whumpy-daydreams

[whumpy-daydreams]

Neurodivergent assassin who very casually uses their weapons as stim.

Turning on and off the safety of their gun. Tapping and spinning their dagger. Watching the poison in the vial move as they flip in and then back.

Nobody says anything because...well they're an assassin.

Turns on safety, presses trigger, turns off safety repeat.

People around them are in constant fear.

Chewing the end of their poison tipped dagger when they try to figure out a plan.

Wash their hands too much cause they don't like how sticky blood is.

However overtime it becomes a weird single to others.

Everyone is anxious trying to figure something out and they hear a little "click click" and it's just slightly calming to know that they have this person there and they are thinking of a plan.

Someone hands them a drink but it flows just a little too weird and they are like, "hmm that's poison" then chuck it because they have built up immunity.

No table that doesn't have something carved into it.

Never a situation where they don't have enough bullets because this person takes out the cartridge and puts it back as stim.

They take apart their guns and put them back over time being crazy fast and efficient with it.

Just give me a neurodivergent assassin/spy.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Whumpee with a gag and bound hands, gasping on the floor as they try to breathe through the pain after Whumper's henchmen beat them up.

Whumper grabbing their chin and lifting their head, forcing them to meet their eyes.

"Had enough?"

[whumpy-daydreams]

Prompt! What about a thief being caught mid heist?

The sound of the mission impossible music suddenly blaring through the room:

a) startled the absolute crap out of them

b) did nothing to mask the sound of a dozen guns suddenly being pointed at them from every direction.

The thief froze, hovering spread-eagled in the air just above the diamond case, watching the flicker of red-sniper dots dancing over their body in the reflection of the glass.

Their mind immediately began to race through their options. The music continued to play, excruciatingly to the very end of the track. No good options came to mind. So much as twitching felt like an invitation to be shot.

"Jolly good show! Bravo." The sound of clapping filled the new silence. The posh voice came from behind them. "Well. Awkward, getting caught, I suppose. But you can't really be blamed for that, can you?"

More of the guards edged closer in their circle of imminent death, faceless in armored masks. Not museum staff. Even the most high security museum staff didn't look like that.

The thief said nothing. Their heart pounded.

A man, beaming, rounded the diamond case to stop in front of them.

"Hi," he waved. "So nice to finally meet you. I'm sure you've guessed by now that this was a cunning trap!"

The thief said nothing. Their jaw clenched.

The man chuckled and snapped his fingers. The spotlights for the diamond case flicked on, pointing unerringly at the thief. Behind their mask, the thief's eyes flinched shut against the glaring brightness.

Someone immediately took the opportunity to step forward and yanked the mask off their face.

"Do you know who I am?" the man asked. "Obviously everyone here already knows all about you, so it seems only fair to even the playing field. Gosh, you're prettier in person beneath that mask, aren't you?" He reached out and, despite the wires and the guns and the whole dangling from the ceiling situation, the thief recoiled.

"Don't touch me."

The man's grin widened, jackal-like, as if that was the exact reaction he was hoping for. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small recorder, and hit a button.

Don't touch me.

The thief's voice played back perfectly. Their stomach lurched.

Not police. Definitely not police, or museum staff. The thief wished, suddenly, for Interpol. The detective they'd been avoiding for years. The detective wouldn't have done this.

"Oh," the man said. "That's going to make a wonderful little detail for your exhibition piece. Thank you. Don't touch me! So ironic. So relevant! You wouldn't believe the amount the industry pays because tourists can't keep their hands off the art. It's just disrespectful, you know?"

He turned to his many guards, switching languages to rattle off a myriad quick-fire instructions. Some left. Too many guards stayed.

"Anyway," the man said. "Where were we? Ah! Introductions." He held out a hand again, to shake. "I'm the curator. You're the magpie. Gosh this really is just splendid! Just look at you. Gorgeous. Wow. I'm such a fan. Guilty pleasure, I know. I shouldn't encourage you." He widened his eyes like they were in on some joke together. Buddies. "But the work you did with the Girl in Red triptych? Flawless. You're really very good."

The thief blinked. They considered taking the hand, yanking, quickly dropping to the ground and using the man as body armour. It would have been more effective if the guns were only pointing from one direction. In the end, they held still, and continued to say nothing. They focused on controlling their breathing. They tried to think of something beyond the numbing, bewildered panic.

"No?" the man pouted. "Ah well. Time for us to get to know each other still, I guess."

The man patted their cheek, in lieu of a handshake. The thief flinched.

"Exhibition piece?" they ventured, finally, warily, dropping their voice lower than normal. As if their identify wasn't already screwed.

"Mm." The man gave an excited nod and gestured through the air as if laying out the scene. "You. The eternal diamond. Forever. An exclusive show, of course. I wouldn't show you off to just anybody. Just opens you up to thieves, doesn't it? You know what I'm talking about."

The panic rose.

"You have to take me to prison. Turn me over to the authorities."

"I love that you think that," the man said. "So cute. God, I should have recorded that too. It's fine. I have time to get some more stuff about you to go on the displays. Anyway."

The guards returned, from wherever they'd left, and someone fired at the thief's equipment.

They fell as the cord snapped, breath knocked out of them as they hit the diamond case hard. Both them, and the jewel, went tumbling. The man stopped the diamond rolling with his foot.

The thief scrambled up in a heartbeat, not pausing before they slammed their elbow into the nearest guards, exits and entrances blueprinted on their skull.

"Shoot them," the curator said, almost lazily. "I don't want them damaging themselves."

Everything went dark.

[whumpy-daydreams]

whumpee who occasionally gives up and just lays there for a few minutes.

maybe they’re safe and just taking a breather, maybe they need a minute before attempting to save themself, maybe they’ve actually given up.

either way, they just lay there and stare at the ceiling. they’re very tired.

[whumpy-daydreams]

whump thingy i love

when whumper puts their hand out and whumpee reluctantly spits out whatever was in their mouth (key, pin, etc. if they were trying to escape) or just in a carewhumper/handler way

this could be silent or with a “spit it out.” “drop it.” if you like your pet/living weapon whump

also that with something that was a gag like undoing or wrapping the outer layer of a gag and then just making whumpee spit out the cloth or whatever was the part in their mouth

it’s just enough humiliating and intimate but also takes a level of trust in the whumpee and they are being treated like a child or pet

could be a good way to show a defiant whumpee sometimes being obedient, they know what’s expected of them and they have to pick and choose what to resist

i just find it a little detail that says so much about the relationship between the whumper and whumpee

feel free to add to this too

(also this was in part inspired by @victimeyez professional victim story that i am currently OBSESSED with, particularly inspired by the Caius and Tommy dynamic. i don’t think this specifically happens with Caius and Tommy in any of the chapters but there are definitely similar moments and god I LOVE)

[whumpy-daydreams]

ive been thinking about the parallels between living weapon and gladiator whumpees

being treated like a loaded gun, could be set off at any moment

every single second of their days is planned out. monotonous in a way, their schedule the same. mostly training with breaks for meals. scant amount of free time, if any at all. only really broken up for assignments or training/medical check ins

frequent medical exams in order to make sure they are perfect condition

being fitted for uniforms, muzzles, etc.

custom fitted restraints in general. for comfort.

the potential guilt that comes with killing for a living

so much blood on their hands

being restrained to a hospital bed/cot (and also maybe sedated) to keep them from potentially hurting the medics that treat them while injured

being locked in small rooms after their assignments while the adrenaline wears off

or maybe locked in a "kennel" of sorts while being transported

having complicated relationships with their handler(s)

over time their response to threatening situations (even if they arent actually in danger) is to fight back which can make recovery extra hard

and also just the recovery in general?

the potential of feeling almost lost and without purpose now that its all over

just. i dont think people really think about how similar living weapons and gladiators are

[whumpy-daydreams]

The best and number four

Writing masterlist

CW: living weapon, forced to watch (listen?), light dehumanisation

Whumpee looked at the ranking with relief. Fourth. Still in the top five. That was all that mattered to them now, staying in the green zone.

"Three, Four, with me." Whumpee stiffened at the sound of their commander's voice but quickly fell in step beside Three, not sparing a glance at their fellow soldier.

Whumpee knew what exactly what they were doing when they exited the elevator into the lowest floor of the compound. Their footsteps echoed against the damp concrete walls, shadows barely taking form in the dim fluorescent lights.

The commander stopped outside the closest steel door, a quick nod all the instruction they needed.

Three quickly went to work on the deadbolts, pulling each one back with a slam. Whumpee tried to calm the pounding in their chest as the door opened and the pair went in, heading straight for the shivering figure huddled on a cot against the back wall.

One didn't look up as they went for him, jaw trembling from more than just the cold as Whumpee gripped his left arm.

"Please," One whispered. "Please, no..."

It was only when they started to drag him out of the cell did One start to resist, feet digging into the floor, strong arms (too strong) pulling back against Three and Four.

"No! Please, don't!" He was screaming now and it took all of Whumpee's strength to keep hold of him as they dragged him towards the furthest room, the commander already opening the door.

Whumpee half stumbled as One yanked violently against them seeing the chair in the centre of the room, his shouts turning into sobs. Whumpee bit the inside of their cheek.

He won't remember it. It's for his own good. It's just a job.

It was like a mantra in their head, a selfish reminder that they didn't have a choice, that they weren't a monster.

This was the hardest part, getting him into the chair. One thrashed, catching Whumpee in the jaw. Three already had their side restrained and helped shove One's shoulders back as Whumpee struggled to hold his arm down long enough to secure the thick metals cuffs.

With his arms finally immobilised the rest was easier: ankles first, then the strap across his chest, and finally his head.

Whumpee looked to their commander, who jutted their head towards the door. Get out. They couldn't leave fast enough, even if it meant the next stage would come so much sooner.

Three closed the door after them, not bothering to lock it before taking position standing guard.

Whumpee matched their stance on the other side of the door, arms behind their back, feet planting firmly. Silently they braced themselves for the screaming.

It didn't take long. One's screams were raw and feral, cutting through the silent corridor and Whumpee's conscience like a scalpel. They swallowed the bile that threatened in their throat.

Did Three hate this as much as them?

Somehow they doubted it. Three had never shown any sign of a conscience, or morals at all for that matter. Whumpee supposed that was why they were higher on the ranking.

The screaming was more ragged now, choked and hoarse. They'd heard it enough times to know that they were around the fifteen minute mark. Another fifteen and it would be over.

Whumpee knew the routine well. They just didn't know why it happened. One was the best: the most efficient, the most ruthless, the most powerful, the most loyal. At least for three weeks. And then it was like he turned into another person, a person who didn't enjoy hurting others or taking orders. And then they'd bring him down here and the whole cycle would start again.

If you did that they'd decommission you.

But Whumpee wasn't the best. Whumpee wasn't even the second best. Whumpee was fourth. Barely above Five, barely staying in the green zone of warm showers and palatable food.

If you were number one they wouldn't need to do this to you.

The screams were now ragged gasps, quickly getting swallowed by the steel door until only the sound of flickering fluorescence lingered in the corridor.

A few moments later and the door opened, the commander stalking past Whumpee and Three without a second glance. They didn't waste time before heading inside.

One was limp in the chair, breathing shaky and uneven, eyes rolled back under half-closed eyelids. They undid the restraints quickly, pulling One's arm around their shoulder and heaving him upright, dragging the dead weight man out of the room, his feet trailing uselessly behind him.

They headed towards the elevator, past the open door of the cell they had first dragged him from kicking and screaming. Whumpee wasn't sure if they preferred One's unnatural silence.

Upstairs, Whumpee and Three deposited One in his room, the regular one that wasn't kept freezing cold. Three left without a second glance but Whumpee lingered for a second, watching One's chest rise and fall.

Was it not enough? Being the best? Whumpee told themselves they didn't understand why the commander had to keep breaking One. Why One kept defying his superiors. Why he couldn't just accept the privileges that came with being the best.

He's holding onto his humanity. Just like you gave yours up to be number four.

[whumpy-daydreams]

whump responses to "I'm sorry"

whumper

"For what? Let me hear you say it."

"You don't even know what 'sorry' is. Not yet."

"Really? Then beg me for forgiveness. Then we'll see how I feel." (bonus if Whumper makes them get on their knees)

"I don't care. This is happening either way."

"It's okay. I have a feeling you'll make it up to me."

"Good. You know you did wrong. I guess that means you're ready to accept your punishment?"

"No, you're not - you're sorry you got caught."

"You fucking should be."

"Prove it."

caretaker

“Hey, no big deal. What are friends for, right?”

“Whumpee, I told you, you don’t have to apologize for this kind of stuff. It’s alright.”

“Jesus, Whumpee, ow! I get that you’re nervous, but I need you to not throw a punch whenever people get close!”

“You don’t have to apologize for that. I of all people understand.”

"Shhh, I know, lie back down. You really need to rest. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

“You know what, don’t even apologize, I’m just glad to see you finally standing up for yourself.”

“Um, for what?”

"It's fine." (It's obviously not)

“It’s okay, I guess I need to remember not to sneak up on you.” [nervous laughter]

"Don't apologize, I got the food for you. You can have some whenever you want, okay?"

"Nah, it's no prob - oh shit, are you crying?"

[whumpy-daydreams]

kidnapping positions

send one for a starter featuring my muse, your muse or both of our muses (feel free to specify)...

duct taped to a chair

drenched with water & regularly half-drowned to keep them semi-conscious at most

tied somewhere with rising water levels

in the trunk of a car

in the back of a truck

in the back of a police vehicle

in the backseat of a car, trying to draw other drivers' attention

buried alive in a car/other vehicle

buried alive in a coffin (or casket, or burial shroud, etc)

strapped to a table & chemically restrained

strapped to a table & being operated on

strapped to a table & being tortured/injured for information

chained to a wall in a cold room

chained to the ceiling so they have to stand on tip-toes to reach the ground

locked in a small container (fridge, freezer, storage chest)

duct taped & gagged in a cupboard

duct taped & gagged in a bathroom

duct taped & gagged in another part of a house, basement or mansion

dumped in a river (possibly drugged, duct taped, etc)

left in a dumpster (possibly drugged, duct taped, etc)

left for dead in this creative way: (fill in the blank)

having just escaped from their kidnapper and badly needing food/water/medical attention/etc

having just escaped from their kidnapper and making that first phonecall home to say hello, I'm alive

having just escaped from their kidnapper and making the decision to turn back around to help (another muse) escape, as well

[whumpy-daydreams]

"Are you going to kill me?”

"No." Whumper said it simply, the word ringing with finality, like something he'd already made up his mind on. He'd thought it through, that part was clear. If he wanted Whumpee dead, they would've been.

Whumpee's terror only grew. They stifled any facial response, a widening of the eyes or a tremor to their hands, yet that all became pointless the very moment Whumper stepped forward. The hurricane of thoughts swirling around in their mind clouded their vision, pushing and prodding around their brain, forcefully taking the reins. They flinched.

Whumper caught it. A flicker of a amusement flashed across their face, alongside their overwhelming sense of pride. In that moment, where wary eyes met predatory ones, they both knew one thing for certain. With Whumper, death became the better alternative.

Whumper's hand made its way onto Whumpee's shoulder, and the latter didn't dare make a move. Any escape plan seemed a liability with this proximity, and Whumper's fingers digging in did not help turn that thought down. Rationale faded and fear took its place. "Did you truly think I was going to let you off so easily?”

"..No." Of course not. They'd hoped for it, though. Stupid.

He knew they did. He could see the way the hope still lingered in their expression despite their answer, the spark they'd tried to convince themself no longer existed. He leaned closer, head tilted to the side. "Good. I don't give mercy.”

"I know.”

He watched them for a moment. Watched their expression, the obvious hint of defeat. Still, defeat did not overpower the little bit of fight that defined their core.

No matter. It was his job to put that fire out, and he did not lack the means to do so.

"Then you shouldn't have tried to run.”

[whumpy-daydreams]

Whumper holds a recaptured Whumpee by the chin, examining the new collage of bruises and bloody wounds on their body.

“Hmm…they’ve been sloppy with you.”

“Yeah, because you were always so gentle,” Whumpee spits and tries to wrench away, and is immediately met with a blow to the face.

“Sloppy in more ways than one. I guess I need to remind you not to have a smart mouth - not with me.”

[whumpy-daydreams]

whumpee looking at themself in the mirror after a particularly gruelling experiment, or perhaps a series of experiments, that changed them physically. seeing what had changed; what they had gained, what they had lost. looking at their own reflection and not recognizing the gaunt, tired face staring back at them

[whumpy-daydreams]

“He won’t respond, we gave him haldol first to keep him quiet.”

Scientists that drug their unwilling subjects so that they don’t have to put up with bad behavior while they work!!

The subject blearily watching them.. unable to voice protest or resist but still flinching in pain when needles pierce their skin and other unpleasant things are done to them!!!

Then practically melting off the table when their restraints are undone and the guards walk/ carry them back to their cell to sleep the nightmare off !!!!

[whumpy-daydreams]

one of my all time favorite whump tropes is when someone with superpowers is experimented on. the impossibility of it – someone so strong, so powerful, is being restrained and hurt. maybe they're being cut into. maybe they're being drained. maybe they're being forced to use their power in a way that hurts themself or others. and oh the restraints that have to be specific to their powers. extremely heavy chains for someone with super strength, a gag for someone who's power comes from their voice, burning restraints for someone with water or ice powers. and collars – power suppressors, shock collars, you name it. there's just so much you can do with this

[whumpy-daydreams]

Living weapon whumpee x lab whumpee

Weapon whumpee will protect lab whumpee with their life

Maybe they met them while still with whumper, maybe they met them once they both escaped/got rescued and just became friends, (I like to think they were both in a program to get a caretaker because they didn't know anyone that would take care of them)

Just a weapon who would protect their new friend who they know have gone through difficult times before, they don't want them to ever be in pain like that again

[whumpy-daydreams]

Medical Whump Idea

Give your lab rat Whumpee iatrogenic anemia

iatrogenic: acquired as a result of a medical treatment or diagnostic procedure

commonly develops in people who have frequent blood drawings

all the symptoms of anemia/iron deficiency:

extreme fatigue

weakness

chest pain, fast heartbeat or shortness of breath

headache, dizziness or lightheadedness

no appetite

etc

How does scientist Whumper react? Do they disregard and continue with testing? Do they decide to treat the condition (with blood transfusions, which could mess up the point of whatever it is they were initially testing for)?

[whumpy-daydreams]

Strong hands dragged Whumpee to the ground and bound his wrists with heavy-duty zip ties.

"Still wanna be a fuckin rebel!?"

Whumper growled, as he grabbed a handful of hair and shoved the side of Whumpee's face roughly into the gravel.

"Running from me isn't an option -

Got it!?"