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whumped-by-glitter · 16 days

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Day 6: Nonhuman whumpee / Reluctant Whumper / "Run!"

Bonus Alt Prompt: Forced to Hurt

Day 5 Here <

⚠️CW: Whipping, Blood, Captivity, Muzzles, Mention of Past Torture, Non Sexual Nudity.

Let me know if I forgot anything, but it should be pretty tame today.

This week was very busy, sorry I'm so behind!

story under the cut!

Thunk.

Youngest lightly hit the back of their head on the white cinderblock wall they were leaning against. The sound was the only thing breaking up the monotony of the white room. This was almost worse than the waterboarding several days before, at least they thought it was just a few days before. A week or more could have passed for all they knew.

Thunk

There was nothing to do here but ruminate on their regrets. They wished they could take back those last words they said to Leader. They recalled seeing the pain in Leader’s eyes when they said them. They wondered if Leader would come break Whumpee out and just leave them to rot. It’s what they deserved after all they had done after all.

Thunk

They wondered if Whumpee was in a cell somewhere just like this, maybe even on the other side of this wall. They wondered what torture Claudio put them through. They wondered if they were alright.

Thunk

The back of their head was beginning to go numb from repeatedly against the wall. They sighed and stood up. They stretched and began to pace the limited area. They had counted the tiles multiple times, there was about 30 and a half. They could stick their arms out in either direction and touch wall. They continued to pace in little circles to warm up, having never been given new clothes.

All at once the door to the tiny cell was flung open. A guard threw some clothes at youngest.

“put these on, you’re coming with us,” he ordered. Youngest could see another guard just outside the door.

They hurried and dressed, grateful for anything to cover up. The guard that was in the entry of the room then stepped into the threshold to bind them with shackles and cuffs.

Youngest fought back hard with every bit of strength they had. They scratched and clawed, getting punched several times in the process. Youngest even biting the guard and drawing blood.

The guard hissed, drawing back. They looked livid. “Feral mongrel,” he growled, leaving the room, door slamming.

Youngest slid down the wall, shaking from the adrenaline and fear. Relief flowed into their chest, replacing the earlier anxiety. At least they were safe for now.

They soon returned, however, the other guard slid in immediately behind the first, holding something. Youngest tried to fight again, but their efforts were in vein. once the handcuffs were on the second guard approached with whatever he had in his hand.

Youngest began to struggle again as they realized what it was, but the first guard had them held tight.

“I’m not some kind of animal!” they gritted their teeth and thrashed their head.

It was all futile though. In the end youngest felt a leather strap being tightened and buckled around their head as a metal cage closed in around their mouth and nose. They could hear the distinct click of padlocks behind their head.

‘muzzled!’ they thought angrily, glaring daggers at the guards. The edges of the cage were already digging into their face from it being buckled too tight.

The second guard then retreated from the room to give them space. The first guard add shackles to Youngest’s ankles and shoved them forward out of the room. Shackles caused them to trip and fall, the guards just laughed cruelly before hauling them back up.

They were taken to some kind of courtyard through a set of solid steel doors a short ways down the hall. Youngest raked their eyes over their surroundings, the yard couldn’t have been more than maybe 20 feet squared. The dirt under their feet was a reddish brown, looking like clay. The solid windowless brick of the building went up about 8 feet, before pushing in, creating a ledge. The rest of the building continuing up had windows. Their eyes landed on a figure standing on the ledge, peering down at them, Claudio.

“Nice of you to join us, Dipshit!” Claudio mocked, “that’s your new name by the way, dipshit.”

Youngest just glowered up at their captor, trying to look menacing through the ridiculous muzzle strapped to their face.

“I heard you were quite a wild animal, gave my men quite a hard time. This would have been much easier on you if you had only played nice.” Claudio snapped and another captive was drug out.

Although the dry dust created too much of a cloud for youngest to tell who it was, their heart stopped. They feared it was Whumpee.

The form was dropped next to them. Relief and fear rushed through Youngest when they discovered it was not Whumpee…. ‘Where were they?’

Their gut further twisted when they realized that although the person was not Whumpee, it was in fact still someone they recognized. “Andrew?” Youngest questioned, eyes widening, also relieved to find they could speak through the muzzle. The man was part of the Intel division at the same agency they worked at. At least they were pretty sure it was Andrew; it was hard to say for certain under the bruises and cuts.

Andrew made a muffled noise through his gag.

“Now then Dipshit, I believe this is a friend of yours? They won’t seem to give us the information we want about your headquarters, so you’re going to get it out of them.” Claudio nodded at the guards to unlock Youngest’s handcuffs. “I owe you a huge thank you by the way, we only captured him because they were out confirming your whereabouts.” The arms dealer grinned wickedly.

One of the other guards that had brought Andrew out was securing the man’s wrists to a post as youngest was being handed a cat-o-nines flogger, studded with metal.

Guilt flooded them. Youngest began to shake, they couldn’t, this, not this! They would take waterboarding a hundred more times before this. Youngest shook their head, trembling, and threw the flogger into the dirt.

“I will not cooperate with this.”

“you’ll do it Dipshit, or I’ll just have you both killed here and now,” Claudio retorted calmly.

Youngest took a deep breath trying to steady them self. “Fine, alright, I’ll do it,” they grumbled, reluctantly taking up the flogger. They did their best to reason with them self that them doing it was probably better than some guard doing it.

‘crack’

They threw the first lash, aiming just to hit Andrew with the tips of the falls to avoid doing damage with the spikes. They looked over to the guards, then to Claudio who just nodded for them to continue.

‘crack’

This one drew a little blood, but Andrew was still silent and had not reacted.

“Harder, you hit like a child, dipshit,” Claudio taunted.

“Stop calling me that!” Youngest screamed, anger gripping them. They lashed out with the whip out of frustration with everything they had before they even realized what they were doing.

‘CRACK’

Andrew screamed, being hit with not just the tips this time, but the entirety of the falls. Blood trickled down their back.

Youngest immediately dropped the cat-o-nine, crying at what they had done. They had hurt someone innocent, they had hurt one of their own!

“Good, just like that you dumb little dipshit. Keep going!” Claudio ordered.

Youngest, swallowed, fighting down their emotion. They had to keep going to keep them both alive.

‘CRACK’

Blood was now flowing down Andrew’s back. He was shaking from the pain.

‘CRACK’

Again and again, he made the flogger come down on the other man’s back. He had lost count around 20 but was urged on.

Andrew’s pained screams had become broken sobs, his voice long since cracked from screaming. Youngest’s clothes were splattered in blood, the whip was coated with it. It looked like something from the horror movies Whumpee and themself used to watch together. But this wasn’t a movie, this was real life, and worse, this was their doing.

Youngest dropped the whip for the last time. They began to hyperventilate. Trembling from head to toe, they slowly sunk to the ground, falling to their hands and knees. They wretched at the sight of their ally’s blood. The blood that they had drawn. They were supposed to be the hero, how could they do this.

“Continue Dipshit.” The order felt like ice in their veins. They simply responded by shaking their head.

“I said keep going!”

“I-if I continue, they will die.” Youngest choked out.

“Then they die, you don’t stop until I say.”

Youngest again resisted, not moving a muscle. They didn’t even bother to wipe the blood splatter that was on their face.

“Have it your way then,” Claudio hummed, pausing for a moment, “slit the spy’s throat.”

The guard nearest to Andrew began to step forward, service dagger in hand.

Youngest began to scream, “stop! No! Stop! NONONONO!”

their vision began to haze. Soon the screaming almost sounded like it was coming from someone else, and they were watching events unfold as if they were an observer. They saw themself begin to go out of control but were helpless to stop it. Their body gave off a faint glow as they cried out, desperate to halt the execution that was about to unfold right before their eyes.

All at once everything fell pin drop silent. Everything was frozen in time. They felt their throat and chest burning, and an eerie feeling crept across their mind at the sight of statues that were once moving people.

Suddenly things began to move again and Youngest realized the burning in their throat was from their own screaming. They then gasped in air, realizing their longs were aching because they hadn’t been breathing.

They found they were all of a sudden toe to toe with the guard holding the dagger. They punched with every ounce of strength they could muster. To their complete shock, the guard went flying against the wall behind him. He could hear yelling, the four guards scrambling, more getting called in.

They snapped Andrew’s chains; they could tell they were quickly losing all control. They felt themself going nuclear. Using their last moments of clarity, they grabbed the intel officer and rushed to the far door, ripping it open and throwing them through it.

“RUN!” Youngest yelled. They hoped the confusion they were creating would at least allow them to escape.

@whumperofworlds, @whumpsandbumps, @3-2-whump, @pigeonwhumps.

Day 7 Here >

That was the last thing they remembered clearly before everything got fuzzy.

*I did not have a beta reader for this, please let me know if there are errors. The word app on my phone sometimes glitches and I don't always catch it on my read throughs.

Event Prompts Here

My Event Masterlist Here

#wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 6 #tw blood #tw torture #whump community #whump #whump writing

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synthshenanigans · 1 month

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There's a lotta peeps on here that aren't in the discord or on twitter & so they cant see certain updates or lil information bits CJ gives. So was wondering if those ppl want a blog where it posts any Jash updates?

#it'll be like from next video upload dates to lil bits of info he gives that is semi relevant #not the “i ate a bagel today wow” posts #those don't exist but like you know what I mean #just interesting info he gives & not like random stuff #“this lyrics means this” or “song will happen in X amount of days” type deal #chonny jash #moss post #i need to stop making jash related blogs #if i make this it'll be like my 5-6 one jeez #everytime i get more autistic about this guys music another blog is made

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heldenherzchen · 9 months

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monday, august 7 day 1: practicing together (@benthan-week-forever)

They found themselves in a small gym, surrounded by punching bags and the sound of gloves hitting the leather.

Ethan, known for his exceptional physical prowess, was helping Benji put on his boxing gloves. He carefully adjusted the straps, making sure they were snug but not too tight. As he did so, he took the opportunity to explain the importance of gloves in boxing.

"Benji, gloves are not just for protection," the older began, his voice calm and reassuring. "They serve a crucial purpose in this sport. They not only shield your hands from injury but also provide cushioning for your opponent."

Benji listened intently, his eyes focused on Ethan's face as he tightened the straps. He could feel the weight of the gloves, a reminder of the responsibility that came with them.

Ethan continued, "When you throw a punch, the gloves distribute the force across a larger surface area, reducing the impact on your opponent. It's about control, precision, and minimizing harm."

The blonde nodded, absorbing every word. He admired his partner's expertise and dedication to his craft.

As they began their warm-up exercises, Ethan demonstrated various boxing techniques, explaining the proper form and footwork.

Throughout their training session, the brunette emphasized the importance of discipline and respect in boxing. He reminded Benji that the sport was not about violence but about skill, strategy, and self-control.

As the session progressed, they exchanged punches - their movements became fluid and synchronized. They pushed each other to their limits, testing their endurance and honing their skills.

Despite the intensity, there was an unspoken bond between them, a mutual trust and understanding.

In that small gym, Ethan and Benji not only practiced boxing but also strengthened their bond as teammates, friends, partners and lovers.

As the session came to an end, Ethan removed Benji's gloves with the same care and precision he had put them on. He looked at him, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

"Great job, Benji."

#mission impossible #benji dunn #ethan hunt #benthan #benthanweek2023 #my art #i am so weak for them #wow #and i need to pratice drawing them #lmao #good thing that i still have 6 fabulous days left #bless #😌😌#also english is not my first language so please bear with me #thank you #😭#and i gave benji that shirt because i thought it would be funny lmao #and i too have that shirt and wear it to the gym #hehe

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foolsocracy · 5 months

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so you’re telling me there’s no huge gigantic massive fic and art community for the 10th game tributes from tbosas… ohhh the world is so cruel

#unless I’m looking in the wrong tags or wrong site or SOMETHIBG #ur telling me there’s no 275k ensemble character study from the second those kids get reaped to the end of the games……………… guys come on #even worse no fix it escape the capital good end fic….. even more painful #I saw the movie 2 days ago and only now have begun to delve in #gotta read that damn book #the dog speaks #my mind watching the movie: wow so cool #my mind 6 hours post: Mizzen………….. (I didn’t even know who he was when watching said film)

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tildeathiwillwrite · 23 days

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Changing of the Guard

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 6: Nonhuman whumpee / Reluctant Whumper / "Run!"

WoW Birthday Whump Prompts List

TW: chains, references to past abuse (magic whump), captive

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The cavern was dark, cold, and wet.

This was nothing new, of course, but Arcturus had found that describing every little detail of his prison was better than wallowing in self-pity, as he had for the first few decades of his imprisonment. He had figured out the composition of almost every rock in the cavern wall, tracked the formation of a stalactite, and tested the mineral content of his chains many times over.

Arcturus also knew his captor quite well. When you spend years around the same person, even if you only see them for a few minutes, you pick up things about them.

So when the footsteps echoing from the cave mouth reached his ears, Arcturus knew that a changing of the guard had taken place.

Curiosity piqued, he rose from where he had been examining the most recent patch of wall and crossed the cavern in two bounds, pausing only a couple centimeters from where the mithril chains binding him would pull taut. He could only make out one pair of footsteps. If there was more than one, they would have to be moving in exact unison to trick his senses, a difficult feat for humans to accomplish.

As the footsteps drew closer, the faintest glimmer of light began to reflect off the tiny mineral deposits in the cavern wall. A soft yellow light, nothing like the harsh green of Arcturus’ previous Keeper, a brutal man by the name of Lars. Lars was quick with his spells and would retaliate at the slightest hint of provocation.

Arcturus’ new Keeper was close. He instinctively seated himself on the cold, stone cavern floor. It was a habit forced upon him early in captivity and strictly enforced in the following decades. No doubt the new Keeper had been already trained in the proper protocols in the weeks and months leading up to when he finally took over the position.

Finally, the new Keeper came into view. By the glow of the yellow light hovering above his hand, Arcturus could see he was young for a human. Clean-shaven, or too young to grow a proper beard? Arcturus always had difficulty guessing human ages, but this was unusual. He was much younger than any of his previous Keepers.

The boy wore the same white wizard robes, but his belt was blue instead of the usual black. Or perhaps it was from the color of the light? The same worn leather shoes covered his feet, and his light-colored hair was cut short, close to the scalp. It was a striking difference from his dark brown skin, even with the colored light distorting the colors.

Behind the boy floated the usual meager collection of items for Arcturus’ meals: a tub of water, a small assortment of fruits, and the corpse of a deer. Barely enough to feed a full-grown dragon for a day. But he was used to it.

It was clear the boy was not. At the sight of Arcturus, the blood drained from his face. The food, floating by the force of his magic, wobbled.

Arcturus sighed and muttered the words to a spell he had learned as a hatchling, catching each item before it fell to the floor. Concentrating, he directed everything around the boy, who stood frozen at the mouth of the tunnel, and set it all down within easy reach.

“Do you speak, child?” Arcturus said softly, delicately grasping a melon.

The boy blinked, and the ball of light flickered before brightening. “I… um… I’ve never seen an actual dragon before.”

The melon was a bit overripe, but it was still sweet. Arcturus licked the juice from his claws before responding. “Not many people have. Do you have a name?”

“I… uh… yeah… it’s Henry.”

Arcturus looked the boy up and down a second time. “Lars didn’t train you very much for this role, did he?”

Henry swallowed nervously before shaking his head. “The Dragon Keeper is… um… he’s very sick. Nobody knows why. I don’t know why I was picked to be his replacement—!” He cut himself off and backed up a step. “I-I-I I’m not supposed to be talking to you.”

“Don’t be silly, child,” Arcturus scoffed, “all of the Keepers talked to me. They spoke with cruelty, yes, but rare was the day I was fed in silence.”

“Oh…” Henry fiddled with the long sleeves of his robes. He might have only received them that day when the ‘honor’ of being a Dragon Keeper was officially bestowed upon him. “What’s your name?”

“Arcturus.”

“How… how long have you been here?”

Arcturus cocked his head, thinking as he dragged the deer corpse closer. No mark was on its body, for it had been killed with magic. “Four human lifetimes,” he finally said before tearing into the deer.

It probably would’ve tasted better cooked. Or different. Arcturus had learned the hard way not to use his fire around the Keepers. Unfortunately, the Keepers did not leave until Arcturus had finished his meal, so no attempts at cooking were allowed. But food was food, and the deer was quickly nothing more than bones.

When he finally looked back at Henry, the young wizard had turned even paler, if that was possible for a human. A trace of changeling blood, perhaps? It would explain the hair. “What exactly have you been told that the Keepers do?”

Henry flinched, and the ball of light went out completely. Cursing, he quickly reignited it. “They… uh… they feed the dragon… and they punish it for disobeying. But you haven’t done anything.”

“Lars would’ve considered the floating spell I deployed a few minutes ago reason enough for punishment. Vera, his predecessor, would heat my chains if she thought I breathed rebelliously.”

Henry gaped at his words. “Wha…what? I’m… supposed to do that?”

Arcturus eyed the boy. How did this child, who couldn’t even fathom the punishment exacted by his predecessors, manage to get into this position? Perhaps the Order was becoming lax in its judgment. The conclusion was logical. He’d been their slave for longer than any of the current members have been alive. The most senior of them might barely remember when the valley shook from the force of the second Dragon Keeper’s preferred method of torment.

The boy’s question was met with silence as Arcturus finished his meal. It was all the answer he would need.

When Henry left, the iron tub and the bones of the deer shakily floating after him, Arcturus remained, unmoving, on the stone floor. It wasn’t the training that kept him there but rather the sense that the conversation was far from complete. Henry would be back, likely with more questions.

Arcturus would have little choice but to answer him. He had nothing better to do.

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

#wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 6 #wow birthday whump [day 6]#nonhuman whumpee #reluctant whumper #arcturus #oc whump #henry #my writing #whump #whump writing #dragon #chains #magic whump #past whump

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panco-1812 · 8 months

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A week of Kamaels I did for a "daily Kamael drawing until I get him" on Twitter. And now since I've gotten him, this Daily Kamael is still ongoing until his banner ends (so about 6 or 7 more drawings)

Feel free to request too by the way! Both Kamael and his SC is acceptable, and an additional character is also welcomed (like that Claude there)

#By the way it's only 6 because I missed day 6 and put a small Kamael WIP for that lmao #This is probably Mayreel's nightmare #A lot of Kamaels that will nag at her lmao #fun fact it took me like 190 pulls for Kamael #And literally only 10 pull for Equinox wow.#ガーディアンテイルズ #가디언테일즈 #guardian tales #kamael guardian tales #claude guardian tales #well technically he is there #guardian tales fanart

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keeper-of-all-the-random-things · 28 days

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Charlie has Crap Friends

Part 1 | Next

WOW Day 6 | nonhuman whumpee

My first ever vampire for @whumperofworlds lovely birthday event. Starting in the middle because I am incapable of doing things in order.

CW: nonhuman whumpee (vampire), restrained, chains, manhandling, multiple whumpees, power imbalance

“Be still, little one,” Herman laughs. He stands over the new born as it thrashes in its chains of silver. “Be still. I will get you what you need, but you must be calm first.

The creature pants but stops its wild movements. It looks up at Herman, eyes blown wide with fear and need.

“That’s right,” Herman says. “Now come with me.”

He takes the end of the chain that binds the creature’s wrists and leads it away. The cemetery is still dark at this time of the morning, but Herman helps steer the creature around the headstones and through the trees to a large cabin.

Inside, Herman’s friends are rowdy as ever after a sleepless night of revelry.

“Gentlemen!” Herman calls, pausing their raucous actions. “I bring to you a fitting end to this week-end’s festivities.”

“He doesn’t look that exciting,” Montpelier says from the couch.

“You’ve just brought another man to a party of men,” Stewart observes.

From a corner tucked behind the others, Levitt says. “I think it’ll be nice to have another -”

“Shut up, Levitt,” Montpelier interrupts. “No one cares what you think.”

“This is no man,” Herman says above the others. They quiet immediately. “This is a creature of darkness. It hungers.” Herman tugs the chain, and the creature stumbles forward.

“It craves blood,” Herman goes on, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Who will volunteer to sate its desires?”

The house is silent as each man weighs the consequences of engaging. Then Stewart proclaims, “Levitt will do it.”

“Excuse me?” Levitt squeaks. “Levitt most certainly will not do it.”

“Don’t be a wuss,” Montpelier says. “You’ve been begging to be included all night -”

“I wasn’t beg-”

“And now you have a chance and you’re just going to waste it? You’re not giving us good reason to invite you back.”

Levitt glances between at Montpelier and then at the creature who is visibly shaking.

“Quickly, gentlemen,” Herman says. “I promised the creature my help. I wouldn’t want to go back on my word because it lost control.”

“Fine,” Levitt says. He shakes his head and repeats to himself, “fine.”

The men cheer.

The creature and Levitt look to Herman for instruction.

Herman guides the creature into one of the wood chairs in the kitchen and rearranges the chains so it cannot run away.

“What do I do?” Levitt asks.

Stewart rolls his eyes, and Levitt snaps at him, “It’s not like I’ve done this before. I don’t regularly offer my blood to everyone I meet.”

Herman chuckles. “You have to let it at your neck.”

“Does it have to be my neck? Couldn’t I give it my wrist or something?”

“Look at you, suddenly with all the answers,” Stewart mocks.

“You could,” Herman answers good-naturedly, ignoring Stewart. “But the neck is better.” He smiles knowingly.

Montpelier and Stewart stand behind Herman off to the side to watch the show.

Levitt faces the creature and tries to forget the others are there. “Hello,” he says. “Hi. I’m Levitt. Actually Charles. Charlie, if you want. I don’t really know what’s happening, so if you can unders-”

“Just get on with it already,” Montpelier says.

Charlie Levitt meets the creature’s eyes, and his mind goes blank. He finds himself kneeling in front of it, the others well and truly forgotten.

The creature blinks slowly, and Charlie bares his neck. He braces his arms on the chair on either side of the creature’s legs. He is wholly unprepared when the creature sinks its teeth in. He groans and is lost in the warm numbness that spreads over his body.

Outside their little bubble, the others watch with growing boredom.

“I thought this would be more exciting, the way you made it out to be,” Montpelier says to Herman.

“Hmmm,” is all the response Herman gives.

“I’m going to bed,” Stewart says. Montpelier leaves soon after.

Herman separates Levitt from the creature with a firm shove that sends Levitt sprawling on his back, dazed as he comes back to himself.

“That’s enough for now,” Herman says. He takes the creature away, extra careful to keep the chains secure now that it has fed. He leaves Levitt to clean himself up and leads the creature to the basement.

“You did well little one,” Herman says as he secures the creature to a support beam, close enough to the window that it may fear the rising sun but far enough away that no lasting damage would occur.

The creature whines when Herman leaves it.

Herman doesn’t look back.

#wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 6 #nonhuman whumpee #vampire whumpee #restrained #chains #manhandling #multiple whumpees #power imbalance

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ottiliere · 1 year

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oh my goodness your dios.. what a delight to see someone so fully invested in phantom blood dio wow. i am very happy. i love your 3D dios. really makes me want to sculpt him as well

Do it... clay is cheap bake it in the oven paint with 10 dollar set of acrylics your life will never be better. I adore phantom blood Dio so very much... years ago saw someone coin the term “phantom blood purist” and it's so funny I think about it literally every time I enter a Dio cycle. There are many aspects that go into this preference of course, and upon a great amount of time pondering i can say confidently that this is because mainly that:

1) I love history (especially the fin de siècle) and I love thinking about him in relation to Victorian values/etiquette/sociology in general... there's something so special about a society that enabled such a gross disparity of wealth&poverty while being so inherently pretentious that its asinine etiquette rules would completely elude you unless you were raised in an aristocratic family or had access to etiquette books. Dio absolutely read a great amount of these before going to the Joestar mansion btw, even before his father snuffed it I think. God help him he would not be doomed to look like a slovenly ill-bred gamin if and when he needed to manipulate the upper classes. I really can't think of a way for him to have developed these skills enough to outclass Jonathan otherwise. god and like thinking about him as a barrister too with his profligate fashion sense you just KNOW he gets drawn that way into all of the court sketches that go in all the newspapers since everyone loved to read about crime and there were a million papers for this in England alone... he'd get caricatured so bad sometimes and he is NOT happy about this.

2) You can probably tell from my indifference to the rest of the parts (except sbr; I call this the "diego rule") that I'm not the biggest fan of fantastical elements and I'm much more interested in interpersonal conflict/relationships in general... PB is extremely unique to the rest of the series because for five WHOLE chapters absolutely nothing abnormal happens and we just get to see Dio harassing Jonathan and his girlfriend until Jonathan snaps and humiliates him so bad in beating him up that he makes Dio cry. and then Dio kills his dog. Like it's literally just some impoverished child abuse victim bullying a spoiled rich kid who wanted to be his friend because lalala sunshine daisies only knows what "poverty" is from reading Oliver Twist and has no conceptual understanding of what the real-world implications of that are. That was the character development that needed multiple chapters to develop it's so fucking awesome. like yeah I'd read an entire novel of just this alone happening and how it impacts their relationship as adults no vampirism needed. I reread "dio the invader" so frequently I'm surprised the spine of my jojonium copy isn't cracked at the exact endpoint of it. I just adore him interacting with Jonathan so much it's hard to remove him from that… that's his FOIL... all the stories (some "AUs") I make with Dio involve the way he and Jonathan gravitate each other to some degree. we get the clearest view of who he is in the face of someone who is the polar opposite of himself. 🤯

2) This iteration of him is the closest degree of separation he has from his "humanity" (childhood), thus

3) I find him to be the most interesting, endearing, etc., version of him walking around, given that... well. behaviors stem from somewhere... the thematic & active severance of himself from a species he is fundamentally incapable of connecting with due to the way he adapted to help him tolerate his childhood... from his point of view I can't imagine that there is one convincing reason for him to continue being human after given the opportunity to deviate from it (despite likely still being inebriated when he vamped himself — very much an impulsive decision since he had, what, an hour or two to think that through? drunk?). If everyone's underneath him, yes, after the fact the choice seems extremely fitting. Maybe he'll cultivate a vast swathe of worshippers and disciples that obey his every command. Maybe he'll rule the world. And then, maybe, he will start to feel genuinely content for the first time in his life. But probably not. That's the drawback of having something fundamentally missing from within you.

4) He lacks a certain type of introspective awareness that 100 years alone in a box might enable him to develop... he's very animalistic to me and possesses a precarious/immature/nonexistent grasp on his emotions just given the fact that he exhibits enraged outbursts from perceived ego wounds (in both childhood and adulthood) + struggles with alcoholism due to an incapacity to self-soothe any sort of negative emotion that makes it past the self-aggrandizing filter he can't help but see life through; he really isn't in conscious control of anything happening inside of him despite needing control over everything and everyone so he can get exactly what he wants, and deserves, always. PB paints a very dim and pathetic view of his character by allowing us to see when he's most "vulnerable", which is the thing he likely hates being the most, so getting to see scenes where he's walking around publicly intoxicated and disparaging himself for acting like his father (implied: again), who he hates, and attacking men with a wine bottle for evoking the concept of his mother, who he also kind of hates but lacks the cognizant cogency to dissolve whatever cognitive dissonance is causing this mental incongruence, rules. he rules

tl;dr SDC dio is "iconic" but I feel like he misses a lot of the charm he had in part one, removed from the context of the society that had such rigid social boundaries and rules of decorum, in addition to his maladaptive approach to interpersonal relationships, his substance abuse issues, his humbling foil... he's too "cool" for me. In the end SDC dio is simply not my Dio... he is someone else's Dio. And that's okay.

#lucy art #dio brando #ask #jjba #I've said this elsewhere but somewhere out there exists my dio-obsessed doppelganger who only likes him in parts 3/6 and dislikes PB dio +#how he looks in the first part too and if we ever made physical contact the universe would implode like matter on antimatter #though I haven't actually read sdc in many years. which may be part of the problem. but also... I don't need it... jonathan isn't there...!#I did however reread the ending the other day and I forgot that jotaro gives him brain damage so bad he couldn't walk. I almost cried #soooo cute... I wish something similar happened when he was shot in the head before being burned alive #well no I don't because the narrative point was to showcase wow oohhh wow vampire powers wowwww and it worked very well #but araki retconned this in the best way possible so basically life is perfect #(acting really approachable as I dip my toe into a fandom of something I've cherished for years) have you considered dio getting more TBIs?

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