#whump writing Tumblr posts

  • shywhumpauthor
    19.05.2022 - 1 minute ago

    May 19th- “I’m all you need”

    [screaming | broken bones | passenger seat]

    @themerrywhumpofmay

    Cw: potential implied murder, death, violence, fires, mentioned mass killings, destruction, fire, guns, bruises, threats, death

    The only thing Hero could hear were the screams. Thousands of them, piercing through the smoke-stained sky, sending every bird within miles fleeing.

    Smart birds, they thought bitterly.

    Wailing sirens broke through the cacophony and Hero wanted to scream. Run. It’s not worth it. Save yourselves.

    Because it’s clear I can’t save you.

    A cloud of ashes swirled through the air, encompassing the city, the stench of smoke and burning flesh nearly making Hero gag.

    Gravel dug into their knees, undoubtedly going to leave some nasty bruises, but it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would matter. Not the hundreds of crumbling buildings, nor the thousands of deaths.

    Not the gun to their forehead, muzzle pressing into their skin. It wouldn’t matter.

    Villain grinned down at them, making a point out of pulling the hammer back, chuckling at Hero’s flinch.

    “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” Villain started, the corners of their eyes creasing as a genuine smile curled across their lips. “You have no idea how long I have waited to watch this fucking city burn.”

    #was gonna be longer #but I put too much thought into it and lost interest #whump#whumpblr#whump community#whump writing#whumpee#whumper #its me coal #coal wrote something #whump prompts#whump prompt#whump challenge#whump drabble#whump snippet#writing prompts#writing prompt#writeblr #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villain x hero #hero whump#hero whumpee #hero x villain #villain whumper
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  • worldofwhumpcraft
    19.05.2022 - 3 minutes ago

    The Desecration

    CW: it as a pronoun, angel/demon whumpee, nfsw implied ish (nothing explicit)

    Whumper entered his room and closed the door softly. The winged creature was waiting there, sitting on the floor, chains run between its wrists and its feet. Just as he had commanded.

    Whumpee's dark eyes stared up at him. There was a strange quality to them, not quite fear… definitely not resentment, and yet there was something tenacious in that look. They weren’t lifeless eyes, but he couldn’t see what the spark was made of. But whumper wasn't going to try to figure that out. Not yet. Not tonight.

    Tonight Whumper was going to relax.

    “Look at you,” he murmured, stepping closer until Whumpee had to crane its neck to keep eye contact. “You’re the little desecration everyone’s been speaking about in these parts. Neither demon nor angel, bearing markings of both.”

    His hand roamed through its thick hair: a gorgeous shade of warm black, a bit short for his tastes but Whumper could change that in time. As his fingertips danced across its scalp, the creature quirked its eyebrows but never spoke a word.

    Silent and expressive. This was going to be a treat.

    Whumper traced a path down its face, touching its firm brow, its stubbled cheek. “I’ve heard that you’re excellent at servicing.” He hooked his finger under Whumpee's jaw, tilting its head back even further. “And I am going to use you for your services.”

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  • when-the-feet-hurt
    19.05.2022 - 46 minutes ago

    cw: forced double suicide, handcuffs, implied abuse

    “Wow, the water’s pretty high, isn’t it?”

    Whumpee shifts their weight from one foot to another as they bite their lip and claw at the handcuff on their right wrist.

    Whumper tugs on the chain.  “I said, the water’s pretty high, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah, it is,” Whumpee mumbles, feeling the sand between their toes as it sparkles in the setting sun.

    “Speak up.”

    Whumpee sniffles.  “Yeah, it is pretty high,” they repeat, trying to keep their voice from wavering.

    “Beaches are so pretty, especially at this time—and they’re so romantic, too.  It’s a good thing this is the last place we’ll ever be, huh?”  Whumper smiles, looking at Whumpee and squeezing their hand.

    Wincing, Whumpee resists the urge to flinch as their bruises sting and ache.  “Yeah…”

    “Is ‘yeah’ the only word you know?  God, couldn’t you try and be a little more eloquent, since, y’know, we’re at the beach and all?  In front of the sunset?  Jesus Christ.”  Whumper rolls their eyes.

    Whumpee’s lip trembles.  “I’m sorry.”

    Clicking their tongue, Whumper sighs, rubbing the back of their neck with their free hand.  “Ah, whatever.  It’s fine.  It won’t matter in an hour, anyway.  C’mon, let’s go.”

    Whumper begins to walk towards the shore.  Turquoise waves lap at the shining beige sand as seagulls caw in the distance and fly away towards the horizon, filling Whumpee with envy.  With tears in their eyes, they follow Whumper.  Looking over their shoulder, they see faint footprints in the sand, and they turn back to face the endless horizon.  Whumpee sees a single star.  It isn’t a shooting star, but they close their eyes and hope that their footprints never fade anyway.

    Cool water laps at their feet and washes away the dry sand.  Whumper laughs as Whumpee yelps in surprise and their eyes shoot wide open, shivering slightly.

    “Did you expect it to be warm or something?” Whumper asks, smiling.  “Don’t worry.  It’ll get warmer the farther we go.”

    Without warning, Whumper tugs on the chain linking the cuffs, and Whumpee stumbles forward as Whumper ambles deeper and deeper into the water, their torn jeans turning a dark, dark blue as the fabric clings to their skin.  The hem of Whumpee’s shirt sinks into the saltwater.  Whumpee looks down into the water at their soaked shorts, at their scarred calves and chafed ankles.

    “We still have further to go, Whumpee,” Whumper chimes, and even though the fear of death fills Whumpee with a leaden dread, they keep walking, knowing that their existence will be washed away by time, just like their footprints.

    #whump writing#intimate whumper #whumpee x whumper #don't know what the hell else to tag
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  • verkja
    19.05.2022 - 1 hour ago

    Pt. 21

    Previous | Masterlist

    The company reaches Habrseng; Radomil clarifies a few points.

    CWs: Depression/anxiety/pre-TSD (hard to separate here), slight disassociation, low self-worth, implied suicidal ideation, referenced hypothetical violence and death, implied past suicide. Despite all the warnings, this is a positive sort of chapter in the end. It is SFW.

    Words: A tad over 2.5K

    Sunbeams filtered through the pine trees on either side of the road. The rays didn’t carry enough warmth to melt the dappled patches of snow, but there were fewer of those in the forest anyway; most of the ground was bronze with fallen needles. The morning sunshine passed through puffs of mist, reflecting off water droplets so each cloud of breath glowed with pale gold light.

    Radomil rubbed his eyes, exhaling another wisp of illuminated fog. The scenery was beautiful, but he was almost too tired to appreciate it. The combination of spending time with two close friends and discussing his dream so often meant he’d been having a great deal of trouble falling asleep lately.

    He wanted to share Catha’s belief that they could avoid the oncoming end of the world. Looking at it rationally, a good outcome was unlikely, but the alternative to believing otherwise was worse. On the few occasions he managed to convince himself they would pull it off, it was like an iron band around his heart came loose; the wave of affection that washed over him when he thought of his friends could swell and swell without smashing against the shores of reality.

    Even more importantly, if “unlikely” turned to “impossible” inside his head, he’d lose the motivation to at least try and stop the catastrophe, and that was too much to lose. The risk to the world was too large in scale to actually feel real, but the danger to his friends felt immediate and substantial. He had to believe there was a way to keep them from dying, or without question they would die.

    Brushing his fingers over a pine sapling as he passed, Radomil scooped up a handful of snow and stuck it down the back of his shirt. That woke him up. He shuddered at the cold dripping down his spine as the memories of his dream dissolved, bringing his thoughts back to the present.

    They’d reach Habrseng today, probably before noon. While the trees blocked their view of the mountains, preventing triangulation, the presence of the forest itself indicated they were getting close to the city. Habrseng’s main source of income was making and exporting ink, the most popular variety of which used pine soot as an ingredient.

    His companions were quiet this morning. Catha was probably enjoying the scenery, while Mures had been quiet in general for some days now. Radomil suspected he was feeling down, but didn’t know why. When he’d asked about it, the sorcerer had put him off with a curt denial that it was anything worth discussing, and he’d left the matter alone since then.

    However, he was beginning to worry. As his elation over Catha’s return had faded, he’d considered that several of Mures’ concerns about their relationship and future as a company had only just been resolved when they’d reached Isa’s tomb. Perhaps some hadn’t been resolved as completely as he’d thought, or the sorcerer had rather more concerns than Radomil had realised.

    He slowed his pace, dropping back to walk beside Mures as Catha took the lead.

    ‘Do you want to pick anything up in Habrseng?’ he asked. ‘I expect what we collected from Isa’s tomb will cover the new gear Catha needs with plenty remaining.’

    ‘No.’

    ‘Are you sure? There’s no rush. The winter will be a lot colder; you haven’t spent it this far south before, right? Bringing thicker clothing could be wise.’

    ‘Alright,’ Mures said, not looking up. His mismatched eyes gazed without much focus on the road a few arm’s lengths ahead.

    ‘I’ll probably grab a few things myself.’

    Perhaps they could talk a little while searching for new equipment. Radomil wondered if Mures’ recent reticence was due to Catha’s having joined them; while the three of them weren’t together all the time, there hadn’t been stretches of hours on end without her present, either. He frowned, disappointed that his excitement over his old friend’s return might have led him to neglect his new friend.

    Mures gave a mumbled acknowledgement, but said no more. The company walked in silence until the trees began to thin out, ancient giants giving way to gangly saplings and brush interspersed with stumps. Not long after that, the sounds of civilization carried towards them on the wind, and after a few more minutes the woods opened to reveal the outskirts of a small city.

    There were no walls around Habrseng, but a line of furnaces separated the huts furthest from the city’s centre from the wilderness. The scent of woodsmoke drifted through the air, and Radomil could see people gathered by the ends of some of the furnaces, collecting what he assumed was pine soot.

    A few of the workers called out friendly greetings as the company passed by, which the mercenaries returned with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Not many people visited Habrseng, Radomil guessed, especially not this late in the year; the heat radiating from the furnaces went some way towards countering the day’s chill, but it was cold even so.

    ‘Let’s find an inn,’ Catha suggested, ‘and drop off our things. Then we can go out to purchase new gear.’

    ‘Sure.’ Radomil glanced at Mures, who didn’t object, though nor did he look excited by the prospect of resting and seeking out better equipment.

    There was an inn not far into the city, a pleasant, single-floored building with a hearth in the middle and rooms arranged in a circle along the edge of the round central hall. There were no three-bed arrangements available, only two and four-bed ones. The mercenaries agreed on the former, and left their belongings in a pleasant, wood-walled room decorated with ink paintings of the mountains outside.

    ‘I have more to obtain than either of you,’ Catha noted, ‘so I’ll set off on my own. I’ll see you sometime in the evening, most likely.’

    ‘Goodbye,’ said Mures. Radomil clapped her amicably on the back as she headed out, then turned to his companion.

    ‘I thought I’d pick up more wool,’ he said. ‘I’m almost out of the stuff from the last village after making Catha’s hat. The wool merchants probably won’t be far from where you can find warm clothing, so do you want to just go together?’

    Mures didn’t answer at once. ‘Okay,’ he said after a few moments of apparent internal debate; his tone suggested he wasn’t convinced of his decision, but perhaps thought it the best among bad options.

    Finding the wool merchants was quite simple. Habrseng wasn’t a large city, and seemed to be a friendly one; the residents were happy to point the two mercenaries in the right direction when Radomil asked.

    Mures didn’t take long to select garments; he appeared to choose them almost randomly, save that they were all black. Well, that wasn’t much of a surprise, Radomil reflected; he’d only ever seen his friend wear black, and there wasn’t much point in spending time comparing similar garments when nothing was likely to fit Mures’ bony figure well anyway.

    The spellsword had finished with the merchants on one street and was cutting through an alley to reach another when Mures addressed him.

    ‘I’m going to leave tonight,’ he said. ‘You and Catha can each have your own bed.’

    ‘Pardon?’

    ‘It’s not far from here to Jameivird; you certainly don’t need a third party member to make it there.’

    Radomil halted, gazing at him with alarm. ‘You’re leaving the company?’

    ‘Yes. It’s only a few days early, anyway. I’ll wait until you’re done looking for wool and then head out.’ He turned away, face empty of expression, and continued down the alley.

    ‘Wha - Mures, wait a second!’ Radomil hurried after his friend, who slowed after a few steps with evident reluctance.

    ‘Why are you leaving?’ he asked. ‘And what do you mean, only a few days early?’

    ‘We’d part company before Jameivird, or on the way there.’ Mures sounded as if he very much didn’t want to continue the discussion, but Radomil paid this no mind.

    ‘You said you were fine with our plans only two nights ago,’ he said. ‘What changed?’

    ‘Nothing; it’s just a few days. I don’t know why you’d care much about it.’

    ‘The plan wasn’t for you to leave in a few days! Catha told you, didn’t she? That we’re visiting the university and then deciding where to go?’

    For the first time since entering the alley, Mures ceased to look unnaturally calm. He looked off-balance instead.

    ‘No; she said the two of you were going there, but I thought - the university’s against dark magic, so I assumed you didn’t want me around. For that.’

    ‘Oh.’ Of course Catha hadn’t known to be especially clear about this; how could she? He hadn’t explained Mures’ concerns about being left behind out of respect for his privacy, and the sorcerer wouldn’t have mentioned them to someone he hardly knew, either.

    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘We do want you around - I want you around, Mures, very much. Our agreement to travel together is still in effect as far as I’m concerned. If you want to part ways, then -’ not fine, it wasn’t fine - ‘I’m not going to stop you, but don’t leave on my account.’

    Mures didn’t seem to know what to say. He looked shocked for a moment, and then tentatively happy, and then his expression settled into a kind of grim resignation that Radomil didn’t like at all.

    ‘Thank you,’ he said, voice carefully even. ‘It’s probably… I think it’s better all around if I just leave now anyway. So, thank you, again, and I hope you and Catha find a way to fix what you see in your dream. I’m sure you will. You’re - well. Thank you for letting me travel with you for so long. And for your - for the time and friendship you’ve spent on me.’

    He nodded at Radomil and, after a brief hesitation, held out his hand. The spellsword didn’t take it.

    ‘Will you at least tell me why it’s better?’ he asked, aware that his voice was a hair’s breadth away from shaking.

    The other man didn’t answer at once. He looked conflicted. After a very tense period of silence, he said, ‘Catha and I will end up fighting eventually, and you probably don’t want to see that. If you… If what you’ve said about your feelings in regards to me are true, I’d guess you would rather not see me die. And obviously I’m not going to try and kill her, even if I didn’t think you’d intervene to help her. Which of course I do - I’m not suggesting you wouldn’t.’

    Radomil once again found himself almost entirely adrift in a sea of assumptions, mostly incorrect but giving the odd impression that they hung together somehow nonetheless. He didn’t let it distract him.

    ‘Why in the world would you end up fighting Catha? I thought you were getting along fairly well; did I miss something?’

    ‘Well - no, you didn’t, but obviously she has. I have no doubt you’ve realised she’s perfectly cut out to be some sort of heroic figure, and I’m precisely the opposite. We’ve talked about this before.’ His voice was getting gradually tighter.

    ‘Yes, and I told you, I think you’re wrong. There’s no reason for you to be the antagonist or the villain or come to a bad end. We established that, didn’t we? I thought you knew where I stand on the matter.’

    Mures shut his eyes. He was very still, but Radomil could see tears collecting on the ends of his patchy eyelashes.

    ‘Even without that,’ he said faintly, ‘she’s a far better friend. It’s not worth the risk. You’ll be upset if we do end up fighting, and you don’t need me around anymore, if you ever did. I can’t give you what she can.’

    ‘You’re both my friends.’

    ‘And with Catha, you can believe the world isn’t going to end.’ He spoke at a normal volume now, but his voice cracked. He sniffed. ‘Or at least hope it won’t. I can’t give you that. I’m glad - more than I can tell you - to have been your friend, but in the end she’s worth more than I am, as a person and to you.’

    Radomil felt strange. It was as if all the feeling in his body had abruptly drawn inwards, leaving his fingers and toes and even his face oddly numb. When he spoke, it was like he was listening to himself from outside.

    ‘She’s not worth more than you are,’ he said. ‘Setting aside objective assessment, I mean to me. You’re both my friends. Equally.’

    Mures looked as though he were about to speak, but Radomil cut him off.

    ‘Catha does give me that hope,’ he said, ‘but you give me something just as important. I didn’t believe we could do anything about the end of the world - sometimes I still don’t - and you make me think that caring about and being with a friend is worthwhile anyway.

    ‘I never had that with Catha, because with her it was always about trying to believe things could be different. That doesn’t matter with you. Even when I don’t think we can prevent it, even when I’m convinced we’re all going to die a few years from now, I still want to be your friend. I love you both, and any risk I might be taking if we keep travelling together is insignificant compared to that.’

    He stopped. Mures was staring at him with an expression which suggested he was about to either pass out or burst into tears. In lieu of either, he took several deep breaths, digging the fingers of one hand into the opposite wrist, and shakily asked, ‘You really want me to stay with you?’

    ‘Yes.’

    Radomil didn’t think words were adequate to express how he felt. Stepping forward, he extended a hand; when Mures didn’t object or move away, he wrapped one arm around the sorcerer’s shoulders, then the other, and then they were both holding on to each other so hard it was almost painful.

    His friend was shaking; he’d started crying after all, and Radomil felt several tears slip down his own face too. He tangled one hand in Mures’ stringy hair and pressed their temples together, closing his eyes.

    ‘Please don’t leave on my account,’ he repeated in a rough whisper. ‘You’re as much a part of the company as any of us, and you’re more than welcome. You’ll always be welcome.’

    Mures started to respond, but his voice broke and he didn’t try to repeat himself. Instead, he squeezed Radomil even more tightly and slid a hand up between his shoulder blades to push him in closer.

    They stood there for a while with the muffled sounds of the city drifting past. Eventually, the spellsword drew back, though he kept a hand on each of his friend’s shoulders.

    ‘Where were you going to go, anyhow?’ he asked hoarsely. ‘If you’d left today.’

    Mures sniffed. His eyes were rimmed with red. ‘I… nowhere.’

    This might’ve meant he was going to stay near Habrseng, but Radomil didn’t think so. Over the years he’d been a mercenary, he’d lost too many comrades, not in battle but after it, to the same sort of hopelessness he heard in Mures’ voice.

    He pulled the sorcerer closer again.

    ‘How can you think that’s preferable to upsetting - potentially upsetting me if you stay with the company?’ He sounded distinctly choked even to his own ears.

    Mures’ narrow shoulders jerked in a shrug. ‘It’s not the worst way things could go; it was never going to end happily for me anyway. I don’t really care. I don’t want the last thing I do to be hurting my - my very dear friend.’

    Radomil made a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. ‘Mures, I can assure you, if you die, I’m going to be upset regardless of the circumstances. I think you’ve drastically underestimated how much you mean to me’

    There was a pause, and then, in a strangled tone: ‘Possibly, yes.’

    #does this count as positive? #i think it does #but my perspective might be warped on account of reading a lot of whump #at any rate things will go generally uphill from here for a while #although next week's chapter will get nasty #:)#my writing#cw:depression #low self worth #cw:suicide #or references to all the above
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  • watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees
    19.05.2022 - 1 hour ago

    can i send myself anon asks so as to trick myself into answering and thus actually writing? /gen

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  • worldofwhumpcraft
    19.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    "Mourn me"? from the ask game?

    hope you're doing well and blessed with creativity <3

    from this ask game

    Rhett this is an honor to hear from you I love your stuff silently fanboys

    funny story 95% of my whump ocs are not properly mortal so i'll go nameless on this one. I tried to make it was "whump-like" as possible. hope it fits the bill

    Mourn Me

    obviously CW main character death implied.... duh

    Caretaker stepped over the piles of garbage scattered across the floor, pushed aside the dirty dishes strewn across the counter, and reached into the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of vodka. The flat had gone to shit, but he didn't care.

    Whumpee was dead.

    It shouldn't have hit him so hard. Caretaker wasn't family, wasn't Whumpee's significant other. Just one of their friends in a decently large circle of friends. No one came to give caretaker condolences beyond the most basic "Yeah, man. Whumpee's gone. Horrible way to go. Sucks."

    Caretaker snarled as he poured the fourth shot into a filthy glass. They didn't understand. Whumpee wasn't just a friend to him. They were someone who had been the better reflection of himself: motivated, confident, ready to take on the world and its challenges. Someone Caretaker used to be, years ago. Deep inside, he had tried to help Whumpee every chance he could, to see them succeed where he had failed.

    And now Whumpee had been killed in a violent, senseless murder.

    "It should have been me," Caretaker muttered, knocking back the alcohol. "They had their whole life ahead of them, and some sick psycho took them instead of me."

    Every memory of Whumpee played through caretaker's mind: their boisterous laugh, each of their crazy shenanigans, the way their eyebrows quirked when they were worried about Caretaker. His grip on the bottle tightened, until the neck grew slippery in his hands and crashed onto the floor.

    Caretaker knelt on the floor, mindlessly scooping up the glass shards among the growing pool staining the carpet. THe shards sliced and cut Caretaker's hands, but he didn't feel anything in the rage that was consuming his grief.

    "I'm going to find them, Whumpee," Caretaker hissed, blood streaming from his fingertips. "I'm going to find Whumper, and make them pay."

    #ask game#whump#whump blog#whump community#my posts#caretaker#angst#whump writing #thanks for the ask! #ask me things #ask#asks open #i swear nameless ocs get killed #its gonna be canon someday #yes this was more angst revenge then sad #apolozies
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  • hufflepuffwritingstuff2
    19.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    Hi! I'm back with another request:

    This time, whumpee has to go to the dentist and their big brother, caretaker, are going with them but whumpee is nervous so caretaker has to comfort them, later while whumpee is going under the anesthesia, caretaker is comforting them while whumpee is slowly going into a deep sleep, whumpee wakes up later to see caretaker comforting them and taking care of them thanks!

    -wizard anon

    Hello again Wizard Anon! Thanks for requesting this, I’ll give it a try! Sorry this took a while, I’ve been going through writer’s block :(

    “Caretaker,” Whumpee started, “I’m nervous.”

    “I know,” Caretaker said from the driver’s seat, “but it’ll be over before you know it. It’s just getting your wisdom teeth out, nothing fancy.”

    “But what if something goes wrong?” Whumpee asked.

    “Nothing’s gonna go wrong, these guys are professionals,” Caretaker answered, “I got my wisdom teeth taken out by the same surgeon you’re going to.”

    “Yeah?”

    “Yeah, and everything went fine. Just relax, they’re gonna take care of you.”

    Caretaker turned down a street and stopped in front of a small dentist’s office.

    “We’re here.” Caretaker said.

    Whumpee opened his door and got out of the car, with Caretaker following suit. Caretaker opened the door to the office to let Whumpee inside. Whumpee and Caretaker sat down in the waiting room. Whumpee stared up at the TV on the wall; it was playing some sort of reality show, but it wasn’t doing much do distract Whumpee from his nerves.

    “Whumpee,” a nurse called.

    “that’s us,” Caretaker said, nudging Whumpee’s shoulder, “let’s go.”

    Whumpee and Caretaker followed the nurse to an operating room, in the center of which was a dentist’s chair, along with Surgeon and an anesthesiologist.

    “just lay down here and we’ll get started,” the nurse said.

    “Can I stay with him until he falls asleep?” Caretaker asked.

    The nurse smiled sympathetically.

    “Of course,” she said.

    One of the other people in the room stepped forward.

    “Hello, Whumpee,” Surgeon said, “are you ready?”

    “Not really,” Whumpee admitted.

    “That’s alright, it’s normal to be nervous, but everything is gonna be fine. Can you extend your right arm for me? Perfect. Now make a fist and squeeze.”

    Whumpee made a fist as Caretaker held his other hand. The anesthesiologist stepped forward and inserted a needle into Whumpee’s arm. Whumpee winced at the pain it caused.

    “You’re doing great, Whumpee,” Caretaker said.

    “Now just count backwards from ten for me.” The surgeon said.

    Whumpee looked up at Caretaker as he counted. The more he counted, the more tired he felt. By the time he reached seven, Whumpee couldn’t keep his eyes from closing. The last thing Whumpee heard was Caretaker’s voice before he drifted off into a deep sleep.

    The next several hours went by in a haze for Whumpee. When he first opened his eyes, he was in a recovery room with Caretaker. Caretaker helped Whumpee stand up and walked him to the car. He buckled Whumpee’s seatbelt for him then got in on the driver’s side. Whumpee drifted back off on the way home. The second time Whumpee opened his eyes, he was in bed in his room. He looked over to see Caretaker holding his hand.

    “Hey,” Caretaker said.

    “Hi,” Whumpee croaked.

    “How are you feeling?”

    “it hurts a little,” Whumpee answered.

    “Well, a little is better than a lot. I gave you some pain meds when we got home.” Caretaker said.

    “You did? I don’t remember…”

    “It’s okay.” Caretaker ran a thumb up and down Whumpee’s hand, “you’re probably not gonna remember a lot of things.”

    Just then, a wave of pain rippled through Whumpee’s stomach.

    “Caretaker,” Whumpee squeaked.

    “What’s wrong, Whumpee?”

    Whumpee shook his head, threw off the covers, and made a mad dash for the bathroom. He had just made it to the bathroom sink when Whumpee vomited up red. Blood stained every inch of the sink as Whumpee gripped the rim. Caretaker came running in right behind him. Caretaker looked at Whumpee, then at the sink, then back to Whumpee. His expression softened as he rubbed soothing circles into Whumpee’s back.

    “Yeah, I was expecting that sooner or later,” Caretaker said, “it happened to me when I got home from my surgery too. Are you okay now?”

    Whumpee nodded, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

    “Look, why don’t you go get back in bed while I clean this up, okay? After that I’ll bring you some lunch, you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

    Whumpee nodded again and headed back to his room. He climbed back in bed and pulled the covers up. Whumpee had almost drifted off again when Caretaker came in with a bowl of very tiny noodles.

    “This should be easy on your mouth,” Caretaker said, “sit up for me.”

    Whumpee propped himself up against the pillows as Caretaker handed him the bowl. Whumpee spooned the noodles in, being careful to avoid the stitches in his mouth. When Whumpee had finished eating, he felt absolutely exhausted. He handed the bowl to Caretaker and laid down in the bed. He was already half-asleep when he heard Caretaker’s voice.

    “Get some rest, Whumpee,” Caretaker said, “I’ll be right here.”

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  • serickswrites
    19.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    Could you continue the merman story please?

    I can! It's called Song of the Siren!

    Part 1

    Warnings: yandere whumper, manipulation, potential drowning, potential captivity

    Whumper smiled to himself as the ship's sails appeared on the horizon. Whumpee would be here within the hour. And sure enough, the ship made great progress in the hour.

    Whumper spent the hour searching for Whumpee's song. Searching for the song that would bring Whumpee to him and him alone. The song that would make Whumpee his. And no one else's.

    As the ship drew closer, Whumper began to sing. Sing for Whumpee. Call to them. Summon them. It was a beautiful song, with delicate harmonies and mournful refrains. The most beautiful song that Whumper had ever sung.

    And as Whumper sang, he watched the ship's deck. His brethren were singing for the other sailors. But not for Whumpee. Whumpee was his. He watched as other sailors plunged themselves into the sea, seeking the source of the otherwordly music. But not Whumpee. Whumpee stood on the deck, shaking in terror as they watched their peers sink below the sea's dark surface.

    Soon. Soon, Whumpee would come to him. He sang louder, sang harder, sang so that he could feast on the love, body, the everything of Whumpee. Whumper continued the song as he watched Whumpee step towards him. Very soon, love, very soon. Whumper thought these words as he watched Whumpee fight against the compulsion. But Whumpee would lose. They always did.

    Tags: @husbandoenjoyer @endlesscyclezz

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  • whump-then-fall
    19.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    The Merry Whump of May

    Day 19 - I’m all you need

    Content warnings: referenced gag, male whumpee, male whumper, referenced restraints, breaking bones, screaming - let me know if I missed anything!

    “Let’s go.” 

    Zach made some kind of muffled noise in reply. Sawyer sighed and ripped off the duct tape.

    “Let’s what?” Zach gasped. 

    “Go. Now. I haven’t got all day.” Sawyer snapped his fingers at Zach, making him start and immediately jump up, wincing when his shackles caught the skin of his wrists. 

    “Where are we going?” 

    In response, Sawyer held up the roll of duct tape again. Zach gulped and quietened. 

    Once they’d reached Sawyer’s car, he opened the passenger door. 

    “In.” 

    “Why?” Zach folded his arms, staring him down. Sawyer rolled his eyes and grabbed Zach’s wrist, quickly unlatching the shackles. There was a snap as he twisted it. Zach whimpered a little, unwilling to give Sawyer the satisfaction of screaming. 

    “Because I said so. In.” 

    When Zach still refused to move, Sawyer grabbed his now-broken wrist and forced him in. 

    “Help!” Zach screamed, finding his voice again. “Help! Help! I need help! Please! Please! I NEED HELP!” 

    “I’m all you need.” Sawyer said with a smile, slamming the door hard on Zach’s foot before opening it again and shoving his leg in. He walked round to the other side of the car and opened the door to the driver’s seat. 

    “We’re off.” 

    @themerrywhumpofmay

    #the merry whump of may #ocs#my writing#whump#whump writing #i’m all you need
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  • rizzamacka-whump
    19.05.2022 - 2 hours ago

    The torture stopped. Whumper touched their bruised cheeks.

    "Are you sure? She's the one?" Whumpee nodded weakly, "Yeah, she's the one."

    Whumper laughed and ruffled the hair, satisfied smiles on their faces. "Well, it's like that. You should just tell me who I'm looking for so I don't have to hurt you." They said, lightly. "Thank you, Whumpee!"

    The information was false and Whumpee kept their apologies in their hearts. They felt guilty, and they cried. Again, innocent people have to go through the same thing as them.

    But, Whumpee just wanted all of this to be over.

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  • waywardwhump
    19.05.2022 - 3 hours ago

    "Oh, sweetheart," the newest whumper murmurs, nuzzling gently against the whumpee's neck. Everything in their voice was softness and warmth, their hands rubbing up and down the whumpee's back to soothe their trembling. "When was the last time someone touched you? Held you? When was the last time someone got close without the intention to hurt?"

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  • i-write-whump
    19.05.2022 - 4 hours ago

    When the whumpee feels absolutely terrible, but they have to travel. The whumpee leaning on the caretaker’s shoulder almost the entire time, not having the energy to sit up for that long on their own, and the caretaker half carrying them anytime they have to walk. The caretaker bringing the whumpee to the caretaker’s house, since they don't want to leave them alone, and immediately lowering them onto the couch, telling the whumpee to just hang in there for a few minutes while they get a couple things, and then the caretaker will get them into a proper bed. The whumpee trying to listen to them, but dozing off on the couch less than a minute later. The caretaker coming back to find them slumped against the arm of the couch, sound asleep. The caretaker considering just settling them in a more comfortable position on the couch, but ultimately deciding to just carry the whumpee to a proper bed. Them tucking the whumpee in, and the whumpee waking up the next morning with no idea how they got there, but feeling safe and cared for.

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  • serickswrites
    19.05.2022 - 4 hours ago

    Circus Circus IV

    Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

    Warnings: captivity, restraints, knives, blood, emotional whump, forced to watch, self sacrifice

    Whumper returned all too soon. The break they had given Whumpee had been far too short. Whumper’s eyes were shining when they came in, duffle in hand. “Ready for a new, special round of the game?”

    Whumpee looked at Caretaker and nodded. “I’m sorry.” Caretaker said softly. 

    Whumper paused in their walk to Whumpee. “What did you say?”

    “I’m sorry that I took you away from your family.” Caretaker swallowed. They and Whumpee had worked out a script. Had practiced it for hours. Caretaker wouldn’t deviate. To deviate meant more pain for Whumpee. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to arrest you. Testify against you. I was so very, very wrong.”

    Whumper cocked their head as Caretaker spoke. “Are you really sorry?” 

    Caretaker nodded their head fervently. They were sorry. Sorry that Whumpee was all caught up in this because of them. They were not sorry that they arrested Whumper for assault and battery. For beating their partner and young child. For threatening neighbors. And for hurting a beat cop who responded to the initial call. Caretaker was not sorry for any of that. But they were sorry that Whumpee was hurting. “Very sorry.” Caretaker tried to sound as convincing as possible. They tried to put as much remorse they felt about Whumpee getting hurt into their words. 

    Whumper turned to look back at Whumpee. “Thought that would work, really?” They laughed, though it was more a barking of sound than anything else. “How dumb do you think I am, little one?”

    Caretaker could see Whumpee’s eyes tighten ever so slightly. Not good. “I don’t think you’re dumb.” Whumpee said quickly, earnestly. “I think you’re highly intelligent. You would have to be to get the drop on a police lieutenant and a former FBI special agent.”

    “You’re right, little one.” Whumper continued towards Whumpee again. 

    “So intelligent that you wouldn’t want to sabotage your freedom, right?” Whumpee eyed the duffle in Whumper’s hand. 

    Whumper dropped the duffle. “Little one, what freedom? Sure, I’m not in a cage anymore. But my partner left me. Changed their name. Moved somewhere I can’t find them. And my child,” their voice cracked, “my child died of leukemia while I was locked up.” 

    Caretaker’s mouth went dry. Whumpee visibly paled. “I’m–”

    “Don’t say it. Don’t say anything!” Whumper said through clenched teeth. They bent over and pulled an unopened pack of cards from the bag. “There’s nothing you can say. Nothing he can say,” they pointed at Caretaker. “There is nothing to be said. Only things to do. And what you can do right now, is just stand there and look pretty, little one.” 

    Whumpee opened and closed their mouth. Caretaker could almost see the gears of their brain turning. Trying to figure a way out of this. Trying to find a way to talk this mad man down. But there was nothing. “And you,” they rounded on Caretaker, “you can pick a card.” Whumper fanned out the deck in front of Caretaker. 

    Caretaker let out the breath they had been holding. Though they didn’t want to pick a card, pick how many times Whumper could throw the dart, they knew they had to. And they knew that Whumpee would be ok. The darts stung, but they weren’t hurting them that badly. At least that’s what Caretaker tried to tell themself  as they said, “Center card.” Whumper drew the card. “Four of clubs. Ok, that means legs and feet.” They stuck their hand in the duffle and pulled out a throwing knife. 

    “Wait just a fucking minute!” Caretaker protested, once again straining against the ropes. 

    “Oh, didn’t I tell you about the new rules? Clubs for legs. Spades for arms. Diamond for head. And hearts, well, I think you know what hearts is for. I also only get one per card.” They shrugged. “I only have so many knives.” They took aim and threw the knife. 

    “Caretaker!” Whumpee cried out as the knife made its home in their right thigh. 

    “YOU FUCKING BASTARD I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Caretaker roared from their seat. They strained and pulled, but the ropes didn’t give. Their wrists started to bleed as they yelled wordlessly in frustration. 

    “Temper, temper, that’s going to get you into trouble.” Whumper cackled. “I think I get to draw a card for that. What do you think, little one?”

    Whumpee glared at Whumper, the first time their temper flared. “You’re going to do whatever you want no matter what I say. So go ahead. Do your worst.”

    Whumpee. Whumpee, their sweet, bright, wonderful Whumpee. Whumpee their brilliant idiot. Whumpee was baiting Whumper into hurting them. Caretaker shook their head, trying to get Whumpee to stop. To save themself. 

    Whumper drew a card. “Two of diamonds. Might want to close your eyes for this one, little one.” They threw the knife at Whumpee’s head. Caretaker closed their eyes, not wanting to see their beautiful Whumpee’s face get split in two. The sound of the thunk of the knife embedding itself in the wheel had Caretaker wrenching their eyes open. The knife was next to Whumpee’s cheek, mere centimeters away from cutting them. Whumpee’s eyes were wide with fear as they stared at just how close they were to having another hole in their face. 

    Over the next half hour, Whumper took countless shots. The backboard of the wheel was littered with knives, some buried up to their shaft, others just barely into the wood. Whumpee’s chest was heaving. They were trying to breathe through their pain. But it was becoming too much. Whumper had successfully landed three more shots: one in Whumpee’s left hand, one in their right shoulder, and another in their right calf. Whumpee’s right cheek was bleeding from a scratch after the knife had grazed by them. Caretaker hadn’t stopped yelling after that shot. 

    Caretaker had screamed themself hoarse. They hated watching Whumpee flinch each time a card was drawn. Hated watching the knife sink into them. Hated watching the blood drip down, forming small puddles on the floor. Caretaker hated every moment of this. They wished it was them. Wished they could take Whumpee’s place. 

    “Enough, Whumper, please,” Caretaker rasped and Whumper held out  the fan of cards. They had missed more shots than they had made, but the cards that were the riskiest, the hearts, had yet to be drawn. 

    “I’ll let you know when they’ve had enough. Had enough yet, little one?”

    Whumpee groaned in response. They swallowed. “Just…just let Caretaker go. Keep me. Do whatever. But let them go.”

    “If you can answer me, then you haven’t had enough.” They shoved the cards in front of Caretaker again. “Pick, or I’ll pick where it goes.”

    “Left most card.” Caretaker refused to let Whumper pick. Because they would pick a heart. And Caretaker couldn’t risk that. 

    “Oh, yes!” Whumper crowed. “Queen of Hearts!”

    “NO!” Caretaker shouted again, ignoring the rawness of their throat. No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening. 

    “Any last words, little one? This could be the one that ends the game.”

    Whumpee looked at Caretaker, tears in their eyes. “Caretaker, I’m s–”

    As Whumpee was speaking, Whumper threw the knife. With a sickening squelching sound, the knife made its home in Whumpee’s belly. Whumpee shrieked as blood began to pour out. 

    “LET THEM GO! WHUMPER! DAMMIT! HURT ME! THROW THEM AT ME! LET THEM GO!”

    “Looks like you won that round, little one.” Whumper flipped over the cards, tossing away several. “Let’s make this the final round. The ‘sudden death’ round if you will.”

    Whumpee whimpered in response. They couldn’t breathe through this pain. They couldn’t focus on Whumper’s words. They felt shaky, weak, cold, and exhausted. It was the exhaustion that would have worried them if they had the energy to worry. 

    “Whumper, please,” Caretaker sobbed. They wouldn’t chance Whumpee’s life again. Not another time. They couldn’t take that risk. “Please. Please, do the last round with me. You can stand right over me. Just….just…just please let them go.”

    Whumpee lifted their gaze to look at Caretaker’s face. They knew what Whumper’s response would be. They knew the outcome of this. They stopped listening. The ringing in their ears grew louder. They stopped listening to Caretaker beg for their life. Stopped listening to them threaten to sacrifice themself. Stopped listening to Whumper taunt them. Stopped listening because they knew it was pointless. They just hoped that they had bought enough time for Teammate One and Two to reach Caretaker. Caretaker would need a lot of help after this. They were sad that they wouldn’t be there to comfort Caretaker. But it was better to have others comfort Caretaker than have no Caretaker. Whumpee couldn’t live with no Caretaker. They snorted as they realized that they weren’t going to live with Caretaker either. 

    The sound of cards scattering through the air brought Whumpee out of their thoughts. They looked up to see Whumper snarling at Caretaker and Caretaker looking absolutely petrified. Whumper turned to face Whumpee with a growl. As Whumper raised their arm and Caretaker cried out, Whumpee closed their eyes.

    Tags: @pretty-writing-things @whumptress @whumperflies @j-is-evil-28 @zoewhumps @ohnoithurts @originalgirlnumber2 @hurt-the-innocent-ones @love-it-when-you-scream @wingedwhump @whumpy-daydreams @freefallingup13 @elisabethrosewrites @sammykh @thewhumpstash @reblogwhump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees 

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  • revierie
    19.05.2022 - 4 hours ago

    Okay. Okay okay. Hear me out:

    Villain(s) adopting a abused kid.

    Maybe they just take pity on them, or maybe the villain was a victim of abuse themself and don't want anyone else to live the life they did.

    There's no alterior motives, there's no bigger scheme; They legitimately want this kid to live a happy, fulfilling life.

    And they do! Bit by bit they both pick up the pieces of the kid's destroyed self, healing along the path, even if with bumpy steps on the road.

    So queue the superheroes kidnapping saving this kid, forcefully taking them away because there's no way a villain could treat a child like them with any sympathy, no, they must have been a pawn in some scheme of theirs, because that's the only explanation—

    Until the kid starts crying heavy tears, begging them to get them back to their family, to villain.

    Bonus points if:

    Villain absolutely loses their shit upon discovering that the heroes took their child. Disregarding common sense, they go to the heroes base and cause havock until they find them.

    The kid's old abuser is one of the heroes that now have them on custody.

    The kid is actually stronger than villain themself. Idk I find it hilarious when a kid is stronger than trained adults. Best comedy ever. Also quite angsty.

    Upon reunion with their child, they hug because of the fear and relief of seeing each other again— Only for a hero behind villain to take the opportunity to incapacitate them.

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  • knivestothroats
    19.05.2022 - 5 hours ago

    dreamt abt fletcher last night... very scary time. i wish i remembered the specifics but all i remember is the incredibly tense feeling of "this person is nice to me at this moment but i know that if i make a wrong move or say the wrong thing thats gonna change Real Fast"

    Holy shit

    I think I've made it as a horror writer if I've given someone nightmares

    #whump is borderline horror at least how i write it #i usually call my stuff ''thriller'' outside of tumblr but for all intents and purposes #living in y'alls heads rent free fr #but also uhh sorry? that you had a nightmare
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  • morning-star-whump
    19.05.2022 - 5 hours ago

    Smile for the Camera! 17

    Chapter 17: Fake it Till You Make It

    Masterlist || Previous

    Someone has to pay for Alex's crimes...

    CW: Mention of death, grief of a loved one, captivity whump

    Tag List: @livingforthewhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thebaffledtiewriter @whumpkinpie @pretty-writing-things @make-it-gay-please @onlywhump @heeheehooho0 @basicallyachild2004 @susiequaz12 @pickywhumpreader @shameless-dumbass @scp-1296 @burningkittypoet @tiredghostboi @painsandconfusion @whump-queen @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit

    Nathan turned his computer and camera on. He was on the first floor of his cabin, surrounded by wigs and hair styling supplies. His peppy persona was in full force. He was so excited for this punishment.

    “Hey, everyone!” He greeted his viewers with a wave. “So, yesterday, Alex tried to stab me. Idiot.” He broke down into laughter. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just funny how stupid he is. Anyway, I told him if he tried to attack me, one of his family members would get hurt. So that’s what we’re doing today.” He gestured to his equipment. “Now, obviously, I can’t go back to Chicago and kill someone. I only kill the boys I kidnap because by the time I do, they’re already presumed dead. Killing out of the blue could be traceable, I’m not stupid enough for that. Even if I’m in a different state.”

    Nathan began slowly pacing around his room. “Still, I promised Alex I’d bring a piece of his loved ones when they ‘die.’” He used air quotes on the last word. “That’s what all this is for. Now, I have a selection of wigs because I haven’t yet decided which one I’m going to tell him I killed.” 

    He held up a Polaroid to the camera. It was a candid, a side profile. A woman was walking out of a hospital building in light blue scrubs. Her wavy, dark brown hair blew in the wind, contrasting the light sky against her. “This is Selena Diaz, Alex’s mother. Single mom, the only family he has as far as I know.”

    He removed Selena’s picture and held up another Polaroid. A boy with blue eyes was walking home from school, holding the straps of his red backpack. His curly brown hair framed his face as he looked at the ground, his steps small. “And Jordan Fielding. Alex’s boyfriend. Teen romance, isn’t it beautiful?”

    He started pressing buttons on his computer. “I’m starting a poll, you guys! Which one should I tell him is dead today? Mother or boyfriend?”

    While he waited for the votes to roll in, he updated the chat on how his sixth plaything was doing. He apologized for Alex’s behavior, ruining his face not once, but two times. He told them how proud he was that his toy had withstood thirty-two lashes, even if he was breaking rules while doing it. He made sure they knew every last detail.

    “Ah, you guys tied it– Nope! One last vote to push it over the edge?” Nathan squinted at the results. 51% Jordan, 49 % Selena. “Jordan it is.”

    “So, Jordan’s hair is curly and dark brown. So let’s use this one.” He picked up the curly, ginger wig. “We’re going to have to dye this, and curl it a little bit more, but it’ll do.”

    He cut off a short lock of hair and browsed his supply of colors. He matched each color with the Polaroid, and settled on a chocolate brown. “I think we found Jordan’s color, guys!” He snapped on some latex gloves and got to work. The color and developer were placed in a bowl, and he mixed the ingredients together.

    “You want to make sure you get every last strand of hair dyed,” Nathan stated nonchalantly. He picked up a hairbrush and applied the dye to the lock of hair. “Now, we wait ten minutes. We can pass the time with suggestions for what to do to Alex next. I have to say, he didn’t seem to know what the cattle prod was, I’m curious to get him acquainted with it.”

    Suggestions rolled in. Whip him again. Burn him. Stress positions. Every single one excited Nathan. Donations rolled in, too. How clever of you to fake Jordan’s death. You’re experienced at this. He’ll never try to attack you again. Nathan’s heart fluttered at the dollar signs.

    “Now we run it in water,” he said. “This is making it straighter. We’re gonna need to curl it more than I thought.”

    After the hair dried, he ran his fingers over two curling irons. One was normally-sized, one was for shorter hair. He picked up the smaller one and began curling the synthetic hair. He glanced between the lock of hair and the Polaroid, making sure he got it just right. “That’s looking like Jordan, everyone! Good choice, chat!”

    “Okay, guys, I’m going to take you downstairs now. I’m sure you all want to see Alex’s reaction.”

    Alex had passed out in the bathtub and woken up chained to the corner again. His cuffs were tighter this time, all but cutting off his circulation. There was a moment when he woke up where he didn’t remember everything that had happened, but it all came flooding back eventually.

    It was his fault.

    That was one of the last things he had heard before he passed out. It’s my fault they’re dead. 

    He wondered if Nathan had killed both Jordan and his mother, or just one of them. Alex thought about which one he’d rather kill. He never thought his mind would reach such a dark place, yet here he was, sitting in the pitch-black dark, wondering which of his loved ones he hoped would die.

    Jordan was his boyfriend. His mother was his mother. He loved them both in different ways. He’d do anything to make sure they stayed alive. Apparently, he was also capable of murdering them in one swift movement.

    Nathan hadn’t told him that anyone was dead yet. As long as Alex didn’t get the news, he could pretend it hadn't happened. He could picture them happy, perfectly fine without him, smiling and laughing and crying and begging for their life and–

    Alex tried to stop thinking.

    The door at the top of the stairs creeped open. Nathan was carrying his recording equipment back downstairs, which couldn’t be good. Did he record their deaths?

    Alex shrank back into the corner, wishing he wouldn’t have to hear the words bound to come out of Nathan’s mouth.

    Before he knew it, Nathan was crouched down in front of him, holding something behind his back. “Remember your punishment, Alex?”

    “No, nonono, please, don’t–”

    “It’s a little too late for that.” Nathan showed his hands to reveal a ziplock bag with… hair inside it? He handed it to Alex. “I told you I’d bring you a piece of them.”

    It was dark brown with fluffy curls. It looked a lot like– Jordan.

    The realization came crashing down on Alex. He was able to deny it before, but now he was holding the proof of his boyfriend’s death. A death that he caused. He swore his heart stopped beating. Tears were streaming down his face, his eyes wide. He couldn’t breathe. Jordan’s dead. Jordan’s gone. It’s my fault.

    “Jordan, no,” he cried, his voice barely above a whisper. “Jordan, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, it’s my fault–”

    “That’s right, Alex.” Nathan smiled. “Jordan Fielding is dead.”

    “No–”

    “Because of you.”

    “NO–”

    “Yes.”

    Alex sank back against the wall and kissed the plastic bag. “I love you, Jordan.”

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  • otpcompendium
    19.05.2022 - 5 hours ago

    Hero A thought they’d be thrilled to hear that B, a supervillain who’d terrorized the town for years and they’d fought with numerous times, had finally been caught for good, but something about it didn’t sit right with them. So after pulling some strings, A has found themself sitting across from B in a power-suppressing interrogation room, and B doesn’t look as scary as they thought they would. Mostly, they just look tired. 

    Like my prompts? Leave me a tip!

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  • oddsconvert
    19.05.2022 - 7 hours ago

    Whumpee has been rescued and whumper is still out there, eagerly searching for them...but whumpee isn't taking the precautions to protect themselves. They keep vanishing from caretakers house for days at a time, not answering their phone, putting themselves in plain danger.

    So caretaker starts locking the doors, trapping whumpee in for their own safety. But it all seems too familiar...too much like whumper.

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  • evilwriter37
    19.05.2022 - 7 hours ago

    The Merry Whump of May Day 19

    Prompts: broken bones, screaming, passenger seat

    Rated: mature

    Warnings: graphic depictions of an injury, drowning

    Pairings: none

    Word Count: 1,048

    Summary: Stoick really should have pulled over and waited out the storm. He's lucky that a Night Fury dives into the river his car has fallen into to save his son.

    #the merry whump of may #day 19 #I'm all you need #broken bones#screaming#passenger seat #graphic depictions of an injury #drowning#whump #hiccup!whump #httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock #stoick the vast #toothless#fanfiction#writing
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  • writing-prompts-user
    19.05.2022 - 8 hours ago

    Whump Prompt 1: Forced to torture

    CW: Manipulative Whumper, Begging Whumpee

    "P-please!" Whumpee falls to their knees, their heart ready to burst out their chest. "I promise... I'll do anything! Just please don't- please don't hurt caretaker!"

    Through vision blurred with tears, whumpee sees a smirk playing on whumper's lips. "Anything?" Whumper repeats, voice dripping with unhidden malice.

    Whumpee nods, their fingernails digging into their palm.

    "Alright then," whumper sneers, "I won't hurt them on one condition..."

    Whumpee gulps.

    "...you'll have to be the one doing it."

    #i hope i added the cw correctly #wanted to start with something short and mild #whump community#whump #forced to torture #writing prompts user
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