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More Parental Whumper Prompts

Whumper, having just finished beating Whumpee so badly they can barely move, pulling them into a hug and gently stroking their hair, knowing Whumpee is too exhausted and scared and in too much pain to fight it.

Whumpee, in pain or with a high fever or under the influence of painkillers or sedatives, instinctively grabbing for Whumper's hand as they're about the leave, the word mom/dad slipping out of their mouth before they can stop themselves.

Whumpee pleading for Whumper's help as they're tortured by an even worse whumper.

Whumper arranging for Whumpee to fall into the hands of someone worse so they'll realize just how much better Whumper is by comparison.

Whumper gently brushing and braiding Whumpee's hair, their fingers occasionally touching the bruises they left on Whumpee's neck.

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reblog to give your moot a love letter 💌♡

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credit

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Horsemen of the apocalypse - war

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“I dunno. What do you usually do?”

It mostly spends its nights poking around the city, and feeding on whatever poor soul wanders too closeby. These more recent nights, sometimes she spends them bothering Alex, too. He’s never doing anything fun. Just paperwork. Seems like a waste of immortality.

When Laertes wakes up, it's alone in the bed, and there's music coming from the living room.

It's something airy and easy to dance to, the sort of rythm that makes you feel like dancing is the only logical response.

There's also hussed voices, almost drowned by the sound.

(( @im-not-good-with-names / Vamp. Lucía / Vamp?? Alex

It slowly pulls itself up into a sitting position, clutching the blanket territorially to their chest like he’s scared someone might try to take it from him. It’s very soft here. Laertes is not accustomed to soft. She thinks she would like to be.

She slips to her feet, padding over to the door and peeking out at the living room, dragging the bedding with them. Where did everybody go?

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THE SHAPE OF WATER (2017) dir. Guillermo del Toro

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Whumpee shivers and shakes on Whumper's lap as they cling onto them. They have tears of pain in their eyes and the grip helps. Whumper shushes them and runs one hand through their hair. It's weaker than the normal pets because most of their attention is on the knife carving a name/initials/symbol into Whumpee's back.

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Robot whump <3

Whumpee who used to be human but had their parts slowly replaced with robotic pieces—one by one—until they're not sure if they're even the same person they used to be

Whumpee gradually forgetting their friends and family

Overheating, electrical errors, short circuiting

Whumper reminding Whumpee that they're not human—why should they be treated like one?

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Forced body modification in Whump should be more popular, methinks.

Forcing Whumpee to get a tattoo, cutting or burning initials into their skin. Sharpening the canines of an “attack dog” Whumpee to make them look scarier. Giving them piercings they wouldn’t give themselves, or an ID tag to hang from their ear. Changing their hair color. Deciding what they wear, what they eat, how they speak, who they are.

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"It looks really good."

He draws sometimes. But nothing that he shows other people, and nothing nearly so neat or so skillful. Just stupid things with crayons, and never the sun.

"Very...shiny."

When Laertes wakes up, it's alone in the bed, and there's music coming from the living room.

It's something airy and easy to dance to, the sort of rythm that makes you feel like dancing is the only logical response.

There's also hussed voices, almost drowned by the sound.

(( @im-not-good-with-names / Vamp. Lucía / Vamp?? Alex

It slowly pulls itself up into a sitting position, clutching the blanket territorially to their chest like he’s scared someone might try to take it from him. It’s very soft here. Laertes is not accustomed to soft. She thinks she would like to be.

She slips to her feet, padding over to the door and peeking out at the living room, dragging the bedding with them. Where did everybody go?

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Clairvoyant whumpee

Content: whipping, threats

Whumpee that has visions of the future. Whumper tests them by tying a blindfold on. Then asking whumpee, "what am I about to do to you?"

"... you're going whip me, sir..." "I am?" Whumper laughs. "I am now."

If whumpee refuses to use their clairvoyance for lotto cards, they're punished.

"it doesn't --it doesn't work like that!" --whumpee, sweating bullets as they watch the broken bottle in angry whumper's hand getting closer to their neck. "Please--im serious. I'm serious man."

Whumpee who stops short mid-sentence as they read something absolutely revolting in whumper's mind and just give them a disgusted look

"what? Continue." Whumper waves at them. Whumpee sighs. "No thanks. I know how this ends anyway."

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The whole ‘secret meeting, come unarmed’ trope but with a living weapon. As soon as the team arrives, they’re searched heavily for weapons, and living weapon is escorted out of the room with all the other contraband found.

Living weapon being kept in a bland, locked room whilst the team discuss plans and the possibility of a truce with their enemy, unable to know how it’s going or if their team is safe.

Bonus points if this is post-whump where living weapon is recovering with the team. I imagine them being treated like any other gun or blade would be pretty harmful to the recovery stage.

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have I decided to write this character as having dissociative amnesia to make a point about trauma and migration and identity and immortality, or is it so that I don't have to do the historical research to realistically figure out who her parents were? yes, obviously.

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"Yeah." He says that like he knew that. It didn't. It just doesn't know what to say.

"...I'm sorry about your brother."

When Laertes wakes up, it's alone in the bed, and there's music coming from the living room.

It's something airy and easy to dance to, the sort of rythm that makes you feel like dancing is the only logical response.

There's also hussed voices, almost drowned by the sound.

(( @im-not-good-with-names / Vamp. Lucía / Vamp?? Alex

It slowly pulls itself up into a sitting position, clutching the blanket territorially to their chest like he’s scared someone might try to take it from him. It’s very soft here. Laertes is not accustomed to soft. She thinks she would like to be.

She slips to her feet, padding over to the door and peeking out at the living room, dragging the bedding with them. Where did everybody go?