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Sometimes I worry that I'm over or underplaying (or overplaying...) whump stuff bcs my own personal understanding of "whump/angst" and violence can be skewed. So I was thinking of ways to better classify classify...
so this may be too low or too high so feel free to add input on ranking or whump categories I could add (mostly based on what I've written...)
based on my understanding, typically,
Mind:
Emotional pain: +1
Mental pain: +2
Timeloop: +1.5 ->3
regression: +1-> 3
headaches: +0.5
abandonment: +1
manipulation: +1->2
Physical:
Bones: +1
Blood: +0.5
Internal organs: +2
skin: +0.5->2
Blood vessels: +1.5
protruding bones: +2
infection: +1.5
starvation: +1
Sickness: +0.5->2.5
Vomiting: +0.5
Environmental:
smoking: +0->1
Drugs (self-inflicted): +1-> 2.5
Drugs(forced): +1.5->3
lack of cloths: +2.5
Dirty home: +1
Dirty world: +0.5
Whumper:
Unintentional Whumper: +1
Intentional Whumper: +1->2
"enemy" whumper: +0.5
"Family""Party""lover" whumper: +1
Caretaker:
Good caretaker: -2
Bad caretaker: +2
Assistance:
asks (accepted): -1
asks(is denied): +1.5
asks( neither): 0.5
doesn't ask: 0
doesn't ask(is helped): -1.5
So based on this scale,
I thiiiinnnnkkkkk
around 3.5 is like fine, minor warning... maybe just angst
->rate general-> teen on ao3 prob
around 6.5 ish is like a little bad, might be something to avoid.
-> rate from teen -> mature on ao3
and then 10.5 is probably the real good/bad whump territory.
ngl one of the things i miss abt being into Star Trek is the easy opportunities for "oops the characters are stranded in wilderness, get hurt, must figure out how to survive against the elements until someone can find them" type whump fics
like fuck am i craving some of that kind of stuff rn, but also i just am not as invested in those characters anymore so i'm not really vibing with looking for star trek fics... but none of my current fandoms lend itself as well to that or feel like they have as many of that type of whump fic, either :/
Y'all ever have a side character that you never planned to have just randomly appear and just have such Main Character vibes? Not like in the way I've seen "Main Character EnergyTM" used in that derogatory fashion. I'm talking about how like, they're there, existing, pretty chill for the most part, but there's just something about them that just gives them the aura of A Story Trying To Be Told, but they're not the MC or one of the MCs.
I think my biggest problem wanting to write f/f centric stories (whump or otherwise) is the fact I keep forgetting to add male characters. Like, it's not on purpose, it just keeps being like 1 out of 5, if that.
MCs? Women
Antagonists? Women, some men
Supporting characters? Mostly women, some men + enbys
Mentors? Mostly women
Etc
And this is coming from someone who's transmasc agender, mind you. Transitioned to where, at this point, most people irl label me as a man. So like, idk what to do with this.
I, personally, have no problem with it. I think it's fun just to be writing and all that. I love my characters and their stories. It's more the imaginary crowd of readers I have in my head going 'wtf' when they look at my writing and then see my gender.
I dunno. Probably overthinking things too much. Anyway, back to attempting to sleep in this heatwave.
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a/n; I was gonna try and take a couple days off posting âcause I felt bad for being way too much but Iâm addicted to the panicky feeling that a new post gives me & I could only hold out for one day :â) hello again
I wrote this world in drabbles so thatâs a big part of the reason itâs getting posted in drabbles but the conundrum Iâm having now is that two or three of them are now actually following the plot & the rest are all just completely random so WHAT is the rhyme or reason here ?? there isnât one buckle in
hereâs another random âĄ
(introducing the rest of the unit ! fun fun fun)(Iâve created a universe thatâs just so much fun for everybody involved)
living weapon whumpee, creepy whumper, super soldiers, punishment
word count : this oneâs long as hell, like almost 4K words, thatâs why youâre getting the heads up <3
Good days, in a place like this, are far and few in between.
Most days are wrought with some kind of torment, haunted by something unimaginable. Silasâ day to day can be averaged out to mutilation, brain surgery, training exercises â a game of slaughter for the soldiers â and field tests â a game of slaughter for Silas.
Silas doesnât have a lot of good days.
When he does, they just make him tense.
Itâs like something is missing, and how fortunate it is that the missing piece is some kind of agony but Silas finds himself bracing for it all the same.
Theyâre sprawled across the common room, across the couches and the mismatched carpets, and Silas isnât in surgery, nobody else is in training, their wounds are all healing. Silas is dwarfing the loveseat but Wren had fit himself into the spot at his side and heâs so warm next to him that itâs a good day. It makes Silasâ fingers twitch. Somethingâs just â
Something isnât right. Itâs electric, and it prickles at the back of his neck. Heâs already looking at the door when it chirps to life; a keycard is accepted, then a fingerprint, then the vault lock is unsecured.
Silas was right. Somethingâs wrong.
The door grinds open and a cavalry of soldiers explode into the room like a swarm of flies. Itâs an ambush. They move quickly, covering the door and the perimeter of the common room, shouting over each other, shouting commands.
They flood through the common room, guns pointed towards them.
Wrenâs small hand finds Silasâ quickly and Silas squeezes. He helps Wren to his feet as guns are aimed into their faces and soldiers shout at them, commanding and militant, âon your feet, asset! On your feet!â
Theyâre herded into a row, which gives Silas a cool, uneasy feeling he doesnât let show on his face. Standing next to each other, theyâre too drastically different in size to hold hands in any practical way, but Wren keeps close at his side, fingers woven through Silasâ sleeve so tightly his knuckles are white.
It gives Silas a pang of â not of reassurance, because itâs next to impossible to ever be reassured in a place like this, but something a bit more akin to resolve. Somethingâs wrong, but it really doesnât matter what it is. If Wrenâs in any sort of danger, Silas will raise fuckinâ hell. No harm will befall even a hair on his little blonde head as long as Silas has something to fuckinâ say about it.
He shifts, only slightly, shielding Wren behind his arm just as Point saunters into their unit, hands behind his back, at ease. He walks with casual, unhurried footsteps, pacing up and down the line of them, and heâs quiet for a long time. He stops once in front of Wren and Silas doesnât like the way he looks at him.
âAssets,â he greets finally, loud and commanding. âIt has come to my attention that this unit has been causing me some trouble. Again.â He stops, turns to face them, arms still at ease. âOne of you,â he says, âhas been feeding some information to the big guy ââ he points at Silas ââ that we suspect will make him extremely volatile. That puts us in danger, and that just wonât do, will it?â
Point looks down the row of them before he settles on Wren, close against his back. âAnd it was you, wasnât it?â He asks. âYou werenât a very good girl.â
Wren inhales sharply at his back and Silas isnât sure if the race of his heartbeat is Wrenâs or his own. Something cold starts to trickle down the back of his neck, just as cold as whateverâs started to frost over the inside of his ribcage.
âI asked you a question,â Point says.
Wrenâs fingertips dig into Silasâ arm so hard he probably draws blood. âNo,â he breathes, so soft itâs barely audible.
Point grins at him. âNo?â
âNo,â he insists, just as soft. âIâve never â no. They donât â they donât know.â
His eyebrows lift. âThey donât know?â The way his smile spreads wider across his face is grotesque. âMy,â he says. âDidnât this just get a whole lot more interesting?â
âPlease,â Wren whispers.
The way Point grins at him makes Silasâ stomach bubble. He pushes Wren behind him entirely. âFuck off.â
Pointâs gaze flickers up to Silasâ face, almost appraising, before that awful, grotesque smile spreads across his face again. âThatâs why youâve got such a soft spot for her,â he says. âShe never told you sheâs a whore.â
Wren inhales sharply and Silas is going to rub that smile off Pointâs face with the concrete floor.
Before he gets the opportunity, Robin says, âit was me.â
He doesnât break line, he doesnât change face, a proper and trained soldier. But, âI talked to Silas. Wren didnât know.â
Point turns his head before he follows the movement of it, stalking the line of them to Robin.
Wrenâs older brother, the familial resemblance is undeniable; they have the same white hair, the same dark eyes, the same cheekbones. The difference between them is that Wren is a person, soft and warm, and Robin is a super soldier. Heâs big and heâs broad, his hair cropped short above his ears. When he isnât in combat, he wears round, dorky glasses. Heâs always scared the hell out of Silas and Silas doesnât quite know why. Not much else scares him.
Robin had come to him maybe a week ago, and he hadnât said much. He didnât know much, even. Wren hasnât really beenâŠhimself, heâd said. More than usual. He wonât tell me whatâs going on with him but I was hoping you wouldâŠkeep an eye on him. He trusts you.
He really didnât even need to ask, because Silas was always keeping an eye on Wren but Robin was worried about him and Silas knows more than enough how that feels.
He keeps his chin up as Point approaches. Wren is shaking at Silasâ back. âYou?â
âSir,â Robin agrees.
Point hums thoughtfully. âThis unit is just full of surprises today, isnât it?â
He just barely looks at his men, tipping his head towards Robin. The militia descends on him, shouting and aiming and threatening, getting Robin to his knees, hands behind his head. Two of them hold him there, kneeling on the concrete as Point stands in front of him with a grin.
âAsset,â he says. âYou have been charged today with inciting violence.â
âNo,â Wren breathes. âNo, please ââ
âNormally,â Point says, grinning wider, not turning his head, âthe punishment for inciting violence is execution. But weâve made exceptions for the freak,â he explains, his eyes flickering to Silas, âso weâve decided to show you mercy. You will get to walk away.â And he grins, flicking his wrist, and a buck knife slides out from his sleeve and glints tauntingly in the fluorescence. âWe just need to make absolutely certain you are no longer capable of inciting violence in our facility. Precautions need to be taken.â With his other hand, he grabs a fistful of Robinâs white hair and he drives his knee into his windpipe.
Robin chokes, gasping for ragged breaths as Point takes a step back, just far enough that he can boot Robin in the face and throw him off his knees, onto his back. From there, Point stomps down onto his face, and the pitch of the gurgling noise that Robin makes gives Silas goosebumps.
âToday,â he announces, âwe will take your tongue. We will no longer have to worry about threats of violence, and you will be used as an example to your unit. We donât make empty threats. We will not have any more insurgence in this fuckinâ place, do I make myself clear?â
âPlease,â Wren breathes, peeking out from around Silasâ arm and Silas tries to shield him again but heâs stubborn, heâs insistent. âPlease. Donât do this.â
Point looks at him and he looks for a long time. It makes all the hair at the back of Silasâ neck stand up, and he holds out an arm, not shielding Wren, just blocking him, just in case. Silas can see the idea form in the way that Pointâs face lights up, cruel and delighted. He clicks his tongue at Wren, angling his head, some kind of signal. âBring the girl over here,â he commands. âI want to be inside her while I cut out her brotherâs tongue.â
âNo,â Robin grunts, with the wet strain of somebody bleeding down the back of his own throat.
âNo,â Wren breathes, taking a quick step back.
A wall of black tactical gear and assault rifles closes in on him quickly, and Silas moves without any hesitation or conscious thought at all.
He pivots. Heâs gentle, heâs so gentle with Wren as he pushes him behind himself and barricades him from the nightmare cavalry. Wrenâs hand finds his arm so tightly that Silasâ bones grind together and itâs his resolve. He wonât let anything happen to Wren â he canât. Over his dead fuckinâ body.
Robin â whatever. Silas could take him or leave him. But he means a lot to Wren, and Silas wonât let Wren down.
âI fuckinâ dare you,â he spits.
Give lifts his gun. âStand down, asset.â
âTell you what,â Silas says, lifting his chin. âIf you get me down, Iâll stay down.â
Give aims his gun towards Silasâ dick. âI donât think thatâll be too hard.â
But the funniest thing about these soldiers is that they know Silas. They were here for his creation. Theyâve witnessed every field test. They know what he can do. They know exactly what heâs capable of. When Silas needs to be escorted from the unit theyâll argue amongst themselves, throwing weight and rank around, about who has to stand in front because none of them want to put their backs to him.
Theyâre scared of him. Theyâre right to be, but theyâre scared of him. But thereâs something in this unit â maybe itâs because Silas is corned and drastically outnumbered, but it makes them cocky. Itâs like they forget to be scared.
They should always be scared.
Silas rips the gun out of Giveâs hands and shatters every bone in his face with the base. He drops into a limp pile of limbs and Silas canât tell if heâs breathing. He struggles, sometimes, with how little it actually takes to kill a human being. Overkill, sometimes, but heâs never tried to tone it down.
âAsset!â Preach bellows, and Silas hooks his foot behind his ankle, sending him sprawling. Once heâs on the ground, Silas drives his heel down and right through the centre of his face. He hits concrete, and bone tears through his sock and bites open the bottom of his foot.
Heâs rewarded with a knife between the ribs.
Itâs whatever, itâs a knife to the ribs, itâs definitely not Silasâ first. But it hurts, of course it fuckinâ hurts, it hurts all the way through him and deep into his chest and he rips the knife out of his side with a roar. Rock, still standing close at his side, exhales an, âaw, fuck,â before Silas gives him back his knife. He brings it up, through the underside of his chin, into the roof of his mouth. Blood pours out of his face like a faucet had been turned on. He hits the ground with a noise like a splatter.
This time, heâs rewarded with a bullet to the face.
It isnât lethal, but Silas is still shot in the face.
His cheekbone shatters on impact and he goes completely blind on his left side. For a second, for only a second, the world around him blurs completely, but it happens for a second too long. Silas sways, and when the vision clears in his right eye theyâre all close, theyâre all way too fuckinâ close.
âBack up,â he snarls, but then everything blurs again and their hands are on Wren and theyâre trying to wrench him from his side.
âNO!â Silas roars.
âSilas!â Wren cries. He reaches for him, and Silas grabs him quickly by the hand.
While his arm is outstretched, Need strikes, and he breaks all the way through Silasâ elbow with a buck knife.
It crackles with pain for barely a moment before Silas stops feeling anything in his arm. It falls to his side, useless and limp, and Silas quickly reaches for Wren with his other arm but Silas thinks he might be losing a lot of blood and quickly isnât quick enough.
Wren is hauled away as Silas is surrounded, guns aimed at all his most vital spots, fingers on triggers.
Wren fights, begs, struggles, but Tide and Vineyard make easy work of dragging him across the concrete. His wrists are tied behind his back, and when they drop him at Pointâs feet, they drop him on his back, his hands trapped against the concrete. Thereâs something really helpless about it and it makes Silas really nauseous. The knife is still pierced through his elbow.
Point lifts his boot and presses it down against Wrenâs throat, holding him there.
Silas doesnât snarl so much as his chest makes some kind of noise, something low, like some kind of predatory animal. The barrel of a gun is hoisted, cold, against the nape of his neck, a warning.
âThis is getting just fuckinâ ridiculous,â Point snaps at the room at large. âRidiculous! All of this fuckinâ trouble! For some whore!â He looks down at Wren and tells him directly, âyou are not worth all this fuckinâ trouble.â
Something akin to hatred knots in Silasâ chest, something akin to hatred but something so much stronger, something he doesnât have the words to describe. Itâs heavy, and itâs restless under his skin. The knife is still pierced through his elbow.
Point coils Wrenâs braid around his fist and drags him over to Robin as Wren cries. Robin tries to protest, makes a hiccuping sort of sound, but he doesnât speak. He probably canât. Heâs drowning.
âYou people have been giving me a lot of trouble,â Point announces. He props Wrenâs head up against Robinâs chest. âIâve earned this.â
Wren sobs and itâs the single worst sound that Silas has ever heard. He doesnât think heâll ever forget it. The knife is still pierced through his elbow.
âPlease,â he begs, âplease, please. Donât do this. Please.â
Point grins at him. âYou know how much I love it when you beg.â In a single, fluid motion, he hauls Wrenâs joggers down his thighs.
The knife is still pierced through Silasâ elbow. He takes quick stock. He can still use one of his arms and he can still see from one of his eyes. Heâs probably still at an advantage over a regular, human soldier.
Except Hal is swarmed, too. Not the same as Silas, because Halâs a little more human than Silas, but heâs swarmed, and still, he shoves a soldier out of his way by the side of his head as he shouts, âyou canât do this!â
Point looks up quickly. He kind of scans the room before he settles on Hal. âExcuse me?â
âYou canât fuckinâ do this!â Hal cries.
âStand down,â a soldier warns him and Hal pulls that guyâs knees out from under him.
âAre you fuckinâ serious?â He protests. âThis is fucked up!â
Point looks down at Wren for a long time, who cries quietly and doesnât look back. Finally, he leans over him, up to Robin, and pries his mouth open. Robin doesnât fight him. He doesnât even hiccup this time.
Point eases his tongue from his mouth and severs it with a flick of his wrist. Stepping over Wren and Robin, he sidles up to Hal, getting right up in his face. âWhich one are you?â
âSingh,â Hal answers. He adds, mocking, âsir.â
Something flickers in Pointâs jaw. âSingh,â he agrees. âThey tell me youâre not very bright, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I will choose to believe it is ignorance and not defiance that has made you think you have any right to stand up to me or to tell me what I canât do. You do not. I can do anything Iâd like. I can do whatever I want to you people. Do I make myself clear?â
Hal doesnât deign that with a response.
Point flicks Robinâs tongue into his face and bellows, âdo I make myself clear?â
Hal doesnât flinch, but he closes his eyes.
Point delights in it. âSoldier,â he says, and when Hal looks at him, he goes on, âyou know to look at a superior when theyâre talking to you.â He looks at Vineyard. âBoth eyes. Left and right.â
Vineyard nods.
Hal says, âwhat?â
The swarm is back at him in a second and itâs bigger this time. They force Hal onto the ground, onto his back, they pin him there by his arms and his legs and his wrists and his chest and his chin. Tide holds his eyelids open.
Hal thrashes. âAre you fuckinâ kidding me? This is bullshit!â
âYou shouldâve known better than to misbehave,â Point says.
He hands Vineyard the same knife heâd used to amputate Robinâs tongue. Vineyard flips it over in his fist, and straddles Halâs chest. Hal thrashes again, trying to throw him off. âGet the fuck off me! You canât do this shit! This is fucked!â
âWhat did I just say?â Point snaps. He snaps his fingers, and Vineyard carves both of Halâs eyeballs out of their sockets.
He screams the whole time.
He screams himself hoarse, and when Vineyard climbs off of him, when the swarm depletes, heâs a pile on the floor, head down, and Silas canât tell if heâs still conscious.
âI am getting sick,â Point spits, âsick of the behaviour from this fuckinâ unit. You are livestock. You are property. You belong to me. You have no power here. And Iâm delighted to let you know, livestock, that you arenât even our best. You arenât special. If you canât learn to behave yourselves, you will all be put down, and our efforts will be relocated to another unit and you will not be missed. Except the girl,â he adds, mostly to Wren, standing over him again. He winks. âWhat a waste of such fuckable meat. Weâll keep her in the barracks until we get bored of her. She will be kept busy.â
Wren sobs and Silasâ fingers twitch. His arm is hot with bleeding.
Point crouches down above Wren again and makes a sound, a mock sigh. âI was really looking forward to fucking you while I cut his tongue out,â he says, pulling his joggers the rest of the way down, âand now Iâm really disappointed. So youâre gonna have to make that up to me.â
Wren sobs again. His voice is trembling as he begs, âplease, please. Please donât do this. Please.â
âBe good,â Point tells him, and there isnât even any mocking amusement in it. âIâm already disappointed. Donât put me in a bad mood.â
âPlease,â Wren sobs.
Point pulls him a little closer, pulls his head off of Robinâs chest. âBe a good girl,â he says. âIâm not asking.â
His hands find Wrenâs waist and Wren wails. âPlease.â
Something shifts in Pointâs face. His bad mood. âJust be a good girl!â He cracks his fist into Wrenâs face so hard that the back of Wrenâs head ricochets off the pavement before he goes completely, unsettlingly still. His cheekbone is already bruised as Point snaps, âfuck sake.â With a grunt, he spits in Wrenâs face. âDumb bitch.â As he stands, he looks right at Silas. âNot as much fun fucking her when sheâs not awake to fight me off.â
Silas is a violent person, but the kind of violence that Point stokes in him is something like nothing else Silas has ever experienced. Itâs dizzying, not a thirst but a lust, and Silas doesnât just want to kill him but he wants to eviscerate him.
He makes it half a step closer before the soldier standing closest, Vienna, lifts his gun and shoves the barrel tight against the bottom of Silasâ chin.
âStand down.â
Silas doesnât even have time to remove the knife from his arm. Silas grabs Vienna around the throat and crushes every bone in his neck with his other hand. Heâs dead before he has time to react.
Two gunshots are the soundtrack to his body hitting the concrete. The pain registers a moment later.
It explodes through both of Sevenâs kneecaps, one at a time, a white hot sort of pain that seeps into the marrow of his bones and hurts from the inside. He drops to his knees, and fire licks up into his hips, his chest, it churns his stomach with something hot and acidic that crawls up the back of his throat as he bellows.
Point lowers his handgun. âHe told you to stand down.â
âEat shit,â Silas seethes, and Point fires another shot into the already shattered plate of his right knee. The way the pain ripples through him knocks the wind out of him, and Silas groans through his teeth, breathless.
âDown, boy,â Point says. Silas snarls as he saunters closer, gun raised but almost mocking in its brandishing. âYou embarrass yourself, you know,â he tells him. âLosing all this blood for the sake of the fucksleeve. This is a waste of your talents.â
Silas snorts at him. âGet fucked.â
It brings back Pointâs grin, and he points at Wrenâs limp body. âLike your little girlfriendâs going to be?â
Silas rips the knife out of his arm. He means to throw it, but he doesnât get that far.
He gets shot in the face. Again.
It blows everything to darkness for a second and when Silas comes back to himself heâs on his back, looking up at Point, illuminated ominously by the fluorescent lights.
Point grins down at him again. âFor constant belligerence,â he says, âleft leg. Below the knee.â He holds out a hand, and Vineyard hands him an axe. âIâll do the honours. Shame the girl isnât conscious for this one.â He turns the axe in his hands, brandishing it dramatically before he hoists the end of it towards June.
âTollier,â he says. âAny grand, heroic gestures for this one before I amputate his leg?â
June looks at Silas like she might try.
He shakes his head against the concrete.
She looks at him for as long as the moment will allow. Still, she doesnât look away when she whispers, âno.â
âHmm,â Point says. âGood girl.â He looks at her with an almost genuine approval. âTwo fingers from your left hand for general insubordination,â he orders. âBut Iâll let you pick which two fingers.â
Vineyardâs grin glints in the overhead lights.
Silas is sure June screams, but it sounds like his ears are full of water and he canât hear much of anything else.
Point grins, wide and maniacal. Itâs the most evil Silas has ever seen him look. âBrace yourself, big guy,â he says, and he leans in real close to make sure Silas can hear him. âThis is really going to hurt.â
<3 if you see this can you do me a huge favour & prettiest please reply/reblog/drop by my ask box do whatever you want or need to do & let me know your favourite trope of all time please <3
what is the common denominator in everything you create or consume ?? what haunts the stories you think about more than write ?? what do you seek out when youâre looking for something to read ?? what do you think we need more of ?? what makes you weak at the knees ?? what makes you foam at the mouth ??? bare your teeth ??? bark ????
prettiest please let me know <3 im doing some fancy research đ§