im in cell 17, ground floor
>> what number is yours
No response. They sent the same two messages to Félicie, from whom there were no new ones yet.
Multiple footsteps broke them from their thoughts. They shut off their phone. Placed it safely in the bag below the metal beams, in their shadow. They moved to sit on the mattress, cuffs in their palms. They debated whether or not to pretend. But the answer was obvious. On the off chance the guards would let their hands stay free, there was no downside. So they placed the cuffs to their side and waited with their head held neutrally low.
A key clanging and then clicking. The barred door creaked open through hinges catching on rust. J took in a quiet deep breath. Their chest flooded with energy. They sat still. They wouldn’t walk into their palm, but wouldn’t resist if prompted. For now at least.
A stifled giggle. Not this bitchass again. Not them again.
“Settling in nicely, J?” That same voice. J sighed, almost defeatedly. “Come on out now, let’s have a little chat~!”
Fine. J swallowed their disgust and let their feet touch the ground, their hands stayed loosely behind their back. They turned to face the masked guard. The harsh light dragged long shadows over their grey skin. They would feel intimidated if it weren’t for the guard’s lanky figure. So they took slow, deliberate steps. They stopped just short of the gate, now seeing another guard holding it open.
They stepped to the side, making space for the guard to lock the cell door. The cheery guard walked closer to J, grabbing their shoulder.
“You’re being so good, it’s like you’re already one of us!”
J suppressed a shiver. It truly was abhorrent. But they swallowed whatever words they wanted to say to retaliate. They kept their face cold. Or tried to at least.
The other guard made a gesture for J to step forwards. A slow, quiet sigh. So they did. Then another gesture, turn around. With a louder sigh this time, J still complied, knowing they had hidden away everything they’d need.
“Oh~?” cheery guard reacted. They grabbed one of J’s wrist and pulled it up for the other guard to see. “This one’s already freed itself…”
This twisted J’s arm in the wrong direction. J scoffed audibly this time and pried their wrist from the guard’s hold. “Oh–?” Before they had time to think, the other guard spoke up.
“Hm. She’s gonna like this one,” he replied.
She?
“Arms up, J!”
So they reluctantly spread their arms and prepared to be frisked. They breathed deeply and blinked slowly. They reminded themselves to keep focus. They hid away everything important and kept one weapon for emergencies. They wouldn’t find it. Facing the wall, they were more nervous now, unable to see or presume the movements of both guards. Through the dehumanising talk, they kept their cool.
The hands going over their body and patting down each area was beyond uncomfortable. They reminded themselves to breathe. This was necessary to show they weren’t armed. They had to keep this impression despite the pressure wriggling inside their chest. When the guard’s hands reached their right sleeve, they clenched their fist. Pain spread down to the bones in their forearm at every harsh pat. They shook as they kept suppressing their grunts. When the hands left, it was like a weight dropped from their shoulders, so they let their arms fall to their sides.
“Hm.” That was the voice of cheery guard, for the first time not creepily cheerful. “They’re all clear,” they said, somehow confused.
“Turn around,” the other guard commanded. J caught a strange reflection in his eyes from the fluorescent lights above.
“Could’ve sworn you had some…” cheery guard continued, “more on ya’ person.” They drew circles in the air with their finger, pointing to J’s face.
The other guard moved to make a quick glance back to J’s cell. He stopped to look, but then just as quickly went back to looking at J. And they felt an intense need to speak up before the guards started asking more questions.
“I knew you would search me, so,” J spoke and left the rest for interpretation – better than to state an obviously false excuse. “I took off my mask ‘cause it was fogging up in this air.” They followed up with a lie. Their mask was made by them themselves, specifically altered to never get stuffy. But the guards didn’t have to know that.
“You want to make me join you guys, right?” J continued. “So ‘we the people’ will give me my own weapons if I need them, right?” And they led the guards on.
“Oh~” Cheery guard’s eyes appeared to squint. “So that’s why you didn’t resist! Already going in with the end result in mind, J. You really are a rare catch out there!”
J just looked at the cheery guard with a deadpan expression, masking frustration and success. They moved their eyes to meet the ones of the other guard, who made a gesture to follow him. J started to walk, but cheery guard was quick to catch up with them and hold their wrists at their back, imitating cuffs.
“But you know we’ll have our fun first,” the guard spoke into their ear. And J resisted the urge to flinch and twist out of their grip. But they started to have hope they’d keep them uncuffed.
And as the guards kept leading them through rooms and hallways, they kept walking. Begrudgingly. They compared the turn and doors to the path they took to the cells, forming a partial layout, slowly with every step. They compared with what Félicie told them prior, and found that the path was matching so far. They kept their feet steady, neverminding the harsh grip on their wrists. They kept their breathing stable and low. No amount of preparation would’ve taught them how to bear a personality like cheery guard.
It wasn’t long until they reached a strong-looking metal door. A guard was stood, posted in front of it. Upon seeing the other two and J, he opened it and let the cheery guard shove J inside. They quickly got back their balance. Both guards stepped inside after them, then the door slammed shut. A deadbolt clicked in place.
A woman wearing heavier tactical gear than the guards sat behind a small table. A lamp shone from the side, somehow casting soft shadows over grey skin with black protruding veins. She was not masked – her lips carried a wide, uncomfortable smile, showing teeth. J’s eyes darted over her figure, taking in the details they could see. A knife in a sheath strapped to her left arm. A walkie talkie on the left side of her vest.
“Sit down.”
Her voice carried authority, stern and sharp. The cheery guard pushed J towards a wooden chair, opposite to the woman. The two guards then moved to stand at each side of the door, making sure J wouldn’t have a window to escape. Fine. So J sat down with their hands behind their back. The chair had wooden arm rests too, leather straps hung from the bottom of them, which incited an uncomfortable feeling in J.
The woman’s eyes appeared to slightly narrow, following J’s gaze. And J noticed too, so they held their focus at no point in particular. The woman’s smile closed to cover her teeth as her head tilted slightly to the side.
“Always interesting to watch how new meat reacts,” she remarked. It was somehow worse than cheery guard. “Uncuff them.”
There was no need for that. Before either of the guards could speak, J raised their arms up. The woman scoffed an amused “heh”. J stuffed their arms in the pocket of their hoodie, subconsciously pulling on the webbing between their fingers. Their elbows turned inward against the arm rests.
“How long were they in the cell?” The woman tilted her head upwards to look at the two guards behind J, supporting her chin with her entwined fingers.
“Barely ten minutes, isn’t that right~?” cheery guard replied.
“That’s a record,” the woman mused. “Why don’t you tell us how you got out of the cuffs, J?”
They just can’t get enough of holding that over my head. That, referring to J’s name. Was that why James said sorry?
“Lockpicked.” They kept their response brief and neutral. Their chest kept swirling with energy, looking for a way to escape. Though if they were honest, police cuffs aren’t exactly the hardest lock to breach.
“Right, right.” The woman paused. “You’re not a very talkative one, are you?”
J kept silent, unwilling to give them anything more than what was necessary.
“Such a shame when trying to make small talk…” That damning voice spoke up from behind J.
It took considerable effort for J to not roll their eyes, instead they blinked, slowly while breathing to stay composed. The woman’s smile seemed to tighten around her teeth. She turned her head to the side, leaning on one hand while her eyes were still locked on J.
“You gave yourself up J… but you don’t look so happy being here.” The woman stated the obvious. Which left more room for suspicion. “Were the guards too rough with you~?”
J clenched their fists in their pocket, trying to steady their breathing. They found the mocking to be ridiculous, yet they felt such a need to tell her off. They projected those unsaid words in their head. But they recalled the pain in their right forearm, and only now, they realised they forgot to remove their denim arm wrap on their other hand. Tension rose in their chest, now certain they looked as suspicious as ever. They reminded themselves what they were here for.
“That thing around your left sleeve,—”
“Armwrap,” they cut the woman off.
The woman’s smile widened, but her eyes stayed narrow. “Don’t be funny, J.” She projected through gritting teeth.
That’s literally what it is. They almost said out loud. But they did consider it could be a place to store more weapons. J tried to think in the shoes of the woman. Did she think that J was there to kill her? She looks important, J remarked. Is she the leader of this outpost? Maybe. But if J was honest, they didn’t care who this woman was. They cared about getting the hell out of here.
“I’m not trying to catch a knife; remove it.”
Guess someone else can’t be overprepared either. J heard someone moving behind them, and quickly put their hand up to stop them.
“Come on J, don’t be so mean~”
They resisted the urge to get up and throw a right hook. So they shoved their right arm inside their left sleeve, and started to undo a suspiciously high number of safety pins. From the outside, it looked like they were reaching for something. As they kept undoing the pins, they collected them in their hand. Then as the denim wrap started to flop away from the hoodie, the cheery guard was ever curious.
“Huh,” the woman drawled.
Then J took a deep breath and released their arm from their sleeve, slowly, a slew of safety pins hidden in their wrist. They ignored the tiny needle-likes poking their skin. They used their left hand to catch the denim fabric and held it up to for the woman to see, rotating it a couple times.
“No knife.”
“And in your hand that is—”
J opened their fingers, numerous safety pins in a small pile, which they proceeded to shove in one of their pant pockets.
“Closures.”
The cheery guard couldn’t suppress a laugh. Their palm slapped J’s shoulder, who shot a sort of “death glare” towards the them.
“Control yourself.” The woman’s voice came sharp and dangerous.
“Sorry ma’am –” Cheery guard cleared their throat and stepped back. “That’s just —”
“Quiet.” The woman seemed taken off guard.
J just sat still, dreading how close the woman was getting. And they suspected she could feel it too. Sorry to not give you your smartass moment. They thought, making sure to keep their lips shut.
“Now,” the woman breathed out. She regained her creepy smile almost immediately. “Getting caught like that… I can’t help but wonder why, J.”
Now this is what J had prepared for. “I knew ‘we the people’ were already coming for me. So it was pointless to try resist.”
“A smart one.” The woman remarked. “How else would you compare…?” The question was ambiguous on purpose, J was sure. They braced themselves for anything. They recalled what James told them. And they prepared with deep, calm breaths, trying to ease the whirlwind in their chest, catching their heartbeat.
The woman gestured to J’s right, which is where the other, silent, guard stood. A sound, metal scraping against concrete. J stared at nothing in particular, putting focus in feeling the environment instead. Sounds, movements. Then a gush of air fired up behind them. Specific, open hissing, loud. J’s throat tightened.
A blowtorch.
And they said it out loud. The gushing stopped at another gesture of the woman in front of them, her smile propping up her cheeks.
“You’re observant.” She paused. “So much more interesting than the other one.” Her voice was low and resonant.
That made J take in a subtly sharp breath. The other one? J’s thoughts ran rampant. Weren’t they supposed to force them black water first? Question them about the “wtp” beliefs? What did they make James say to them? Or was it Félicie?
“Roll up their sleeve.”
J’s chest caved in. Their breathing picked up pace. Their right arm twitched.
Cheery guard obliged. “The fun’s finally starting J~!”
They clenched their jaw. They wanted to resist, to run away, to pull out their knife and cut that woman’s throat, but they knew they’d get tackled in no time. They wanted to tell everyone off, run out and escape. But they forced themselves to stay sitting and stay quiet.
J almost shook when the cheery guard moved to be on their right-hand side. They turned their head only slightly, just enough to see the guard’s movements, whose hand was reaching close. As they grabbed J’s arm, J couldn’t help but sharply tug out of their grip.
“Don’t make us strap you down, J.”
James what did you do? J was close to hyperventilating now. Though they still tried to hide it through gritted teeth. They clenched their fist so hard their chipped fingernails dug into their palm. They placed their arm down hard onto the arm rest, covering how shaky they were. That sound of gas gushing through speared flame kept playing in their head.
“That’s right,” the woman in front said, drawing out each word. “You’ll fit right in, J.”
J wanted to peel off their own skin from their flesh, tear it outwards. Just thinking about that made them feel sick. Cheery guard’s smile was apparent in their eyes, even despite the mask covering their mouth and nose. Their hands gripped the fabric of J’s sleeve, pulling it along their arm. Revealing skin red and blistered, littered with small craters and outlines of flames, wrapped in transparent plastic. The guard’s hands let go of J’s sleeve.
The woman tilted his head and her eyes widened, her smile came closed. “Oh my, looks like someone beat us to it, huh?”
And J recalled that night. Woken up in a house of flames. The smoke in their lungs, the heat from everywhere, the pain adrenaline couldn’t numb. The sweat and tears. Fabric sticking to melted skin. The smell of burning wood and cables. J had to run, run so far from the infected who came running like moths to that fire.
The woman’s smile widened. “You’re so full of surprises, aren’t you?” Her eyes stared, unblinking.
J immediately rolled down their sleeve and held their hands in their lap, not minding cheery guard still standing at their side, the guard with the blowtorch standing behind them.
The woman dismissed the cheery guard, who seemed to return back to standing behind J, on their left-hand side. And before she could speak further, J blurted out: “Who told you?” The question was burning in their chest.
The woman blinked. And then rested her chin on her palm, propping up her head. “You already know that, J, don’t you?” Diversion successful.
“Not falling for that.” J’s reply was quick and cold. They weren’t about to reveal any connections. Their eyes were staring wide into the shadow of the woman’s.
“Oh, you sound so experienced for someone looking so young. And that burn looked nasty…” The woman leaned with her elbows on the table. “Did you have a run-in with us before?”
Fuck no.
J however let the woman assume what she wanted. It didn’t matter. Even if every second here was a second less to plan an escape. Their breath was calmer now, their mind finally able to respond. Finally able to focus again.
“So many of our new members were overcome with fear, they couldn’t speak right. You, J…” The woman paused, and something in her eyes changed. But J couldn’t infer what. Her eyes were following over them, from their eyes to how they held themselves and their subtle breathing.
“Someone who got out of a ‘we the people’ outpost… alive, and unturned,” she mused. “What an impossible thought.” She said almost definitively. As if the opposite was the end-all be-all. And J didn’t care for proving her right or wrong. They were focused on getting them and James and Félicie out of here.
“Take them back.” Her voice carried something like curiosity, almost.
Cheery guard was taken aback, having scoffed loud enough for J to hear. A sound on J’s right-hand side. It was weight against concrete. The other guard must’ve put down the blowtorch. J made sure to save the sigh of relief. They waited to feel hands on their shoulders to stand up. And when they did, they almost jumped from their seat. So they turned to face the exit and started walking towards the door, cheery guard stood by it for a change, while it was the other silent guard holding J’s hands.
A voice from behind. “Don’t make me regret letting you go unharmed, J…” Low and deliberate. The woman’s words were clear, yet almost daring them to try escaping. But J couldn’t resist looking back with one last glare.
Stoically Neutral > Keep My Level Head > Doused And Dozing / WIP // MASTERLIST
content: willingful capture, stoic whumpee, creepy whumper, tw guns and slight violence, threats, mild manhandling, cuffs/restraints, imprisonment, mentions of bad treatment in captivity, mentions of blood
✦SYNOPSIS: J (they/them) heard the survivors they have been exchanging messages with have been captured. They go to get themselves willingly captured with concepts of a rescue plan and much stoicism to give.
They stood in the middle of a grassy patch between two roads. Moonlight from nowhere shone sparsely upon their stained brown hair. Hands clasped behind their back. Grey hoodie and goggles hanging around their neck. Their bright blue eyes stared into the darkness ahead.
Tires on asphalt – they heard it before they saw two blinding lights. They stood firm. Expression only half readable under their mask. They continued to breathe. Chest tight, hands sweaty. The absence of a backpack’s weight on their back made them uneasy.
The car came to a stop. A slight hint of exhaustion smoke in the air. A person in all black stepped out of the passenger seat, mask covering the lower half of their face.
J held themselves firm. “I know what you’re here for. I won’t resist.” Voice projected through cloth.
The person tilted their head slightly, as if having expected resistance.
“Look at that! Looks like one of you finally understands!” A stiff, cheery voice came from behind the mask. “What a pleasure to have you, J.” J couldn't tell if they were male or female.
They know my name.
The person looked back to the car, nodding to the side. Another person stepped out, seeming like a guard, they wore a tight balaclava. Though harsh headlights behind the figure made it hard to see. But opposite to them, J felt exposed, as if those lights could see through their being and purpose. They couldn't stop their right hand from twitching.
But they continued holding on. They breathed slowly. They knew “we the people” would call a bluff as soon as they saw it – they knew they’d all be on edge, waiting for J to lash out or attempt escape.
So J slowly raised their hands. That alerted both guards, who stepped closer at the motion. J was still thinking about ways they could have smuggled a weapon. Under their belt at their back, in the sole of their boot, but they chose to leave their switchblade on the inside of the waistline of their trousers. If the guards were to frisk them, they wouldn’t notice.
But it seemed that “wtp” didn’t take high precautions. The cheery one took both of their arms and cuffed them, J suppressed a wince. They started to lead them back to the car. The other one stood further in front, holding a pistol steady in their hands. J wasn’t intimidated.
So they asked a question. “Where’s James ?”
A grunt. Hard metal struck J’s jaw, shuffling their mask. They looked up, the armed guard’s eyes held danger, now closer than before. “No questions.” A voice just as cold as the muzzle of the gun she struck with.
Fine. They were then pushed into the back seat of the car. The cheery guard holding them waited for the armed guard to get back into the other seat. And when she did, they slammed the door on J’s side, sitting back down in the passenger seat. So the car drove. A gun aimed at their left, threatening any sudden movements.
Though every breath was stiff, J wasn’t willing to give them anything more than they had. So they stayed silent, and still. Their phone laid safely in their pocket. The only text they had sent to both James and Félicie was “i’m coming.” before shutting it off.
They thought they might've overprepared, but such a word wasn't in their vocabulary. After all, this was just the transport. They're yet to see the building itself.
The ride felt tense, but J didn’t pay attention to that. Their right arm shook at every bump in the road. Trying to look out the window was useless – darkness spanning all horizons. So they buried themselves in thought, preparation.
Is James still alive? They recalled what James told them. The cell he was kept in was barred like a prison cell. When he mentioned it, he recalled the whole place looked like a prison, but somehow very small. The description he gave let them have hope they’d have an opportunity to hide the gear they did bring.
Did they hurt Félie? They recalled what Félicie told them. She was taken in for some form of questioning, she tried to memorise the hallways; from what it seemed, the upper floor could see down to the lower floor. As she compared the paths she was led, she gave J those directions. They formed an incomplete map of the facility, hoping that when they escape, they’ll find their way.
It wasn’t long before they reached the outpost. J sat still, waiting patiently for the guards to move them. If they really wanted, they would’ve lockpicked their cuffs with the bobby pin inside of their sleeve. But it was too early. They would keep their cards secret for now. They reminded themselves to focus on the objective – getting James and Félicie out of there.
The gate opened, and the driver turned to park. It was time. J’s senses were all on alert, taking in every exit and proportions of the building. An orange light shone above them, illuminating the small parking lot. The guard in the passenger seat stepped out and opened the door on J’s side.
“Don't think about wriggling out now!” The voice was eerily bright as ever. It made J feel more uncomfortable than if it was threatening.
They remained still, until the guard's hand prompted them to stand up. So they did. Even before they set two feet on the ground, the guard grabbed their cuffed hands and pulled them upwards. J choked a breath, pain shot up through their arm. Even so they stayed calm, as the other guard walked in front.
J took note of the driver walking away, before the cheery guard started pushing them along. The armed guard opened a metal door, let J and the other one pass through, then locked it. J took immediate note. Their eyes were darting around the place. The woman didn’t stay behind and kept leading the way. Sharp footsteps echoed off the grey walls, which barely reflected the dim orange lights above. It was a couple more doors and turns before they reached a hallway of numbered cells on both sides.
The smell here was distinctly worse than the rusted metal tones in the air previously. It was dirt, blood and sweat, stuffy and suffocating. Like disease. J kept their breath low, trying to seem unaffected. The guard pushing them walked slower now, as if to let them take in their surroundings. The one in front held a ring of keys, clinking as she counted them.
J looked around. Maybe James or Féli are in here? It was hard to tell, never having seen their faces before. One man was curled up on raised metal bars, supporting something barely short of a mattress. 04. In the cell diagonally, a woman with two-toned hair was sat with her hands in her lap. 05. She was breathing somewhat heavily, keeping her gaze down.
The only lights were in the centre of the ceiling in the hallway one floor above – fluorescent white and not bright enough to reach the back of a cell. Though it made it hard to read the face of anyone, J was already thinking where to store her gear.
In the cell two over, bloodied hands were resting over the bars. 09. And they quickly retreated, having heard the deep and steady footsteps of the two guards. Their eyes glinted through the darkness as they followed J's form, unblinking. In the cell opposite and three over, a person with long hair was sitting with their legs off the mattress, their hands grabbing at its edge, their head lowered. 14. Their brown locs covered their face.
The guard holding J's arms soon stopped, pulling them slightly backward. The armed woman unlocked the gate to the cell, and opened it wide. 17. A couple seconds of unmoving silence didn't go unnoticed. She shook her head, and J could only infer that the guard holding them made a gesture.
“Ha!” The cheery guard exclaimed. “You'll have to handle yourself, J~!” They pushed J forward, letting go.
Repulsive.
They breathed in deeply, the cuffs didn't mind the fabric of their sleeves. They held their chin high; their chest wasn't bravely puffed up, but stoically neutral. So they slowly walked inside the cell.
Writers cannot watch a movie normally. we are sitting there going "oh that's the inciting incident" and "they introduced that object too early it's obviously coming back" and "this dialogue is doing three things at once good for them" while everyone else is just. watching the movie. having a normal experience. feeling feelings without labelling them. i envy that so much and i would never give it up.
What if I tell you, that your story doesn't have to have a final version?
You wrote it, you loved it, but there were also so many things to do in this setting with these characters, that just don't work with your chosen scenes plot-wise. And you're kinda sad that you didn't get to include them.
Write it again, title it Version Two. Or don't title it. Your story, your rules. Write the same scene four times and keep all four because all four are awesome. You can replay a scene in your mind, why can't you on a page? It's your page.
Yep, it happened four times. Yes, all four are canon. Nope, it's not a time skip, not a flashback. No, there is no plot explanation. No, these are not first draft artifacts. I just did it. My story. MY story.
this is why i love saving dialog lines and scenes that are out of character or don't fit the theme in a different document, they're awesome alternate universes... in a different timeline, anything can happen
See What You Find > Hello(again?) > Blood in Our Chest > Look Back There > Torn and Tear // MASTERLIST // total: 8.9k words
✦SYNOPSIS: As H (he/him) returns with the rescue team, things are about to go down as they look for both J (they/them) and Félicie (she/her), but Redmond (he/him) isn't about to back down so easily. Things escalate.
content: depictions of injuries (blood, cuts, broken bones), mentioned killing, swearing (lots), knives and guns, physical fighting, inadequate medical care, unconsciousness, multiple whumpees, multiple rescuers
A car drifts to a stop on a dusty gravel road. A tall man steps out, almost running. He holds his suppressed pistol close to his hip. A smaller boy with blond hair overtakes him, holding out a flashlight. Then a man in all black follows further behind, sporting an assault rifle. Ready to shoot at the slightest movement. The walls are quiet, dust particles pick up and float by as they keep walking fast.
They don’t talk. The tall man occasionally looks to the one flanking them, making sure no one is trying to sneak up on them. The boy walks fast, remembering his way around. Echoes of their quickly put together plan ring in all of their heads. They listen for any clue, any unsynced footsteps, watch for dark figures dashing by. But they see nothing.
That’s when the boy stops.
“H–? What’s?--”
“James– That’s… look--” H says, pointing his flashlight downwards, illuminating a closed switchblade and a pistol, laying on the ground.
James’s eyes widen. He stoops to one knee, his breath shallow. Am I seeing right? He exchanges a deathly look with H.
“Dan…!” James calls to the third man in a whisper.
And he comes running fast. “What’s—?”
“It’s J’s weapons.”
“What?”
Everyone was thinking the same thing. J had to be neck-deep in trouble. They may not have time. At all.
A scream makes them jump. Guttural, long. From a voice they recognise. They don’t have the time to register the waves of adrenaline sharing their veins. H doesn’t hesitate, he sprints deeper into the building. James follows immediately, holding his gun higher. Dan picks up J’s weapons and follows carefully. His breathing is collected, but his hands shake.
A light, yellow, spilling around the corner. Then blown away like a candle flame. H stops dead. An infected stares him down. Silence steals both their breaths. Suffocating. Neither move. That scream keeps playing over and over in H’s head. He was shaking with something like fury.
“Where’s J?!”
“Get. Out.” Redmond keeps staring, almost unblinking. “You have nothing to do with this.” His voice was threatening, strained. Get out or I’ll make you part of this too.
“Are you just more ‘we the people’ scum?!”
“What does that matter—?! Stay out of this, kid—”
“Why?! What did J ever do to you? Kill more of you people?! Guess what– this is what we live in–!!”
Redmond exhaled, projecting a low sigh. He took a step towards H, who took two backwards. The circle of light following Redmond’s face shuddered, as H’s hold of the flashlight shook slightly.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Redmond spoke slowly. His voice was low, volatile, like a chemical about to fire up at any second. And H was only adding heat to the reaction.
H turned his head to the right, meeting eyes with James behind the corner, who was equally as tense. Quickly turning back to Redmond, whose face now showed more than irritation, H hesitated. Redmond tilted his head, his mouth slightly open, his breathing fast and rough.
“James!”
And James did act. He jumped out with his gun drawn. A slam.
Shots fired.
Redmond ducked and leaped to cover behind the concrete wall. He grabbed the handle of the sliding bolt and with a metal grind he shoved it to block the door. His breathing was heavy, his clenched fists were shaking. He brought friends. Acting as if he knows everything. It was a ruse. Redmond didn’t know if the seething, violent anger he was feeling was from the infection or not, but it didn’t matter.
James swore under his breath.
H stood, shaken, on the other side of the door. He exhaled, slowly, and then his breathing picked up pace. He moved a couple steps to the right, shining his light on the line where the door meets the frame. He turned to James, standing just out of the door’s view. And nodded shakily. He’d be watching for any indication of it opening.
James’s eyes then crossed Félicie’s body, slumped, leaning on the wall opposite to the door. He gestured towards Dan, standing alert. Dan nodded, and slinged his gun over his shoulder. He walked swiftly, and quietly crossed the distance to Félicie. He held two fingers to her neck, checking for pulse. He almost held his breath. He made a quick nod back to James. Positive. So Dan carefully lifted Félicie's knees, holding his other arm at her back, and picked her up. He began to walk back.
Redmond was knelt on the ground in the other room, consumed in his own head. While J’s chest rose up rapidly. And they coughed, then laughed. It was bitter, pitiful. It seemed that just that took all their remaining strength. J was barely in the state of mind to think about anything other than the pain. Their breathing was barely audible, barely there.
But Redmond couldn’t hold himself. “What’s funny to you—?!”
That made the three outside stop. That confirmed it. They exchanged torn looks, Dan picked up the pace without a word, and H soon followed to lead him. Even though his worry was eating at him like acid. James stayed by the door, gears in his mind turning to make a plan – how to kill the man. He already knows that James is armed, they don’t know if he is, but they have to kill him. Or get him away from that room.
As Dan finally reached the car, H opened one of the back doors, and Dan put Félicie down onto the backseats, so that she was sitting up. It was impractical, but it was what they had. He checked her pulse again, but now it was weaker. H turned on the inside lights, harsh and white. Dan’s mind raced to remember how to treat her.
“Feel for internal bleeding,” H reminded him, somewhat shyly.
“Right, yeah.” Dan sighed, and pressed his fingers around Felicie’s wound. There was pressure. More than there should’ve been.
“She’s… we can’t treat her like this, can we?” Dan asked more rhetorically than seriously. His chest was tight and his voice was unstable. None of them had experience with field medicine. That’s what J was for. That’s why they needed them.
“Dan, Dan she’s– She’s not breathing—”
No.
Dan checked her pulse again. The same faint beats.
“She… still has a pulse. What do we do? CPR?”
“Put pressure on it–!”
“On the wound--?”
“Just do it!”
Then a message. To H. The contents made him go pale.
Back in the concrete room, Redmond was kneeling next to J’s limp body. He grabbed their shoulder and almost slammed their body to the wall. He held them close to that wall, lifting their head to see their face. Bloody streams were drying around their mouth and chin, some trickling down to their neck. Brown wavy strands covered their eyes, but Redmond didn’t need to see them to feel J’s lifeforce fading.
“You’re not leaving alive. You know that right—?”
J didn’t respond. He didn’t know if they were even conscious.
Banging on the door made him let go. J’s body submitted to gravity, their face falling to rest on their arm, but he didn’t notice. The banging continued. It sounded like someone was trying to kick the door down. These people wouldn’t go away. A frustrated sigh at the other side. At least “we the people” make sturdy doors, Redmond thought.
He could hear someone’s footsteps fading. So did they give up? They were so persistent, he found it hard to believe they’d give up like that. He prepared for another bang, another try to break through, but there was eerie silence instead. J’s shaky breathing. His own thoughts.
Looking at his phone in the car, H shuddered. “It’s James…” He paused. “Dan- you have to go back… J’s in... that room.”
“We can’t…”
Dan looked at the arrangement of tools inside the medkit, possibilities swirling through his anxious thoughts. He stared at each instrument, a tourniquet, bandages, gauze, assortment of needles, syringes, all useless here…
“Th-The needle!” H blurted out.
“Huh?”
“Dan, go- I know– I know what to do.”
Dan sighed. He was… disappointed in himself for not being able to help. But now, he could. So he walked back, quietly, as James sent him a message of the plan.
It was… shitty, to J. To try make Redmond think they had abandoned them. Dan didn’t like what could go wrong. Would Redmond kill J if he thought they weren’t coming for them? Are they even alive? James says… maybe. It wasn’t very reassuring. But he couldn’t think that right now. They have to get him to open that door.
> even shooting it didn't work
> idk wtf their locks are made of but we aren't getting thru that one
>> fuck
>> so we just have to hope??
> looks like it.
>> icu
James turned around, Dan was approaching through the hallway. Tense, he exhaled slowly. James made a gesture with his hand, his palm faced the floor, he moved his hand down and up, back down. Brown leather gloves contrasted against the light of his phone's display.
Stay down. Got it. Fuck. I hate this.
Then H’s part of the plan came. Having secured Félicie, a needle in between her lower ribs kept draining her chest. Now then, her lungs could have space to work. At least he hoped. He got in the driver’s seat and turned the key. And started driving away.
“Oh, J,” Redmond said, his head perked up. “Did you hear that?” His tone was both mocking and pitiful. “Your friends really left you. There’s no way out J.”
And he couldn’t get enough of that power trip. He ran his hand through J’s hair, lifting their head up one last time. Their eyes didn’t seem to be moving, while a small, rattling sigh seeped from their lungs.
Redmond left their head to fall, strangely apathetic. That was it. Though images from that night still ran through his head like incessant thorns. Seething. His breath shook. He clenched his fist, and grinded his teeth. His fingers coiled around the sliding bolt’s handle. Cold and ever-the-same. Is what he expected J to be. He expected a fight. He expected more. But his rage got the better of him. Revenge tainted his hands as metal scraped against metal, then clinked against concrete.
James drew his gun. Dan waited, hidden, ready to jump out at any moment. Yellow and orange light stuck to the ground like an oil spill. James couldn’t cover in the door’s shadow– it opened to the inside. Though still he aimed his gun. Waiting for the man to step out. His heart was racing. His training didn’t prepare him for moments like this. Where a single press of a trigger can make or break a life. Sweat was trailing down his back. His breath, condensating in his mask, fogged up his glasses.
Shit. Calm down!
The light coming from the room ceased at a click as Redmond made one final turn to look at J’s body.
So James aimed. A shadow moved through the fog, footsteps. And he shot.
“FUCK—!” Redmond's voice.
He missed. James tossed his glasses aside and kept shooting. Hoping to hit the man again in the dark. But he didn’t. Redmond dashed backwards. James missed his chance. Redmond held his hand to his shoulder, the bullet having grazed his arm. His blood felt… cold. He’d almost shuddered.
How shifty are these fucking people?
James repositioned. It wasn’t all lost yet. He holstered his pistol and stuffed away his glasses. His eyes stared wide into the dark, trying to make out shadows gliding over pale walls.
“I know you’re there, you sly bastard!” Redmond called out.
James and Dan both stayed silent. Even though he was aching to do something, to fight the man hand-to-hand, shoot him right in the middle of that face, Dan stayed put. And let James lead the way. James exhaled slowly, controlling his breathing as he focused. Listening for footsteps.
No one could see a thing, as everyone’s breaths came choked.
The man’s words repeated in Dan’s head. Bastard. BastaRD. He’s only counting on one person. Dan had to break the silence. And it was genius.
“Don’t be a coward and show yourself—!” A voice from afar.
Coward?
Redmond took two steps forward, teeth grinding. And that was enough.
James jumped forward and tackled him to the ground. They rolled over away from the door, deeper into the room. James’s breath was letting off a new wave of adrenaline. He grabbed the man with both his hands and dragged him further, but Redmond wasn’t about to let that happen. He spun around and clutched James’s hands. That’s when James let go, running a couple more footsteps further.
Then he turned on his headlight. A blinding, white beam. The man’s eyes reflected yellow. His shadow draped over the floor. And his first instinct was to lash out.
He dashed towards that light, and James drew his gun. He tried to shoot, his arm pushed away by Redmond. Missed. James’s grip remains firm. He wriggles out, shoots again. Grunts, shuffling. A click. Redmond wrestles the gun from his grasp, but it comes empty. He tosses it aside. Their fists fly instead.
James’s training did prepare him for this. The harsh shadows make him stay fully alert, thinking in split seconds. Redmond matches him uncannily. He, too, has military training under his belt. Blinding light was only a challenge to overcome. Despite two of his knuckles revealing bone, the graze on his right shoulder, he doesn’t seem to feel the pain. J’s scream repeats in James’s head. He shudders as he strikes again, throwing a left hook when Redmond dodged his right.
And he tries to keep Redmond facing away from the door at all times. He stays loud, letting himself breathe through his voice, masking Dan’s rushed footsteps.
What Dan doesn’t see inside the room lets him have hope. The fallen teeth, the blood splatter. The rapidly swaying light from James’s headlamp reflects poorly off the greyish concrete. But enough. Dan kneels down to J, feeling for a pulse in their neck. The end of the gun at his back scrapes against the concrete. He doesn’t try to wake them up. Small, weak, waves beat against his skin. Positive! He doesn’t hesitate. He picks J up, walking slowly. He doesn’t notice the blood on half of their face.
Just as he was about to step out of the room, a yell stopped him.
“SHIT–!!”
James's voice. A harsh white light shines just short of his face for a split second.
Red blood spills onto the floor. Redmond wields James’s knife. And James lunges. Knocking Redmond down, he pins his arm, but he turns his weight over onto James. Seeing two messy figures, heated in fight, Dan makes a break for it – bridging the gap between the door and the exit. J’s body lay heavy in his arms. White light strobes around the walls, maniacally swerving. His heart stutters. He stumbled behind the corner of the wall, now outside of the white light’s reach. And he has to keep moving.
H, meanwhile, had driven back. He checked on Félicie, and her chest was slowly rising. Then she coughed, hard. He stopped the car and opened the back door. Blood trickled from in between her lower ribs through the needle, her jacket and shirt were pinned up on that side. To let the needle sit undisturbed– but now it was jutting out at an angle. H moved to adjust it, to push it back.
Félicie shook, seemingly with pain.
“It’s okay— it’s okay.”
Her breathing seemed to stabilise, just slight movements of her chest. H checked her pulse – slow, but stronger than before. Then Félicie’s hand reached for her ribs.
“No no no– don’t touch that–” H took her hand and placed it to her side. His grey denim jacket feeling heavy on his shoulders. “I know… it hurts, if you can hear me— You’ll be okay.”
“Wh… eehhr…” Félie paused, she took shaky, long breaths. “J… whe…”
“It’s– It’s H, I’m here… J is…” He trailed off. But Félicie seemed to calm down. Her breathing was steady. Her pulse was… there. So H could only wait for Dan to get back with J.
And James wasn’t about to slow down. His peripheral let him know how Dan was moving. When he practically dashed into the concrete room, James knew he had keep on the pressure. He drew his knife and blocked Redmond’s swing. Black blood dripped onto his mask.
Only a grunt from Redmond. Who pulled back and swung again, James dodged, and flipped the knife in his hand, his thumb wrapping over the end of the handle. A stab. Another grunt, more blood spilling. The knife glided over Redmond’s sleeve, slashing skin. But James’s arm followed too. Redmond used that.
Grabbing his arm and twisting, he tackled James, and he immediately used that velocity to turn overtop Redmond.
A stab.
But it didn’t hit. Redmond held James’s wrist with both his hands, the knife’s edge shaking, too close to Redmond’s neck. A fire burning in his eyes. He kicked James off, wrestling the knife. James stood up and made distance. Both used this to recover their breaths, and James his gun – he reached for the empty pistol on the ground and holstered it, slowly.
But now Redmond was facing the door's way.
No.
James lunged for the arm in which Redmond held his knife, he dashed and swept Redmond with him. Not without the cost of blood. He couldn’t hold back a swear as the knife slashed through the duct tape wrapped around his forearms. Cold, sharp. The pain dulls through muscle, pulsing. He whipped his head to face the room’s entrance. And swore he saw Dan stop at the last second.
His gaze couldn’t linger for any longer. So he raised the heat even higher.
Eyes on me, fucker!
His head was spinning, he was out of breath. And he continued pushing. A shove, a dash, a dodge. His hand blocked Redmond’s stab. An exhale through a smile that Redmond couldn’t see. A high kick, a tackle. A thud of the knife hitting the ground. James lunged, rolled and stood up. Knife in his hand dripping with both their blood.
And Redmond was drawn in completely. This was it— this was the fight he craved. Chasing the white light, limbs moving through hard shadows. Ragged breaths followed every move, veins burning. Eyes darting after every light’s sway. Impact after impact. A dash, a swing, a hit. Pressure rose in his chest, heart beating ever faster.
Sweat soaked through James’s clothes. Pain dull and pulsing through his body. A shadow in his peripheral. A fake out. A leap. Knife’s edge slashes against knuckles. Breaths in an adrenaline fog. The shadow appeared further with each shiver of light.
Come on—!!
A dodge. A slash. Black droplets flew. James shut his eyes and made distance, a kick to the knee. A leap. Weight forcing upwards. A tackle. Wrist compelled by the arm’s swing.
Then a ring.
Dan tried to calm his breathing as he walked, his mask giving the heat of his breath back to him. Warm and suffocating. Sweat trickled down his neck and his hands. J’s body stayed limp. The gun on his back gently shuffling with each step. The sounds of James fighting the man bounced off the walls. It was dark, so very dark. Right. Forward. Left. As he remembered the way. His chest was caving in with every step, pressure moving with each heartbeat like scribbles. Unruly but uncannily focused.
His eyes darted to J’s face every couple seconds, that scream playing live in his head. But nevermind how soft or how deep he’d breathe, he couldn’t get it to stop. He was beginning to feel lightheaded, his steps took more effort, the weight of J’s body ever-pressing. They’re alive. They’re alive. He kept repeating. I’ll get them out. Just hold on. A couple seconds more. Desperation woven through his tingling fingers.
As he turned the corner, soft white lights illuminated the path ahead. The car. He made it. He called out to H, who rushed to open the other backdoor. He sat J down, immediately checking pulse. It was… Dan’s eyes focused on J’s face. Now seeing them under the car’s overhead lights, the blood was striking. He ran his other hand through their hand, revealing half-open eyes, looking off to the side. Their cheeks and undereyes had black smudges. The entire area from the bottom lip downwards to their chin was covered in red. The lapel of their hoodie held a narrow pool of it.
“Dan…?”
He exhaled sharply to compose himself. “They… have a pulse,” is all he said as he stepped back. Allowing H to see the state J was in. And he was equally silent. Then a breath. Broken up and scattered, sounded like it was catching on something. That held both their eyes.
J lifted up their head and opened their mouth to speak. Only those same choppy breaths came out. But Dan and H couldn’t not notice the bloodied spaces in their gums, two missing teeth. Blood pooling. They were both frozen. So H swallowed through the lump in his throat. He lifted J’s grey hoodie and black shirt, feeling their chest for pressure and wounds. But he was caught off guard as he felt their ribs, a missing space. And J shuddered at the touch, as if pained, but too weak to do anything.
“That hurts— got it, I-I’m sorry–”
“J can you hear us?” Dan asked.
J seemed to perk up in the most subtle way. Their face seemed to change, as if their brows slightly furrowed and their cheeks rose. Their breathing picked up pace.
“B-uhh–ur— bro-eh… ken—” They attempted to speak. Their head was held low, leaning on the edge of the seat.
“Broken?” Dan’s voice came confused.
“Broken…” H repeated. “Their… Their rib’s broken–!”
Dan’s eyes widened, his mouth fell half-open. A broken rib? Here? There’s no way.
“H we have to go. Call James.”
“Call?”
“He’s… fighting with the guy— just do it–!!” Dan said as he fastened J in and closed the door. H reached for his phone and pressed the call button.
“I’ll drive— we’re going back to that hospital.”
“Back there—?! Dan are you—?”
Dan ran to the other side of the car, closing the door on Félicie’s side, who seemed to be in some state of asleep or unconscious.
“We don’t have a choice!”
That ringtone brought James back to his senses. Cuts on his arms to pulses of pain on his face, hot breaths and fatigued legs. Redmond was taken aback, torn out of the mindless fighting. Heart racing at unbelievable speeds, eyes spinning around the headlight. That moment left both of them to stop for just a second.
And James recovered faster. He pushed Redmond sideways. Started sprinting.
The ringing soon stopped, James didn’t have to pick up. He kept running. Knife in Redmond’s hand. Who wasn’t far behind. Heavy footsteps thudded against the floor. James pulled his mask down. Finally able to breathe in fresh air. And he’d need it. He kept running. Redmond’s breathing was ragged, he could hear his blood in his ears. Fists clenched, eyes following that white light. Wide. Almost unblinking.
It only took Redmond this stunt to realise the girl was missing from that room. Does that mean?
No.
NO.
He wasn’t done. They don’t get to take this away from me. His blood felt like it was boiling. They don’t know anything. He picked up pace. And James could sense that desperation in his footsteps. So he put everything he had into running as fast as he could. Coals built up in his legs, his lungs were crying out, his head was throbbing.
Last turn.
Dan hopped into the driver’s seat, H fastened his seatbeat in the passenger. He turned the key, and waited. Waited. Waited.
He rolled his window down to have a chance of hearing James approach. And he waited. H kept checking on both J and Félicie, both of their breathing seemed to be stable. But their times were limited.
They had to get to the hospital— but who would treat them? And how? They’d figure it out. They have to.
“DRIVE–! DRIVE—!!” James’s voice pierced through.
Dan’s head whipped to his left— a white headlight shaking up and down.
And he didn’t hesitate. James jumped with one foot onto the back tire. Reached with hands over the roof. And vaulted. Dan stepped on the gas. James’s back hit the cold metal. His hand gripping the edge. Heavy breaths. Tires screeched against gravel. Wind ruffled his black hair into his eyes.
Redmond was left to watch, as dust picked up into the air, blowing into his face. His heart spilling out into his chest. Rushing blood in his ears, his breath chaotic and strained. No. Specks of stone and soot flew against his clothes. There’s no way. His bleeding wounds now felt heavy and exposed. Every single one lit up a flame on his skin. It didn’t matter how many thoughts raced in his mind. He could do nothing but watch. As a car without lights sped off into the distance.
So this one’s going to be bit different from my usual posts and if you peeps like it I might starts to do some whump stuff for actually shows/movies
So this one’s whump ideas for Steven Universe in particular gems
Which if you’re not aware are an alien race with a body made of light projected from a gemstone which is located somewhere on the “body” which if The body is damaged enough will cause The gem to retreat into their gemstone to recover
The only way to truly harm or kill a gem is to crack or shatter their gemstone their gems don’t naturally heal though and we have only ever seen one technically two gems be able to heal a gemstone
Whump/torture ideas under the cut
if you haven’t watched the show you might get a little confused
Alright torture ideas first
.A chisel or something similar would work quite nicely I think it would probably be almost like The gem version of a human having their nails ripped off but mostly likely way more painful and in a whumper’s/torturer’s eyes it also could be very appealing because it’s able to inflict a whole lot of pain by chipping off tiny bits of a gem’s gemstone while also having a fairly little chance of accidental shattering.
. Another idea I have is maybe The great diamond authority or some other group tried to create something to be able “fix” cracked gemstones but how it does it is extremely painful and so also could double as a torture tool while also “healing” cracks
.Sensory deprivation would probably work just as well on gems as it would on humans so that’s another option as well
.Sensory overload same as sensory deprivation would probably work on gems as well
.Along with isolation
.Psychological torture could be very effective like imagine if you will a Gem!whumper torturing a gem!whumpee while shape-shifted as caretaker or whumper threatening to shatter caretaker unless whumpee tells them what they want to know but whumpee has no way to know if it’s actually caretaker or just someone shape-shifted as them
. Maybe Whumper somehow finds out a way to prevent Whumpee from poofing and so that could be something too
That’s all I can think of for now but If you peeps have any more ideas feel free to add on
oh my gosg steven universe!! i may have a couple ideas:
- you know how the diamonds used to do forced fusion experiments from shattered gems? do that but don't shatter the gem, so they'll be fully aware.
- i imagine a lapis whumper has many torture opportunities with their water ability, like using their own tools like saws and chains, but also with their projection abilities to make whumpee stare at what is happening to them. gems can't drown to my knowledge but humans can...
- whumper threatening to crack gem!whumpee's gem if they misbehave
- leaning into the pre-era 3 pressure on regular gems to be perfect, a higher ranking whumper (someone like holly blue agate, can i say i loved her introduction?) with many whumpees they would be conditioning, so many opportunities
- someone threatening a sapphire to predict the end of some conflict
- i'm not too sure how the recovering mechanism for poofed gems works, but perhaps the gems NEED light to recover after poofing, and then not getting it
- shapeshifting whumpee being made to hold uncomfortable forms for whumper's amusement
- whumpee who is an era 2 gem, being made to feel inferior by the same gem type, but from era 1 (quote peridot(i think?) saying that they don't make them like they used to)
- or flip that to an insecure era 2 gem whumping the same gem type from era 1 to feel superior
- pearl whumper keeping whumpee in their gem, not being able to escape
- multiple ruby whumpers but one of them feels bad for whumpee so theres internal conflict in the bigger ruby fusion
- white diamond's possessive powers, the psychological horror of whumpee getting possessed and then "waking up" with no memory of what she could've made them do
can you tell i love pre-era 3? endless whump possibilities
2nd/3rd ? draft of Torn and Tear is done! ive been working behind the scenes and tomorrow will come line editing and collecting feedback from my beta readers (aka friends), it should be up by the end of the week, as well as a word count added to Don't Look Too Far Back on the masterlist !! im excited to share it all with you once its finished!
it really hurts to be the gardener type of writer. like i be writing based on vibes and then realise i actually need a plot and a sequence. and then edit my chapters 7 milion times.
A scene so powerful in its simplicity, that I keep refantasizing it with different characters:
No intricate torture (yet), just Whumpee who turned himself in, looking at Whumper, waiting for what comes first. He does a series of deep, sharp breaths to collect his courage, he stands straight and meets Whumper's eyes.
