friendlesscat

[friendlesscat]

Whumpee was not in his right mind.

He thrashed and fought against Leader and Caretaker, wailing and pleading to be let go.

It was clear he couldn’t hear them calling his name, trying to comfort him to no avail and prevent him from hurting himself in his panic.

Caretaker held steady, trying his hardest to be gentle. He fought with himself watching Whumpee suffer in his grip. How was he supposed to convince Whumpee they were trying to help, when this was exactly what Whumper did to him?

[friendlesscat]

Guess who liked whump so much that they're now studying medicine just to have cooler and more accurate whumpy fantasies? Yep, that's me. But! Instead, for now, here is a quick whumpy midnight doodle (almost wrote noodle, hahaha)

(My silly computer won't function properly so it's a very literal screen-shot, hahahaha- I'll see myself out)

[friendlesscat]

hear me out: leaders who are also healers.

(this got away from me a little bit. but trust me.)

first medic and front liner. your team relies on you for direction, for support, so you'll be whatever they need.

you call the shots as they are. you're the final say on every plan. they look at you and it's with respect and a raw kind of innocence; the weight of which rests on your shoulders alone.

(you better not let them down.)

if things go wrong, it's your fault, and it's your job to fix it in every way that matters. next plan, next exit, next improvised solution.

then you're on your knees in the dirt with bloody hands and steady, steady, steady fingers. you're the field sergeant and field medic. both roles get your hands dirty.

you almost prefer the killing to the healing, at this point. you've nearly killed them so many times now.

(you can't fail them.)

take a shot and walk it off, hit the ground and up you get, your pain is expendable when the team calls your name, begs for your aid.

they don't need to beg, because you'll be there. always.

when they need a cool head, you give it. when they're wounded and need help, you give it. when they need someone to lean on, to cry on, to vent to, you give it.

when they need someone to blame, you can take it.

you can take it. you always have. you'll be there, you'll take the shots and you'll get the fuck back up, because it hurts, but you can't fail them. you can take it.

(until you can't.)

if this prompt inspires you to create, please tag me!!!

[friendlesscat]

Whump Oneshot

1.5k Words

TW: Past abuse mentioned, child abuse, guns, trauma, slight panic attack, swearing.

Team Leader was pissed, it was clear on his face as Medic's hands ran over his body. Normally, he would've let his head tip back, pleasured sighs coming from his lips as his lover showered him with soft praise and affection, but he just sat there, rigid as his hands gripped Medic's hips.

Team Leader's eyes were trained on the monitors, watching the cameras. Waiting. The whiskey in his hand did very little to soothe his anger.

“What are you going to do?” Medic asked, hands slipping beneath Team Leader's shirt as she sat upon his lap, running her hands over his waist and abs and chest like she was trying to get him to break, but he was furious. Not even his lover's touch could calm him.

“Whatever needs to be done.” As if on cue, the door to his office opened, and Youngest walked through, guilt clear as day on their face. He patted Medic's hip once, beckoning her to get up. “Leave us.”

After some hesitance, Medic left the two of them in his office. Team Leader leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to remain somewhat calm. “Haven't seen you around today,” he said flatly, eyes fixed on his monitors before landing directly on Youngest's anxious yet defiant gaze. “What were you doing?”

They averted their gaze, chewing on the inside of their cheek for a moment. “Nothing.” They held their frame, not faltering, but their hands fidgeted behind their back.

Team Leader stood from his seat. “You want to try again?” he asked as he pulled a cloth from his pocket, unfolding it to reveal a strand of blue hair. No mistake, it was Youngest's. The dye job was patchy and the hair was far from healthy. “What. Were. You. Doing.”

Youngest tensed, then reached for their gun. They were still new to this. They knew that they couldn't mess up. They hadn't earned their permanent place here. But they had fucked up badly. They knew they were in deep shit. Mercy had not been earned.

Team Leader was quicker, pulling out his gun and pointing it directly at them. He didn't flinch. He didn't falter. He knew damn well that he wasn't going to give them mercy. They didn't deserve it.

“You won't shoot me,” Youngest said, though they didn't sound too sure. They still had their hand on their gun, but it was pointed at the ground. They feared raising it. They didn't know what would happen if they did.

“No?” The unmistakable click of the pistol as his thumb moved on the gun echoed throughout the room. His pointer finger rested on the trigger. A threat.

Youngest froze, hands suddenly trembling and heart hammering. They weren't sure what they should do, so they stood there, staring in shock.

“What did you think you'd find?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Were you trying to get dirt on me? Trying to find blackmail information? Were you trying to steal?” He shook his head and smiled, but there was no joy in his expression. “I don't like thieves.”

Ironic, Youngest thought to themselves, but they were too afraid to say anything. They stood there, breaths slow and calculated.

“You see, I've done this for a while, kid.” He walked around his desk, slowly advancing towards Youngest. “If you think I won't catch your mistakes, you are sadly mistaken.”

Youngest quit breathing when Team Leader stood next to them, standing as stiff and straight as a board. They were scared. They hated to admit it, but they were truly scared. They knew what he was capable of, and they had still crossed him. But… they also didn't feel too guilty.

Team Leader noticed the defiance that sparked behind Youngest's eyes, and it only pissed him off more. Instead of continuing the lecture, the barrel of his gun slammed into their jaw, the noise echoing throughout the room. Before they could double over in pain, he grabbed their arm, holding them up so they wouldn't fall.

“Try that again…”

He leaned close to their ear, squeezing their arm in a silent threat.

“And I'll put a bullet in your head.”

***

Medic watched as Youngest strode down the hall–no, they looked like they were running from something, but no one was following them. “What's wrong?”

Youngest didn't respond, only continuing to walk away from what had just happened. They clutched their jaw, eyes burning as they headed towards their room.

They slammed the door shut, pressing their back against the wall as their chest heaved. They couldn't breathe. The panic was clawing at their heart and lungs and aching in their stomach.

In and out

In and out.

But it wasn't working. They slid down the wall, landing on the floor and clutching their chest as they tried to keep calm, but it wasn't working. Tears were streaming down their cheeks, hot against the bruise forming on the left side of their face.

They thought that they had escaped the pain and hurt from their past. They thought joining this group would make them tougher and give them a reason to keep going. They thought it would take their fear away. If they could kill someone, no one could hurt them anymore.

But they were wrong.

And they had really fucked up.

***

Medic barged into Team Leader's room, anger obvious on her face as she waltzed over to his desk and looking down at where he was sitting. “What the hell did you do?”

“What had to be done,” he responded, wiping a cloth over his gun, polishing it as if it was a living thing.

“They're just a kid,” Medic said, exasperation and anger evident in her tone. She couldn't believe him. “I know you're mad at them for what they did, and that's fine, but just know that was exactly how you used to behave.” She ran a hand through her hair, blowing out a breath. “You… You're behaving like a hypocrite.”

“Are you done telling me how to run my business?” he asked, calm, not looking up at her.

She scoffed and shook her head. She could see it on his face–guilt. Sure, he was ruthless and murderous and sometimes cruel, but he had been a struggling teen at one point, too. He knew how Youngest felt.

“Fix it,” she said, slamming the door on her way out.

***

Team Leader made his way down the long halls of what had become the team's base, strolling slowly as if trying to avoid the task that had been forced on him. He knew that Medic was right, but he'd be damned if he went soft on some kid. No one went soft on him when he was in their shoes.

He stopped in front of their door, letting out a loud exhale before raising his hand and knocking on the door. Twice. Hesitant, but firm. “Youngest?” he called when he got no response to the knocking. Still nothing. Team Leader hesitated for a moment before slowly turning the doorknob and opening the door.

The sight he was met with was nothing short of pitiful. Youngest was sitting on the floor next to their bed, face buried in their knees. When they lifted their head, Team Leader could see that they had been crying. Tears tracks stained their cheeks, and their nose was red. It was pathetic.

Youngest flinched as Team Leader stepped towards them, and Team Leader paused, dread settling in his stomach. He had really done it this time. Shit, he thought to himself, leaning against the wall across from Youngest. Shit.

Team Leader remembered the state Youngest was in when they had first shown up–bruises littering their skin, handprints on their neck, round burns on their arms that couldn't be from anything but cigarettes. Maybe that was why they always tensed when he smoked. Maybe that was why they always left when things got heated.

He slowly sat down a few feet away from Youngest, back against the wall as he watched them. He could see the panic in their eyes–the pure fear. Like a cornered animal.

He had really fucked up.

“Kid,” he started, and he didn't miss the way that their fingers dug into the carpet, squeezing it like a vice. “I… I shouldn't have lashed out at you.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “Or hit you. I…” He hated to say it, but he knew that it was what he had to do. “I'm sorry.”

They lifted their head and bit more, meeting his gaze for a split second before looking away. “I'm sorry, too…” they whispered, burying their face in their knees again. “For, uh… sneaking into your house…”

“It's okay,” he said, slowly moving to sit next to them. He didn't miss the way that they tensed up. He didn't want them to be afraid. He just wanted a little respect. Trust, even. “I… I get it.” Slowly–slowly–Team Leader's hand lowered, dropping onto Youngest's back. He didn't move it or do anything. He just left it there. He could feel their shoulders shaking, quiet sobs coming from the kid's lips. “It's okay,” he whispered, looking down at their blue hair. “It's okay, kid.”

[friendlesscat]

the team’s mission didn’t go to plan. countless injured, dozens killed, the enemy still at large— a failure in its entirety. Leader, inevitably, blames themself.

back at headquarters, they work nonstop. moving from place to place, giving orders, taking calls, checking on injured teammates. even when the fighting is over, there’s still so much to do.

Leader approaches Right Hand to update them on the situation. words tumble over one another as they try to remember everything they need to say, so afraid of forgetting anything because it’s their job to clear up the mess they’ve made. the least they can do is try and make up for the damage they caused, the chaos, the lives they couldn’t save.

then Right Hand interrupts. they put one hand on Leader’s shoulder, lean in close and ask:

“Leader, are you okay?”

and Leader just breaks.

[friendlesscat]

I want a whumpblr roommate so that I can ask them to help me act out poses and see if it's feasible lmao

I'm editing a fic that I really want out today and I'm like. is this doable the way I'm imagining it. I'm overthinking. I'm sure it is. But what if it isn't

[friendlesscat]

Why are the whumperflies so fickle? Why do they only show themselves when it is a male/ masc person? Why is it pretty much only one character per series/ movie? Why do I have to have all the context in the world for what's happening?

Don't get me wrong, I like most forms of whump. But so much of it doesn't give me the whumperflies? Does anyone else's brain have an annoying checklist like this?

[friendlesscat]

Sooooooo, here's another super specific, whumpy scenario I came up with.

Imagine, a character, the Whumpee, with magic powers that can heal. It is not their main power, but they have done it before when they healed minor injuries of their friends/family.

The Whumpee gets ambushed or something, and the Bad Guy manages to slash their throat. The Whumpee grubs their bleeding neck and falls out of view of their friends/family. Everyone is thinking that they are dead, because there is no way the Whumpee could survive such an injury, but they have to keep going because the Bad Guy is still after them.

Just as the Bad Guy is about to finish off everyone off, the Whumpee reappears and protects their friends/family. Everyone is shocked and relieved, but the Whumpee still looks terrible. Their neck is covered in blood, and there is cacked, almost dried blood, on their chin and lips. When the Whumpee grins/snarls, their teeth are bloodstained, but they look determined to protect their friends/family from the Bad Guy no matter what.

Turns out the Whumpee, when the grasped the wound with their hands and fell out of view, were able to close off the wound with their healing magic. But maybe they didn't have enough power to deal with the extreme blood loss. Maybe they still feel the phantom pain of the neck wound. Maybe they used too much magical power for healing. Maybe they only had power/time/knowledge to fix the most important parts of the neck wound, and their vocal cords are still damaged, so now they can't/have trouble speaking. Maybe underneath all the blood, the wound is glowing with the magic that is still seeping out from the Whumpee's body.

Is this might seem really specific, yeah, I was daydreaming about one of my hyperfixations, but this scenario was just too cool to pass up. I might draw some visuals for this one later 🤔 😌

[friendlesscat]

The thing with magic is that you will start experiencing physical symptoms if you overuse it.

Healer Whumpee who regularly overextends themself while healing others.

They lie through their teeth saying that they're still okay, they can help some more (all the while their head is killing them)

They overuse mana potions. Depending on the setting this could actually be very dangerous for them. But they have to do this. They're the only one who can help.

Whumpee who uses the rest of their powers to heal a teammate, and then immediately passes out. Now needing to be the one who gets taken care of

The team insisting that they can just use some of the potions or wear a bandage for a while but No, Whumpee has to make sure that they've done everything they can to help. They need to be useful.

Whumpee who would heal someone in a dangerous position even if it meant they'd be putting themself in more risk

Major bonus points if, while all of that is true, Whumpee is not at all softspoken and people-pleasing. In fact it's the oppsite. They're snappy, they grumble about someone getting hurt, they will do all of that, and then in the same breath say that they don't even care about their teammates at all.

But they will not leave. They're loyal, they care and love too much, and are too embarrassed to fully admit it.

[friendlesscat]

How to Ignore Magical Healing

One of the things I encounter often in media or when writing is the existence of magic, and therefore healing spells. In most magic systems, it renders long-term whump, recovery, or even classic medical tending unnecessary, or just irrelevant. That can be discouraging and uninspiring at times.

We can’t all choose what world The Blorbo™ heralds from, so sometimes we get stuck with a universe that complicates the whump instinct. So, here are some prompts for avoiding magical healing in your whumping!

Wound-based

Prompts that prevent wounds from healing

It’s Just TOO Bad: Uh oh, the healing isn’t working because the wound itself is too bad to fix

Unnatural Origins: The healing isn’t working because the wound itself isn’t natural and so cannot be healed by magical means OR the whumpee is inhuman/the in-universe equivalent, and the magic doesn’t recognize them as something that can be healed (robots, aliens, vampires, etc)

Ailments: The Whumpee has a curse/illness (like the Malady effect in Metaphor: ReFantazio) preventing them from healing at all, so that ailment must be cured before they can heal up 

Prior Requirements: Something must be done before a healing spell can be cast (removing a bullet so it doesn’t fester, stitching the wound so it can heal smoothly)

Poison: The weapon was laced with a poison that, amongst its many effects, is preventing any healing magic from reaching the wound

Situation-based

Prompts to stop your party from casting because of the predicament they’re in

Exhaustion: The party is already at their limits, and they can’t afford another healing spell OR the party doesn’t want to spend anymore magic until it’s absolutely necessary OR The party has already used all of the items in their disposal that provide magical healing (like life stones in SMT)

Prevention: The party cannot reach Whumpee to heal them (barriers, cells, or perhaps the party is otherwise occupied by fighting?)

Dangerous Territory: If the party were to stop and heal Whumpee, they would waste precious time/make too much noise/put themselves in a bad place, so Whumpee has to make it a little further before they can fix the problem

Fear Response: Whumpee has prior poor experiences with magic or healing, and is refusing treatment for as long as they can hold out OR whumpee is magically convinced the party is going to hurt them (fear effects, brainwashing, feeblemind spell in D&D)

Magic Nullification: Magic isn’t allowed (a tournament) or possible (area of effect magic prevention) and the team must make do without

Universe-based

Prompts to engineer/alter the universal requirements to stop magical healing

Risky Measures: Healing spells rely on the wounded person’s energy. If a powerful spell is cast on a poorly off Whumpee, it could use the last of Whumpee’s energy, and kill them

Exchange Theory: Any pain healed on Whumpee is transferred to the person casting the healing spell OR the wound itself is transferred onto someone else

Fine Print: This particular healing spell requires a very specific item (like diamonds in resurrection for D&D) and the team has to find/buy it before they can heal the whumpee

It Just Hurts: Healing spells don’t include pain relief, so when casted, Whumpee can feel every part of their wounds healing (like bones readjusting or flesh stretching)

They Don’t Exist: Healing spells themselves don’t exist, and instead creative ways of wound care are invented like slowing down blood flow or encouraged immune system responses

Final notes

Something you can play with here is if the characters have never practiced first aid! Your caretakers might have no idea how to pack a wound or splint a fracture. Lots of mistakes and tension can grow from there.

Don’t be afraid to alter the universe you’re writing in. Fuck it up, really. There’s something enchanting about adding specific rules in a given world. Adding those requirements gives depth you can play in as a sandbox. Or you can throw the team into a completely different universe, if that’s your fancy!

And remember: you never need to write it realistically. Ignore the healing spells, throw the whumpee in a no-magic AU, hell, just take healing away from those specific people to prevent it–do whatever you want, whatever seems interesting, and have fun doing it. There’s no need to make it seamless. Make it bloody first.

Now, go beat the shit out of your blorbos. 

Love yall! 

- Seth

post dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[friendlesscat]

Origins of Enjar - Chapter 10: Court Date

CW: Alcoholism, suicidal ideation, graphic descriptions of gore

Enjar went straight to his room after the funeral, and didn’t leave for days.

Anna checked in on him a bit, mostly to make sure he was still alive, and he was just staring lifelessly at the wall.

Sometimes she’d pull him close and let him cry into her chest, or sit him up and try to feed him.

He’d stopped eating again…

He was losing weight fast, and the nights…

Anna woke up every night, multiple times a night to screaming and crying. Enjar was thrashing in his sheets, screaming about the island… the doctors… his trauma. Anna would rush in and wake him up, calming his breaths as he cried, and holding him as he wailed.

One night she awoke to a strange feeling. Turning, she looked at her open door, and saw Enjar standing in the doorway, mumbling to himself as he stared at them. Anna’s stomach turned a little. He looked creepy, his flat hair had been growing long and was hanging limply, reaching just below his jawline, in oily tendrils. His eyes shone in the dark, wide and white as he turned and shuffled down the hallway talking to himself.

Anna heard Stephen shift, sitting up.

“What the fuck?” He asked, glancing at Anna, who went to leave. Stephen grabbed her wrist, “No Anna.”

Anna turned, shocked. “What? Stephen, he’s sleep walking! I have to get him back to bed before he hurts himself.”

Stephen made a face, squeezing her wrist tighter, painfully tight. “No. I don’t want you going near him. What if he hurts you?”

Anna shook her head. “He’s harmless… He’s just upset. He needs to be in bed, resting.”

Stephen scoffed. “Anna. Your brother kills people for a living. That’s what he does. He’s a sniper! He's dangerous! You saw him! He looked like he was about to pull out a knife and stab us!”

Anna shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that!”

Stephen chuckled in disbelief, “You tell me he wouldn’t? Did you see him? He’s a psycho! A nutjob! His mind is gone Anna, he’s gone, and the best place for him is somewhere where they can keep him controlled and doped up so he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Stephen’s fingers squeezed Anna’s wrist so tight that she yelped.

“Stephen, you’re hurting me!” She yanked her wrist out of his grip when it faltered slightly, massaging it as she went hunting for her brother. She found him at the top of their stairs, staring and talking to nobody.

She did have to admit it was creepy.

“Enni? Enni, come on, let’s go back to bed.” Anna murmured, reaching out to touch Enjar, who had began shuffling away. His toes caught on the edge of the rug below his feet and he teetered forwards, landing hard on his face. Anna rushed to his side as he came to, glancing around, confused.

“En! En, it’s okay. I’m here.” Anna tried to comfort him but as he touched he jolted like she’d electrocuted him. His eyes gazed at her, scared.

“Leave me alone…” He whimpered in a tiny voice, eyes glittering as tears welled up high. “Shhh, it’s just me…” Anna whispered trying to catch his eyes, but they were distant…

Was he still asleep?

“En.” She took his shoulders as he yelped, and pulled him close, holding him as he twitched in her grip. “It’s me. You’re safe. You’re safe…”

She stroked his head as Enjar went limp in her arms, only for him to grab her shoulders and hold her even closer, as he began sobbing and muttering her name. He pulled back, looking around, confused.

“Where…?”

“You were sleep walking, Enni.”

Enjar’s eyes bulged slightly, a haunted look on his face as Anna helped him to his feet. He was freezing. Enjar’s weak, bumbling fingers fumbled at his t-shirt collar, as he gulped.

“I need this off… Get it off, get it off!” He became desperate, his useless, damaged fingers clawing at the hem of his shirt as his sister whipped it up and over his head…

Enjar suddenly felt less claustrophobic, less choked…

The shirt reminded him too much of the patient gowns, he kept thinking he was back there, he needed it to stop.

All of it.

He needed to go numb.

Weeks of nightmares were beginning to weigh on his mind as Anna guided him down the stairs to his room, and tucked him in. She snuggled into his side, holding him tight as he faked falling asleep.

As he lay still, listening to the crickets, he turned everything over in his mind. It was like a movie was permanently playing in his head and he couldn’t turn it off. Everything was so painful, his scars, his weak, useless fingers, his arms he could barely move… his face…

Everything was pain.

Life was pain and he was losing the ability to cope.

~~

Enjar’s heart was pounding.

He stared at the large courtroom wearing his uniform once more, as Anna’s small hand gently touched his own, squeezing them.

“You’re okay…” She whispered.

Enjar nodded, as he watched more people file in, and then him.

Viktor Madsen.

Murderer, rapist and the man who had kidnapped Clara Rasmussen. The 26 year old hairdresser with whom Madsen had developed an obsession with. She also happened to be the daughter of a politician. She sat a few seats from Enjar, and managed to catch his eye, smiling.

Enjar turned to her, his scar becoming visible, and her smile faltered as Enjar tried to smile back, with his strange, lopsided face. That movement was still hard for his damaged muscles and the pain didn’t help.

His eyes watched as the middle aged man was walked into the courtroom and sat down, hands in cuffs, his balding head and greying beard framing his deep set, strikingly blue eyes.

They sent shivers down Enjar’s spine.

His face was mangled, his nose broken and reset several times in an effort to undo the damage of Enjar’s desperate, lifesaving fists.

His eye socket looked a bit strange, and he was missing a lot of teeth.

Enjar couldn’t help but feel a bit happy he’d managed to put that monster through at least a tiny bit of the pain he’d put his victims through.

Soon proceedings began, the jury taking their seats and lawyers beginning to pick apart everything that Madsen had done. Graphic pictures were flashed onto TV screens, showing what had happened to his 6 other victims, their bodies disembowelled whilst they were still alive, throats slit and breasts sliced up. He would bite chunks out of their organs and…

Enjar wanted to throw up when they got to the necrophilia.

Madsen cackled and jeered as the lawyers described how he’d used the slits in the poor victim’s stomachs as a place to finish…

Enjar couldn’t listen as he tried to force the images from his mind.

The jury all looked horrified, and a few seemed to swallow puke rising up in their throats.

“And then, he develops a connection with a hairdresser, Clara Rasmussen. He kidnaps her from her work and drives her to a bunker on a tiny island in a lake, and-”

The lawyer glanced at Clara.

“-did unspeakable things to her.”

Soon she was invited to the stand, and gave her testimony of her ordeal. She had been stuck in that pitch black bunker for a week. Enjar and his team…

They should’ve got to her.

They should’ve…

They…

He squeezed Anna’s wrist, noticing her wince. Looking down, his eyes locked onto a fading bruise around her wrist, and he’d been held down enough by the nurses to recognise a hand print now…

“Anna.” He murmured, barely audible. “What is this?”

Anna glanced at it, yanking the sleeve of her blazer down, and grabbing Enjar’s hand in both of her own.

“Nothing. It’s fine."

Enjar frowned.

Did he do that to her?

Did he hurt his sister and not remember?

His stomach began tying itself in knots as he felt nauseous, only for Anna to touch his arm. His eyes snapped to hers, and she nodded.

“You’re up.” She said, handing him his cane.

It pained him to still need it. He could walk, but he was still so weak…

He needed to rest half way as he caught his breath. Bth the lawyers representing their clients gazed at it, then each other as a security guard helped Enjar get the rest of the way.

Then the interrogation began.

“Can you state your number and title for the record?”

“Officer 6929, Squad A, SWAT division. Sniper.” He responded robotically, his posture straightening as he saw Sommer glaring at him from the crowd.

“And Officer 6926, can you please recount what happened that day?”

Enjar nodded shakily…

His mouth opening, but words refusing to form on his tongue as the days… weeks and months or torment flashed in front of his eyes in a single second.

“It- It was raining…”

The entire audience watched him as he explained hearing the screams of his comrades through the trees, the point of the mission, the anxiety as the pressure plates clicked behind him, the gun shots from the trees…

Watching his friends die…

“And here is the body cam footage of that day.” A lawyer said, clicking on a video from a small TV beside Enjar.

Everyone watched in silence as they watched the demise of each of Enjar’s friends, one by one. A bang, followed by the ground quickly rushing up to the camera and an eerie stillness…

Enjar’s heart tore in two when he heard Jan mutter a quick, desperate prayer before he climbed the rock to cover them.

Finally they got to his footage. It was much the same.

He saw his friends, heard their voices…

And then he watched their final moments.

It was too much, it was exactly like his memories were being played on a screen for everyone to see…

The click of the jammed gun made his stomach turn, and Enjar watched as Viktor launched himself from his hiding spot at Enjar, machete flashing as it connected with Enjar’s helmet. The judge flinching in his chair as they listened to Enjar cry out, the body cam revealing Madsen straddling Enjar, and Enjar’s arms shielding his face as blood began to fly around.

The blade went red in real time with Enjar’s blood. There was a cry, desperate and wild, like an animal as the footage shifted, Enjar and Madsen grunting as they wrestled, then catching Enjar’s fists as the flattened Madsen’s nose.

Through his loud panting, everyone heard the bones in Viktor’s face snap, as Enjar knocked him unconscious, scrambling off his body and kneeling as his chest heaved for a moment.

The footage swayed as Enjar moaned slightly, and then went black, showing only a small sliver of sky in the corner, and his left arm bleeding profusely into the puddle, the water going red as his blood spilled into it.

“So we have irrefutable evidence that Viktor Madsen not only attacked and nearly killed one officer, but did kill four others. He murdered them in cold blood, and they all suffered long, agonizing deaths.”

The lawyer clicked to the next phase of his presentation.

Enjar stared, stone-faced at the images of each and every one of his teammates, lying in the rain, faces blown off, bullets through their skulls, blank, glassy eyes staring from grey, bloodless faces… If they had any face left…

Then each autopsy photos.

Dirt in fingernails, blood and gore… Mads’ brain dripping all over the table… Jan’s eye had come out. Jón was opened up so everyone could see how the bullets had ripped through his spine, paralysing him instantly and killing him.

Enjar wanted to throw up, but he confirmed that they were his friends…

“And we can see in the flesh what damage he Officer 6926, but this was the direct aftermath.”

The lawyer clicked to more images. It was another man laying naked on an operating table, except he had tubes and wires all over him, and a tube in his throat, and huge lacerations on his arms… Tourniquets cut off the blood supply to his arms, turning them blue...

It was him.

They’d taken evidence whilst he was still unconscious on the operating table. Pictures of his scars, both open and freshly sewn together, dried blood still staining his stark white skin…

They clicked through more, him in the bed, bruised and beaten, unconscious, apparently for a week before he’d come around.

Pictures of his facial wound up close, his arms, being limply held up by a pair of hands… Lauge’s.

His medical records. It felt as if they had stripped Enjar naked and autopsied him in front of the entire court.He felt so exposed, and as he glanced at Viktor, his stomach turned.

Viktor was grinning with glee. He seemed more excited about the ordeal Enjar had been through than his kills.

Enjar’s face hardened as he answered more questions, his voice quieter, eyes lowered, mind reeling.

He had no idea how many times he’d been drugged and raped by Lauge… How many times had Sommer or his team taken pictures of him.

“And this is the body cam footage, when they found the witness and Mr Madsen.”

The lawyer’s voice broke Enjar’s thoughts as they played a blurry clip, of people rushing up to Enjar’s lifeless looking body lying in a puddle of blood in the rain. His eyes were shut, body slack as they checked for a pulse, and upon finding out he was alive, ripping him from the ground and carrying him away.

At some point Enjar’s eyes opened, and stared blankly into the camera, just like his teammates’ dead bodies did… Enjar felt his body shiver as it tingled with anxiety.

He wanted it to stop.

They paused as soon as the helicopter medics rushed towards them, and Enjar turned back to Madsen, who looked beyond excited.

Enjar sat in silence as the lawyer asked him more questions, linking his haunted responses back to all the footage the court had just sat through.

“And so, you felt you had to kill Mr Madsen to save your life?” One of the lawyers asked, snapping Enjar out of the numb feeling in his mind.

Enjar didn’t know which lawyer asked it.

“Yes. He tried to kill me. I was just trying to survive.”

“And you were hospitalised for just under two months?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Officer 6926.”

Answering a few more questions, Enjar felt like he was looking through someone else’s eyes, until the judge leaned down and broke his glassy stare.

“Officer, you’ve been dismissed."He nodded, feeling numb as he walked past Viktor, back to Anna, who was white as a sheet. She wordlessly pulled him into a hug, rocking him slowly, holding him tight.

He sat through the rest of the trial for that day, unsure if he’d make it through the rest of it.

Doctors spoke, Sommer spoke, some random lady spoke. A bunch of important experts spoke. Enjar didn’t remember much after that. Anna shook him gently after a while, breaking the static fuzz in his mind.

“En, it’s over for today.”

Enjar looked up at her, nodding as she helped him to his feet. His braced as he sensed someone coming over.

Looking up, it was an intimidated looking Clara.

“Hey.” She spoke softly, meeting his gaze with soft brown eyes, “Enjar, right?”

Enjar held onto Anna’s arm for support as he nodded.

Clara’s eyes filled with tears, “Can I hug you?”

Enjar thought for a moment, before nodding. Clara rushed into his arms, holding him close, as she burst into tears. “Thank you, thank you, thank you… I’m so sorry… You’re like this because of me… I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry… You should hate me… I’m so sorry…”

Enjar’s gentle hand found itself between her shoulder blades, as he shook his head.

“Never be sorry for needing my help. He did this, not you. I- We would all do it again if it meant keeping you safe.”

Clara practically collapsed into his body, as some people stood awkwardly, waiting for her to finish. Enjar held her protectively, he couldn’t save her then, he’d failed her then…

The least he could do was protect her now.

Clara gasped as she pulled away. “T-Thank y-y-ou” She stuttered, as Enjar nodded, smiling softly. She turned to one of the people, and they walked with her out of the court.

Enjar followed, clinging to Anna for support, leaning on his cane hard. His legs were just refusing to work… They felt like jelly.

On the way back home, he ripped his uniform off in the back seat of the car, opening his shirt with much difficulty, the tiny plastic buttons still hard for his sluggish, numb fingers to undo. Anna glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

“How you going?”

Enjar just stared out the window, silent. He only had one thing on his mind, “I need a drink.”

~~

The car pulled up into the driveway, and Anna helped Enjar to the shower. She was going to force him to clean himself whilst she had the chance.

He sat in an old lawn chair, embarrassed and humiliated as his sister cleaned him. He should be able to do this. She shouldn’t have to. Once Enjar was all cleaned up, Anna left him in his room, saying something about him needing space.

Enjar couldn’t bare it. The memories…

New memories…

All of it.

He just wanted to be numb for a few hours… just to sleep and recuperate…

Easing out of bed, he struggled to get his shoes on, grabbing his cane and walking out into the main room, Anna looking up from her quiet conversation with Stephen, who looked concerned.

“Where are you going?” She asked, looking at Enjar, who glanced at her.

“Walk. Need to clear my head.” His sister nodded, and he walked out into the frigid autumn air, his mind set on one place. He’d grabbed his wallet, filled with nothing except a bit of cash and his bank card, some ID and a few loyalty cards. He hobbled through the streets, walking towards town, making it there ages later, the streetlights clicking on above his head, buzzing slightly as he entered the store. Enjar’s mind went blank as he walked straight to the liquor aisle, finding the strongest vodka he could find and grabbing two large bottles, then he saw a bottle of wine for sale, and grabbed that too.

He took them to the counter, and as the cashier asked for ID, he fumbled with his wallet, forcing his stupid fingers to pull his card out. Grimacing, he wrestled the bank card out, his scars peeking out from under his sleeves as he moved.

The cashier checked it, doing a double take when he saw the fresh scar on his face, and the scarless face staring back at him on his ID.

There was a beep, as the card scanned, and the cashier packaged up his alcohol into a bag.

Leaving the store, Enjar sat down on the closest bench he could find, and cracked open the bottle of wine, that could be for the trip home. He took a swig of the liquid, grimacing slightly as the cheap wine danced over his tastebuds.

Holding the bag with his precious cargo in it, Enjar began the long walk home, slowly sipping the wine out of the bottle. After a while he felt woozy, and the taste of the alcohol disappeared, but most importantly, his mind was two seconds behind his eyes… and he had never felt so free.

His mind couldn’t randomly remind him of the past months of torture. He somehow ended up in front of Anna’s door, after throwing up in the driveway of a random house, stumbling inside as his sister gasped.

“ENJAR!” She practically teleported across the room, pulling him into a hug.

“You’ve been gone for almost three hours… I was about to call the police…” She looked up at him as she smiled the alcohol on his breath, and noticed the vacant look in her brother’s eyes.

“You’re drunk. What did you do?” She asked, concerned.

“I juusssswan’ed to ‘ave a fffffew drinks fffor ‘h boyyysssz…” Enjar mumbled, his words getting stuck in his mouth like a thick dough as he spoke. Anna was so relieved she didn’t notice the extra booze in the bag.

“‘m g’ng’tuh bed…” Enjar mumbled, escaping to his room to finish the bottle.

He was unsteady on his feet as he shoved the bottles of vodka under his bed and finished the bottle of wine, his unsteady mind feeling numb as the empty bottle dropped out from between his fingers and rolled under the bed. His eyes were heavy as he hiccuped, unable to keep them open…

~~

Anna yawned as she awoke. She’d gone to bed worried about her brother, but relaxed a bit when she’d found him snoring soundly, passed out in bed for the first time in forever. A flash of excitement filled her as she realised he’d slept through the night all by himself.

Creeping to her brother’s room, she saw him passed out on his stomach, an arm hanging over the edge of the bed as he snored soundly.

‘Let him sleep. He needs it.’ She thought to herself, preparing to get into work. She’d taken so much leave off, and her research wasn’t going to happen itself, and if En needed anything, he knew he could call…

Maybe he’d even sleep through the whole day? That would be good for him. He was so tired all the time now.

Anna pushed the gut feeling something was wrong aside, as she left the house. She could race back in her lunch break and check on him. Enjar would be fine for a few hours.

He would be absolutely fine.

~~

Enjar awoke to an empty house and pounding headache. He was so hungover. He’d polished off an entire bottle of wine in the span of about an hour and a half on an empty stomach, no wonder he felt like shit. He lay in bed for a while feeling sorry for himself, until he forced himself to stumble on instead feet to the bathroom to throw up.

The taste of puke filled his mouth as he threw up basically nothing, until his body mercilessly stopped.

Getting to his feet, Enjar stumbled back to his room and went back to bed, his mind beginning to think about the vodka hiding under it. Just a couple shots wouldn’t hurt.

To get him through the day.

It wasn’t bad if it helped right?

Like therapy to get him back to normal.

So he could function…

It could be like medicine.

Just a little every now and again when things got tough, like getting through a hangover or a bad flash back…

Just two or three shots wouldn’t hurt? Maybe four? Four was good, enough to numb him up enough to function. One for each of his friends.

Enjar got to his knees and pulled out a bottle. Once the three bottles he had were done, he’d be fine.

No more.

This was just for now, to get him through this rough patch.

~~

The buzz of the vodka didn’t last long, and Enjar soon found himself anxiously pacing around the house. He felt like he was being watched.

Maybe he should call Anna…

No, she was busy. He just needed another couple shots to numb himself back up. He knew that the paranoia was all in his head…

He just needed a couple shots to get it under control.

He eyeballed it as he sipped from the bottle, unable to help himself from taking a couple extra gulps.

When Anna came home, she was surprised to see Enjar slumped on the couch in the living room, snoring away. He awoke with a start when she shut the door and smiled.

“Ann?” He mumbled, pushing himself up onto his feet and shuffling towards her.

She hugged him, before frowning, leaning back and sniffing the air.

“Is that… alcohol?”

Enjar nodded, and she noticed the glazed stare in his eyes.

“You’re drunk.” She accused.

“I’m not drunk. I just had a couple drinks…” Enjar’s voice slurred ever so slightly. Anna’s eyes narrowed, as she eyed the half empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table.

“How much is a couple?”

“Like… three…” He mumbled quietly.

Anna scoffed, walking to the bottle and holding it up. “This doesn’t look like three.”

Enjar followed her, grabbing the bottle, gripping it tightly, cradling it to his chest. “I’ve had it for a while.” He lied desperately, not wanting Anna to take away his alcohol. It helped him get through the day.

He needed it.

“I won’t have any more, I promise.” He compromised. Anna nodded, letting him take the bottle back to his room, where he sat it beside the bed. He stared at it, wondering if he was going to make it through the night without waking up screaming. He had been for weeks, and he was tired, and this was actually allowing him to sleep, at least for a while. His gut twisted as he looked at the half empty bottle… He wanted to drink more so badly, go completely numb, but he knew it would upset his sister…

But the memories…

Turning away from the bottle, he left it in his room, coming back out to find Anna unpacking her things. He eyed them curiously, as she flicked through a book, looking at a picture.

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking at the picture. It was of an old, mummified hand, fingers curled up, and fingernails still intact.

Every detail of skin was preserved, the hand looking almost alive, if not for the dark black, almost blue colour and sheen no skin would naturally have.

“It’s one of the bodies I’m studying, this one is the Grauballe Man, who was found in Jutland. It looks like his throat was cut at the later end of the third century. His hands are so well preserved they’ve managed to get fingerprints off his fingers.”

She turned the page, showing him another man. “This is the famous one, the Tollund Man. We estimate he was hanged in around the 5th Century, on the Jutland Peninsula. The cord is still wrapped around his neck. He’s also still got his clothes.”

Enjar stared at the face, noticing the wrinkles and creases in the skin. His face was almost peaceful, eyes closed and lips relaxed, as if he was dreaming. It was crazy to Enjar’s drunken mind that a body would be preserved that well in a bog.

“I’m researching what happened to some of the bodies. Whether it be human sacrifice or uh, murder.” Anna uttered the last world quietly, but Enjar remained staring at the face.

It enchanted him.

Maybe death wasn’t so bad… peaceful even.

This guy had been hanged but he looked so… so at rest.

“Anyway,” Anna said, shutting the book as Enjar looked up, snapped out of his trance. “Stephen went out with his work friends, so it’s just you and me having dinner. I was thinking we could order in pizza?”

Enjar nodded, regretting it immediately as it made him feel nauseous.

He sighed, shuffling to the couch and plonking heavily down, his mind circling back to the vodka in his room. Should he try and sneak a shot in before the pizza came, just too keep up the buzz?

One wouldn’t hurt…

Anna came up behind him while he was lost in his thoughts and touched his shoulder. It scared him enough to make him jump forward, curling up on the ground with his hands over his head, shaking like a leaf and sobbing.

She jumped back, apologising profusely as she dropped the menu she’d been holding, watching as Enjar cried into the floor. She didn’t know what to do, as she watching him shake and hyperventilate.

Everything was so overwhelming as memories flashed in front of Enjar’s eyes in a jumbled, fucked up movie. He felt eyes watching him from every direction.

He needed to escape.

Looking around, he didn’t know where he was, but he got to his unsteady feet, tears streaming down his face and stumbled off in the direction his gut told him to escape in. He stumbled into his room, slamming the door and bursting into even more tears. He cried for who knows how long, before he finally managed to calm down. He looked up, noticing his vodka…

He needed to do something with his hand’s to calm down...

Something to sooth him…

Reaching up for the bottle, he fumbled to undo it with his stupid, numb fingers. Ever since his attack, he’d struggled using them. Opening the vodka had been a struggle enough, but now, with his hands shaking so much it was even harder.

Somehow he managed to get the lid off and he took a large swig, swallowing the liquid and sighing as it burned all the way down.

The sensation calmed him, as took another big swig.

Leaning his head back, he felt the wall behind him, as his brain began to dull. He felt slightly guilty that he’d had more to drink, but he needed it to calm down.

He took another large gulp, before a desperate, but gentle knock at his door, and Anna’s quiet, shaking voice made him pause.

“En? Please, just let me know you’re okay…”

Enjar’s eyes moved slowly to the door, the world blurring as he did.

He tried to push himself to his feet, but his body wasn’t working. He staggered sideways, losing his balance, and colliding with the floor. The door opened as he pushed himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily, as Anna went to rush forwards, only to stop herself. Enjar pulled himself forwards towards her, crying into her shoulder as she held him gently, rubbing his back.

“Shhh, you’re okay… You’re okay…” She tried to comfort her quivering brother. He hiccuped against her, trying to stop his crying. She didn’t mention that she noticed the vodka on the ground, emptier than before with the lid beside it…

They stayed together for a while, her hand stroking through his longer, scraggly, unwashed hair. He’d had a cropped haircut, that was pretty short on top, but now the fringe hung in his eyes and her hand ran through longer hair on the back of his head. She was able to hold it gently, securing him close to her.

He was so different… his hair, his body and his mind…

She was scared that she was going to lose her brother to this…

Enjar inhaled and pulled back, wiping his red eyes.

“Ugh… Sorry…” He muttered, shaking his hands and hiccuping again.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Enni… I should’ve been careful.”

“Can we have that… pitsch… pizza?” He asked, his eyes even more glazed over than before.

“Okay…” Anna nodded, wiping her own eyes.

She lead the stumbling Enjar back to the lounge, handing him the menu and going off to calm herself down, whilst Enjar stared at the words.

He was struggling to read as his vision blurred. Rubbing his eyes, he hiccuped again, his stomach threatening to throw up its contents, as he stared at the words.

They were nice pizzas, and the cheesy one sounded like exactly what he needed. He looked up as Anna came back into the room, pointing at the one he wanted wordlessly.

He hiccuped again.

The turning sensation in his stomach made him shiver, as he suddenly shot to his unsteady feet and rushing to the toilet. He hurled, throwing up a large, awful tasting vomit, that was basically liquid.

He’d barely eaten all day, instead downing a shot or two whenever he needed it.

He didn’t notice Anna standing at the bathroom door, hand over her face to try and cover the smell, as Enjar sweat out alcohol from his skin…

He leaned back, feeling a bit better as he wiped his mouth, weakly pushing up from the floor and washing his hands and mouth in the sink. He didn’t look Anna in the eye as he walked out of the room, back to the living area, and curled up with a blanket on the couch, waiting for his sister to order the pizza.

~~

He nibbled the cheesy pizza, smiling at the taste. It was amazing, the herbs sprinkled on top added so much flavour to the melty mozzarella.

Anna smiled, for a brief second her brother was back, only for him to disappear again when Enjar tried to take a large bite, the scar on his face stretching and hurting him. He winced a little, touching his cheek and sighing, before going back to nibbling the pizza.

He finished one slice before getting up and going to his room.

When Anna checked him, he was sound asleep, snoring away on top of his bed. He didn’t even have a blanket. She smiled and lay one over him, looking at his face. It looked peaceful, finally resting. He needed this sleep.

As she left the room, she didn’t notice that even more vodka was missing from the bottle, less than a third left, now…

Masterlist | Next | Back

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added!)

@fallenwhumpee

@emcscared-whumps

@i-eat-worlds

@friendlesscat

@jumpywhumpywriter

@cravesunconditionallove

@notaliveoravailable

[friendlesscat]

Rain whump

Someone slipping while trying desperately to run away, scraping their hands and knees in the damp pavement in the process

A character huddled in their coat, soaked to the bone and shivering as close to a wall as they can to gain a bit of the building's shelter -- just waiting for the bus, or in a much more dire situation?

Sick characters having to get from one place to another in the pouring rain, chills getting a hundred times worse the longer they're outside

Characters realizing they're sick once they're stuck in the rain--and it's a long way from home

Fights happening in a wet, rainy alleyway; punches clumsy, feet slipping, desperate stumbling and gripping

A whumpee being found outside on a rainy night and clinging to their rescuer with cold, damp fingers

Flash floods

Freezing rain that makes roads more slippery, crusts the world in ice

Rain cold enough to cause hypothermia -- a blue-lipped, trembling whumpee staggering home through a freezing cold downpoar

Stabbed and left in a rainy alleyway, blood mingling with water

[friendlesscat]

181

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[friendlesscat]

my favorite genre of fictional character is like "i am terrifying to almost everyone, i'm very good at killing, i can endure anything, i've become exceptionally good at playing into my reputation, and if you try to give me positive social interaction i will react with confusion and cower in a corner like an abused animal. and i may try to shoot you. but there is also a chance i may imprint on you like a feral dog receiving its first loving touch! good luck."

[friendlesscat]

Fantasy traveler whump part 1 - Bandits

The journey is long and dangerous, but necessary. And only whumpee is willing to make it.

The road is filled with bandits, who after ambushing whumpee and beating him up don't mind leaving them unconscious on the side of the road

Bonus point if they wake up in the dark and don't know which way to go anymore

Or whumpee is tied up and gagged as bait/distraction for other people/animals that might go this way. If the road turns out empty, bandits can just leave them. Whumpee is not going anywhere anyway...

If whumpee is wearing expensive clothes or equipment there is a good chance muggers would rip it off them (or make them strip to not damage the loot)

Muggers turn out to be slavers, looking for their next victim, especially if the traveler is different race than assailants - rare find surely is worth more than others...

Whumpee is not alone in their journey, but when the team realize they have no chance to avoid the fight, they run away. Whumpee is the only one that didn't manage to escape, crying out to their companions for help

The journeyer finds the bandits during the act of beating up some poor soul. The attackers are too focused on their victim to see them. They know that engaging in the fight is pointless and would just become another prey. They have a choice: wait for bandits to finish their act and hope whumpee is left alive, so they can help, or move along, leaving the one in need to their fate

After the attack whumpee doesn't even consider turning back. They might not even have anything to go back to, so they press on. Hurting, swaying with each step, their supplies taken or destroyed.

The bandits leave the whumpee in decent state, but they take the key possesion from them, rendering the whumpee unable to complete their quest. Wracked with guilt they try to follow the muggers to retrieve the object.

[friendlesscat]

Wait template I forgot the template here you go I'll edit the post too

[friendlesscat]

write badly. write weirdly. write like a cryptid in a cave with one candle. that’s where the good shit starts.