dark fantasy whump ideas
dark fantasy whump is like my absolute favorite, but i love when it’s like... super dark fantasy. heres some ideas i’m throwing out there because i’m bored. also these aren’t all specifically dark fantasy, some just work really well in the dark fantasy genre. feel free to use any of these, please tag me if you do because i’d love to read it, but it’s not required!
1. Whumpee is actually a demon summoned by Whumper, but Whumper finds out Whumpee isn’t as strong and notorious as the books all say. So, they decide they’ll make some other use out of their new little demon.
2. Whumpee ends up in a new dimension, and they see Caretaker and are so relieved, because Caretaker died in their dimension. Only to find out Caretaker is actually their whumper in this dimension, and now they can’t get out...
3. Caretaker and Whumper have always been rivals, different leaders of different nations who never got along. When Caretaker invades Whumper’s castle and they find a horrified Whumpee in chains, right at the foot of Whumper’s throne, they start to hate Whumper for a new reason.
4. Whumpee has never had full control over their magic/powers, and eventually hurt Caretaker by accident. Horrified, they run away, convinced they’re a monster. They start to realize maybe Whumper kept them isolated for a good reason, contemplating if they should return to them.
5. Caretaker gets thrown into a dungeon cell for rebelling against king/queen/monarch Whumper. When Caretaker finds a horribly shaken and bruised Whumpee by their cell, they begin to grow close to each other. All Caretaker knows, is there’s no way they’ll let Whumper hurt Whumpee anymore.
6. Whumper finds Whumpee chained outside a house in the woods, cold, starving, and possibly abandoned. They would typically ignore them, but they notice Whumpee isn’t human. They decide it’d be fun to have a little pet.
7. Whumpee is a thief, and one night they get caught by Whumper, sneaking into their mansion. Needless to say, things don’t turn out well, especially when they realize Whumper is a bigger threat than any ordinary human.
8. Caretaker is a hunter and shoots what looks like a deer in the distance. When they run up to it, they find that it’s no deer, but a frail monster-like whumpee who is begging them for mercy. Caretaker feels guilty and picks them up, only to notice they have more bruises and cuts on them than a single gunshot would do, not to even mention their worryingly light weight.
9. Caretaker is a monster who everyone has feared over the past years, kept in a dungeon cell in tight chains. When they wake up to find a shivering Whumpee who was also thrown inside the cell, they immediately grow protective over them.
10. Whumper possesses Caretaker to hurt Whumpee, not letting on that Caretaker’s been possessed. When Whumpee feels so betrayed that Caretaker could do something so horrible, they run away, back to Whumper, who they think had nothing to do with this.
458 notes
·
View notes
Salvation a Scream Away
Bones in the Ocean Masterlist
For @amonthofwhump 12 days of Whumpmass, Day 6: Jack Frost | Post-apocalyptic Winter | Amnesia | Comfort turned to Fear | Comfort: Snowball Fight and Day7: Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer | Inhuman Whumpee | Exile | Self-sacrifice | Comfort: You’re Not Alone
-
Kira woke to a gentle tune cradling her as if she were still in her mother’s arms. It almost felt like sailing down a river, rocked to and fro, and she allowed the simple pleasure of peace to envelop her for the moment, drifting just beneath coming fully awake and aware.
She felt so comfortable. So sweetly held by the water, and yet she could still breathe air. Somewhere just beyond the waters was the panic of some predicament she was in, but the song kept her away from it and made her feel so safe. She sighed, smiling slightly, raising her hand to touch the air-
Her fingertips found, instead, the warmth of smooth skin. In her mind, clear as a bell, came a simply sung command.
Wake up.
Her eyes opened.
She gasped.
The siren’s inhumanly beautiful face was what she felt - her fingers were against his cheek, and she moved her pointer finger along the line of his cheekbone with her breath still caught in her throat. The creature loomed over her, staring down, his face only inches from hers as his last note faded, vibrating between them, as much in her lungs as his when she breathed him in. His hands were flat to the floor on either side of her, boxing her in. The worn-soft linen of his shirt brushed against her.
He was so close he could have kissed her. She’d have clawed his face off if he had, disemboweled him with her fingernails, beaten him to death with the nearest object capable of it.
But he only watched her, with a look of something like confusion or lingering frustration in the furrow of his brows.
Kira, still a little hazy from the song-spell, pressed her thumb lightly against the little wrinkle there between his eyes, just above the bridge of his nose.
He twitched, but he didn't pull back.
Kira realized she was holding her breath and hitched in an inhale, feeling her corset as a kind of soothing structure over her ribs, giving her support. The siren smelled like salt-spray, but not seawater. Cleaner than that. As if he carried a version of the sea with him that had never been polluted by the shipwrecks of men.
Her heart raced, the foggy comfort of the song turned to the sharper, cut-glass terror of being so close to something that could rend her limb from limb if he chose. And yet…
And yet.
He didn’t.
She dropped her hand. His eyes followed its drift downwards, then went back up to meet her gaze. She could be lost in them - and she knew why sailors would dive into the water to follow the song of a siren and think themselves in heaven as their lungs filled with saltwater and the sirens pulled them into the dark.
She might have followed such a lovely face and beautiful song to her death gladly, too.
And isn't that, more or less, what Guilford Wentworth intended to make her do?
She shook herself a little, like a dog shaking off water. “... you are-... very close,” She managed, voice half-whispered. She didn’t know why. “W-... why?”
The siren paused. Then, he said, slowly, “I do not understand you." . He pulled back, finally, and took his scent of sea-salt and the warmth of his skin with him. Kira found herself almost mournful at the loss, then her nose wrinkled with disgust at the thought. It must be the last dregs of the spell he’d had her under, mucking up her mind. She pushed herself to sitting, once he was far enough back, and looked around.
She was back in a bedroom, but not the same one. This one had different portraits of the same people, or maybe other people who looked like the same people. It had the large bed with different canopy and covers, and heavy iron bars on the window, thick enough that the sun barely made its way through. She could feel the hint of iron lacing every wall around her, somehow woven into the very walls. Magic-dampening, leaving her half-helpless, only able to cast spells that only affected her own body.
At least, until he put iron on that, too.
Would the wedding ring be iron? Or a bracelet, welded on, keeping her forever under the thumb of the Lord Guilford Wentworth’s heinous desires? Just another wife in a portrait on the wall, smiling like dumb livestock because her own needs and dreams had been summarily removed, and no way to defend herself-
No way out-
She swallowed the lump in her throat and rubbed her upper arms with her hands, trying to force her breathing to slow down, and her heartbeat with it. Panic was never of any use, and it never solved a problem. “I-I… what. Ah, pardon, but... what is it you don’t understand, then?” Her voice came out thready and weak, but if the siren noticed, he didn’t visibly react.
“You.” He waved one hand at her, thoughtful. He was bruised in so many places, and she blinked as she realized some of those bruises seemed new. Bright red rings around his neck. Had Guilford Wentworth choked him in his anger, after she had been put to sleep on the floor? Had he done worse than that? “You come to work for him," The siren continued, "You come to chain me with human magic like all the others, and now you fear living the same life you would have made me live.”
Kira blinked. “I-... that’s wasn’t-... that’s not what I came here to do, though.”
Areyto stared at her, disbelief written clearly in the twist of his lips and flash of his dark eyes. Either he wasn’t very good at hiding his feelings, or he wasn’t bothering to hide them from her. “Yes, it is.” He held out his right arm, as if she had forgotten about the spellwork slowly fading from his skin. "You come to make this dark again."
“Right, yes, but-... I didn’t know-... I didn’t know he had a man.” The argument felt weak, and his snort in response definitely emphasized how very weak it was.
“I am not a man,” Areyto said, voice flat. Fury bubbled just beneath his outward placidity. "How many times he tells me this? I am an animal, a dumb predator who will kill men for my meals and so can be made to do anything without guilt. It is no sin to rend and defile little more than a demon, he says. Yes? Is that not what a siren is? Wicked and wild?"
“No!” She groaned, putting her hands up over her face. “I-I mean... maybe wild, yes, but it’s not-... I didn’t know you were a creature who could think. The job was meant to be spelling a sea serpent-”
“That is what I am."
"You are not!" Why was she arguing? Somehow, Kira couldn't stop herself. She pushed up to her feet, and Areyto followed suit, the two of them close once again, each with a stubborn set to their jaws, each glaring daggers at the other.
Areyto seemed to realize the reflection they made first, and his expression shifted. He turned and went to the window. "The serpents also think. Not that it matters to men."
Kira told herself not to think about the scars she had seen on his back, down in the room with his pool of water. The scars… everywhere, beneath that plain shirt and pants he wore now. She could nearly picture them even now, barely hidden by the thin linen. He had been tortured, here, again and again and again. Because of magicians like her. “You just cannot speak to them to know it," Areyto muttered. "Your kind knows nothing about the waters.”
“Right… right. All right." She took in a deep breath, put her hands up to admit her defeat. "You say it truly, I am ignorant as to the ocean. But… I do promise, I did not know it would be one... one like you! I didn't know-”
“That you would do harm to a creature who could tell you the harm you do, that is what you did not know. You did not know that you would harm something you think to be pretty.” He looked at her over his shoulder, lip curling in disgust.
It made her hackles raise, to be looked at like that. Even if he had every right to loathe humanity, she couldn't stop herself from brushing the wrinkles from her skirt and then drawing herself to her full height. Her hair was coming loose, curling tendrils coming free and making the back of her neck itch. She set her jaw imperiously. "You don't know me so well as you think."
"Don't I? I know the ones like you. All your pity and your sympathies have never stopped you from making me his, again and again and again, you human magicians. You watch him keep me as a pet and a slave to his wants, whisper your sorries and make your sad faces and then watch me when the pain begins, and ends, and begins again. You are no better than the first one to hurt me. You humans are all exactly the same. You fear me or hate me, and if you feel anything else, it isn't enough to make you lift a hand to save me."
Kira opened her mouth to argue, and then slowly closed it again. “You have been-... ill-used by humans for a very long time,” She said, finally, keeping her voice low and a little soft. “I would hate us very much, if it were me, I think."
His expression stayed flat. "Indeed."
"But-... I would like to say that... that I don't like to think of myself as exactly like anyone or anything, and... I think I can do better by you than the other magicians have."
His face didn't move, but something might have softened around the glare of his eyes.
"But... can I ask-... If you hate us all so much, why are you in this room with me? Why not be… anywhere else, in this house, or however far you are allowed to go?”
Areyto did not answer her. He simply kept his eyes on the outside world, for long seconds ticking by marked by a clock on the wall. The sound might drive her mad, if one of them did not break it soon.
Just when she had drawn together her determination to speak again - having no idea what she would even say if she did - the siren turned around. He was close to her before she could do more than back up a few steps, bringing with him the heavy tension of his innate magic, a wild animal kind that the iron couldn’t dampen so well as it did her own. She swallowed, tipping her chin to meet his eyes as his warm hands closed around her upper arms. His irises shifted within themselves, like seaweed moving slowly in some deep dark place under the water.
“You could use your magic without marking a spell,” He said, voice low. “Without a song. Without the paints or the brush. You did it there, at the table. You could do it again."
Kira shook her head. “I-I don’t know how I did it. We are not meant to be able to-”
“But you did. You must do it again, use that magic. Use it to free me, and yourself, from this place. From this man. That is why I come here to you, and bring you awake so you will speak to me.”
He took her hand in his own, then, closing both of his other her fingers, and she felt an electric charge up her arm as if he were made of lightning. She tensed, her eyes searching his face for the sign of rage, or the rows of sharp teeth she knew were there, beneath the human mouth. But all he did was lean in close, and she felt the puff of his breath as he spoke, pleading with eyes locked on hers. “Please. You are different than they have been before. Be different now. Help me.”
“I’m-... I’m a prisoner as much as you are-”
“Please,” He whispered again. “Please, please help me. You have wild magic. He cannot control that. Not even with my song. Not at all. You must use it to free me, don't leave me here."
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, w-wild-... wild magic-... Look." She shook her head. "No one has that. Magic only works if it's directed-"
“Not yours.” He moved, then, around and past her, to the door. He left her standing there feeling as though he’d taken all the air with him. Left her cold and alone. The door opened and closed, and though when she tried it a half-second later, the doorknob did not turn for her at all, and the iron it was laced with made her palms ache.
She collapsed into an overstuffed padded chair in the corner of the room, a hand to her head, staring at nothing. The spell to make her body her own had faded, while she slept, but if he had noticed he hadn't said anything about that, either. Had shown no sign of even seeing the difference.
His words hung in the air as if he’d carved them into the walls, or painted them onto her skin. A spell, but one made only of terrible, frightened need.
Help me.
-
Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee
44 notes
·
View notes