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I wanted to do a whump ask game of my own to practice writing some starters and hooks.

Send in;

Location

Whumpee/Whumper/Caretaker Traits

Type of Whump (Examples: emotional, physical violence, environmental, etc.)

Example of how this would work...

Anon Asked: Living doll whumpee with a controlling Carewhumper with emotional whump in the aftermath of physical whump by Carewhumpers friend, Whumper, "breaking" doll whumpee.

When Whumpee was dropped back off at Carewhumper's home with their hair in a mess, bruises over their body, and small cuts and scratches on their arms and legs there was no room to avoid the sheer amount of anger from Carewhumper. How fucking dare their friend have ruined their own beautiful doll. They had promised to never blemish them and return them as they were and yet they had ruined everything that made their doll so deeply pretty. "Look at what they did to you! You look disgusting, how could you live with yourself looking like that? If I were you I would've killed myself immediately. No no... They ruined your beautiful skin, you're destroyed," Whumper ranted and raved at Whumpee who meekly nodded their head.

"Should I have stopped Whumper?"

"No, good dolls don't resist. You're disgusting now but I will fix you again. You poor broken thing."

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Russia is an abusive mother.

The first time I saw my babooshka cry was when she talked about her uncle who had been dragged off to a gulag in the USSR days because he spoke badly of the government.

She always made us Russian food and played Russian music. She took me to a Russian Orthodox church as a kid where I couldn't understand anything being said. And so I liked being Russian, at least tangentially. It was a happy thing.

But now all the wrong people are being punished. My great uncle and so many Ukrainians have been murdered. But the government and military are above consequence. Meanwhile, my babooshka and her sister couldn't fly back to Russia to see their dying mother, and she no longer can offer oil painting lessons because of xenophobia. My classmates used to ask if I was a sleeper agent and recite off strings of numbers to me in hopes of a programmed response.

I don't know why things worked out this way. Our motherland is abusive and cruel.

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TRAIN TO BUSAN 부산행 (2016) dir. Yeon Sang Ho @userdramas get to know me bingo: film

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oh, no, i have no concept of the size of a whale or of the galaxy. i am cosmically insignificant, which is fine. the other day i accidentally spilled a few grains of sugar on the counter. i watched a single ant heft it over his head and run with it - run! - like he was carrying a crown.

sometimes when i am watching the rain i think about how each particular drop is new and only exists for right-now and yet it is the same water as it has been for millennia. the atoms i am are only meeting in this form for this one life. later maybe they will be a mushroom. maybe in the infinite expanse of time, two of my molecules will meet each other again and they'll say i remember existing with you. which is maybe how a star feels, watching humans dance and laugh and sing in the bodies we are borrowing.

what am i in the cosmic sense? what of the stupid human exploits of my tiny human life?

the other day i found a wilting bumblebee and fed it a little water. after an hour, he made a lazy loop of flight. up and towards the stars.

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"Oh God. You're not — you're not going to do that while I'm conscious, are you? Do you at least have painkillers?"

"I've got a bottle of wine and you can bite down on this to keep from screaming."

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Whump dialogue XXXVI

"Do you know what I did to them?" Whumper purred, a hint of pride in his voice as he circled Whumpee.

"I've seen the scars," Caretaker bit back in reply.

"No, I mean..." Whumper made a gesture and they both watched as Whumpee dropped to their knees in front of them without any hesitation. "Do you know what I did to them," he repeated in a more sinister voice.

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Alistair

The sharp pain of remorse hit Alistair like a freight train, their blood running ice cold. The realization that they could do no right, that no good could ever come from them was daunting.

What they had learned had been wasted. All that pain, that sorrow, that *longing* to be good was for nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that hurt tugged at them, it was far worse than all their other punishments. Far worse than anything they'd ever felt before.

Alistair slowly curled up into a tiny ball, much smaller than usual. They looked around with tear stained eyes that were glossed over with shame. Silent streams of anguish poured down their face as their grief stricken heart expressed itself the only way it knew how.

Their mind replayed the hurt over and over. Alistair's heart twinged with guilt as they remembered the dream they had. The broken, hopeful dream. That stupid awful dream.

As the hazy memory of freedom was escaping their grasp, Alistair shuddered. They would give anything to keep that peaceful feeling alive, to keep that dream as a faded fragment of their broken reality.

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This post is getting a lot of traction. Oh boy. I have the rest of the year's reading lined up already. I made a google document to keep track of everyone interacting. If I miss you, I promise it was an accident!

If you are a writer or artist on Tumblr that feels like you're not getting enough attention (by whatever personal metric you use) please interact with this post so I can look at your hard work and say nice things.

Better yet if you give me a link to something you're disappointed didn't get more traction. I don't consider any topic off limits if you tag it properly. I write and draw weird weird stuff all the time.

I thrive on this. You thrive on this. It's a win-win.

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i genuinely don't care how good a piece of ai generated art or writing looks on the surface. i don't care if it emulates brush strokes and metaphor in a way indistinguishable from those created by a person.

it is not the product of thoughtful creation. it offers no insights into the creator's life or viewpoint. it has no connection to a moment in time or a place or an attitude. it has no perspective. it has no value.

it's empty, it's hollow, and it exists only to generate clicks (and by extension, ad revenue.)

it's just another revolting symptom of the disease that is late stage capitalism, and it fucking sucks.

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HE RUINED MY DREAM JOURNAL!!!

Ｉ ｄｉｄ ｎＡＵＧＨＴｔ！ Ｍｉｓｔｅｒ Ｅｌｅｃｔｉｃ ｓｅｎｄ ｈｉｍ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ   ｐｒｉｎｃｉｐａｌ＇ｓ ｏｆｆｉｃｅ ａｎｄ ｈａｖｅ ｈｉｍ ＥＸｐｅｌＬｅｄ！

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Guys watch out OP is a fundamentally flawed person

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"tribalism" "your need for a tribe" just say in-group. ingroup. its so easy. in-group out-group mentality. you dont have to use such a loaded word. you dont have to bring a word used to paint indigenous settlements and cultures as Primitive and Animalistic. come on now. in-group. in-group.

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I think I'll write something for whumpcember. I'm shy about posting my old writing but I'm getting inspiration all of a sudden.

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Character concept: a vampire hunter who's doing a really bad job of hiding the fact they think vampires are the hottest shit ever

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hello!! continuing off from my last post, let me introduce the main cast for the book i’m writing!!

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Coming Back To Bite You, Part 4 - Caught in Her Web

Masterlist

cw: hypnosis, vampire whumper, coarse language, emeto

——————

Marshall hummed, a sort of sound of agreement. He didn’t really know what he was agreeing to, possibly the buzz in the back of his mind, but couldn’t reach enough of himself to decipher it. Not that he could really care at the moment, mind swirling in circles along with the fingers on his temples.

He was floating, gently dancing through the wind of his head like a cloud. His limbs were somehow numbed, disconnected from the rest of his body. All Marshall could feel was the flutter of his eyelids and the grunt of his voice, echoing beyond the emptiness.

Someone was speaking, and he recognized it, clawing out for it. The voice was smooth and kind, something he was unable to make sense of. His face scrunched, wriggling his body awake.

The buzzing grew clearer and clearer, and so did his mind with it. “And up, up, up.”

A gasp, sharp, slipped out from his lips, eyes falling wide. “Get-,” Marshall shot up, rushing out from his spot the vampire’s lap, brain dashing back to it’s full power. “Offa’ me!”

She rolled her eyes, as if she had the right to be irritated. “Okay, dear. No need to shout. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.” Putting her arms up, she held them in the typical stance to say I won’t hurt you.

“Yeah, sure. Like I’d believe you after-,” the memories slapped him across the face, and he hung his head. A flame lit in his chest, toiling around the lump in his throat. “You-,” fucker.

“You-,”

The word wasn’t coming out. It was hanging there, right in his mouth, on the tip of his tongue, he just couldn’t push it into reality. Brows furrowing, Marshall’s hands twisted over the fabric of the mittens into fists.

“You-!” He shrieked, the end sticking in his throat like a weight, heavy and sticky, unable to push any further. It was as if it was choking him, blocking air from getting around it.

And the vampire wasn’t speaking, her mouth was stuck in a firm smirk, like she was enjoying his confusion. At the same time, he heard her words.

You mustn’t call your betters by such foul names, my dear. I am your sir, and you will treat me as such.

“S- sorry. Sir.” He muttered, sheepishly.

Marshall clamped a hand over his mouth, unbridled shock plastered across his face. He just-

Apologized?

To her?

Shaking, overtaken by fury, he sipped in a quivering breath. Again, stopped by the strength of chains, he was prevented from tearing her face right off with his teeth. All he was really able to manage was a rippling snarl.

He had called her sir, sliding right over his teeth like an instinct. The bile was bubbling, growling up from his tummy.

“It’s alright, dear.” She cooed, swift and nimble motions grazing his cheeks. “Oh, surprised?” She was taunting him. He grit his teeth. “I may have done just a little bit of quality control while you were under. Just enough to keep you from calling me names, and establishing my title.”

“You-,” he spat, voice trembling. “Um, you-!” The words were piling up in his mind, vile curses, but none of it was breaking through her blockade. It just couldn’t.

“As much as you try,” she started, eyes sweet and glittery, catching him in them, “you won’t be able to get around it. I know that must be scary, but you must accept it.”

“I-,” he sputtered, before he hardened. “Let me go! Let me out!” Shrieking, he fought his very best with the restraints, diving at her.

“Goodness, me.” She scoffed, pushing herself to her feet as he slipped around the wooded flooring of her bedroom, growling and squealing demands. “You really aren’t the smartest, are you? I suppose that only makes my job easier, though, so I should be thankful.”

“Anyways, I want to have a little talk, if you would humor me.” She crouched back to a kneel, a safe distance to where he couldn’t reach her, gracefully keeping her skirt in place. “My name is Evangeline, although you may call me sir, and for the time being I will be your vampire owner.”

He scoffed. “Like hell you will.”

“Oh, you will see, dear. Once under enthrallment you’ve already proved to be very polite and willing. I’d be surprised that you were still up for grabs if you weren’t a hunter. But that didn’t last long, did it?”

Five years. Five years, which seemed like a mere blink of the eye for a vampire.

“I want you to be comfortable here, and I can assure you, if you stop fighting me and just accept it, you will be.”

“Go-!” Fuck yourself! Again, nothing came out, throat shriveling up in a second. He roared nonsense at her, wriggling helplessly at the chains.

Evangeline shook her head. “If that’s how you want to be, then I will simply have to change that.” With the clap of her hands, her sired were back to surrounding them. “Ladies, please escort him back to his enclosure. I think we’re done here.” Crouching above him, she gifted him a little, delighted smile, before pressing a finger to his forehead. Fuck. “And, a little something to keep him complacent on the way.”

When Marshall came to, tired eyelids creaking open, he was walking through the tallest, widest hallway he’d ever seen in his life. Gold encrusted candles littered the walls, keeping it lit as he followed behind the vampire’s sireds. One of them, the one in front of the group, held the end of his chain, guiding his body along on autopilot.

His feet, bare and chilly, followed along dutifully beyond his own accord. Every couple steps they tripped over each other, and a yank on his chain was the only thing to bring him back to obedience.

He needed out, and fast. She already had him calling her sir, what could she have him doing in one more session of conditioning?

Marshall didn’t even want to think about it.

He did his very best to imitate being entranced, although a part of him still was, drowsiness pulling at him like gravity. Scanning the walls for anything to aid him in an escape, he lit up.

A door, humongous and made of dark wood stood between Marshall and the outdoors, between him and freedom.

A breath in, a breath out.

A yank on the chains with all of his might took them right out from the vampire’s grip. The closest vampire, looking to him in shock, was clocked to the floor by his two fists and connecting cuffs, allowing him his very own chance at freedom.

He wasn’t exactly the fastest around, but he managed, even with a fucked up knee. That was until he reached the door, and realized no one was so much as chasing after him. His brows furrowed, slowing down as he reached for the door handle.

His legs ceased any and all movement, right then and there.

Marshall could still reach the door handle, going right for it, before his arm stopped as well, unable to move any further.

And his head-

Marshall lurched forward, gagging on an oncoming of burning bile, bitterness washing ip his throat.

“You are already proving to be a real pain in my ass, you know that?” Evangeline called, stepping up behind him.

He had to get out, he had to get out-

But-

Keeling over, grabbing at his belly, Marshall was unable to handle the searing pain splitting his head in two. What was going on? He managed a weak, shaking laugh, loud and sharp, spit flying at her high heeled boots. “Good.”

“Listen to me.” She hissed, gaze glowing with enthrallment, calling him to her gaze and trapping him in it. “You are a pet as much as you are a food source for us, for vampires as a whole. That is what you are made to be, that is what you were put on this Earth to do.”

“I’m not-,” his fight was melting, just as his mind was under her control. “Not… not a… pet…” jaw losing the fight, a dribble of drool peeked out from the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, why don’t you look at that. All of this talk of lives and futures seems to cease once you’re under even just a smidge of enthrallment, doesn’t it? That is because you are merely a lost soul requiring a vampire’s guidance. None of you are fit to live on your own, to make decisions.” She cupped his face, and the thought of biting at her vanished in an instant, in favor of her swirling bliss. “You all fight for the lives you want to keep, that only make you sad and unhappy creatures. That is why I do what I do, dear. To give you the help you need.”

“H… help…?” Innocence scrawled over his features, and he looked to her with a hopeful glint in his eye.

“Yes, my dear.”

Her fingers dipped into the delve of his temple, bringing his eye to a falling flutter. “Need… help…” he mumbled, with the last of his consciousness, before slipping his mind back to sleep.

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