shshshquietnow

[shshshquietnow]

request? a knight stripped of his armour by the enemy, made to kneel at their feet with a sword speared through their hands to keep them down. that would be nice.

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content: royal whump, lady whump, humiliation, hand gore

Tomyris was roughly stripped of her armour by several guards, the metal clanking loudly as it hit the floor. She felt naked without it, vulnerable — and that wasn’t a nice feeling when she was already in the enemy’s territory.

She was handcuffed with heavy chains and dragged into the throne room, her combat-tattered clothes doing little to keep out the chill. She was glaring daggers at the king even as she was shoved to the ground, her heart filled with fury from knowing all this man had done to make her queen and Princess Erendira’s life a living hell.

“What a wonderful gift,” he purred, rising from her disgustingly decorated golden chair. “Dame Tomyris, was it? The princess’ personal guard. I do wonder what prompted you to leave your post and rush into battle with my troops.”

Tomyris stayed silent. She wasn’t going to give him anything.

“Water under the bridge,” he went on, still impossibly smug. “The important thing is that now we’re all here together, and we can finally have a fruitful conversation about what to do with the princess who just refuses to accept my marriage proposal.”

She’d known about it for months. Her Highness tried not to burden her with the whole story, but the maids talked, and Tomyris was soon aware of all the little details.

But of course the princess didn’t want to marry him. Whoever would’ve wanted that? He was a repulsive man with the values of a disgusting, slithery little snake.

“Don’t make that face,” he said with a little laugh. “Oh, if looks could kill! I would be dead several times over. Tell me instead, what’s the way to Erendira’s precious little heart?”

Tomyris pressed her mouth into a thin line, appalled by the very idea of this man going anywhere near her dearest princess. The way to her heart… she’d wondered that countless times. Sometimes, when the two of them shared a look only lovers should’ve, it seemed like she had happened upon it by complete coincidence. Other times she was left yearning, completing her duties robotically and making sure her charge was safe even when she withheld the attention Tomyris so craved.

“So you won’t talk,” the king concluded, coming to a stop right before the humiliated knight. “I regret to inform you that talking is the only way out for you — maybe even alive.” He gestured to one of the guards, and they handed over their weapon without question. “So until you’re ready,” he said, raising the sword, “you’ll just stay here.”

Tomyris gasped in agony as the sword was brought down, piercing her bound hands and pinning them to the floor. The pain was not the worst she’d ever felt; her concern was more so the fact that an injury like this could disqualify her forever from service if it didn’t heal right. She needed her hands to protect the princess.

But the way to protect the princess right now was to stay silent. And so she did.

~

tags: @whumpsday

[shshshquietnow]

CWs: captivity Whump, failed escape Whump.

“I know you have it.”

Whumper outstretched his palm. “Hand it over.”

Whumpee hesitated for a fraction of a second, eyes flickering with a mixture of defiance and defeat.

As soon as Whumpee dropped the box cutter into his hand, Whumper’s fingers snapped closed around it. His cool gaze fell over the flimsy weapon, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, just before tucking the cheap plastic knife in his back pocket. 

He shook his head in quiet disbelief.

“Oh, Whumpee…” he sighed.

Whumpee’s cheeks burned with shame. He never intended to use the box cutter maliciously. Or at least, he knew he would never be capable of killing Whumper. He didn’t have a plan, he never did, he just needed to feel secure before he trying to find a way out of this fucking place.

After all, he was scheduled to die tomorrow. Surely Whumper didn’t expect him to accept his fate willingly. He had to fight back in order to stay alive.

“Sorry.” Whumpee whispered. 

He had so much to say, yet that was all that came out.

“Yeah.” Whumper murmured, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry…” Whumpee’s voice cracked. “I wasn’t gonna hurt you, I, I don’t even think I could…”

“Sure, Whumps. I get it.” Whumper said softly, almost understanding. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, exhaling. “You’ve been through a lot, I know.”

Whumpee’s shoulders sagged and he looked up at Whumper, searching his eyes for an ounce of compassion.

“But you fucked up big time.”

Whumpee’s breath hitched as he heard Whumper’s tone harden, the last trace of sympathy evaporating.

“Get up, Whumpee. I need you to turn around for me.”

His tone made it clear that any illusion of mercy was gone.

“Please. I’m sorry.”  Whumpee’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, panic bubbling in his chest. “I’ll do anything you want from here out, I’ll be good, I’ll listen--” 

Whumper laughed, a low, bitter sound. “Doesn’t make much of a difference now.”

“Turn around.”

“Please, just, let me sleep peacefully. Just tonight. It’s my last night, I, I won’t try anything, please I swear to you!” Whumpee’s composure shattered as he choked out the words. “J-just, please, let me have tonight...”

“No.” His gaze settled on Whumpee’s tear-streaked face. “Sorry, Whumpee,” he replied coldly.

“It didn’t have to end this way.”

Whumper locked a pair of zip ties together behind Whumpee’s back. He instructed Whumpee to climb onto his cot, and made quick work of locking his ankles together too.

Tears gushed down Whumpee’s cheeks as the plastic ties snapped snugly into place.

“A box cutter. Really Whumpee?” Whumper’s grin grew, savoring the irony. “You fucking risked it all, and that was your weapon of choice?”

Whumpee’s throat tightened, dread coiling in his stomach. His shoulders ached from the forced position, but he barely noticed, his mind was consumed with absolute terror. He could barely bring himself to look up as Whumper loomed over him.

“I’d laugh if it wasn’t so goddamn pitiful.” The tall man’s voice dripped with contempt. “The worst part is, well, I was gonna go easy on ya tomorrow. I picked up some good painkillers and booze to make it more comfortable for you.”

Whumpee’s voice quivered, the hope fading from his eyes. “...really?”

“Heh, yeah. I wasn’t even going to tie you up.” 

He leaned in, voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “…but now, comfort’s off the table. Sorry.”

Tears streamed down Whumpee’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean t--”

“But you did,” Whumper cut him off. “You did, and you went and fucked it all up didn’t ya?”

“I thought you liked me...” Whumpee mumbled, his words nearly swallowed by his own shame. “...don’t do this.”

Whumper shook his head as he rose to his feet. “It’s okay. You can still sleep on your side.”

“Whumper! PLEASE!”

“I can’t help you.” 

Whumper’s figure cast a long dark shadow across the wall next to the cot. 

Whumpee watched as the tall silhouette crossed into the light, swinging the heavy door closed with a thud, submerging Whumpee in total blackness.

((more Whump oneshots))

[shshshquietnow]

I love your drabbles so much, they light up my face whenever I see them on the dash. If you have time, can you write a conditioned whumpee with very strong magic they have little control over, and then whumper punishing whumpee for hurting them with magic on accident?

- @shshshquietnow

content: magical whumpee, conditioned whumpee, death threat, captivity

It had been an accident. Whumpee didn’t mean to light anything on fire. Especially not Whumper’s coat.

“I’m sorry, sir, please, I’m sorry—” In their desperation they cast a water spell that drenched their master completely, putting out the fire but only serving to make them angrier.

They got backhanded across the face so hard they lost their balance, tumbling to the floor with a loud thud. “You fucking idiot,” Whumper growled. “What good are you as a magic user if you can’t even control it?”

“I’ll learn, sir,” they whimpered. “I’ll learn. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past year!” They kicked them in the side, making Whumpee curl up to shield themself. “You’re not improving one bit! You’re useless!”

“I’m sorry!”

Whumpee had the powers to stop this abuse. They could’ve cast a number of protection spells, frozen Whumper in space, anything. But they didn’t. They didn’t, because Whumper was their master, and they never cast magic spells without their express permission — unless by complete accident.

“I’m gonna lock you in the fucking cellar until you learn to control it. One more mistake and I swear to god I won’t care how useful a magic user could potentially be; I’ll just off you.”

[shshshquietnow]

ough you are so kind ily 💛 may i ask for a lil drabble about being mind controlled by a whimper who turned out to be someone you really trusted?

content: mind control, betrayal

It was all so natural. Of course Whumpee always felt at ease around Whumper. Of course they always agreed. Of course they wanted to do whatever their best friend asked of them. Why wouldn’t it be so?

It was only when Whumpee stumbled upon some old book in Whumper’s room that they started to realise what was going on. At first, they thought it was some harmless joke. A book on mind control? What the fuck was that even supposed to mean? As if magic was real.

But the more they read… the more they flipped through the pages… the more they thought back on all their interactions with Whumper… It was really starting to dawn on them.

“Whumpee?”

Whumpee slammed the book shut and spun around. They avoided eye contact with Whumper — that was one of the ways to make mind control easier, apparently. “W-Whumper…”

“Oh, you found it,” they said lightly. “I bought it at an auction a while back. I thought it was interesting.”

“Yeah… Yeah, very interesting…”

“You don’t actually believe in that stuff though, right? I mean, it’s written realistically, but—”

“No! No, I don’t believe in it. Of course I don’t.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Whumpee swallowed. “I…” They tore their eyes away from the floor, slowly raising their gaze to meet their friend’s. “I don’t believe in it,” they repeated in a small voice. Whumper smiled at them.

“Good.”

Whumpee suddenly felt at ease, their tense muscles going slack. They didn’t resist as Whumper grabbed them by the hand — physical touch greatly increases the chances of mind control working on the subject — and led them outside.

“Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s so nice out.”

“Yeah… Let’s go for a walk…”

[shshshquietnow]

The whumpee slammed themselves again the bars of their cage, frantically trying to escape.

“You know that won’t do anything,” the whumper leant against the opposite wall, a slight smile on their face, a cruel hunger in their eyes.

The whumpee flinched at their voice, retreating to the back wall, shaking, “w-what do you want from me.”

“That’s an awfully cliché thing to ask, don’t you think? Why does everyone ask that? If I planned to chop you up into little pieces would you really want to kno-”

“Please! Please please don’t hurt me… p-please,” the whumpee sobbed, collapsing farther into themselves.

“I didn’t say I was going to chop you up into little pieces, just that I could.”

“Please don’t do this… please-“

“Will you shut up?” The whumper pushed off the wall, coming to lean through the bars of the whumpee’s cell, “I haven’t done anything to you have I? Yet, that is-”

The whumpee let out a broken whimper.

“Shut up. See this is what I’m talking about, I haven’t done anything to you yet, I’m still deciding what to do. So you should behave. With the way you are acting right now, I might have to do something really horrible.”

[shshshquietnow]

things I'm fond of:

vampires as a metaphor for surviving a trauma but becoming "different" because of it: control and vulnerability

werewolves as a metaphor for having something inside you that everyone else hates and fears: repression and release

ghosts as a metaphor for the pain, suffering, and anger of past generations: revenge and healing

[shshshquietnow]

“I want you to remember this, next time you try to run away. Remember that you will always end up here again, bleeding, crying, begging”

[shshshquietnow]

“I love hurting you but I must admit, there’s something fun about this too, about patching you up, watching your little flinching and the way you cower from me like a wounded dog waiting to be hit”

[shshshquietnow]

🔹🔷 cat and mouse 🔷🔹

[shshshquietnow]

forever obsessed with dynamics between vampires, specifically that of a maker and fledgling, as a way to explore abuse. the creation of a vampire itself can so easily be a literalization of the lasting impacts of trauma and also much more simply the ways a perpetrator might shape their victim’s very identity. the extremes of isolation in the way that the new vampire, in most narratives, must cut all ties to their mortal life, or else go through an elaborate charade to maintain the facade of humanity, while forever still being removed from it. and the sheer dependence and vulnerability of being in an entirely new state of being, wholly uncertain of what it entails, and relying on another person to define… everything.

[shshshquietnow]

It's probably been done before, but. I'm a sucker for when a whumpee gets taken out of a bad situation by rescuers with dubious motives. Things that really blur the line between rescue and capture. I eat that stuff up.

Military whump is great for this. Injured soldier whumpee getting captured by enemy soldiers and ending up in an enemy hospital, being given medical care. But they're worried about what's going to happen next. Are they going to be locked up? Tortured? Do the enemy medical staff really have their best interests at heart? Great opportunity to build tension.

Honestly any time whumpee wakes up in an unknown hospital/lab/whatever can be an opportunity to play this, not knowing if they're going to be helped or harmed.

Whumpee getting "rescued" and soon finding out that their "rescuer" is actually a whumper.

Or, in contrast: whumpee getting captured/rescued by the group they've been led to believe are enemies/evil/etc, only to find out that they've been lied to, and their rescuers actually aren't all that bad after all.

Do you have any more prompts in this vein? Feel free to add them!

[shshshquietnow]

A Whumpee who is thrown in a cell after a hectic event. Maybe they were arrested and thrown in front of the leader (king, queen, general, etc?), maybe they were finally captured after a long chase, maybe they were dragged away from a crime scene, wrongfully blamed for the death of their loved one. Whatever it was, it was chaos and Whumpee barely had time to take it all in.

Now, it's quiet. It's dark and they're alone. And finally, they have time to let it all sink in. They curl up in the corner, grabbing their head as it all catches up with them, and they start to sob.

[shshshquietnow]

Wick's Whump Drive - I

This is a commissioned piece for @light-me-on-pyre, who was kind enough to participate in my ongoing whump drive for Palestinian aid.

Want in? Donate $5/€5 or more to ANY Palestinian fundraiser, send me the receipt, and I'll write a custom whump drabble for you, too.

Prompt: "How would you write deconditioning?"

[ My lessons on how to write realistic conditioning can be found here. ]

---

TW | realistic whump recovery, emotional whump, brief argument, PTSD, flashbacks, intentional deconditioning attempt, implied past character death (whumper)

It wasn't the word itself this time. It was the way Caretaker said it.

"Kneel."

Whumpee went down hard. The mental cursing began when his knees were about two inches from hitting the ground. Too late to stop the movement. Plenty of time to hate himself for following through.

Where his knees hit, the jarring spike of stacking bruises felt like a punch. Failure.

Another. Fucking. Failure.

Whumpee groaned in frustration, hands balling in his hair. Then he was on his feet again, pacing. "Again."

"Whumpee, I think we've had enough for toni—"

"No! No, I need to try again! I have to get this right just once before I stop." He turned again on his heel, leaving another path in the carpet. "We keep going. I just— I just need to keep going."

Caretaker raised an eyebrow, not moving from where he knelt. With that endless patience that was beginning to grate on Whumpee's nerves, "...we have been at this for an hour. Your nerves are getting more and more frayed by the minute. You said yourself that this works best when you're calm."

"And what if I'm wrong?" Whumpee whirled around on him, tears in his eyes. "I keep failing. I've barely managed to stop myself three times this whole week. Out of what? Four dozen attempts? Five? Every time I quit I end up backsliding more and more. I can't keep giving up. This has to work."

"It will be easier—"

"Are you going to say it or not? You said you would help me!"

Caretaker looked taken aback. And just as quickly, his expression shuttered.

"What do you think I've been doing for the last hour?" he asked. "Don't forget— I still get to say 'no', too."

The reminder hit like a slap. Not because Caretaker was wrong. Because he was right.

It had taken everything Whumpee had just to keep making it through the practice sessions. With how bad things had gotten, he barely had the capacity to take care of himself right now. Let alone worry any of the people around him.

Was that how he'd been acting? Was that what Whumpee was denying him? Even the choice to be a part of this?

After standing there for another far too long moment, Whumpee let out a sigh and came back over to Caretaker. He slipped to the floor beside him, folding his knees up to his chest, back pressed to the couch.

Quieter, rougher, "...Yeah. Yeah, you do." He couldn't bring himself to look at him. "I'm sorry."

Although Caretaker didn't say anything, Whumpee could see the moment the tension in his shoulders let go. The fight passed over them like a distant shadow.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this," Whumpee murmured. He wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on his forearms. "Between the nightmares and the memories... I'm just... I'm so tired." Quieter still, "I can't seem to get that monster out of my head."

"You've not been sleeping." It wasn't a question.

"...I've been trying to. I really have. But I end up just laying there, thinking the same five thoughts on repeat, over and over and over. Things haven't been this bad since—"

A flash of bright light. Wrists rubbed raw. Whumpee was doubled over, arms wrapped around himself. Screaming himself raw with a flood of relief and despair and a hundred other emotions that he could never admit aloud. Blood spreading on the cement floor. Blood that finally, finally wasn't his own.

Whumpee flinched, twisting his face away from the sight. As if this was something he could just look away from. As if the memories weren't printed into his retinas like the afterimage of lightning.

He took a few slow, steadying breaths, shaking on every exhale. Clenched his trembling hands, open and closed. Open and closed. Eventually he managed a raspy, "...since before."

Caretaker watched, worried. But he knew better than to reach for Whumpee without asking first.

"Whumpee... you've been butting up against this same block for weeks now. I've watched you try everything except the most obvious thing there is. You need to rest." Whumpee opened his mouth to say something, but Caretaker cut him off before he could argue. "—I'm not telling you to quit. I know why you can't, and I would never ask it of you. But there's a difference between giving up, and taking enough time to catch your breath before the next sprint."

Whumpee averted his eyes again, throat working against the burn of building tears. But he was listening.

Softer, "You said this was something you'd be working on for the rest of your life. If that's true, then there's time. For just a few days... give yourself some of the softness you went so long without. Take enough time to be gentle with the man you're trying so hard to save."

The words had hit their mark. He watched as Whumpee's face crumpled. His breath hitched once, and he broke into a sob. Then Whumpee finally reached out for him, and Caretaker didn't hesitate to pull him into hug.

He buried his face against Caretaker's chest, everything he'd been holding back falling apart at once. Pain. Despair. Hope. Grief. All of it came pouring out with his voice.

"There. I've got you," Caretaker murmured, closing his eyes. Exhausted, but relieved that something had finally gotten through. "...I've got you."

[shshshquietnow]

Gotta love a telepath whumper torturing the whumpee by forcing them to relive their worst/most traumatic memories

[shshshquietnow]

Daily Dose of Whump Day Forty-Nine

"My, my... What a tastefully obedient whumpee you have there, Whumper." The new man says, grabbing a champagne that whumpee had brought in. Whumper smiles, grabbing the other one. Whumpee sauntered to the Master's feet.

"Yes, it did take a bit of coaxing for this one." The Master says, running his hands in whumpee's hair.

"But see," He says, pausing. "It was worth it, right darling? You're *so* much better than before." Whumpee flashed a half smile and stared at the ground.

"But, don't let it fool you." Whumper said firmly, tugging shraply on the pet's collar. They yelped, pressing against the Whumper's cruel hand.

"Why's that?" The new man asked, laughing.

"It's just a dumb mutt after all." Master said, smirking. Quickly throwing them to the ground, the Master pinned their head down with his shoe.

Shinny, with tears as polish, those shoes were a statement piece. Just like whumpee.

The new man and Master laughed at whumpee before casually changing topics, foot pinning their face against the rough carpet.

Whimpering, the whumpee hated the new man.

[shshshquietnow]

throwing whumpees around! whumper should get to pick their whumpee up and hock them across the room to hit the wall and then dramatically crumple to the floor, only to be hauled to their feet again and tossed unceremoniously into a cell! whumper gets too frustrated? toss a whumpee! surely it will cure all your ills (by making whumpee’s worse)

[shshshquietnow]

There's something so terrifyingly beautiful about mind control.

Just imagine- a Whumpee who knows about Whumper's ability. As soon as they end up alone with them and realize what's going to happen, they panic. They attempt to get away, to stay out of Whumper's reach, to fight.

When that fails, they resort to choked pleas, backing away though they know it's futile. Their eyes warily scan the grinning Whumper, who is walking towards them at a painfully slow pace, aware of the fact that they have them cornered. As their back presses against the cold wall, and Whumper's hand delicately makes its way towards their face, Whumpee freezes.

Whumper's fingers gently brush against their face, the cold touch causing them to shiver.

"Don't fight me."

Their voice is sweet as they speak, so much so that, if they didn't know better, Whumpee would think this was their medium. But as Whumper's hand settles on their cheek, and their mind starts becoming foggy, that idea is discarded.

"You'll feel so much better afterwards, you'll see. Just let me in."

Whumpee grimaces, desperately trying to hold onto their thoughts. their thoughts. their, their, THEIR-

"There we go."

As Whumpee's facial features relax, their breathing slows down, and their expression goes blank, Whumper knows they've won.

Whumpee's mind is theirs now.