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[acryofpain]

tradgedy enjoyers when you look into the eyes of your worst enemy and can only see yourself

[acryofpain]

has anyone done this one yet

[acryofpain]

A character with the mentality, if I’m not dead I’m fine. They hold out under torture, go through extreme conditions like starvation and dehydration, and don’t shrink back from danger. Every time they feel themself getting scared they rebuke themself, sneering contemptuously at the fact that they would even think to act frail when they know better. Getting hurt is never a problem for them. It can’t ever be a problem for them because they have to.

Even if they do start to sniffle a little when they’re alone out in the cold, rocking while cradling a broken bone, knowing no one is coming to help them.

[acryofpain]

when you die, all the processes in your body slow down and come to a halt before starting to decay. which means if you were to revive someone from the dead, necromancer-style, you'd potentially have to kickstart their entire system back up from a state of inertia. which means it almost certainly would not be pretty. i'm talking coughing up clots of blood, nauseatingly intense migraines and muscle cramps, and all the sensory overload that would come with firing up the body's engines from frozen cold to fully functioning all guns blazing in the matter of seconds it takes to cast a resurrection spell.

[acryofpain]

spacecraft design concept I drew up for the crew of my novel! keep in mind I have very little knowledge of mechanics and physics, and when first trying to think of an idea, I scribbled the second image on a whim. turns out this is a very common spaceship concept and I’m not as genius and original as I thought LMAO.

I could have just said artificial gravity had been invented and not explained it, but my brain was like “but the technicalities 😩” and I went on to read about centrifugal force and related things. you know how it is.

[acryofpain]

“Run into a cave and break your ankle so that people have to come find you and they see you lying at the bottom of this beautiful cave and maybe there’s a waterfall and the light from the crystals makes you look really beautiful and they say “Are you okay?” and you say “I think so” and they say “oh my God have you been here alone this whole time with a broken ankle” and you say “it’s okay” and they say “you’re so brave” and you are brave and you look so beautiful surrounded by cave crystals and everyone stands over you and says “oh wow” and “you poor beautiful thing” and “I’m so sorry we let you run into the cave but I’m so glad we found you” and let them carry you home and promise to be your best friends forever and that everything’s their fault and also they named the cave after you and you’re prettier than all of your enemies and your enemies all died of jealousy while you were in the cave.”

— Daniel M. Lavery, How To Respond To Criticism (via boringoldraphael)

[acryofpain]

sorry maiming i mean sorry violence sorry i mean a world of hell sorry i mean killing sorry i mean death and dying sorry sorry i mean murder

[acryofpain]

“Bow,” they said, pointing the gun at your face. You looked into the black nuzzle, then lifted your eyes to meet theirs. You said nothing, but the challenge was clear. *Shoot me, if you dare.*

You saw they falter for a split second, their hand jerking ever so slightly as if to lower their gun. You used to be friends, brothers. They were the one to bandage your wounds when you were too reckless. You were the one to teach them how to shoot a gun.

Time moved on. People changed. Wounds turned to scars, reopened and healed again, etched deeper and deeper after every encounter you had with them. You used to be happy.

They didn’t move. You pushed their gun to the side, and turned away. It was stupid, but you were never one to make rational decisions. You heard a shot and pain radiated through your shoulder and down your arm. You stumbled for a smidge of a second before righting yourself. You could feel blood trickling down your sleeve, the fabric starting to cling to your skin, sticky and smeared with red.

You glanced back at them and turned around. You couldn’t read their face, and you’d like to think they couldn’t read you. After all, even yourself didn’t know how you were feeling. They tilted their head. *Want to try again?* You remembered their taunt, from how many years ago, on a small practice room. They had held out their hand, and helped you off the ground. You had laughed. *Hit me with your best shot.* They never actually did.

You turned again, and walked out the door. Another click of the trigger and you fell onto the floor, looking as your blood painted the marble floor red.

You didn’t see them lowering their gun and rushing to your side.

[acryofpain]

That thing where the whumpee is conscious but so utterly weak/exhausted that they don’t even turn their head, they just move their eyes to look at someone who comes into the room or sits down next to them.

[acryofpain]

Whump Prompt #311

The whumpee’s funeral is interrupted by a hostage video of the whumpee, still alive,  being streamed in

[acryofpain]

mmmm when a beaten whumpee is being held back by the arms, either manacled to the wall or manhandled, and their head is hanging down, chin to their chest, their hair obscuring their face, blood dripping heavily from their nose and mouth to the floor below them: pretty.

[acryofpain]

Summer of Whump

Prompt #1 Overheating/Freezing

Whumpee’s lost a lot of blood, their skin is cold, they can’t stand up straight, and their pulse is sky high. Whumpee is a mumbling mess as their team tries to get them patched up, What’re they saying?

[acryofpain]

✈

Absolutely! 😃

✈: reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!]

Caretaker limped into Whumpee’s room; they didn’t notice the surprised looks from the base’s Medic and their staff.

“Caretaker…”

Caretaker heard the admonishment in Medic’s voice, but they didn’t care. They had to see Whumpee. They had to know they were okay; they never should have been separated. When Medic turned to face them more fully, Caretaker caught sight of Whumpee, whose hurt, hollow gaze traced over them. There was something stark and inconsolable behind Whumpee’s eyes and when their lower lip trembled, Caretaker took another graceless step toward them, Medic be damned.

“Caretaker, you can’t be here,” Medic said as they put a firm hand on Caretaker’s shoulder. “You’ve got to let us help Whumpee. We’re going to take good care of them. Now just-”

“Whumpee?” Caretaker said as they tried to sidestep Medic.

Medic prevented them from doing so, but Caretaker kept their eyes on Whumpee as they shoved at Medic.

“Whumpee,” they said. Their own voice sounded foreign to them; it was hoarse. and wearier than they would have thought possible.

Several sets of arms grabbed them from behind.

“No!” they snarled. They ignored the flame that ignited in their leg as they struggled. They ignored the voices asking them to be calm. “Whumpee!”

“Watch their leg,” Medic warned as they disappeared from Caretaker’s line of sight.

Whumpee was trying to move from their bed. Their movements were sluggish, and Medic’s staff had little difficulty keeping them where they were, but one of their arms strayed in Caretaker’s direction. Their fingers strained outward and their arm shook, desperate to be close to Caretaker.

“C…Caretaker?” Their voice was barely audible, almost dreamlike. “Caretaker? Please?”

Caretaker fought, and lunged to get to Whumpee, but they began to sag in the arms they were fighting against.

Why were they so damn tired?!

“Whumpee?” they tried.

Caretaker’s mind and motions were becoming disconnected and their limbs felt heavy as they were lowered to the ground.

“Caretaker?” Whumpee murmured as their arm went slack.

[acryofpain]

Just saw the little list, and if you’re doing these, can I ask for ⌘ ?

You sure can! ❤️

⌘: being picked up

Whumpee was lying prone on the dirt floor of an abandoned warehouse. They couldn’t move, and the only thought beyond how much their body hurt was how long it would be until they were found.

Would they be found?

Consciousness fled them, and only returned when they heard brisk footfalls approaching them. They were able to move their head enough that they could see Caretaker looking down at them. Embarrassment muddled their relief when Caretaker crouched down and put a hand on their shoulder.

“Gonna get you outta here,” they said. “Can you move?”

Whumpee thought about lying, but they knew there was no point.

“No,” they admitted as they laid their head back on the ground, feeling the grit and grime on their cheek. Whumpee felt Caretaker’s eyes on them, calm, assessing.

“You’re hurt.”

Whumpee bit back the urge to snap at them. Whumpee knew that Caretaker would brush it off and attribute it to Whumpee’s pain, but even the thought of losing control of themself and hurting Caretaker, in no matter how negligible a way, needled Whumpee with guilt. All they really wanted was what they knew Caretaker was going to provide.

Caretaker turned them over, then slid their hands under Whumpee’s shoulders before lifting their upper body and helping Whumpee put an arm over their shoulders.

For their part, Whumpee gave little indication of their discomfort until Caretaker slung an arm beneath their legs and lifted them. Whumpee groaned and rolled their head so their forehead pressed into Caretaker’s chest.

“Sorry,” Caretaker said as they carefully adjusted their hold on Whumpee and began walking toward the exit in silence.

Whumpee felt the impact of each step, and it hurt. It hurt, but there wasn’t a question in their mind that they were safe.

Caretaker’s arms, for all their power, cradled Whumpee so gently that Whumpee, despite the pain, began to relax in them. They focused on their breathing, tried to time it with Caretaker’s. They inhaled Caretaker’s familiar scent as they closed their eyes and rested their head.

[acryofpain]

bro i was homoerotically cleaning and patching up my friend’s wounds and you ruined it. i was scolding him for being an idiot in an exasperated but fond tone of voice while i tenderly bandaged his knuckles and we both tried unsuccessfully to avoid looking into each other’s eyes until the tension between us became unbearable when you entered the room without knocking and fucking killed the mood. what the hell, man.

[acryofpain]

Character A is helping B to their room, trembling feverishly and leaning heavily on A’s shoulder. So far they haven’t said anything, just kept their head down and eyes firmly shut. But then out of nowhere they mumble to their friend that they think they’re about to pass out. A wants to tell them just to hold on, that they’re almost there, but B has gone about five shades paler than they were before so A eases them down against the wall and makes them sit with their head between their knees, rubbing their back gently. It seems like it’s going to be okay until B suddenly goes limp and faints anyway from where they’re sitting in a heap on the floor. 

[acryofpain]

Caretaker: Are you hurt?

Whumpee: