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eyes-4-eyes · 5 days
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when a powerful figure is reduced to kneeling. when the lord is forced to bow. when the exile stumbles into an unwelcoming bar. when the “beast” is chained by their horns. when a god is dragged behind their enemy’s chariot, a captive and trophy. when the loyal “guard dog” character is muzzled and the silver-tongued thief falls silent in horror.
that’s the shit
it’s about the contrapasso. the reversal of roles and the sudden, plunging terror of being unable to hide.
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eyes-4-eyes · 5 days
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head injuries that cause a character to do something wrong before they know they're hurt. imagine a character with a concussion leading the team in circles by accident. the team gets mad at them for not admitting they're lost until they finally realize they're not really making much sense at all.
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eyes-4-eyes · 6 days
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to be completely honest i always thought that those halos of knives or guns or whatever weapon of choice people use in art sometimes were meant to have a sort of sword of damocles implication to them. like if you're not careful you'll fly too close to your own sharp edges. these violent delights have violent ends. you know how it goes.
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eyes-4-eyes · 26 days
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had a dream that I met a wizard and we fell in love and became unhealthily attached to each other so we decided to meld into one single creature together but the process was horrifically slow and painful and most of the dream was us lying in bed holding hands while lesions opened up in our skin and seeped out blue and green fluid and the wizard said "this is going to take a very very long time" and I said "that's ok"
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eyes-4-eyes · 1 month
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Trying to interact with the rest of your fandom as a whumper:
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eyes-4-eyes · 1 month
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Currently fixating on caretaker who's not all human letting their voice drop as dark and monstrous as they can. They make unflinching eye contact with whumper, and with all the vitriol and burning rage in their body tell whumper, "Don't you fucking touch them."
It is not a warning, not even a command. It is a promise.
#:)
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eyes-4-eyes · 1 month
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Oh I gave a great idea! *breaks character's psyche into a million unsalvageable pieces with a baseball bat*
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eyes-4-eyes · 1 month
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Me: I hate cliches
Writer: The big, scary monster/villain has a soft spot for one specific person
Me: Oh my god, the big, scary monster/villain has a soft spot for one specific person
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eyes-4-eyes · 2 months
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Febuwhump Day 8: "Why won't it stop?"
Content warning: mention of murder, mention of gun violence
“Ple-se! Get it off! Hhhurts!–Caretaker please–!”
Whumpee’s begging was only interrupted by their screams. Their voice had long gone hoarse, turning their screams into an almost animalistic wail. Caretaker held them close to their chest, arms effectively pinning down Whumpee’s flailing arms as Leader sped down the highway.
The shock collar on Whumpee’s throat continued to spark, sending waves of agony through them. It filled the air with angry buzzing and the putrid smell of burnt hair.
Caretaker had tried everything to get it off. They’d tried finding the release button, tried pressing every button on the controller they’d taken from Whumper, tried simply breaking the damned thing. Nothing had worked. The sight of the collar illuminating the dark car, lighting Whumpee’s agonized face, made Caretaker wish they’d done more than put a bullet between Whumper’s eyes.
“We’re almost there! Just a bit longer–!” The words felt empty, but Caretaker spoke them regardless. Even with how fast Leader was driving, they were at least ten minutes from the hospital. Ten minutes before they had the tools to tear the collar from Whumpee’s throat and treat the burns underneath. Ten more minutes of agony.
Caretaker could feel Whumpee’s heart pounding out of their chest. Each breath was a labor, a shuttering, desperate inhale that was stolen from them the very next second. Drool and tears stained Whumpee’s face, their eyes dazed from pain and exhaustion. Every muscle was contracted, leaving Whumpee’s body rigid as their body jerked outside of their control. Caretaker didn’t know how much longer they’d last.
Another burst of electricity flashed through Whumpee’s body, sending their head back and into Caretaker’s chin. A wet sob was forced from Whumpee’s mouth. “Wh-y won’t it stop-?! Please, help me–!”
Caretaker buried their face into Whumpee’s hair, shoulders shaking. “We’re almost there,” Caretaker whispered, holding Whumpee as they convulsed. “Just hold on. We’re almost there.”
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eyes-4-eyes · 2 months
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Shhhh! Keep your voice down and don't be loud. Whumpee is sleeping (or has just fallen asleep).
In Caretaker's arms after being rescued.
In a hospital bed in a recovery ward (or perhaps an ICU) after receiving care and treatment or perhaps emergency surgery.
On a bed in a room in a recovery house. Bonus points for the house are that the house belongs to the Caretaker and the bed BELONGS TO CARETAKER (AND CARETAKER'S BEDROOM)!!!!
In the passenger seat. Sleep on your back in the back seat or sleep in a half-sitting position after the seat is lowered slightly on the driver's side seat. Bonus points Caretaker puts on the jacket or coat to cover Whumpee.
On the sofa in front of the fireplace.
In a wheelchair while taking a leisurely walk.
On the couch on the terrace.
On the Caretaker's lap. Bonus points with the accompaniment of Caretaker's soft voice lulling Whumpee to sleep and caressing Whumpee's hair.
Sleep leaning on the Caretaker's shoulder when sitting side by side. Bonus points when they are in a discussion with the team members and Whumpee suddenly falls asleep exhausted.
Anything you want to add?
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eyes-4-eyes · 2 months
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you stupid fucking idiot i can’t believe you died and got resurrected and are now safely in my arms again. I’ll kill you
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eyes-4-eyes · 2 months
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Thinking about imprisoned Whumpees being abused by guards. Thank you @dresden-syndrome for the brain food!
Spitting on Whumpee, or stomping on their fingers
Forcing Whumpee to perform humiliating tasks to receive basic needs
Banging weapons against the bars to scare Whumpee, or to listen to them groan when it makes their migraine worse
Splashing a bucket of waste or cold, dirty water at Whumpee
Beating Whumpee for the smallest slights, or for invented ones
Lying to their leader/boss about Whumpee misbehaving
Derogatory names/language, either directed at Whumpee or spoken to one another as if Whumpee isn’t there
Tripping Whumpee during transit, then striking them for being clumsy
When Whumpee tries to tell the leader/boss about the abuse, the guards only get more violent
Force feeding Whumpee pills when they get sick, because they get in trouble if Whumpee dies on their watch
#b
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eyes-4-eyes · 2 months
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Their eyes are wild, round as saucers and glimmering with unshed tears. Strapped down to the floor by their wrists and ankles, a band of metal across their throat, and their clothes plastered wet to their shivering body, Quinn looks small.
A rough hand weighs heavy on their chest as if to keep them from floating away. A curtain of bleach-fried hair hangs around a mean face twisted in the shape of concern for once. “Calm the fuck down,” Major rumbles, pushing down on their sternum.
That pressure is the only thing keeping them sane. Quinn’s hyperventilating has them so dizzy that they can’t feel their fingers or toes. Their eyes rocket around the room but they find no escape, no guard to manipulate or trick. Just an empty room and a friend who can’t save them.
“Calm down,” Major snaps, and those teary brown eyes finally settle on him. His hand wanders up to grab them by the jaw. “It’s coming again. You know that?”
They nearly panic again at the reminder. The chains keeping them down rattle with the shudders of mortified anticipation.
“Hey, stay focused. On me. Say yes Major.”
It’s hard to keep hyperventilating against the hand pressing down on their ribcage. Exhausting. They gasp weakly. “Ye-. Yes, Major.”
“Cool.” He didn’t make them say it to get obedience out of them or anything, and uncharacteristically, he doesn’t smirk. “It’ll hurt. You need a stupid mission or something? Instructions, to think?”
A jerky nod. Their eyes flit to the clock on the wall that counts each second, ticking upward. When it hits the next minute, the shock will course through them again.
“Eyes on me, bitch,” Comes his reminder, and they look up at him again, a tear slipping free to crave its way down their cheek. “It’s just pain. Just lasts ten seconds. Make it to five without a sound. That’s the rule.”
“Five?” They bite out, teeth nearly chattering from adrenaline. “Why, why’s it matter if I… I can’t…” Their question dies out as the click of the clock warns that there’s only five seconds left.
“Because I said so. Just do it. No screaming, five seconds. You ready? Breathe.” Speaking in a machine-gun rapid fire now, Major grips onto their hair and forces them to look straight into his eyes, at nothing else. “Breathe.”
The restrained spy sucks in a tremulous breath, focus finding its way into their expression. And then they jolt, their body straining with all its might to fling Major away, to tear their hair out in his grip, to break their own body in the metal restraints. Major swings a leg over their stomach and straddles them, knees digging into their sides hard. And he shoves their head down so it won’t bounce off the floor like it did a minute ago.
Their mouth stretches wide, but Major growls, “Five seconds,” and watches them go red with the effort of keeping the scream in.
Ten whole seconds pass. The electricity stops, and they flop, panting.
“Didn’t scream at all,” Major comments as he disentangles his fingers from their hair. “Look at me.”
Jittery, drowning eyes find him again, lost with pain. They focus enough to see Major give a grim nod. “You did good,” He says, and their bottom lip wobbles. “Gonna happen again in a minute.”
“F-forty-five seconds,” They correct on a hoarse gasp.
“Whatever. Can you handle it?”
“Nnh nnh-… n-, I-I don’t…”
“Not do you wanna. Can you? Will you fucking survive it?”
They swallow a whimper and nod slightly. “Doesn’t f-feel like it. But… yes?”
“Yeah. You will. Don’t piss me off, now. You didn’t scream. This time don’t even open your mouth.”
Their eyes flash with doubt. “But I… I, I don’t…”
“You’re a tough bitch,” Major snaps, lowering to be all but nose-to-nose with them. “You won’t die. This is fucking easy. Say you’ve got this.”
There isn’t time. They have no time. They try to look at the clock again, but he leans to block it from their sight. “Say it,” He orders again.
Quinn takes a ragged breath and grunts with the effort of speaking on command. “I’ve got this?”
“Again.” He’s petting their cheek. They don’t even recognize it directly, they just lean into it and swallow a sob.
“I’ve got this.”
Stormy eyes harden. He doesn’t say anything else, just watches. The clock ticks, and the shock comes.
After ten seconds, Quinn sucks in air, and when it escapes them it comes out as a squeaky sob. They screamed, they think. Hard to be sure. Major moves and they flinch, eyes squeezed shut, breaths tiny and rapid.
“Okay,” Major says, and he sounds softer than before. “It’s whatever. ‘s actually fine if you gotta be noisy. Uh. Keep your eyes closed.”
They flinch again when he touches their face, but it doesn’t hurt. His hand brushes back and forth, stiff with scars and clumsy. The side of his thumb scratches over their nose, his cracked palm slides over their forehead. There is no pattern to it, no tender cupping of their cheek. No kiss to the forehead or finger under their chin to lift it. It’s like being a kitten curled up at the foot of a trucker who is reaching down to pet it with the same nonchalance of scraping mud off his boot.
As rough as it may be, it drags a broken sob out of them, and he doesn’t stop. Maybe he can see how badly it hurt that time. Maybe his arbitrary rule about keeping quiet was only for their benefit, and if it didn’t help then he won’t make them try again.
“I’m sorry,” Quinn keens, tipping their head cooperatively as he swipes his palm to rub the tears off each cheek for them.
“What for?” Comes the gruff answer.
“For. For… I don’t know. I just am.” Their voice is high and painful in their throat.
“…’s okay.” The click comes. Quinn nearly screams from pure terror and surprise at how quickly a minute passed. “You’re fine. Hey, breathe.”
They do. The pain comes again. His hands, his weight, all of it disappears.
Some time later, and it might be minutes or hours later, they hear him picking a fight. Growling, yelling. Quinn tips their head slowly to see that Major is pinned by a boot on his chest, screaming in rage about… Quinn. About how the shocks haven’t stopped, and it’s too much. How this is pointless and stupid and it won’t work because they never talk, they never break.
The click of the clock comes, but Quinn is too busy to turn their head and watch the seconds tick by in terror. They are watching Major with awe, teary eyes lit up with curiosity and pride. They must be doing a very good job holding up, if Major is so mad for them. They can handle the next shock. Major might not think so, if he’s arguing for them, but they finally believe they can. They must be very very strong to have lasted this long, to make Major actually care.
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eyes-4-eyes · 2 months
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antique collars + muzzles
(sources 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6)
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eyes-4-eyes · 2 months
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"we'll shoot back holy water like cheap whiskey"
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eyes-4-eyes · 2 months
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The only ship dynamic that 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚. 🖤
Monster X Human
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eyes-4-eyes · 2 months
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Touch averse whumpees. Whumpees who shy away from every touch, be it affectionate or otherwise. When their friends touch them they fluctuate between going stiff as a board and pinning them with an ice-cold glare. An arm rubbed past their own makes their breath hitch and they sit in the back during team meetings to avoid the close contact of sitting at the table. They hide every injury even if it kills them because the thought of someone touching them hurts more than the thought of dying. They suffocate from too much closeness and every touch reminds them of Whumper, of the pain they inflicted, of everything they were forced into. They distance themself from their friends, first physically, and then emotionally, and nobody knows how to help them.
They don't think they need help. They need everyone to get away from them and stop looking at them with those eyes that almost hurt as much their hands do.
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