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@vibrato-the-third / vibrato-the-third.tumblr.com

[Icon description: A chubby frog with dark brown skin and various darker-colored spots faces the screen. It looks grumpy. The icon’s backdrop is the transgender pride flag. End ID] || Vibrato. || any pronouns. || || WHUMP BLOG. || occasional writer and artist. || enjoyer of animation, clowns, and animated clowns. || 47% SFW. || || REQUESTS OPEN. ||
Anonymous asked:

On your recent post for Vivisections

Do you have any more advice or maybe a quick scene lay out on how you'd accurately describe and show it? I've not seen many people explain this before I'd love to know more!

Permission to infodump?? awesome :D

Because it's on topic here, there are a few blogs I think need a mention because they have AMAZING medical/torture writing advice (@scripttorture and @justkidneying )

You didn't ask whether the character lives or dies, I don't know which you want so here's info on both scenarios:

Dying:

First off, without anesthesia, the pain alone would likely lead to a thing called Neurogenic Shock, which will in turn cause a BP drop and organ failure among other things. Your character will likely be breathing quickly, appear pale, have a rapid pulse, and be confused if they are still conscious. And yelling in pain of course.

For death due to blood loss: it's hard *not* to hit a major blood vessel if you're flaying someone open neck to groin, and that will also lead to quick death without immediate treatment. Cautery (using electricity to burn an area, stopping bleeding) will work on smaller bleeding but major blood vessels not so much. Symptoms are similar to shock: clammy/pale skin, thready/weak/rapid pulse, loss of consciousness.

Other: you can also risk damaging organs (someone being vivisected probably isn't going to be staying very still, even restrained, and one slip of a scalpel and oops, that's the aorta...) A punctured lung could lead to pneumo/hemothorax (air/blood in the chest cavity (pleural space), where it shouldn't be) causing respiratory distress—and then shock, and without treatment—death. If the heart is damaged, death would be near instant. Other organs like the liver, kidneys, bowels, spleen etc are pretty big bleeders, so see my Blood Loss section.

Sepsis: If they don't die immediately, sepsis is a big risk, as even in sterile environments you can't completely prevent it. Sepsis is when an infection reaches the bloodstream and is very serious. I imagine whoever is vivisecting the character probably wouldn't care too much about using sterile technique, so you can bet on an infection happening. This can set in within hours or days. Symptoms include high fever, pain, confusion/delirium, sweaty/clammy skin, low blood pressure.

Now, if you want them to live?

Surviving:

If the vivisectionist wants their patient/victim to survive, they'd need a lot of materials. Like any major surgery you'd need blood products, fluids, antibiotics, ligatures, and a way to keep the pain (somewhat) under control. Alcohol has been used in the past for similar procedures, but you could also just opt for a dose of opioids.

Antibiotics are necessary, opening someone up like that is a MAJOR risk (see "Sepsis").

I imagine they'd also somewhat monitor the character's vitals. They'd also probably have a few assistants to help with similar smaller tasks like that—stopping bleeding or handing tools, etc.

Closing the wound: Stitching someone up from such an event would be a lot of work, as you have to close many skin layers (muscle, fat, and the surface skin) and bandage it.

If you don't want to stitch them up immediately, a wound vac (negative pressure wound therapy) would be a good option. Doctors use these in cases of things like compartment syndrome. It is used when you cannot close someone back up right away.

Bandages and proper wound care are also important, you'd need to change the bandages every few hours for the first few days as deep wounds tend to produce a lot of fluids (called "exudate.") Sometimes doctors place drains to help drain away this fluid faster.

All in all, Healing from this would take months, not to mention the psychological trauma from all of this.

The scene:

Writing these scenes is honestly so variable so here's a few thoughts of mine:

You could describe the environment: (cliche, but cold metal table? Harsh lighting? Straps? A table with sharp scary-looking objects on it? How about the scent of disinfectant (or its absence).

The initial sensation would be the biggest to focus on: does the vivisectionist take their time? (pressure before pain?) shock as nerves fire as they are severed (lightning sensation shooting upwards), and the body’s instinctive flinch or freeze. Initially screaming, swearing? Sweating, rapid breathing, muscle spasms, or even vomiting as the body tries to cope?

Smells: Metallic tang of a large amount of blood (I personally HATE this smell, it's like having a penny in your mouth, or if you've ever used a metal scrubber to clean a pan, it smells kind of like that.), burning flesh (if they use cauterization) etc

If the character is partially sedated for it, keep in mind they will still react to pain, albeit sluggishly.

I hope this helps!

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Hey, again :) You know the drill by now:

This is a short scene inspired by this post of @floral-comet-whump 's whump ask game.

"Does this hurt? And if I do... this?" + non-human whumpee + "HaAuGH–! Stop!!”

Content: non-human whumpee, winged whumpee, collector whumper, living exhibition, nailed to a wall, non-consensual drugging (paralyzing drug).

"Does this hurt? And if I do... this?" The nail rips through the cartilage of Whumpee's glowing wing, below where Whumper has nailed before.

Once again, the world is just pain for two seconds.

"HaAuGH–! Stop!!” Whumpee shrieks out with tears down their eyes. This must have been the tenth nail by now, but everytime it goes lower and closest to the outer part, the more nerves it hits, and the more it hurts.

when the guy who sort of rescued you from your last captor is actually about to chop off your fucking wings with a bonesaw because they’re apparently a painful reminder of your past (he wants to help you forget those painful memories by creating new, worse painful memories to focus on instead) anyways Vian is a freak and i think we should kill him!!!!

(doodle of a scene from a rp i’m doing with @loonybun with Dew and their character Vian :3)

Holy fuck that’s insane?? I love it so much

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sowhumpshaped-deactivated202501

content: shapeshifter whumpee, monster whumpee, comfort

It was in a few days that the bubble burst. The cracks became too noticeable, the melting of their skin became too insistent to ignore. Whumpee’s body cracked and shifted and they cried out, their voice distorting as they reverted back into their true form.

“Whumpee?” Caretaker woke up in the bed next to them, and Whumpee immediately scurried away into the corner, trying to make their enormous body as small as possible. “Whumpee, you okay?” Caretaker reached over onto the nightstand and turned on the light.

They screamed.

whumpee surrendering themselves to something they don't want to do, something they know will hurt them, because there is no other alternative. perhaps it's their only way out of a sticky situation. perhaps the threat of whumper punishing them is more than enough to make them comply. either way, they have to fight against their own instincts, their own desires, their own dignity, in order to give themselves up to the torment. it's like a swine walking into a slaughterhouse; a death march.

bonus if whumpee is usually very defiant and self-assured, even if the face of danger. what possibly could've broken their spirit bad enough to make them behave like this?

dehumanization whump

yeah the "spitting on whumpee's face, using them as an ashtray, calling them like "mutt" and making them thank whumpers for their punishments" kind of dehumanization is so good but what about the "numbers instead of names, id tags, whumpees carried around like other objects and all this legalized and systemized for the Greater Good™ kind of dehumanization that's my absolute beloved

Whumper dialogue, but it's me trying to find my keys in my purse:

"Please don't make this difficult."

"I'm going to find you, so you might as well come out."

"Why do you always do this!?"

"Where are they... WHERE ARE THEY!?"

"There you are. And to think you were right under my nose this whole time."

"If this happens again, I'm buying a chain."

“I remember when you used to fight. Saying all those ugly words to me, lashing out like a snarling animal. And now…look at you. Sweet and timid like a little lap dog, perfect for bringing to parties”

Number 5 is quite handsome.

The doctor almost regrets having to shatter that nice square jawline.

He has the animal fully immobilized—animal, despite his prosthetic ears and inability to shift, how funny—but not sedated. He won’t feel any pain, but he will see and hear and remember everything that is done to him. It’s just as well that he should. This procedure is not a punishment, after all, but a gift.

To his persistent detriment, 5 has proven to be utterly incapable of shutting the fuck up.

The doctor has elected to cure him of that ailment.

5’s pupils contract down to panicked pinpricks as the scalpel descends to his lips. His skin parts beautifully, pulling back to expose the pale gleam of his mandible like theater curtains, deep red, the blade skating over his chin and down the line of his throat with ease. The doctor filets his cheeks, next, quick and neat along the contours of the maxilla, splitting the dermis so he can slip beneath and separate the delicate membrane of fascia from buccinator and mentalis. Soon enough, 5 is spread open before him like a book. Esophagus and trachea, pale pink and quivering beneath the thick cartilage junction of the larynx, the delicate buckshot of lymph nodes and pulsing tributaries of carotid and jugular, all beautiful. All wholly unnecessary.

A single strike of the orthopedic hammer splits the mandible at the symphysis. The esophagus is neatly terminated—total parenteral nutrition will suffice—and epiglottis diverted, salivary glands excised, ugly little golden accessories popped free of incisors and destroyed. The doctor removes the larynx almost reverently, holding it up to the stark white lights to see the petal-like bundle of vocal cords within.

“See that?” he murmurs to the animal. “Remarkable. Something so small caused you so much trouble.” He chuckles. It’s poetic license, obviously. Number 5’s issue was never in the throat, but rather his underdeveloped prefrontal cortex and utterly corrupted mesolimbic system, but that just doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.

Speaking of which.

The tongue is next to go.

The pharynx is replaced with a thick monolith of precision-machined pneumatic tubing, vagus innervation successfully synthesizing flesh and machine, the chrome’s digital power supply running parallel to organic veins, down to his nuclear heart. It’s truly a masterpiece of bioengineering.

The doctor’s only regret is that Number 5 can’t tell him how good it feels.

[Fic by the exceptionally talented @bxtterflystxtches , who I have the honor of collaborating with for this event. Please show him some love!]

Cold, calculating, in-control whumpers are great, don't get me wrong, but what I really love is whumpers who. Are. Losing. It.

Whumpers who, for whatever reason, have lost their shit, leaving whumpee to take the brunt of their firey anger. Whumpers who aren't holding back, who could very well accidentally kill whumpee. Whumpers who have someone completely at the mercy of their tantrum.

Whumpee who is recovering after the whumpTM, but it's not going great. They're so frustrated with themselves, with their caretakers, just with everything. Everyone is so soft and understanding and it bothers them and they want to scream, but they know they should be grateful.

Until Caretaker comes along. Caretaker isn't 'nice' like the others, they don't take bullshit. They're good for Whumpee, but they don't baby them. They treat them like an adult with anatomy, and it's so refreshing for Whumpee.

"You want to stay up, fine. But you will tell me when you can't anymore, because if I have to drag you off the floor we're both in trouble. Understand?"

"Stop whining. What do you need?" (And then they get or do whatever it is without issues or judgement.)

"Want to tell me why you're doing worse today?" -- "No..." -- "Okay."

"Where does it hurt?" -- "It doesn-" -- "Don't give me that, I can see it hurts. Now tell me where."

Caretaker trusts Whumpee to know what they need, and lets them know again and again they won't take this nonsense of hiding their pain. They're practical, and kind, and Whumpee needed that.

Content: Major character death, comfort.

Caretaker pressing their forehead to Whumpee's as they kneel over their dying body. Shutting their own eyes because they can't bare to face the state Whumpee is in, but wanting nothing more than to be close to them. Holding Whumpee's hand against their own chest, promising them that they'll be okay.

But 'you'll be okay' doesn't mean 'you're going to live'. It means 'the pain will stop soon'.

characters on the run

  • always so tired. driving for hours and hours in whatever shitty beater they find or steal, downing caffeine and too many five-hour energy shots pickpocketed from some gas station
  • sleeping cramped up in some bus or train seat, slumped over in a transit terminal, hoodie pulled up tight in the hopes of not being recognized
  • nodding off but jerking awake every single time, exhausted but hardwired to be paranoid even with caretaker's gentle touch and quiet reassurances trying to get them to rest
  • so much time spent running or fighting they eventually just crash. stoic characters slumped and snoozing, trying to keep watch and instead getting some much needed rest
  • lurching awake in a cold sweat, gasping and trembling, bandages wrapped tight up and down their torso
  • "we're safe here. i promise."
  • "it's okay-- it was just a dream, i didn't hear anything..."
  • shot or stabbed while trying to lose a chase. limping through crowds, desperately acting causal, traces of blood left on everything they touch
  • collapsing and drawing a scene, strangers asking questions and touching all over. having to slip away from concerned bystanders before actual help (or trouble) arrives
  • washing off in some shitty public bathroom and leaving behind a horror show of bloodied paper towels and smeared fingers all over porcelain, too out of it and in a rush to actually bother cleaning up
  • character bleeding out and semiconscious and caretaker doesn't know what to do, has nowhere to go. desperately trying to drag them along as the threat gets closer and closer, or hiding and waiting and begging for them to wake up
  • when it's too dangerous to go to a hospital. makeshift first aid in the back of some car, breaking into a vet clinic after hours, slumped over in a dank alleyway or dirty bathroom. shaking fingers and dim lighting and nowhere comfortable to recover
  • all of the places to lie low are sketchy as hell. trap houses, back rooms, dive bars, strip clubs, late night joints where passing acquaintances are somehow okay with shady strangers crashing on their couch. always surrounded by a bad crowd and caught up in seedy shit
  • wearing the same clothes which get increasingly fucked up. fabric lost to makeshift bandages or tourniquets, blood stains and sweat, the same hoodie passed between characters getting worn and sentimental
  • long sleeves, oversized clothes, shitty makeup, hoods and sunglasses and hats, anything to hide their identity and all of the bruises and cuts
  • barely any money to their name. having to choose between filling up on gas or eating, counting remnants of change, stealing food or dine and dashing out of necessity. barely scrapping by and working any job on the low, just oh so easy to take advantage of
  • getting sick, but it's not like they get a break from running. feverishly wandering around, catching concerned looks from strangers, never getting the chance to rest properly so they just get worse and worse
  • getting so desperate they eventually call for help. trembling and hunched over in a phone booth, nervously knocking on caretaker's door, so rundown and pitiful of course they wouldn't be turned away, where the fuck have they been?

hybrid whump (the bred-in-a-lab-as-pets kind)

  • being too animalistic to be welcome as equals among humans and yet lacking the instincts needed to survive without them
  • being too human to avoid being put to work and not human enough to be paid or set free
  • cages
  • being trained so thoroughly for obedience they'd obey the commands of a stranger
  • shelter pets who think the best thing that could ever happen to them is to finally be owned by someone else
  • (the unhealthy devotion that results)
  • the few instincts they do have being purposely triggered for humans' amusement
  • being strong enough to fight back but knowing it'll all be so much worse if they do
  • (knowing that one day they might get pushed too far and lash out purely on instinct and that'll be the end)
  • they're stronger than humans, so they can take a beating, right? heck, why don't we just make them beat each other
  • forced to fight, forced to perform, forced to serve, forced to fawn and cuddle
  • hybrids declawed or with fangs extracted
  • prey hybrids refusing to trust or accept predator hybrids as one of their own, even ones in the same situation as them

add more please :) i love this stuff

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