Side account to happyallykats and Allykatsart. Very Whumpy blog so read at your own risk. made for occasional writing when i have an idea, or find a super long word intensive post I like.
The pure, primal fear Whumpee feels after so long in captivity/being tortured. They’re being rescued, Caretaker and their team approaching.
No, no, fuck. No—
Whumpee scrambles back, eyes wide and breaths shallow. “Don’t— don’t..” They stammer, every muscle tensed with adrenaline and fear. Too close— too close now! They scramble to the side, dodging past Caretaker and team and making a beeline for the door. They can’t think, can’t breathe can’t anything when all they see is that door. Away from these people. Then suddenly they’re on the floor and there are hands hands hands pulling at them and touching their face and patting their leg but they can’t think of that. Just out. They need to get out— up, away from them. They struggle and try and get up, hardly comprehending where they are, just that they have to get away.
Eventually, Whumpee is held down until whatever primal instinct that overtook them has gone, or at least softened. They are completely exhausted, eyes dazed, shaking like a leaf. Quiet. Like a subdued wild animal.
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Guy who never feels like his problems are “bad enough” to be taken seriously: what if I hurt the character so horrifically that everyone around them could not possibly deny the severity of their pain even if the character themself tries to downplay it.
whump scenario - "I had nowhere else to go" (UNO REVERSE edition)
So I know that "villain turns up on hero's doorstep / in their apartment /etc. because they have "nowhere else to go"" is kind of a common trope, but I really really really want to see more of the reverse. A hero who is badly hurt, maybe even on the run from the organization they work(ed) for, and goes to the villain for shelter.
Imagine the possibilities...
The villain is just chilling in their evil lair and their security system goes off. They get all dressed up in their regalia and go outside to face the threat, only to see the hero leaning against a tree / the wall / whatever, gripping their side, blood soaking through their uniform, face pale.
Or, alternatively, they look on the cameras and see nothing. Sighing, rolling their eyes about how they really need to fine-tune the settings so it stops alerting at animals, they go outside (potentially prepared to gain another snack for their pet) and instead see hero crumpled in a heap. (Bonus if the hero was flying into the villain's airspace and crash-landed / was zapped out of the sky by the villain's defenses.)
Maybe the villain's pet Creature perks up its nose and dives into the bushes. The villain runs after them, cursing, since "I thought you knew better than to chase squirrels!!" only to find their pet pawing at (or even attempting to gnaw on) the hero's body. (Dragging them by the cape like Krypto in Superman….)
Or maybe the hero lands on the balcony of the villain's Evil Penthouse in the city. Or stumbles up the drive of their looming mansion in the countryside.
Maybe the villain saw them approaching from a distance and disabled their security / called off their goons, preparing a trap. The door opens and they're ready to burst into an evil monologue as the hero walks in, but then the hero just… crumples.
Imagine the last thing the hero says as they lose consciousness is a quiet "You were right." The villain would ordinarily be gloating, but they can't seem to find any joy in that idea. After all, what's the point in changing someone's mind if they just die right away? No. There's no satisfaction there.
The vulnerability of delirium, too. Accidentally revealing top-secret plans, or letting on that their bosses/organization they work for have hurt them. Hero babbling "Don't take me back there, please!"
Maybe they were shot with some kind of anti-power poison (because of course the organization that collects super heroes would know how to stop them).
Imagine the "good guys" showing up at the villain's place and demanding they return their "kidnapped" operative. Offering a ransom. Villain listens to the recording and stares at the sleeping form on their bed, and wonders what the hero did to make their former employers want them so badly.
Villain defending their home (and the hero) with everything they had. Maybe hero shows up at the last minute to help them, too.
Maybe the hero wakes up with the villain's cat (or other pet creature) on their chest. Or they wake up alone in an unfamiliar place and go wandering, catching glimpses of the villain's private life until they finally come across the villain in another room. ("Finally. I was starting to wonder if I would have to feed you to the sharks." "Sharks? Aren't we in the middle of the city?" "That was a joke, hero.")
Maybe the villain's residence is a lot less impressive than the hero was expecting. Their "secret bunker" is little more than a couple of rooms.
The hero getting to see what the villain is like behind the mask. There are photos of their loved ones on the wall. ("What happened to them?" "What happened? Nothing. My mother was just here last Sunday for tea. My dad's dead though. Fucking lung cancer of all things. Man smoked a pack a day.") Their cat is a huge cuddle-bug, and the living room has more cat toys than people furniture. Their MASSIVE dog sleeps on the bed and licks your face. Their library is filled with romcoms. They have a huge collection of 80s music. There's an entire room full of arcade games. They collect abstract art. Their fridge is covered in tacky gas station travel magnets. They sing and dance (badly) while they cook. ("Yes, of course I cook for myself. You think I can afford to hire staff? In this economy?? Besides, what's to stop your precious Organization from sending plants? And I can't exactly put out an ad in the papers, can I?")
Whumpee gets kidnapped but ends up being treated better than when they were with their ‘Caretaker’/friends/teammates.
Kidnapper comes to realize how Whumpee was treated by how timid or apologetic they are acting even if they were the ones being kindapped and Kidnapper is horrified.
Whumpee didn’t realize they were being treated so awfully before this because it’s just normal for them up until that point.
Then they see how nice it is with Kidnapper, making them so damn confused.
Living weapon (kinda) whumpee who was believing villain whumper's lies for a long time and fought for their cause. There was no torture or conditioning involved, simply some disinformation and whumpee voluntarily started working under whumper's orders.
Now that whumpee was captured and finally found out the truth about how much harm, pain, suffering they caused, they are feeling horribly guilty.
Whumpee doesn't tell the heroes about how they were deceived by whumper, so the heroes don't hold back punishing whumpee who is convinced they deserve it for all the harm they caused.
It was a coincidence, really, that hero overheard whumpee, tired and delirious from the pain, whispering the truth about how they were deceived and regretful.
Ridden by guilt hero caretaker hero tries to make amends for the torture the heroes inflicted on whumpee, starting the both of them on a long road to recovery and forgiveness.
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Thinking about characters getting a nice demeaning slap in the face, in *warning*, telling them in not so unsubtle terms to watch their mouth. Two slaps maybe... or a backhand if they're really pushing it...
he's beautiful i literally need to put him under extreme psychological stress. i need to put him in extreme physical pain. i need him curling up in someone's arms for the feelings of safety and comfort he hasn't received in ages
Sometimes I really want a Whumper turned Caretaker.
Like they start off with a pretty standard kidnapping setup. Whumper trying to get something out of the Whumpee, Whumpee is refusing them and being cockily defiant. But through their interactions, Whumpee/Caretaker learns that, By God what the whumpee went through is so sosososososo much worse than what they'd allow themselves to do.
Like, they're not a good person. They're really not! But even they realize that Whumpee needed rescuing! And- fuck man, if they let Whumpee go, they'll end up right back with Whumper #1. It's unfortunately gotta be the Whumper/Caretakers job to help Whumpee out here, because there's no-one else who can help them right now and, fuck it, they're already here!
Gimme the mistrust and confusion from Whumpee as they don't understand the switch up. Gimme the Whumper/Caretaker slowly learning how to heal them, even though it's so far out of their league. Gimme Whumper #1 hunting them down, demanding Whumpee's return.
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Sometimes I really want a Whumper turned Caretaker.
Like they start off with a pretty standard kidnapping setup. Whumper trying to get something out of the Whumpee, Whumpee is refusing them and being cockily defiant. But through their interactions, Whumpee/Caretaker learns that, By God what the whumpee went through is so sosososososo much worse than what they'd allow themselves to do.
Like, they're not a good person. They're really not! But even they realize that Whumpee needed rescuing! And- fuck man, if they let Whumpee go, they'll end up right back with Whumper #1. It's unfortunately gotta be the Whumper/Caretakers job to help Whumpee out here, because there's no-one else who can help them right now and, fuck it, they're already here!
Gimme the mistrust and confusion from Whumpee as they don't understand the switch up. Gimme the Whumper/Caretaker slowly learning how to heal them, even though it's so far out of their league. Gimme Whumper #1 hunting them down, demanding Whumpee's return.
Sometimes I really want a Whumper turned Caretaker.
Like they start off with a pretty standard kidnapping setup. Whumper trying to get something out of the Whumpee, Whumpee is refusing them and being cockily defiant. But through their interactions, Whumpee/Caretaker learns that, By God what the whumpee went through is so sosososososo much worse than what they'd allow themselves to do.
Like, they're not a good person. They're really not! But even they realize that Whumpee needed rescuing! And- fuck man, if they let Whumpee go, they'll end up right back with Whumper #1. It's unfortunately gotta be the Whumper/Caretakers job to help Whumpee out here, because there's no-one else who can help them right now and, fuck it, they're already here!
Gimme the mistrust and confusion from Whumpee as they don't understand the switch up. Gimme the Whumper/Caretaker slowly learning how to heal them, even though it's so far out of their league. Gimme Whumper #1 hunting them down, demanding Whumpee's return.
living weapon who is touched gently for the first time in her life. living weapon, who starts shaking. living weapon, who falls apart over that one gentle touch.
caretaker, who doesnt understand why. caretaker, who panics. caretakers mouth moves. she doesnt hear it. she reads his lips. shes good at that. he asks her gently—whats wrong?
the gentleness, she wants to say. the gentleness is wrong. the softness shes being touched with. maintainance isnt about being painless. its about efficiency. anaesthesia isnt efficient. the constant, low murmur of his voice isnt efficient. the way he hesitates before every stitch, before every wound, isnt efficient. why is caretaker so gentle? why does caretaker murmur encouragement to her? she doesnt need encouragement. she never has.
she shakes.
caretaker soothes her. like a wild animal. he tells her shes doing so good. shes so brave. it should feel patronising, but it doesnt. for the first time in her life, she has the overwhelming urge to cry.
he sees tears in her eyes. he softens. he pulls her into a hug.
that makes everything worse. hugs are for people. she is, very decidedly, not a person. she is a weapon. she always has been. this is what she was raised to be.
Not really, of course. The planet was still around, humanity was still surviving, but everything you'd ever known was gone. The government had dissolved, taken down by it's own incompetence and machinations. The internet, and the mega-corperations that existed on it, were crumbling to dust.
The dead rose from the streets and walked again. Zombies, the shambling undead, attacked the living under the red moon. Power and water was being shut down all over the country. Many had died.
But not you.
You're not special, you know that. If the zombies got you, you were as good as dead. No immunity for you. But when you heard the news, you ran to the library.
It wasn't like you had much to live for, but the library was all you had left. You loved it. It was more of a home than the apartment you paid too much for was. It would likely get raided, you assumed, and it's knowledge would be lost. It needed to be defended.
So you grabbed your things, grabbed food and water and whatever else you could fit in your small car, and drove to the library. You picked up a gun and ammo along the way. You knew how these stories went, after all. Survivors always needed guns.
The red moon burned overhead as you drove to the building. The streets were full. You could see another car crashed into a pole nearby. The driver was clawing at the door as a zombie crawled it's way inside the broken windshield. You don't stop to help.
The library stands tall against strange stars, defiant in the face of everything. You're surprised to find the door still locked, and you park in front of the doors to block them as you use your key to get inside. The chaos of the outside world seems to disappear as you enter your sanctuary.
That night had been surprisingly calm. Neither zombie nor survivor had even attempted to enter the building. You felt strangely at ease, knowing blood wouldn't be on your hands tonight.
The next morning you had started the process of transforming the library to what it was today. You'd stored non perishables in the staff only rooms, blockaded the windows, and set up a small living space behind the front desk.
The next step would be securing food. The water fountains were still working fine, for now, but that wouldn't mean much if you starved to death. There were decorative gardens outside and on the balconies to the other floors. You could replace the flowers with crops, if you had the seeds.
Thankfully your food stores, mostly consisting of canned foods, were enough to last your for at least a month. You had to hope and pray that you wouldn't be swarmed by a hoard by that point. There were a few stores that sold seeds in town. You'd have to risk and excursion to get them.
In the meantime, you found a book about agriculture and began to read.
----------
You were still there a month after the world ended.
A whole month and nothing had attacked you. No hordes, no survivors, no cannibalistic cults. And that made you worried.
Usually, unless there was a reason for this behavior. This would mean the zombies were regrouping to plan a huge attack. But it wasn't like you hadn't seen them. They hadn't disappeared, they just had no interest in the library.
From the windows you could see them shambling across the street. Once, one had even seen you. You stare at each-other. The zombie swung it's head away from you, silently, moving along. Every one of them did this.
You were very glad you got the 'Walking Dead' variety of zombies. You don't think you'd survive the green flu. Or 'The Last of Us'. Shamblers were your preferable match-up.
Whatever infection had caused this made them avoid trying to get into the library, it seemed. Passing to close to the garden around this place seemed to confuse them. They got turned around, sometimes walking against the hoard instead of with it.
The two options when zombies stopped attacking were that they were either going to launch a full scale attack, or that there was a reason for it. If it wasn't the former, you had to figure out the latter.
You stared a the orchard lilies just outside the library's entrance, blooming pink and white with orange stamen. You've never liked them, being able to smell their sent every spring, even from indoors. It drifted through the doors, burning your nose every time anyone entered or left.
You were starting to think that maybe the zombies didn't like it either.
In most zombie apocalypse movies the military is shown as so proactive about setting up bases and camps. Trying to reestablish the nation and set up quarantines around the infected. They show shots of helicopters, trucks, and men with giant machine guns fighting off the hordes.
3 months in and you still live in silence. Not a plane or military man in sight, just the shambling of zombies as they trudged by the ever expanding garden of the library. Since there was nothing else to do, gardening and reading different 'how to' books had taken up a majority of your time.
You had planted a few different seeds that you had been able to snag from a hardware store. It was possibly the most anxiety you had ever had and the closest you'd ever come to a real zombie. Most of the undead in the store were surrounding an awful smelling bag of ....fertilizer so all you had to do was be fast and quiet.
Cucumbers, beans, squash, carrots, potatoes, and more were all stocked in the garden. You had jerry rigged a sort of watering system using a watering tower nearby.
Days on end you'd work. Although sometimes you weren't sure why. You knew, one day, a zombie would bite you. It would notice you, you'd get sloppy and passive and then all this would be gone. Maybe this garden is only going to be for some poor souls who find it one day and expand on what you could not.
Maybe you do this for them.
4 months in and the flowers were blooming brighter than before.
Honeysuckle, lilacs, lilies, and so many more flowers had all but taken over the out walls of the library. The garden was sprouting, the sun was shining, animals came too and from the small holes in a shabbily made wall. And you were so utterly bored.
If not the zombies your pretty sure your own boredom would be your demise. You'd done some small exploring though you stayed far away from town centers and other places you could tell the groaning masses had taken over.
Never the less you were bored and the books weren't cutting it. So one day you decided to leave. The goal was medicine and maybe more farming supplies, just in case. You'd rather have them and not need them. Plus maybe snatch some perfume or body washes because you haven't properly showered in months.
Smell good or die trying? Some people may laugh it off but you thought it was worth it.
As you were wondering the aisles of the hardware store you noticed a stray zombie from the crowd. When this happened before you held your breath and stepped back and walked away. This time though, it looked at you.
The feeling of your blood truly running cold had escaped you until now. The eyes shone like a dog's in the night and it sniffed the air. It smelled you and it drooled.
Another pair of eyes stared at you behind the first as you slowly realized that there was a horde in the darkness. Though you were the only one alive, you were not alone. You turned and ran, but they had already caught the scent.
Too many at the exit, too many at the back windows. Was this it for you? Survive all this time and then die for what? Gardening supplies and perfume? What an idiotic move. You had to think as you ran to the back of the site towards the garden section.
It didn't smell bad any more.
The stench of the fertilizer was gone and so was the split open bag on the ground. Why were you noticing this? There was god knows how many undead behind you and you were focusing on manure?
Why?
And then it hit you. It was risky, but it was the last choice you had. You grabbed a small rake and plunged it into the unopened bags of fertilizer and any other mulch or rotting bags you could find. You stood behind it all , being careful not to get it on you.
Then they entered. They looked at you....and moved right towards the ripped open bags. You dashed behind some flower pots, trying to keep distance as they funneled into one area. And you ran out of the nearest exit possible wondering what the hell just happened.
You'd always had a strong sense of smell. Maybe that's why you were drawn to the horror of zombie movies and books, the idea of the rot always made your skin crawl. Didn't hurt that the action gave you a thrill!
You're probably the first one to have noticed. The zombies could see, but movement wasn't the thing to trigger them. Sound could draw them, especially loud sounds like gunshots, but that wasn't a guarantee. These zombies weren't like the ones you had read about.
One might think this would mess up your survival plans but, honestly? You were glad for any plot twist from the formula. Even you could get exhausted by zombie stories, and after living through one for the last few months, you welcomed the change.
In short, the zombies were attracted to absolutely horrid smells. Rotting carcasses, dead bodies, and of course human waste! They swarmed to it like seagulls to garbage.
It was after you had this revelation that things became a lot easier for you. You'd picked up purfumes and body washes, using what little water you could to try and conserve your supplies.
As long as you went out smelling nice, your excursions had nearly no risk. If a zombie did notice you, you could distract them with something smellier than you, which wasn't hard to find. It was the apocalypse, after all.
The grass outside the garden, while pretty, was dead and too high maintenance to keep. You tore it up. You planted fall flowers around the library as the spring and summer ones began to die out. You didn't know what you'd do during winter, but any deterrent you could install would help.
Even if you didn't make it out (which was likely), whoever came next would at least be grateful for it when they figured it out. You should probably write it down, just in case. Leave a note for whomever might find this place.
What if you did make it, though?
The thought made you pause in your work. You... Hadn't really thought about it before. You'd thought about how you'd survive in a zombie apocalypse before, sure, but you didn't think you'd actually get this far. Didn't think you'd get to a point of self sustainment. And yet...
The world had ended, but you were still here.
------------
Half a year after they zombie apocalypse started, you finally found people.
Or, rather, the people found you. A group of survivors, who'd apparently been held up in the main hall, slowly trickled into the library. They gave you a heart attack, climbing over your car and banging on the entrance door. With how dirty and grimy they were, you thought they were zombies.
They weren't, though, and when you stuck your head out to ask them, very annoyed at them, they begged you for shelter. You learned what happened as more and more made their way to your door.
"There was a big one, bigger than any human I've ever seen. They... It battered down the doors," One of them gasped for air, "broke the windows. There- There was too many of them after that. A fire broke out. We had to jump out the second floor windows."
You were lucky enough that no zombies followed the group. Those who had broken legs didn't make it back, as you found out. That was likely the reason these smelly ones had made it out alive. The zombies were preoccupied.
Now, you weren't really a people person. Most people were awful, actually! The good ones were few and far between. But... You hadn't talked to a single soul in six months. That was enough to drive anyone a little crazy, so you forgave yourself for what you did next.
You agreed to let them stay in the library with a few conditions; They would not damage the books, even if they needed warmth or paper. They wouldn't attack others or cause any drama you didn't deal with. And before they stepped foot in your sanctuary they absolutely needed to bathe.
The leader, a man named Jonathan, retorted, "This is a survival situation, self care should be the least of your worries right now!"
You crossed your arms, "Y'all smell like a dead corpse! They'll follow your trail right here. Unless you want them to come here too, go and wash yourselves, with soap."
"We don't have any soap." Jonny hissed between gritted, yellow stained teeth.
You sighed, reluctantly, "Well, luckily enough for you, I've got a stockpile. You'll drain it, but that's the only way I'll let you stay here."
Jonny looked at the other survivors, then back at you, fire in his eyes, "There's more of us. I'd like to see you try and stop us-"
You reached into the car behind you and, before the other could even finish his sentence, brought out your shotgun. You stared dear Jonny dead in the eyes as you saw fear cross his face. Some members of the group took a step back, suddenly nervous. You tilted your head at Jonny.
"Try me, but your group just lost a lot of people. Doubt you want to lose any more, right?" You could see children and young teenagers in your perifery, "I don't want to get violent, but I'll defend myself. So, for their sake, take the damn bath, alright?"
Jonny opened his mouth to respond, "You're insan-"
He was interrupted by a young girl. She was about half his height, and tugged on his shirt. His eyes softned as he looked at her. That must have been his daughter.
"I wanna bath." She looked at him with pleading eyes, hair dirty and matted, "Please?"
Jonny's tough guy facade vanished into thin air. He agreed to your terms and, after you brought out several bags of bodywash stolen from bath & body, lead the group to get washed using the rig from the water tower. You warned them, of course, not to drink it as you weren't sure about it's quality. Some of them, you suspected, were thirsty enough that they didn't care.
You created a small living space in the kids section of the library, rationing out pillows and blankets where you could. There would need to be more excursions to get stuff, but now you've had people to do that for you!
Jonny apologized to you that night, taking a 'watch' on the second floor balcony.
"I'm sorry." He looked exhausted, tears were in his eyes, "About threatening you. I... I just. We lost her mother a week ago. Turned into a walker-"
"Zombie." You corrected, a bit annoyed.
"-Turned into a zombie." His tears were broken with a weary laugh, "Right. And I had to..."
He trailed off but you thought you understood his meaning.
"And then this happened and I just..." He gestured to where you could see the smoke of city hall rising, "...I got scared."
"...I guess you're forgiven." You sighed, putting down the shotgun you'd been carrying all day, "But you've gotta promise me one thing. Don't go off on your own with your daughter. You're practically begging for a tragedy if you do."
He gave you a confused look, but agreed. You sent him to get some rest, assured that you'd just prevented an Ethan Winters from being created. Or a Joel, hopefully.
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Not really, of course. The planet was still around, humanity was still surviving, but everything you'd ever known was gone. The government had dissolved, taken down by it's own incompetence and machinations. The internet, and the mega-corperations that existed on it, were crumbling to dust.
The dead rose from the streets and walked again. Zombies, the shambling undead, attacked the living under the red moon. Power and water was being shut down all over the country. Many had died.
But not you.
You're not special, you know that. If the zombies got you, you were as good as dead. No immunity for you. But when you heard the news, you ran to the library.
It wasn't like you had much to live for, but the library was all you had left. You loved it. It was more of a home than the apartment you paid too much for was. It would likely get raided, you assumed, and it's knowledge would be lost. It needed to be defended.
So you grabbed your things, grabbed food and water and whatever else you could fit in your small car, and drove to the library. You picked up a gun and ammo along the way. You knew how these stories went, after all. Survivors always needed guns.
The red moon burned overhead as you drove to the building. The streets were full. You could see another car crashed into a pole nearby. The driver was clawing at the door as a zombie crawled it's way inside the broken windshield. You don't stop to help.
The library stands tall against strange stars, defiant in the face of everything. You're surprised to find the door still locked, and you park in front of the doors to block them as you use your key to get inside. The chaos of the outside world seems to disappear as you enter your sanctuary.
That night had been surprisingly calm. Neither zombie nor survivor had even attempted to enter the building. You felt strangely at ease, knowing blood wouldn't be on your hands tonight.
The next morning you had started the process of transforming the library to what it was today. You'd stored non perishables in the staff only rooms, blockaded the windows, and set up a small living space behind the front desk.
The next step would be securing food. The water fountains were still working fine, for now, but that wouldn't mean much if you starved to death. There were decorative gardens outside and on the balconies to the other floors. You could replace the flowers with crops, if you had the seeds.
Thankfully your food stores, mostly consisting of canned foods, were enough to last your for at least a month. You had to hope and pray that you wouldn't be swarmed by a hoard by that point. There were a few stores that sold seeds in town. You'd have to risk and excursion to get them.
In the meantime, you found a book about agriculture and began to read.
----------
You were still there a month after the world ended.
A whole month and nothing had attacked you. No hordes, no survivors, no cannibalistic cults. And that made you worried.
Usually, unless there was a reason for this behavior. This would mean the zombies were regrouping to plan a huge attack. But it wasn't like you hadn't seen them. They hadn't disappeared, they just had no interest in the library.
From the windows you could see them shambling across the street. Once, one had even seen you. You stare at each-other. The zombie swung it's head away from you, silently, moving along. Every one of them did this.
You were very glad you got the 'Walking Dead' variety of zombies. You don't think you'd survive the green flu. Or 'The Last of Us'. Shamblers were your preferable match-up.
Whatever infection had caused this made them avoid trying to get into the library, it seemed. Passing to close to the garden around this place seemed to confuse them. They got turned around, sometimes walking against the hoard instead of with it.
The two options when zombies stopped attacking were that they were either going to launch a full scale attack, or that there was a reason for it. If it wasn't the former, you had to figure out the latter.
You stared a the orchard lilies just outside the library's entrance, blooming pink and white with orange stamen. You've never liked them, being able to smell their sent every spring, even from indoors. It drifted through the doors, burning your nose every time anyone entered or left.
You were starting to think that maybe the zombies didn't like it either.
