all-wrung-out

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The anticipation before the pain and torture. The heavy breathing, the racing thoughts or blank mind. Knowing there is nothing to do to get out of it even if whumpee would be willing to sell their soul for a safety or comfort.

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I’ve seen people utilize masochist whumpees and the one I read was pretty good, but wasn’t accurate to any masochists I know, and I thought “hmm maybe I should write a lil whump guide to real masochism” and it’s not like people would be surprised but I’d still be Showing My Ass sooooo hard

Also I don’t want to yuck anyone’s yum and I can’t say “no one is a masochist like that” because. I’m sure that’s not true. I’m sure there are people who do!!! I would just consider it less typical from my experience

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Reblog to give prev the power to write their fanfiction

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Don't you just love it when the team get captured and it's revealed that Whumpee has met Whumper before.

The twisted delight in Whumper's voice when they say "Oh, has Whumpee never mentioned me?"

The shame burning in Whumpee's face as Whumper recounts the fun they used to have together.

The confusion, disbelief, and horror on the teams' faces as the truth unfolds.

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Reblog if your art project has not, does not, and never will make use of generative ai at any point in your creative process.

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Being held at knifepoint, being held hostage with a knife at one's throat, or being coerced with a blade is definitely one of my favorite whump tropes.

I once had a dream wherein I was being held hostage for some reason or another.

The hostage-taker was significantly larger and stronger than I was, and they had their right arm wrapped around my torso, with my own arms pinned to my sides. The knife was in their left hand, but the way they were holding it, it was touching the right side of my neck, mostly to the side, but a little off the front.

They pulled the blade across my skin just enough to draw blood. And then they leaned down and fucking licked the blood off of my neck.

(I'm going to be using this one for one of my stories, for sure.)

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Hey, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees! I think I might be one of your people in this regard!

I've always loved whump with no comfort, and a lot of the little blurbs that I write for myself are exactly that.

Granted, I'm down for comfort if the point of the story is the recovery. Like, the story is about the character overcoming the trauma, whether it's physically, emotionally, or mentally.

But regular old whump scenarios that have no comfort, or end before the comfort happens, or the comfort is implied? Where the focus is the interrogation, or the torture, or being lost in the wilderness, or what-have-you.... Honey over my brain.

I don't see the point of whump when there's comfort/recovery afterwards, to me it feels the same when in shows they skip all the "good parts," cut right before the bad things happen etc. only for the scene to pick up in the aftermath.

To me the hurt is the whole point, if there's something afterwards it's like it never happened/doesn't exist anymore (even though I know that isn't how recovery works) and that leaves me feeling really uneasy, weird huh?

I'm sure I'm not alone with this, but I also haven't found anyone else, who feels the same yet

Hurt-no-comfort truthers manifest.

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Pulling whumpee closer by the collar.

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I've got too many to count and not enough time to write them all. Last week's flavor (which I'm working on now) was... a sort of combination of Pursuit and Self-Sacrificing/Defiant Whumpee.

Whumpee thinking they're the Caretaker while rescuing what they perceive to be a Victim of whumper's group. Whumpee sends Victim on their way and stays behind to hold off Whumper's lackey(s), only to find out that the Victim isn't the target at all.

Whumpee, whether they recognize the reality of the situation or not, is ready to give everything they've got to keep the lackey(s) at bay.

And the lackey brought Backup.

Wahh anyone got any good whump scenarios bouncing around their head that they'd like to share with the class?

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For writers that like hurting their characters

(you know who you are)

Any semi serious injury to the arms or legs can be fatal. If an artery is struck the person can bleed out in 2-5 minutes. If an artery is struck then blood will be violently spraying out of the body, as opposed to regular bleeding where the blood just leaks.

A way to stop severe bleeding is with a tourniquet. A proper tourniquet that you would expect to find in any trauma response kit, as using a shirt or anything in your environment as a tourniquet won't be very effective. The tourniquet should be placed a few inches above the wound, and tightened. The tightening process is going to be extremely painful, as it's clamping down hard enough to cut off the blood circulation. Important to note that a limb won't be at risk of being amputated unless the tourniquet has been applied for hours.

Another way to stop severe bleeding is wound packing. This is where you take gauze and fill up a wound with it. The point is to cover the area that's bleeding, so that you can apply pressure to the specific part of the body that's bleeding heavily. Applying pressure directly on top of where the blood is coming from should get it to stop, however this will again be painful for the victim.

Losing blood makes it harder to regulate your body temperature, so it's extremely dangerous to be losing blood in a cold environment. However, a victim can still get cold in warm areas from blood loss, so most trauma response kits will have specific blankets that will help the victim regulate their temperature.

Any wound that punctures the chest area is extremely dangerous. Air will begin filling into the chest cavity, which will leave the lungs with less room to expand. Eventually the lung or lungs will collapse from the lack of room, this is extremely painful. And this will all be even worse if the attack pierced a lung, which will be filling with blood. All of this will make it extremely hard to breathe. There are pads in a trauma response kit that you place over a chest wound, and they're designed to vent air out of the chest cavity while not letting any more air in. However lungs filling up with body fluids is not something you can treat on the field, and will require proper medical attention.

Getting clapped on the ears hurts and can disorient you.

Any impact to the nose will make the sinuses flare up and the eyes water, making a fight more difficult.

Any impact to the back of the skull can be fatal, or cause severe brain damage.

It's extremely easy to rip off a human ear.

The liver is located on the lower right side of the rib cage, it would be on your left side if you were looking at someone else's liver. Any impact there can put any person on the ground, as it's extremely painful to be hit there. Punches to the liver drop many professional boxers.

Kidneys are mostly the same, except they aren't protected by anything at all. Located in the lower back, the kidneys are completely unprotected from any attack. Any impact here can drop someone just like a liver punch. (I was in the gym one time and hit my kidney pretty hard on a bar and almost collapsed from the pain)

A proper punch is thrown in a way to where the knuckles are the only thing that make contact. This is so that all the force is being spread out across a much smaller area, increasing the damage to the victim.

Any impact to the neck can be fatal, and will make a person immediately start choking, making them completely open in a fight.

Removing anything that's impaled into a person will only make them bleed out faster.

Your body will force you to inhale right before drowning, which we all know it burns like hell to have water in your lungs. Plenty of people that have almost drowned have said that their body forced them to take a breath, even if there was no air to breathe.

The brain inhibits your full strength, as we're strong enough to completely rip our muscles. In times of need, the brain will let go of this limitation, basically granting you super strength. There's plenty of cases where someone was able to lift something off of someone, such as a lawn mower or car, but wasn't able to move it at all later on.

While you can live without water for a few days, maybe even longer than 3 depending on a bunch of factors, that is specifically "living". You can expect to see severe side effects of dehydration long before the person dies. Extreme kidney pain, headaches, hallucinations, dry skin, some organ failure ect.

paradoxical sensation is where you're so cold that you actually feel hot. Plenty of people have been in extremely cold environments and started removing their clothes, as they were so cold that they felt like they were burning.

The body will begin to eat itself if it's gone long enough with no food.

You have an extreme lack of depth perception with only 1 eye. You can test this out by walking around and doing tasks with only 1 eye open.

When blood and dirt and anything else gets in the hair, untangling the hair and straightening it out is extremely painful. It may even result in pulling some hair out, it might be better to shave it off if it's bad enough.

Any recent wounds sting when exposed to water, which makes taking a shower a nightmare when you have multiple of these on your body at once.

As popular as the trope is, consciousness has no effect on your survival. The "don't go to sleep" while a character is bleeding out doesn't really help, meaning you can let your character pass out or fall asleep while they're dying. This can lead to a character thinking they won't wake up while they're fighting off sleep, only to wake up in a hospital bed.

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inspired by this post by @pain-after-dark hehe

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the soft crackle of a lamp bulb coming to life lifted the spy up to consciousness. their eyes felt like lead balls, their shirt sticky and wet, the world not quite ready to abandon its murkiness and grow clear. sand was in their mouth and gallons of water filled their head.

"all right, lovely? can you hear me?"

cold fingers gently caught their chin, tipping their head up carefully. the sudden shock of temperature made them more alert. the ache in their body became more apparent. their wrists were sore and the wood of the chair they were tied to dug into their arms. the spy opened their eyes up.

the villain—their target—looked down hungrily at them, eyes raking down every inch of skin and muscle. they tugged the bloody part of their shirt that caught to their body up, and watched it fall back down with a wet sound. their lip curled. "ugh. you're too messy for your own good."

the spy said nothing.

the villain's palm dragged over the curve of their cheek, paying no mind to their bruises and cuts. "but blood looks good on you. it makes you look wild. uncontrollable." they wet their lips. grinned. "insatiable."

"speak for yourself."

the grin widened just a fraction and the villain leaned back. they looked immaculate as ever, pristine. untouchable. their fingers traced the spy's shirt collar. "i saw you, you know," they said. "long, long before you attempted to kill me. don't get me wrong--you're wonderful. i'm just too good."

the spy said nothing. the villain fixed their collar, set it straight, smoothed out the wrinkles. their fingers ghosted downward, over the blood, barely brushing their wounds. the spy clenched their teeth, bracing themselves for pain.

the villain's fingers gently traced the edges of their cuts. the spy breathed carefully through their mouth. "two years ago," the villain said, a little softly, "rome. you were wearing emerald green."

the spy choked.

the villain hushed them quickly, other hand taking their chin, thumb to bottom lip. "it's not your fault," they cooed. "you were a treasure. it would've been inevitable. the way you moved across the room..."

they couldn't help their shivering. the villain liked their pretty things to a sadistic degree—they liked the way they cried. the way they screamed. the way they begged.

delicately, the villain traced the tips of their fingers down to the knot of their tie. "you gorgeous thing," they whispered, awed. "you're amazing. it took me time, you know. to know you were spying. your work is flawless. perfect."

"i'm flattered." it did not come out strong.

their tie came undone in one pull. the spy swallowed down every rancid sensation clawing up their throat down. they needed to live. "wait."

the villain politely paused.

"why torture me? i'm good. i'm great. you said so yourself. you can—you can make me work. for you. it won't be good to render your favourite thing unworkable."

the villain tilted their head to one side, as if they were considering. they twirled the tie around their fingers. "haven't you figured that i thought about that?"

"you'd be an idiot not to consider it."

they laughed. they pursed their lips, humming. "honey, i think the blood loss is getting to you. i don't need your work." they moved to wrap the spy's tie around their mouth. the spy wheezed in a breath.

"there's better ways to do this—"

"hushhh," the villain whispered, dragging out the syllables, dissolving into a soft laugh at the spy's helpless look. "puppy-eyed. i think you might just be my favourite." they secured the gag with deft fingers and sauntered away to take out every little torture device they were going to use on the spy.

the spy pulled on their restraints until their wrists bled. every damn device glinted in the light, shined to perfection.

the villain laughed, taking in their expression with delight. "pretty thing," they said. "you'll look prettier when i'm done with you.

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five dialogue prompts for characters who have a hard time resting :)

"Don't sit up. You'll rip your stitches."

"You need to calm down. Your heart rate is spiking."

"Stop trying to get up. I don't want you fainting again."

"Lie back down, please. Your fever is too high for you to be moving around."

"I know we have to keep moving, but if we don't treat that wound now, it'll slow us down even more."

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Whumpee who had been blindfolded during the whumping.

They never knew what Whumper looked like. Snatched away by a masked person in the dead of night. Put through hell— never knowing when or where the whump was going to happen.

All they know of Whumper is the feel of their cold, calloused hands and the sound of their voice mocking them as Whumpee begged for mercy.

When they manage to get away or are rescued while Whumper hadn’t been there, they still don’t know who it was that did this to them. They still had never seen their face. They don’t know who they should direct all their fear and anxiety towards.

Whumper had never been caught. They could be anywhere. Anyone.

And maybe they’re forced to go somewhere crowded. Perhaps Caretaker brings them somewhere they hadn’t expected to be so filled with people.

And that’s when Whumpee hears it.

Whumper’s voice.

From across the room. Ears focusing in on the sound of it. Pinpointing it even through the noise.

They search around frantically, but they don’t hear it again. They look at all the faces of the crowded place but they don’t know which one could be Whumper. They don’t know their face. But they’re HERE.

They know they’re here and they’re close. And yet they don’t know who it is. Every person in that room becomes dangerous. A monster ready to snatch them away again.

A monster they can’t pinpoint because it surrounds them.

Caretaker is asking if they’re okay/ what’s wrong/ what’s happening but they don’t hear them. The only thing they listen for is that voice, filtering out all the other sounds. Their heart beating out of their chest, their skin growing clammy, their breathing quickening.

Someone reaches out— only meaning to steady them— but Whumpee feels that unexpected hand touch their shoulder and they panic.

They run. They sprint as fast as they can, passing face after face of potential threats. Desperate to get away.

Perhaps it was nothing. Just someone that happened to sound similar.

Or maybe they’re running only to hear Whumper’s voice right behind them.

And perhaps it’s a cold, rough hand that places an impossibly strong grip onto their wrist as they pass, forcing them to an abrupt stop. A hand they could feel has been hardened and calloused from what they knew was vigorous tool usage. Tools of torture they could only imagine in their mind what they looked like based on the way it had stung their skin— cut into it— scarred it.

And when they heard that familiar snicker, they knew who those hands belonged to.

“So glad to see you again, Whumpee,” they heard from behind them as their arm was wrenched back.

Whumpee didn’t try to turn. Not only because their entire body froze at the feeling of the familiar hands, but because they didn’t want to see the smile they heard in Whumper’s voice. They didn’t want to see the grin of someone so happy to put them through pain. They didn’t want to know what that looked like.

They didn’t want to see the face that would bring them to their doom.

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I like the idea of Whumpee in a crowd of people and in a split second, every single one of those people becoming threats. An unknown danger surrounding Whumpee because they don’t know what Whumper looks like but they know one of these strange faces is the same one that put them through an unimaginable hell.

This is kind of a prompt/ kind of a story blurb. Feel free to add on or use it as a prompt for yourself.

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I loveee fantasy settings doing magical exhaustion:

burnt out pyromancers emitting steam and smoke

tired cryomancers shivering with visible foggy breath

weary necromancers looking ill and hearing voices

frazzled healers receiving the same cuts, bruises, and injuries of their patients

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Third base is getting stabbed in the stomach and slumping forward with your chin on their shoulder and blood dripping from your mouth

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To recall the lyrics from a particular Rihanna song ("S&M"): "Sticks and stone may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me." Just not in the way you think.

(Anyway, this reminds me of a pinch collar like what's used for dog training.)

Reading about cilice chains and losing my mind a bit.

Its use dates back centuries, where devout individuals chose to physically experience discomfort to atone for their sins or draw closer to divinity.

[...]The chain is simply a strip, more or less wide, stitched, not made of fabric, but of metal. It is made of small wire links whose ends are cleverly curved to form pins. (X)

O K A Y. Huh. I shouldn't have been given this information. I fear that I am not looking at it through the lens of spiritual devotion and penitence. At all.

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Sorry for the spam, but I've had another thought. Some 6 years ago, I started talking to my current counselor. We talked about my desire to write and what, at the time, was an 8-year writer's block.

One of the exercises he had me do was to "write something before our next appointment," which I did. I was more afraid of disappointing my counselor and "failing" the assignment than I was of writing something that I was certain would end up being garbage. (Spoiler alert, I actually ended up liking the story I wrote.)

Maybe I can somehow force myself to do that again.

As an aside: I really struggle with that ability to "just do it" like I used to when I was younger (and setting my own deadlines is a non-starter for reasons you're about to learn), but I was recently evaluated and diagnosed with Inattentive-type ADHD. As often happens with girls/women, my ability to mask has deteriorated over time. I'm wondering if I shouldn't at least try some meds to see if they do anything for me. Worst case, they don't really help and I just have to deal with it.

After all, something's gotta give sooner or later and I'm pretty sure it's going to be me.

So, uh... I've decided to go ahead and write the entirely self-indulgent Red Dead Redemption fanfic that's been eating me from the inside since I first played the game almost 2 years ago.

And yes, I realize I'm posting this to the whump side blog, but my favorite missions are "Magicians for Sport" and "Blessed are the Peacemakers" (if you know, you know), so yes, there will absolutely be whump.

It won't all be whump — in fact, most of it won't be — but the story has grown from a very whumpy kernel, as happens with most of my stories. Think of it as a bit of a slow-burn, but for whump instead of smut.

Oh, and because I like throwing in some OC, I'll be including my bounty hunter character from Red Dead Online.

(I haven't been able to write reliably in almost 15 years, so I'm hoping that by entertaining this brain rot, I can re-train my writing brain and get back into an old hobby.)