#chain whump

[cakeinthevoid]

Dream a Little Dream

Whumptober No. 8: Cashing in an alternative!

Betrayal

Content: Chained up, isolation, betrayal.

Really wanted to challenge myself to write something short again... Very stream of conscious.

Ceres wished they could have been surprised. Unfortunately, they were all too aware of their own flaws, and so why anyone would turn them in.

It still hurt a little. They thought it must hurt less with time, that one day, they would finally get well and truly used to it. They were beginning to doubt that day would come.

Sure, they accepted their fate, hanging from the iron chains roped through loops around the room. They've come to terms with the fact that, once again, they were sold out.

Ceres wished they spent longer basking in moonlight.

It hurt to think about that too, so they thought about how they could survive this instead.

If they should survive this.

The manacles around their throat, wrists, and ankles seared their skin. Ceres would not be able to leave their skin for a long while, with all the stimuli grounding them to the present. What use was a dreamwalker who couldn't dreamwalk?

Was that the goal? Make them useless?

Clearly they already were, according to Meena. And to think... No, better not.

They needed focus—focus on something other than the burning in their raised arms, the ache in their back, and the pain in their knees.

So they sang a lullaby. It sounded broken on their whisper of a voice, but it was home.

And, truly, it was all they had.

[abhainnwhump]

[syeaweed]

Meet the guy who's been living in my head for the last months! I got into Linked Universe recently and have read at least 60 fics -not including whumptober binges- just for this guy, Twi is now an ultimate blorbo and I physically cannot contain myself when I draw him (I jump around and scream)

[miidnightzone]

thinking about pre-canon andrew, who wakes kevin from nightmares even though he's heard you aren't supposed to do that. let the person wake up themselves otherwise you'll make it worse, they say. but if dogs can be trained to wake their owners from nightmares, is it actually wrong? andrew won't pull against this leash.

when kevin wakes, thrashing and choking on the end of a scream, andrew presses a hand to his sternum. dares that stuttering chest to fight back against him and just, "breathe." he near-whispers, looking back into kevin's wide, unseeing eyes, "it's andrew." 

it takes a moment for kevin to collapse into the couch like a puppet with all its strings cut. it takes even longer after kevin falls back asleep with tear-stained cheeks for andrew to pull away from where he's caught by the sleeve of his sweater. the striker's fingers gentle, so loosely held like he knew it would take no effort at all for andrew to escape, but nonetheless wanting. 

when morning comes, as always, neither say a word about it.

[whumpypepsigal]

@whumpgifathon | Day 4: “Captivity” || “Chains”

Lord Guildford Dudley in My Lady Jane 1x06

[whump-in-the-closet]

a disorientated whumpee at a party with whumper's arm uncomfortably thrown over their shoulder. Whumper’s fingers ghost over the curve of their throat, dipping along the scars on their exposed neck.

There's a spiraling fear that they can't quite name-- they're losing themself in this nightmare of insinuating whispers.

The music is pounding and Whumpee can feel it in their teeth.

Whumper pulls them into a dark corner to push a drink up to their lips. "Your friends are coming," Whumper's voice is low, it's calm, it's measured, and Whumpee's skin crawls. "You're going to tell them you want to stay with me."

"No--"

"Or one of them will take your place."

[whump-side]

Updated Rapunzel compilation ! I swear I feel like I first drew him 2 years ago and then I checked the dates but turns out the first art is from 2020 ?? Time flies so fast

[boneywhump]

pov: your future husband comes to your rescue

[whump-galaxy]

Something about a guard dog character always being covered in chains. Maybe they are decoration, or a symbol of their duty, or their weapon, or all of the above. No matter how far they go, they will always find the end of the chain and be brought back ‘home’ again.

[whumporama]

Whumpee’s wrists being bound together, suspended by a chain above their head. Their fingers clinging desperately to the links, as if grasping the cold metal could somehow ease the pain. With no other outlet for the agony coursing through them, they held on tighter, trying to find relief in the only thing they could hold.

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Messy sketch in grey scale with blood in red of Eliot Spencer with his arms chained behind his back and raised slightly by attachment of the chain to some point above him. He’s wearing a t-shirt and looks angry, and there’s dried blood on his face and t-shirt. End ID]

-

Whumptober Day 9: Arms restrained behind back

A messy last minute addition done with jet lag 🫣

[whump-side]

My piece for the ABCs of Whump zine @thewhumpyprintingpress My letter was T for Torture ! If you want to acquire this very whumpy zine, there are physical and digital copies still available. Make sure to visit The Whumpy Printing Press Tumblr for more informations

[meraki24601]

Chains

The chains holding Whumpee up so their toes only just brushed the ground barely hurt anymore. Even when the discomfort from their other injuries made them writhe, the restraints had their hands feeling nearly numb. It would have been a nice change if they didn’t know what it meant. 

How long had it been since their feet touched the ground? Whumper put a hood over Whumpee’s head, which felt like a few days ago, but they couldn’t see through the barred window to know for sure. 

Whumper had called it a game. The hood was another test to see how long it would take Whumpee to break. To beg, really.

At this point, all it took was the quiet groaning of the opening door to have Whumpee crying out with the remainder of their voice, “Please—no more.”

The chains rattled and moved, and Whumpee’s heels touched the ground. Then, their knees bumped against the cold concrete below. Finally, arms wrapped around Whumpee’s torso. New hands released both of Whumpee’s wrists from their shackles. The pain that followed the metal’s removal from the bloody gashes had sparks filling Whumpee’s eyes, but they refused to pass out. 

Begging was the only way to make the pain stop. Whumper might even wait a day or two before the next session if they pleaded pretty enough. But begging required a voice, and their unprompted and pitiful whisper had taken the last of theirs. 

All Whumpee could do was groan and push weakly at the hands moving their body.

“Hush.” A gentle voice sighed. The light burn of antiseptic bled across Whumpee’s arms as the familiar scratch of a rag touched each and every cut. 

Whumper wasn’t there. Whumpee would have recognized their voice and touch. These people were kind. They were hurting Whumpee, but only to help them. A towel was even placed below Whumpee’s head to protect it from the hard floor when Whumpee couldn’t help but flinch and jerk. 

“Relax, Little One,” the voice said, “Whumper won’t be back tonight. You can heal. Rest.”

The lights in the cell were dimmed when Whumpee’s hood was removed, a kindness they hadn’t expected that allowed their vision to recover quickly. They looked up at bright blue eyes for the first time in a long time. 

[doumidas-whumps]

night in a motel