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another-whump-sideblog · 24 days

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Jane's Pets Chapter 96: Resurrection

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

You asked Barron about resurrection, once. You didn't really know if you'd want to use it if it did exist, but you were curious, and none of its books mentioned it. You also felt smart for figuring that if it did exist it would require the death of someone else to do, since magic cares so much about balance, and wanted to see if you were right.

"Once someone's dead, they're gone." It said. "At least, that's a foundational assumption we mages make in order to better understand magic, like the whole balance thing. It's possible we're wrong, but assumptions like that tend to lead us in the right direction when it comes to tinkering and stuff, which implies there's at least some truth to it. So, assuming our fundamental understanding of magic is correct, you could puppet around a corpse, but the person they used to be will never exist in that form again. Maybe you could describe vampirism as a form of resurrection, but I wouldn't. Vampires who are turned aren't the same person they were as a human. There are also some mages who claim that ghosts are real, but given how magic resists attempts to prove its existence and how ghosts aren't solid and observable in the way fae, vampires, and other species are, it's hard to tell."

You nodded. "Would puppeting a corpse require killing someone?"

It raised its eyebrows.

"I'm not planning on doing it! I just guessed that the cost of a spell like that would be death and wanted to check if I'm understanding the balance and cost stuff correctly."

"Oh, that makes sense. A spell that allowed you to continuely puppet a corpse would require that, yes, but more temporary ones have easier costs to bear. Not that I think it would really ever be worth it, what would you even get out of that?"

You nodded. All this talk about puppeting was starting to make you think about the brand on your arm, and you'd rather not think about that.

"Is there any way to communicate with the dead?"

"Maybe. Like I said, it's hard to tell. Even mages who argue you can claim that it's so different from talking to the living it's hard to get much out of it."

You couldn't help but be disappointed. It would be so wonderful to be able to talk to your dad again…

Now, of course, you wish you could talk to Diya, Barron, and Ray again as well. It's good you found out it wasn't possible before they died, or else you'd probably spend the rest of your life trying.

You can't think about them right now. Once someone's dead, they're gone. You need to focus on the living.

Resurrection not existing can be a bit of a comfort, too. Once Jane and you are dead, you'll be gone completely, never able to hurt anyone again.

–

"Come here Kitty, it's time for your medicine."

Kitty shows no sign that they heard Jane. They seem captivated by the puzzle they're trying to solve.

Jane appears right next to them before you can do anything. "Kitty." Her tone is warning.

Kitty carefully places another piece with a shaking hand and doesn't look up. Oh. They're not captivated. They're doing this on purpose.

You open your mouth to say something, to try and convince Kitty that if they can just hold on until your hands heal they'll be able to be themself again, but Jane speaks first.

She grabs their face bruisingly. "Bad ki-"

"No! No no no no, stop it! Stop it, don't touch me!"

Jane slaps them hard across the face. She's not angry, though. She's smiling wide. "Uh oh… you know saying no to me is against the rules. You know being noncompliant is against the rules. I've put in all this work, and it seems like… you're just untrainable." Her voice drips with disappointment, but she's still smiling.

Kitty tries to punch her, and she easily teleports out of the way. "Puppy? Help me get Kitty downstairs and restrained."

Jane grabs them by the hair and touches their collar, making it instantly disappear into her void. Puppy comes from the kitchen grabs Kitty's legs. They thrash and scream, but Jane and Puppy get them down the stairs easily. After a moment of hesitation, you follow. Maybe you can convince Jane to lighten the punishment, or take their place.

"Master-"

"Nope!" Jane finishes hanging Kitty from the ceiling with Puppy's help. "Both of you are going to go upstairs and out into the backyard. I have a job for you, I'll be out to tell you what it is in a minute."

Puppy immediately goes back upstairs and pulls you along by the elbow. You'd shake her off, but it doesn't look like negotiating will help this situation. Best to just obey so you don't risk them being punished for your misbehavior.

It's a nice day. Puppy's been tending to your garden after breaking your hands, so you haven't been going outside as much as you used to, but you really should be spending time outside anyway. It makes everything feel more manageable when you get fresh air and sunlight.

Jane appears with two shovels in her hands. "I need you guys to dig a hole. As deep as you can go, and about as wide as a twin mattress. Can you do that?"

"Yes, master." You say on autopilot. You're… not going to be able to do that with your broken hands, but she knows that. Luckily, she doesn't seem upset at the obvious lie.

Puppy nods.

"Excellent!" She throws a shovel at you and the other at Puppy with much more force than necessary. Obviously, you're unable to catch yours. Ow. Puppy catches hers gracefully.

Jane is gone by the time you look back up, so you turn to Puppy.

"I won't be able to dig. Maybe I can kick some dirt around, but besides that I think I'll just be moral support. Is that okay?"

Puppy nods. She looks pretty shaky… and now that you're paying attention, you notice her face is pale and her eyes are full of tears.

"Hey, what's wrong? I mean-" How can you figure out what's wrong with just yes or no questions? "Are you upset about helping Jane restrain Kitty? You know that's not your fault. Neither is my hands being broken. It's okay."

That doesn't seem to comfort her. She wipes her eyes and stabs at the ground with her shovel.

"Is it that you feel bad about hurting me or Kitty?"

She shakes her head.

"Huh. Does it have to do with digging this hole?"

She gives one short nod, tears streaming down her face.

"Are you… upset that I can't help?"

She shakes her head.

You decide you should be able to figure it out from there. You wonder why Jane's just giving you busywork. Is it just busywork? That's not the kind of thing she normally does, and wouldn't she want you to have to hear Kitty screaming and not be able to do anything about it? She loves doing that stuff. And why does she want the hole a specific width, why would that matter if this is just-

Oh fuck, oh fuck. She's having you dig a grave.

Puppy throws you to the ground and pins you before you can even think about running in to stop Jane.

"OW- Wha- Puppy, we can't just let her kill them!" You could fight her off if you needed to, and you will if it comes to that. But first you want to try talking to her. "Please, I know you don't want them to die. We can't do nothing!"

She seems to consider that for a moment, then shakes her head.

"Puppy…" You can't wait any longer. You shove her off of you and run inside.

You leap over the couch and get to the basement door in seconds. You try to twist the doorknob using your elbow, but it stays in place. The door is locked.

That's fine, the door is still breakable. You run at it and ram your shoulder into it over and over again with all the force you can muster, but it doesn't seem to help. You kick it as hard as you can everywhere you can reach that you think might have weakpoints. Wood starts to crack, so you keep kicking until there's a hole in the door.

There's metal beneath the wood.

"No!" You scream and pound on the door with your fists. "Stop it, don't kill them, take me instead!"

There's no response. You run to the kitchen and grab the heaviest pot you can find, then run back and start banging it against the doorknob- the door doesn't need to break, just the doorknob- but that doesn't work either. You can't grip it tightly enough to bang with any real force with just your elbows.

"Puppy! Please, I can't do this without you!"

You turn to look out into the backyard and see Puppy curled up on the ground, sobbing and twitching, why is she-

The collar, her sobbing set off the collar, damn it! You scream in frustration. With the twitching and the shaking, she probably wouldn't be able to get a good grip on the pot either, even if she wants to.

You- you need a spell, there's got to be a spell that can break down the door! But- your hands-

Thinking about your hands again, you realize they're in agony. You might've re-broken them pounding on the door, shit shit shit!

"No no no no no no-" You can't lose them too. This is all your fault, again, and you can't do anything to help. If Jane's decided she's going to kill Kitty, she's going to kill Kitty, and there's nothing you can do about it.

You waited too long. You should've been trying a new spell every day, should've been attacking Jane at every opportunity, should've comforted Kitty well enough that they didn't feel the need to to be noncompliant to regain their autonomy- this is all your fault!

Now that you're not screaming, you can hear Kit crying out every once in a while from the basement. They're still alive, and you still can't do anything. You pound on the door weakly again.

They're going to die. They're going to die and it's going to be all your fault.

You lean against the door and sob and sob as the light coming through the windows slowly fades. At some point, Puppy manages to stop crying and starts working on digging their grave again. It's all she can do. And you can't even do that. You can't do anything. Cold wind comes through the open back door. You can't hear Kitty downstairs anymore.

"Aren't dogs supposed to be good at digging? This isn't nearly deep enough."

You whirl around at the sound of Jane's voice. She's looking down at the (admittedly fairly small) hole with her arms crossed, but a satisfied smile is on her face. Puppy looks near passing out.

A horrible thought occurs to you. She was never going to bury them anyway. She's going to force you and Kitty to eat their bodies. This really was just busywork.

Jane looks over to you and tsks. "And what have you done to that poor door? That's not what I told you to do."

"Where's Kitty?" Your voice is hoarse.

"...In the basement? Where else would they be?" The smug smile never leaves her face for a second.

"Y-you… Can I see them?"

She giggles. "If you want to. You won't be able to talk to them, though. They're dead."

You knew that on some level, but hearing it still sends the world crashing down around you. You can barely breathe. Not again, not again-

You can hear Puppy wailing, distantly, and Jane laughing.

You failed. The only thing keeping you going was the determination to save them and you failed. Even if you manage to kill Jane now, you and Puppy will never be okay, never be able to get past this. You'll live the rest of your lives with gaping holes in your hearts, and neither of you have enough left to compensate for it. You'll be empty forever.

From the other side of the basement door, you hear the click of Jane unlocking it.

"Well, do you want to see them or not?"

You stumble down the stairs in a haze, and Puppy follows close behind.

Kitty is still hanging from the ceiling. Their feet are in some sort of tub-

Their chest rises and falls. They're breathing.

"Kitty!" Your voice comes out as more of a scream. You run to them and wrap your arms around their body. "Kitty, Kitty, I thought you were dead, I thought-" You can't speak through the sobs wracking your body.

Kitty's eyes slowly open. "Wha-?"

Jane is laughing so hard you can hear her struggling to breathe. Puppy is at your side, gently tugging on your shoulder. Right, Kitty doesn't like to be touched, and they can't push you away right now.

"Sh-She- I thought you were dead- she had us dig your grave!"

"I'm… sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, nothing, it's all her, I'm just so glad you're alive-" You want to hug them so badly but you know that they probably wouldn't like that.

"You really thought- you really thought I wouldn't make you watch the whole time if I was actually killing them!" Jane wheezes.

You don't care. You don't care what she does or what she says, as long as Kitty's alive.

"I'm going to kill her. Soon." You say softly. Kitty doesn't react, but Puppy…

Puppy looks at you with steely determination in her eyes and nods.

A/N: Man, this one was fun to write. Originally it was going to be titled 'Death' just to be mean but I figured I'd give some hints that Kitty wasn't actually going to die. I didn't plan on this landing on April 1st but what a fun coincidence! Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list! Next chapter is the season finale!!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff

@fuckcapitalismasshole

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #nonhuman whumper #multiple whumpees #pet whump #whumpee #whumper #whump caretaker #2nd person pov #mock execution #mock execution tw #implied torture tw #drugging tw #suicidal ideation tw #(Liam's not necessarily suicidal but he genuinely can't imagine a world where he survives killing Jane and I think that's close enough)#jane’s pets

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actress4him · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 - Day 1 - Querencia

This is the next chapter of Querencia, directly following Park Day!

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @inky-whump , @painful-pooch , @pigeonwhumps , @bookworm2107

Previous | Next | Masterlist

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.” | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Contains: dude whump, lady whump, team whump, superheroes and villains, head injuries, unconsciousness, kidnapping, restraints, noncon drugging, referenced homelessness, implied torture, death mention

Liliana is first aware of a sharp headache in her temple. Waking up with a headache is hardly unusual, she’s used to sleeping on asphalt and hard-packed dirt with not enough food or water in her system. But something in her gut is screaming wrong, something that makes her open her eyes instead of rolling over and trying to go back to sleep past the pain like usual.

She’s not in an alleyway. She’s also not in her new room at the warehouse. She doesn’t know where she is, which has her immediately sitting up, though she regrets it when her head pounds and the unfamiliar room sways around her. Squeezing her eyes shut again, she puts a hand to the side of her head and waits for everything to settle.

“Lili! You’re awake! Are you okay?”

Blinking, she looks for the source of the voice. It’s Nari, sitting a few feet away with Jamil, a smear of dried blood across her upper lip. And Alex…he’s lying nearby, and looks like he’s asleep. Or…unconscious? She refuses to think of the third option.

“I’m…I’m okay, just…” She pulls her hand down into her lap quickly. “H-headache. What, what happened? Where are we, i-i-is…is A-alex okay?”

“He’s unconscious,” Jamil responds, looking over at him anxiously. “Like you were. Hopefully he’ll wake up soon.”

“We’re not really sure what happened.” Nari shifts, and Liliana’s eyes are drawn to the handcuffs linking her right wrist to the chain link that makes up one wall of the ‘room’ they’re in. Something about that isn’t right, but her mind is swirling too much to pinpoint what it is yet. “Um…last we remember was being in the car and…hitting something, maybe? And swerving off the road. Then we woke up here.”

Right. The car wreck, she remembers that now. “I-I-I think…I think I h-heard people…talking. I don’t, um, don’t remember w-what they said.”

“Well, we all know that we make enemies in our line of work.” Nari drops her voice low, as if someone might be listening. “And this has to be about that. But…the question is, how did they know it was us?”

“I told you, it has to be Luna.” Jamil doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds small, and scared, like he did right after waking up from being mind controlled. “We knew she was going to pull something like this sooner or later.”

Liliana’s eyes dart around the room, trying to decide what type of building they’re in, even though she’s sure Nari and Jamil have gone over all those possibilities already. It seems like a storage area of some kind, though the part they’re in has been cleared out. The walls are concrete block, other than the one that’s chain link fence with a door in the center. Through the fencing she can see stacks of boxes, and maybe another area like the one they’re in, too. It’s hard to tell for sure in the dim lighting.

“W-wait, where’s…?” She twists, looking behind her, making sure she hasn’t missed him somewhere. Her ribs twinge, even more of them sore now than the one she’d healed. “Where’s Quinn?”

The expressions that come over both Nari and Jamil’s faces put an immediate knot in her stomach. They don’t get a chance to answer, though, because it’s at that moment that Alex groans and begins to stir. He’s handcuffed to the fencing, too, and so is Jamil. She’s the only one not restrained. Maybe they figured she didn’t look like a threat. They’d be right about that.

“Alex, dude! You had me worried, are you okay?”

Nari nudges Jamil with her elbow. “Give him a second to wake up, Jay.”

Groaning again, Alex scrubs at his stubbled face with his free hand. “Man, my head. I must have gotten hit with something big.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Letting his arm flop back to the ground, he picks up his head and squints at Nari. “Three.”

She nods and drops her own hand. “Yep. You’ll be okay. Just take it easy for now.”

“Um…” Alex rolls his head from side to side and tugs at his restraints a little. “Why are we in a dungeon and why am I handcuffed?”

Jamil lifts his shoulders up toward his ears. “We…got kidnapped?”

“What? How did somebody manage that?” He’s still pulling at his trapped wrist. “Wait, better question, why can’t I break the handcuffs?”

“Same reason I can’t.” Nari jingles her own set with a frustrated huff, and it finally clicks with Liliana why her being restrained felt so weird. They’re made of metal. Nari should be able to bend those to her will with little thought or effort.

“They’ve apparently done something to our powers,” Jamil explains. “I can’t replicate or anything, either. I don’t know if it’s something in the room, or if they drugged us, or what.”

“Great.”

Nari turns a thoughtful look on her. “If it’s drugs, I wonder if they gave it to you, too, Lili. I mean…most people don’t even know that you’re a part of the team, much less what you do.”

“Luna knows,” Jamil mumbles.

“I could, um…I c-could try healing someone? Alex’s head, m-maybe?”

“Guys!” Everyone’s attention turns back to Alex. “Where’s Quinn?”

Those same expressions are back. Jamil runs his free hand nervously through his curls, and Nari stares down at her lap. Liliana automatically starts fidgeting with her gloves without even knowing what’s going on.

“We don’t know.” Nari’s voice is never that quiet and unsure. “He, um…he wasn’t here when we woke up. We haven’t seen or heard anything about him.”

Everything falls silent. The severity and terror of the situation is finally sinking in for Liliana, making her stomach churn.

Is he hurt? Is he dead? Are they doing something horrible to him right this very second? Who are these people, and what do they want from them? And how are they going to get out of here if none of the heroes can use their powers?

“I’m…I’m sure he’s okay,” Nari begins tentatively. “He’s…the leader, they probably…just…”

A loud, strangled scream tears down the hallway and echoes through the room.

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thewhumpyprintingpress · 2 years

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The Whumpy Prompt List

To aid in your whumping, here are a bunch of prompts to jumpstart your creativity. If you want, combine one prompt from each of the three sections and see what happens! For extra fun, use this random number generator to draw a random prompt from the dialogue, whump fun, and character sections and write a story!

These prompts are free to use whether you submit to the anthology or not, but if you do use them make sure to tag us!

Anthology Submissions: Open

CW for implied torture and captivity

Dialogue

“What a bloody mess”

“Look what you’ve done, now I have to do laundry again”

“Now now, don’t cry. I want to see that beautiful smile.”

”Let’s try to get that sound out of you again”

“I thought you said you were going to be good for me?”

“Please punish me.”

“I told you to kneel.”

“It’s been too long.”

“I’ll never forget.”

“You’re not hiding it as well as you think you are”

“Shh be quiet. Do you want them to hear?”

“Disappointing.”

“Good. Good. Let it all out”

“I thought we agreed never to lie to each other.”

“One day you’ll thank me.”

“That wasn’t part of the arrangement.”

“How much?”

“Run.”

“Cute, do that again.”

“You can do better than that.”

“Don’t touch me!”

“I just want to go home.”

“It hurts.”

“I hate you!”

“Leave me alone.”

Whump Fun

Vivisection

Revenge is a dish best served cold

Crunch

Psychological torture

A spark of hope

Hysterical laughter

Working for the whumper (you know, like there’s a caretaker that’s the whumper’s doctor, and they try to make it easier for the whumpee)

Forced to whump

Hiding

Alien abduction

Worthless

Sold

Whumpee is rescued. Or are they?

Solitary confinement

The Torture Room

Hugs

Breaking

Haunted House

Desert

Lost at Sea

Untrained medic

Once upon a time

Court Intrigue

(Forced?) Bath

Force of Nature

Characters

Here are a bunch of characters, now make them whumpers, whumpees, and caretakers!

Ghost

Cyborg

Spy

Doctor

Knight

Victorian gentleman

Heir to the throne

Wizard

Healer

Necromancer

Immortal

Political prisoner

Hero

Sidekick

Villain

Supervillian

Civilian

Mer

Artist

Farmer

Academic

Lighthouse keeper

Vampire

Werewolf

Winged

#whump prompts #whumpy prompt list #whump prompt #hurt and comfort stories #whump community #whumpblr #writing prompts #whump prompt list #implied captivity tw #implied torture tw

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zofiawithaz · 5 months

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Please Don't Bother Trying To Find Her, She's Not There

TIMING: The Last Days Of November

LOCATION: Abandoned Cabin, somewhere near the Wormwoods. Underground, mostly.

PARTIES: Zofia Kowalska

SUMMARY: Zofia's been held captive since the summer. She's not really herself anymore. But she does manage to escape so at least there's that! :)

CONTENT WARNINGS: Implied Torture, Blurring of reality, Hallucinations, Murder (it's totally deserved. This time.)

Isolation was a peculiar monster.

It stretched the darkness and silence into all manner of things, distorting them like a fun house mirror- time, memories, emotions. All things tore themselves apart and remade themselves, a warped mockery of what they had once been.

How long had it been? Months? Years? It couldn’t have been centuries- not unless the occasional faces that floated through, poking and prodding and slicing for information bore a striking resemblance to some long dead relative. But then, perhaps faces were just one more thing that being alone had robbed her of. Perhaps Zofia was damned to see her captors in every face she would ever come across. But damned for what, exactly? The vampire laughed to herself in the dark, the sound of it wrong to her ears. Damned for embracing the gift of life at the cost of the life force of others? Damned for pretending she was not a monster? Damned for daring to dream that she could be happy?

Had it all been a dream? That stretch of time in the little coastal town with creatures like her hiding in plain sight? With people like the sweet boy Zofia had treated like her own blood. Or the blonde man with kindest eyes she’d seen in years and the heart of a poet. Old faces that had loved her once upon a time flickered through dreams and nightmares whenever pain or exhaustion claimed her. She remembered their names and hers, hanging on to memories by a thread. But perhaps it had not been kindness or love in those eyes she remembered. Why would they have left her there? Why hadn’t those eyes searched for her here, in the darkness? He had left her once before. He had run- he’d gone far away, hiding from his past and his present. Hiding from her. Perhaps he was hiding from her again. Or perhaps, perhaps he had simply forgotten her. Perhaps he had had enough of her, and decided it was easier to leave her to rot. It was too messy, too complicated, too much- much too much. She hated it. Hated that she could once love so freely and try to protect what she cared for, and that when it counted that same love and protection wouldn’t be afforded to her. She wouldn’t be plucked from this hell she’d found herself in by an old friend or lover. She was simply on her own.

Hours days years moments seconds instants blurred together with the steady plink, plink, plink, of water against a rusty pipe. The noise had been her only constant companion. It was a steady reminder that she was there. It was the only way she could tell dream from reality. And even then, she was never certain.

Time ticked on to the rhythm of the water.

“Zofia,” a voice whispered to her in the dark, one that had been kind to her once so very long ago. The details of her face blurred as time had nearly robbed her of the memory. Her mother was centuries dead, her body six feet under the dirt a world away. And yet there she stood in the corner of the room, smiling at her as she had when the vampire had been a far younger and kinder thing. “You have teeth and claws and wits. Why do you let them cage you like a wildcat for them to tame?” Zofia ran a parched tongue over fangs that yearned to bite into flesh, to pull life back into herself and reclaim all that had been lost. “I don’t know, mama.” She sighed to what she knew deep down was just an empty cell. She resigned herself to silence once more.

Silence and the ever present plink, plink, plink.

Time stretched and slowed and warped. And paused.

And then all at once, there it was.

A curse not so far off. The sharp sweet metallic smell. The sound of papers fluttering to the ground. Her senses honed in on the smell. They gave her sips every now and again- old blood from blood bags. Enough to keep her useful, enough to heal whatever they inflicted. Enough to keep her from turning spawn. But fresh blood was something she hadn’t smelled in so very, very long. If she could free herself, she could find someone and she could drink her fill, and it would be fixed-all of it. The madness, the water, the pain- maybe it would all go away.

She twisted herself. Pulling. Straining against her confinements with a newfound resolve. They wouldn’t budge.

Zofia looked around the space for something. She was not an animal in a cage. The voice was right. She had wits. A mind. That was what separated her from an animal. And despite the fact that her mind treaded dangerously close to shattering to pieces, it could still come up with an idea. “Something sturdy. Something small,” whispered the voice. Something to pick its way out of the lock. Looking out into the dark room, she tried to determine what was really there. A pen that was too far away. A stack of papers bound together with a paperclip, also just out of her reach. A wire hanger lay on the ground nearby a makeshift coat rack. They’d never liked to get their things dirty when they came to play interrogator with her. Her eyes locked on the hanger. Quiet as she could, she stretched a leg out to catch onto the hanger. She dragged it closer, so slowly she thought she might have found a way to slip through the cracks of time and found herself stuck inside a tenth of a second. A low growl rumbled in her throat as she focused, shimmying the hanger toward her hands. She didn’t remember ever picking a lock before. But there was a great deal of things she couldn’t quite recall if she’d ever actually done, so she prayed perhaps her hands would know what to do.

Another eternity or instant later, she heard the soft click of metal releasing. She moved her arms and looked down at the strange hands. Were they hers? She supposed so. She hadn’t seen them in so long, that they could very well be a strangers. Her fascination was pulled from the reappearance of her own hands by the metallic scent that was still drifting through the air. Her eyes darkened.

Perhaps she was a beast after all. Perhaps she always was the predator that belonged inside the bars of a cage. After all, she prowled with the easy, lethal grace of a wildcat. She surveyed the tray of holy water and cruel knives they’d used on her, plucking one of the blades from it’s place. It would serve as her claws now. As much as she longed to slake her thirst from the blood she could almost hear pumping through their veins, she could faintly recall a time where she’d bit one of their kind. Their blood was all acid and fire. It was their defense mechanism against those that would drink their fill to be free of those that hunted. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

She moved quickly. Quietly. She watched the man. He was far more interested in the pages of the magazine he’d cut his finger on to notice that the ever present energy of the vampire he guarded had grown closer. Striking like a scorpion, Zofia watched the blood cascade down the man’s neck for what felt like hours. Listening with a demented sort of glee as they gasped like a fish in the hook. “You should not have tried to break me.” Even her voice was foreign to her now. It had been so long since it had formed words instead of sobs or screams. She let out a hush, soft words in a foreign tongue tripping through the air as she pretended to soothe the dying hunter, smiling as though she were tucking a small child into bed. The look of horror in their unseeing eyes was a comfort to her. They’d finally gotten what they’d wanted, after all. They’d seen the monster that lurked in the shadows. Even if it had come at the cost of their life. “Dobranoc, draniu.” She cooed, standing up.

Zofia rolled her shoulders back, and spat on the ground where the dead hunter lay. It was taking all of what little willpower she had left to not stoop and drink the poisonous blood. She made her way up, up, out of the ground.

Out of the old cabin. Out, into the cold night.

The bastard had friends. She remembered their faces well. Let them come looking for her, she thought with a laugh. She’d sing them a lullaby as she sent them off to unending sleep with their godless bastard of a compatriot. She stalked toward the twinkling lights of town, following her nose toward the promise of food. Toward people she could sink her teeth into. She smiled. Like her friends time, memory, and emotion, she too had been torn asunder and made anew in the darkness of her mind. Soft, gentle Sofie no more. Zofia once again.

#self para: Please Don't Bother Trying To Find Her She's Not There #implied torture tw

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thehellishtrinity · 1 year

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#muse #virus #plot #angst #trigger warning #torture tw #implied torture tw #violence tw #gore tw #Emetophobia #blood tw #knife tw #ask to tag #long post #comic #ME WHEN I FORGET TO TAKE THE BMC TAGS OFF THE POST GOD #HOW MORTIFYING

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adoranoia · 10 months

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as i said, i like giving muse scars. gives em character, i think, asdfghjkl--

#* && OOC #* && SAERAN CHOI : DEVOUT / FOLLOWER .#anyway yoinks the burn scar idea from v's route/after story. for funsies #injury tw #implied torture tw

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screamingeagle · 1 year

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@errantwish continued from here.

B.J sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"You want the real report on how things're goin' on the front, or you want me to tell you all's fine and fuckin' dandy?"

He took a canteen from his side— not a water canteen, filled with whiskey, which wasn't his typical fare, but it was what they had— and took a swig.

"Sorry, Sarge. Didn't mean to snap at you. Ain't angry with you. Just... this war won't fuckin' stop. We think we're takin' a step forward, Deathshead and the rest of the krauts're a dozen ahead of us. Can't keep up. Not with that tech they got."

Had their visit to the X-Labs even slowed 'em at all? Fuck. He hoped so.

"Just... checkin' in on you. I know 'fore you left, you came to me, talkin' bout some... heavy subjects. Wanted to make sure you're alright, soldier."

No, not soldier. Max.

“ Ooohoho, believe me, do I fuckin’ kno’ things ain’t goin’ good. I got cut into by Deathfuck n’ now I hate bein’ on these cots. ” He pointed his flask to him with a huff, “ N’ we lost Dylan, too-- Atkinson?... poor son of a bitch. ” His eyes flicked away for a moment, perhaps to hold back any tears. Lots’a people Max knew. Lots he couldn’t see anymore.

Eyes drifting back to B.J, he just managed a grin, “ I getya, tho’, don’t worry... but if it helps? They got Operation Wolfstone comin’ up from what I hear. OSA’s really lookin’ fer the topdogs right now-- I’m guessin’ they’ll send you’s n’ maybe Cap’n Wesley. I’ll be thrown t’uh Wulfburg-- Old High German n’ all that. N’ Latin. Jeeesus, lucky suns’uh bitches, wit’ me bein’ able to translate that shit-- only reason I’m lucky is ‘cause we got some roots in English in there. Crazy stuff, y’kno’ how much we just kinda-- take shit from others? Latin? French? Fuckin’ Old German? Crazy... ” A moment of nerding out, as Max would say-- but with a snort he moved to try to sit himself up... though, he grimaced not long afterward as his leg had moved a bit too much for his comfort. “ Fffhhhuck, fuckfuckfuck fuck... ”

Once he looked up as he now sat himself up in bed, he fluffed his pillow and only finally brought his gaze to B.J’s when he heard the last sentence, making him pause.

“ ... yeah. I am, Cap. ” His voice got rather quiet as a result-- perhaps out of character for him, but with the topic? He really wasn’t gonna risk a blue discharge. Walls could be paper-fucking-thin. “ Jus’-- I guess tryin’ to wrap my head around it, y’kno’? I-- I’m gonna be honest, I expected gettin’ my ass kicked... ”

Hesitation. But then, a genuine smile instead of that big ol’ grin he’d always put on merely moments before.

“ Y’really... made it way easier t’a keep fightin’, y’kno’? Jus’ that talk really helped. Really did. Y’wanna sit down n’ jus’ talk the day away? Hope yuh don’t mind me annoyin’ ya-- ‘cause now that yuh chose t’uh visit, yer stuck here... muahahaha! ” A halfhearted little evil laugh to boot, as he lifted his three-fingered hand to wiggle his fingers menacingly, “ Now I’ll summon GHOST HITLER on yer ass! Ooga-booga-boo, he can’t open doors! ”

#errantwish #✯ v: Hopeful ✯#✯captured ~ ic✯#ask to tag tw #war tw #death tw #experimentation tw #torture tw #implied torture tw #nazi tw #nazi mention tw #hitler tw

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chrysalizzm · 2 years

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little death

read on ao3

Compromise is to sacrifice as a hand is to the finger. It burgeons beyond itself & you never know when to water it. For what grows without water? Your trees needed a whole platoon to put them out.

People are always severing love from war. Stupidly. Love is in every ounce of blood spilled, or else there’d be no promise. You are every little death. War is like that. Love is too, only worse.

When you were twelve you kissed a boy on the nose & you shared dinner that night. You put your knee right to his. Knobby ankles knocking. Love is fire. It is alive in your belly. It craves.

When you were old enough to drink a boy sent you home all twisted up inside like a good joyride, you wet on his skin. He turned you inside out. He made your head spin. He locked the door behind him.

He is your little death. Your compromise. He makes you think, only worse. He sets you on fire & you wish he’d learn to water first. When you say he took your hand you should mean he walked you home

not that he tore it off.

#dsmp poetry #dream smp #dream smp fic #ponk #awesamdude #implied torture tw #(ponk's arm)#its really up to u whether to interpret this as /r or /p #either way ponk hates sam.#chrys writes #part of my campaign to start publishing writing directly to tumblr more

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whalefelled · 1 year

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❝i know this is really vulnerable for you, so we can take this as slow as you need. you’re in control here okay?❞ || @martyriess + Fable Post-Vault

It’s been a week since…. Well, since. He’s been told his injuries from confinement have healed perfectly fine from the combination of rest, magic, and medicine.

He should be fine. He. Should. Be. Fine. So why is he flinching from her? Shouldn’t she be annoyed by it, instead the hand that had risen waits a moment to give him grace before slowly coming to where it intended to rest against his cheek.

His eyes close and briefly he feels week that he needs to be handled with such a light touch at all. It’s not like he was dead.

“… so we can take this as slow as you need.”

“You’re too good to me.” He finally whispers back to her, head heavy in her palms. He knows Fable will protest yet, he can already see her tail thrashing once. Twice. A third time, even. He opens his eyes to look back at her, adjusting finally so he can tuck his hands beneath her thighs and pull her straddled with legs on either side of his hips. He kisses her slowly, an apology for the two weeks she had to worry over his captivity before he drops his head to rest his cheek against her sternum, having to hunch slightly.

Like this she must wrap her hands around his shoulders and back, and even with the thin cotton shirt on the scars from confinement whinge in phantom pain, over active nerves from the scar tissue there wanting him to run from even her now.

“I think I just want you to hold me for a little while…” he admits, adjusting slightly to tuck his face against her neck instead, letting her push him back into the upright pillows so he could be more comfortable. Her nails dig lightly into his shoulders as she takes the moment to encourage him to relax the tightness in them, and he listens with a slow exhale in time with her before he just needs her closer.

He doesn’t recall if he’s said it, but with an exhale against her neck Aymeric closes his eyes again, “I missed you.”

#Implied NSFT #NSFT #Implied torture tw #Torture tw #ask to tag #martyriess #martyriess: fable yeo #character: aymeric de borel #queue.

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ghoulkxng · 1 year

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//One thing about Tatara is back when he was in the Chi She Lian, he over saw a lot of the dealings with rats (traitors) within the group, for his brother to let him focus on other business, not to mention his intense grudges towards anyone to would jeopardize their business and 'family'. He would allow them to speak and dig themselves into a deeper hole, before allowing the ones under him to deal with the rat and get information out of them. which would take days up to weeks if their betrayal was deep enough before allowing their death to occur. //

#[tatara headcanon]#do not reblog #implied torture tw #//He may of been taught by his brother to not let his anger get the best of him- but it always does in the end//#//its just something he cannot control but can mask really well if needed//

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actress4him · 2 years

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Kestrel Sisters AU - Starving

(Days 5 and 25 of Whumpay)

This piece is for the original Kestrel Sisters AU (not the BBU version). Leigh and Liliana have been kidnapped by Leigh’s former whumper, Malcolm, and are being held in an abandoned warehouse.

Malcolm and Leigh belong to @for-the-love-of-angst ! Thank you for letting me play with them!

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Warnings: lady whumpees with male whumper, captivity, referenced parental death/abandonment, homelessness, starvation, touch repulsion, touch starvation, implied torture, self-deprecating thoughts

It’s quiet in the dark concrete room. Leigh is awake, but silent, insisting on ‘keeping watch’ even though they’re both aware by now that she won’t be able to do anything to stop Malcolm if he comes for one of them.

Liliana is supposed to be asleep. She’s curled up in the corner, shivering, arms wrapped around her middle as if she could possibly hold in some warmth or ease the cramps in her empty stomach. It isn’t the first time she’s needed to sleep in the cold, and it’s certainly not the first time she’s gone hungry. Hunger has become such a familiar part of her life over the past two years that she wouldn’t know who she was without it.

She’s never let it get this bad before, though. There’s not ever much to eat, but there’s usually something. So far, in the time they’ve been here, which has to have been a couple of days, at least, he’s only offered them water. Which helps, of course, but can only go so far.

Another cramp threatens to rip her in half, and she curls in further on herself, biting back a whimper.

“Lili? You okay?”

It throws her off, still, how casual and familiar Leigh is with her. Giving her a nickname, acting like they’ve known each other for years. Which, for Leigh, they have, in a way. Apparently she was old enough when…they were separated, however that happened, that she actually remembers her sisters. Probably remembers calling her by that nickname when she was just a baby.

It’s all too wild and overwhelming for Liliana to quite get a grasp on, though. Part of her even refuses to believe it. To accept that her parents, the ones that she grew up with, the ones that she fled from as soon as she turned eighteen, aren’t even her actual parents, and that she…had? has? another set of parents out there who…what? Died? Abandoned her? She doesn’t even know, isn’t sure she wants to know. Leigh might be able to tell her, but they haven’t had a lot of time for chitchat in between being tormented by their captor.

“Are you awake?”

Oh, right. She’d apparently gone into a daze, unaware of how much time was passing since Leigh first addressed her. “Mhm. ‘m fine.” Her voice sounds atrocious. Going from months on end of hardly speaking at all to a couple of days of screaming and crying has not done it any favors.

There’s the sound of movement, and a moment later Leigh crawls close enough that she can actually make out her features in the darkness. A look of concern is etched into her face, though that seems to be her default right now, when she doesn’t look angry or in pain. “Are you sure? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“N-no.” Finally deciding that she can’t stand the cold of the concrete floor seeping through her clothes anymore, she shoves herself upward with weak, shaky arms, immediately regretting it when what little she can see disappears into a black void.

When her brain stops pounding into her skull and she’s aware of her surroundings again, there are hands on her, gripping her arms. Gasping sharply, she jerks away. Her spine slams against the wall, heart beating wildly.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. You almost fell, I was trying to help.”

It’s Leigh. Just Leigh, no one is trying to hurt her.

“S-sorry. Sorry.” She sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. “I j-just, um…got lightheaded.”

Leigh hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t say anything else right away. Liliana can almost feel her staring, analyzing her, but she can’t find it in her to worry about that right now. Her head has started aching again, rivaling the pain in her stomach, and she’s so weak and shaky that it’s taking all of her focus just to stay upright. An extra intense shiver nearly knocks her over.

“You’re freezing.” It isn’t quite a question, but it’s more than a statement. Liliana isn’t sure how she’s the only one shivering, in this frigid room, but then again, maybe it’s just her. She always struggles to keep warm.

“I’d offer to share some body heat with you, but…” Leigh trails off, leaving the thought unfinished. There are probably a couple of ways it could end. “But you just freaked out when I touched you,” and “But you smell like a dumpster,” are both valid options.

“I’m fine.”

Silence falls again. Liliana listens to Leigh’s breathing and tries to match her own to it, but it’s difficult to keep a steady rhythm.

“Listen, I know I’ve already said this once, but…I’m so sorry that you got caught up in this. You…do-…-e here…me…-colm…you…”

Liliana grits her teeth, trying to focus on the words, but they fade in and out, mixing with the pounding of her pulse in her temples. Then they stop, and she should say something, she’s being rude, but she doesn’t even know what was said and she’s not used to carrying on conversations and she’s not really sure what words even are anymore, her mind is just static and pain and cold and hunger, until she feels herself falling sideways and can’t do a thing to stop it.

She wakes lying on her back with her head pillowed on something softer than the concrete. There’s a hand on her face, and she flinches, trying to swat it away, but her arms are made of lead and won’t cooperate. The hand moves anyway.

“Shh, Lili. You’re okay. Can you hear me?”

She gives a sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan in response.

“Okay. I need you to tell me something. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

It takes her a moment to fully comprehend the question, but she shakes her head no.

“Good. That’s good.” Leigh hesitates, and Liliana takes a second to try and orient herself. Leigh’s face is above her now. She must be…yes, she’s lying with her head on her lap. The proximity makes her heart skip a beat, but she doesn’t have the strength to change her position.

“When’s the last time you ate something? Before…before coming here?”

Food. Liliana’s stomach groans at the thought. It’s a struggle to get her mind to go back that far, to remember the day before she was kidnapped, and even more of a struggle to put the memories into words.

“I…I had a…the end of…a sandwich? Like…like…” ¿Cuál es la palabra, cuál es la palabra? “…el pan, con mayonesa. Para el desayuno.” She doesn’t even register that she’s switched to the language she grew up speaking.

“Not a whole sandwich? Just…bread with mayonnaise?”

Liliana hums in agreement, holding up two fingers to indicate how big the piece had been. She’d hoped for at least a little bit of meat left on it when she pulled it out of its takeout box, but hadn’t been that lucky.

“¿Qué más?” Leigh urges softly.

“Saved the…the fries…for dinner.”

“Fries. Okay. Just…plain fries?”

“Mhm.” It had been about a handful. Most were the small, crunchy bits, but she didn’t mind. They had good seasoning, even cold.

“And that was…the day before you were taken? You didn’t eat anything the day of?”

“No. No pude encontrar nada.” She’d just thought she was hungry that morning. It was nothing compared to now.

“You couldn’t find…” Leigh cuts off, then after a moment leans down so she’s looking Liliana directly in the eyes. She tries to focus in on her, but her facial features seem to be wavering and multiplying.

“Lili…I could be completely wrong about this, but…are you…homeless?”

The shame is like a punch to the chest. It’s not like she’s tried to hide the truth from her…her sister. But she was perfectly okay with her not knowing. From what she’d gathered from her clothing and snippets of conversation, she’s a successful businesswoman. Might even possibly be the CEO of a company, if she’d heard correctly.

And her little sister lives next to a dumpster and survives off other people’s trash and charity.

Still, she can’t lie to her. So she nods, slowly, and whispers, “Sí.”

There’s no real reaction. Leigh leans her head back against the wall again, staring off into the distance, not saying anything. Before Liliana can go too deep into her spiral of she’s disgusted by me she’s ashamed to call me sister she wishes I’d stayed out of her life, though, something touches the top of her head, yanking her attention away. It’s…fingers. Leigh is running her fingers through Liliana’s hair.

She freezes, mind going in a dozen different directions. Someone’s touching her, and touching always means pain, but…this feels really nice? It doesn’t hurt at all, but it could hurt, it could change at any moment, she could grab a handful of her hair and pull…but then again this is Leigh, and she hasn’t treated her with anything but kindness over the past couple of days. But she really shouldn’t be touching her hair, her hair is gross, it’s greasy and matted and no nice, respectable person like Leigh should be putting their hands anywhere near it. Except it’s so gentle, and soothing, and she hasn’t been touched like this in…in years, and she can’t seem to do anything but melt into it, eyes drifting shut.

“You were probably half starving already,” Leigh murmurs. Liliana’s eyes flicker open at the sound, but are too heavy to stay that way long. “We ne-…-ou some foo-…-re really worr-…me.”

The pitch blackness behind her eyelids is inviting. Her head doesn’t hurt so much anymore, even her stomach has calmed, no longer trying to turn itself inside out. She doesn’t know what Leigh is saying, but her voice is soothing, despite the fact that it sounds very far away.

Suddenly the hair petting stops, and there’s a warm hand on her cheek, tapping. Pulling herself back up out of the depths of the darkness is difficult, but eventually she manages to pry her eyes open, the pain in her head spiking again with her return.

“Lili, you need to stay awake.”

Stay awake? Had she fallen asleep? She tries to answer, but words are hard. English, especially, is hard. “Cansado,” she finally manages.

“Sí, lo sé.” She doesn’t go back to rubbing her hair, and Liliana wishes she would, but she does keep her hand against her cheek, and that feels pretty nice, too. Occasionally her thumb strokes across her cheekbone.

They spend what could be an eternity like that, Liliana floating on the edge of consciousness while Leigh does her best to keep her on the waking side of it. Sometimes she nearly gives into the darkness again, and the tapping fingers bring her back. Sometimes Leigh hums, or talks, and even though she can’t concentrate on what she’s saying it’s nice to have the reminder that she’s not alone.

Finally, the lock on the heavy door turns with an echoing click that catches her attention. She turns her head on Leigh’s lap just in time to see the door creak open slightly, a man’s hand rolling three water bottles onto the floor.

“Hey!” Leigh’s voice rings out sharply, none of the earlier softness there now. The hand is gone, but the door pauses, not closing yet. “Tell Malcolm that if he doesn’t get some food in here right now he’s about to lose one of his pets.”

The door opens a bit more, and the man steps in - through the haze, Liliana recognizes him as one of the men who’d grabbed her from the alley - light spilling into the room with him. He squints in their direction, looking them up and down.

A sharp pain stabs through Liliana’s stomach, and she winces before shutting her eyes again. Leigh and the man are having a conversation above her that she can’t decipher. Somewhere in the distance, there’s the sound of a door shutting, then a hand begins carding through her hair again, fingers tapping on her cheek. She hums, but can’t make her eyes open this time. It’s just too hard.

The next thing she’s aware of is a scent. It takes her a moment to process it and place where she’s smelled it before. It’s…peanut butter. Her eyes pry themselves open almost of their own volition, even though she’s half convinced that she’s hallucinating.

“Hey, chica.” Leigh smiles down at her, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve got food for you, open up.”

Liliana obeys automatically, and a small piece of something is slipped between her lips. The taste of peanut butter explodes across her tongue. Whatever it is, it’s chewy, with chunks in it that she identifies as peanuts. Leigh is waiting with another piece pinched in her fingers as soon as she’s done swallowing that one.

As she chews the second bite, her eyes flick up to Leigh’s face, and the granola bar she’s holding. A small smile crosses her lips when she sees Liliana looking at her. “You really scared us, you know that?”

Liliana isn’t sure what she did, but she whispers, “Sorry.”

“Just eat right now.” Leigh pushes another bite up to her mouth. “But let me know if it gets to be too much.”

“I can…I can do it.” Having to be hand fed is far too embarrassing. The look Leigh gives her is dubious, but she holds the granola bar out to her anyway. It takes all of Liliana’s strength to raise her arm and grasp it, hand shaking so hard she nearly misses, and once it’s in her hand she can’t quite seem to bring it any closer to her face. She feels pathetic. Leigh hasn’t had food while they were here, either, and she seems perfectly fine.

Without a word, Leigh wraps her hand around Liliana’s and guides the food toward her. It isn’t much better than hand feeding, but Liliana swallows what little pride she has left and accepts it.

She manages to make it through three-fourths of the granola bar before she decides she can’t hold anymore. Leigh wraps it up carefully and sets it to the side, then goes immediately back to petting her hair.

“We’ll try to get some more in you in a little while. There’s another bar here, too, that you can have when you’re done with this one.”

There’s something…questionable about that statement, but she doesn’t currently have the energy to figure out what and why.

They stay huddled together for a while longer, not speaking much. Eventually Leigh helps Liliana sit up again, which sends her head spinning, though not as badly as before. She takes more bites of granola bar whenever she feels she can. Leigh stays pressed up against her side the whole time, and Liliana is surprised to find she doesn’t mind it at all.

Then the lock turns and the door opens again, and Malcolm himself steps inside. A harsh shiver runs down Liliana’s spine at the sight of him. Leigh shifts even closer to her, face set like stone.

“Well, Birdy.” His voice is sickly sweet, his eyes roving over them with far too much delight. “I think it’s time you pay me for the food you ordered.”

Liliana can feel the way Leigh flinches, and finds herself reaching out to hold onto her arm. She doesn’t know precisely what the man wants, but she knows it isn’t good.

“I did you a favor,” Leigh spits. “I kept you from killing her with your neglect.”

Instead of getting angry, he smiles. “Hm. You’re right, the little one is the troublemaker, here.” His gaze is solely on Liliana now, and it makes her skin crawl. “Maybe she should be the one to pay up.”

“No!” Leigh is on her feet instantly. “I’ll do it. Leave her alone.”

“Leigh -” She may not know her sister very well, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t scared for her.

“It’s okay, Lili. Just keep resting. I’ll be back soon, alright?”

Liliana watches helplessly as Malcolm latches onto Leigh and tugs her out of the room. The door shuts and locks with an ominous clang. She’s suddenly freezing again without Leigh next to her, but she’s pretty sure that the way her body is trembling is more from fear than the cold.

She isn’t worth whatever he’s about to do to Leigh. She should have just left her alone.

#whumpay2022 #no.5 #no.25 #when’s the last time you ate?#touch starved #lady whump #lady whumpee #captivity whump #homelessness tw #starvation tw #touch repulsed #implied torture tw #self deprecating thoughts #liliana the healer #kestrel sisters #querencia au

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galaxies-unknown-a · 2 years

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Headcanons - Writerverse - General Concepts

It didn’t hit me until recently that my collective multiverse- which has slowly grown into its own creation- has several things that (unless you were there to see the creation of it all) make absolutely no sense. So, I’m going to be crafting this kinda-short guide (really hoping it’s short) and rebooping it around my most active blogs where variants of my self-insert are involved!

Warnings for: Implied mass death/massacres. Please check the TW tags before reading.

Phrases/Terms

The Writerverse - A generalized multiverse containing every self-insert of mine I’ve ever created and/or roleplayed as.- This does not include scrapped concepts, but does include self-inserts that were eventually rebooted into new ideas, such as Myth Re-Sear Mask becoming Writer of Worlds, or SCP-W-6235 becoming SCP-W-7245.

The Hive-Memory - Similar to the concept of a hivemind, but a fraction twisted. Every self-insert can access a collective pool of memories from their other variants- imagine it like if (in the Marvel Multiverse of Madness Movie) Wanda could see every memory of every other version of herself constantly, without the need to sleep or ‘dreamwalk’. Most self-inserts describe this power like ‘being in front of a ton of monitors, all turned on, but you’re focusing on one specifically-- still aware of the others, though’.

This ‘Hive Memory’ ability has a four/five-second lag- so self-insert variants can only view memories of their other selves up to five seconds prior to the present.

All variants of the original Writer- Myth- are automatically forced at sixteen into the hive-memory whether they like it or not. Specific memories are seen by all, regardless of their background.

Backstory Event - My way of forcing a self-insert to remain in one universe when a big event/canon event takes place. The self-insert loses the ability to leave the universe in question, and sometimes, will lose their old abilities (teleportation and light creation) in exchange for new ones. Attempts to teleport into a universe with a ‘Backstory Event’ in progress have resulted in the death of the teleporters- if they were trying to use a Writer’s teleportation ability. The self-insert in the event cannot access the hive memory once the event begins, although those outside of the event can watch through a third-person perspective of the affected self-insert’s memories.

These ‘events’ have occurred often enough that a few statistics have been noticed: a self-insert in a backstory event has a 5% chance of survival. Anyone they have grown close to- as family, romantically, platonically, etc.- has a 1% chance of survival.

Most self-inserts notice the event falling into place due to a dream in which they suddenly feel ‘cut off’ to one degree or another- and wake up to being cut off from the Hive Memory ability (they maintain memories that they personally tried to access prior to the cut-off, but no more memories/memories not previously accessed are beyond their reach until the event is over).

SPECIFIC SELF-INSERTS/WRITERS

Myth Re-Sear Mask - Supposedly the first of all the self-inserts to escape their own world. They exist in Minecraft: Story Mode, and are known Writerverse-wide for defeating Romeo, a deity-class enemy in their universe.

Nature Worlds - The second self-insert to exist, although they were stuck in a looped world for many millions of years. Their world is considered ‘the darkest timeline’ due to being forced to watch as all their allies (and enemies) were brutally tortured and murdered in new, gruesome ways- and they could do nothing about it. They eventually grew strong enough to kill their tormentor, although the psychological trauma has left them in a near-permanent terror. Any who approach their universe without warning are wiped out immediately.

Most self-insert variants fear becoming like Nature.

Legend - The worst Writer timeline. Where Nature was traumatized, Legend grew enthused- and when they amassed enough power, they went on their own massacre. Equal to Nature in power (so able to wipe out a universe with a swipe), they have been terrorizing the Writerverse for many, many years. Only two universes so far have survived onslaughts from this entity.

Most self-insert variants fear becoming like Legend.

Hamini Ash - One of the two self-inserts in existence to have kept their planet safe from Legend. They now reside in an LMK universe, after life on their planet died out (of natural causes) while they were fighting Legend.

Valma Coretta/Node “Champ” Gate - Two self-inserts who hold the record (as of September 4th, 2022) for most Backstory Events survived (five a piece).

Memory File - A self-insert who is excessively good with electronics (their one ability is being a technopath/technokinetic). They are trapped in a world simulation alongside the remaining Autobots and Decepticons of their universe, although they are usually able to provide schematics for devices to other self-insert variants for generalized use.

Celexa Dust - A variant who has made the oath to protect any world they come across. Most of them are in rather passive Lego-based worlds, but some have grown to be incredibly powerful over time. They may have lost the ability to teleport (a hallmark of these variants), but they have gained the ability to use light itself as a weapon.

#[fanfiction author: mun]#[writer's needs: fanfic]#mass death tw #implied torture tw #death tw #massacres tw #torture tw

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