flynnswhumpprompts

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Day in the life of a guardian.

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WRITE SOMETHING RIGHT NOW OR..... I dunno just do your writings now.

SOMEONE PLS BULLY ME INTO WRITING!!!!!!

I WANNA WRITE SO BAD BUT BRAIN WON'T DO IT!!! MY GOOGLE DOC CURSOR IS HAUNTING ME

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(LATER THAT NIGHT)

Soap: YA BLOODY BLANKET HOG GIMMIE IT BACK BEFORE AH GET ANGRY.

Price: Be kind. Everyone has their own struggles that you don’t know about

Gaz: Not Soap. He screams about his struggles all the time. Everyone knows

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(not me looking at this and going "Hey thats from my art class" because we just studied this painting for textures-)

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June Of Doom; Day 1

"You dont want to do that." - Collapse/Fear/Locked Door - Nicolai Hanes/Diloh White/Caster Aree (EPF)

Nicolai let out a screech as he stood back, shielding Diloh from the unnamed faces on the approach. His bright eyes darted between the different figures as he flicked his tails. “Another step and you all get it.” He warned, voice gravely as Hellion started gaining some control. He was teetering between passing out and going feral, unsure which way he’d go, blood staining the side of his shirt and running down his side. 

“Nick please calm down, we’re trying to help you two.” The voice was so gentle as they tried stepping closer, hands held out as if calming a spooked animal. Nick was more than that by now. “The medics are trying to stop his bleeding, but we can’t if you don't let us.” Caster stepped another step closer. Eyes wide with worry and scent full of fear. 

Nick glanced behind him to look at Diloh. Propped against the wall and bleeding so badly. He looked back to Caster. “One.” He held up one finger. “One can come.” He was trying, but everything in him told him to protect what was his. Diloh was his. His teammate, his partner, his love. These people were danger. 

“Okay, that's okay.” Caster looked to the medics trying to push in. “You heard him, one of you get in there.” He nodded his head towards Diloh. He looked back to Nick as the one ran in to help. “Lets get you calmed down, hmm? Get your side checked out as well.” He stepped forwards, within reach of Nick. 

Nick took a small step back. He couldn’t remove his eyes from the one crouched near Diloh. “No.” He tried to jerk back when Caster lunged for him, teeth bared. Suddenly though his lifeline of strength from Hellion was gone, he dropped with it. His ears rang as he tried to fight to keep his eyes open. Someone was yelling, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Diloh. Darkness swept him away. 

It was hours before he woke, or that's what he guessed. In a small medical room. He had a muzzle on, which he couldn’t blame them for. He probably would’ve bit someone had they tried taking him away from Diloh. His ribs were wrapped, but he didn’t care. His head buzzed with the need to go find Diloh. He pushed himself out of bed, stumbling a little. He pulled the IV’s from his arm and looked around. Probably the main base if he had to guess. 

He moved for the door, going to yank it open. He was a captain, he’d pull rank if he had to. If the door would open. He tried pulling it again. 

They’d locked him in. 

He beat his fist on the door, trying to gain some attention as fear clouded his mind. He couldn’t be trapped. Not like this. Not again. He didn’t even feel it when he was gone, Hellion snatching control in his moment of weakness. 

~~~

Diloh groaned as he woke. He didn’t know how long he’d been out but judging by how dry his mouth was he guessed a while. He pushed himself up a bit, looking for the familiar face that should be by his bed. He frowned at the empty room. “Nicky?” He grabbed the remote. Nick was probably getting food or something. He pushed the little call button. 

A nurse was quick to come in. “Hey, glad to see you awake.” They walked over and checked his vitals. “How can I help you?” 

“Where's Nick? Has he been by?” Diloh asked. How long had he been out? Could Nick be debriefing or something? He needed to know that Nick was okay. 

The nurse pursed their lips a little. “He’s in a solitude room, he lost it when you got hurt.” They looked at Diloh. “His monitors showed he woke but no ones been in yet to give him time to adjust.” 

Diloh pushed up quickly. “You shouldn’t have done that. I need to get to him now.” He hissed some as his hip burned. 

“You need to rest.” The nurse replied, trying to push Diloh back down gently. 

“You don't understand. He can’t be locked in a room, he panics.” Diloh waved her off and got up. “Now take me to him before I rip these wires off and go find him myself.” 

Taglist ~~

@juneofdoom

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I think I did pretty well for guessing half of this stuff

I got the Top 4.47% on this English Vocabulary test

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I love it <3 Good start ^^

June of Doom Day 1: “You don’t want to do that” (Locked Door / Fear)

CW: 13-year-old whumpee (non-graphic suffering and this is a backstory piece), shutdown in response to trauma, aftermath of murder, moderate fear-of-death thoughts, young whumper, mild and relatively brief description of a past stabbing

Notes: FIRST PIECE ON TUMBLR EVER!!!! Please reblog because I am so so terrified of posting my writing but I am literally so excited to be doing this. Tag list (one person now, let me know if you want to be added): @lektricwhump

***

Silence. Dead silence, laying heavy over the house, thick and suffocating, impossible to move through.

Gabriel had practiced this dozens upon dozens of times before in his thirteen years of living. The cue from his parents downstairs to get out followed by quickly prying the window open, his little bony fingers scrabbling to unlock the latch, bracing his feet on the sill for half a second before dropping into a roll against the deck, a story or so below him. He was the only kid in school, as far as he’d ever known, who routinely practiced home invasion responses. And he had gotten good at it, damn it, in his thirteen years of living. No longer did he wince as he hit and spun forward against the often rain-slicked wood below, no longer did he hesitate before making that jump. Never look back, just save yourself. He never thought it would be happening for real. 

The gunshots still echo in his ears.

There’s muffled voices downstairs, muttering, scheming. The phrase ‘boy’ passes between voices he can only assume are speaking over his parents’ dead bodies–dead, they’re really dead, they have to be, they can’t be, they are–is he the boy? Are they going to kill him next? He doesn’t have anything for them. He heard the things the man had said before pulling the trigger, something about ‘debts’, something about being done. His parents knew this was coming, they must have. They must have. 

Does he have to be the one to pay now?

The front door opens and closes. A sound he’s gotten all too used to. If he shuts his eyes and leans back against the headboard, he can almost imagine it’s his mom leaving to go on another errand. He’s just home alone, he just has to be responsible. He just has to jump out the goddamn window and pray the deck catches him like it always does and he has to run and never stop, never look back for anyone else, not his parents most certainly lying dead at this moment. But he can’t move. He can’t move at all.

Footsteps are moving up the stairs now, slowly. Just one pair if he can tell correctly. He stays as still as possible in bed, barely even moved from his original position of being shocked awake by the sound of shattering glass. If he stays still enough, maybe whoever it is will leave him alone. He doesn’t have anything. Nothing at all, no, they took everything away.

“Little boy…?”

No. No no no no no.

“Little boy?” The voice is smooth but also not, melodic but haunting and rough at the same time, like the sound a bird makes right before it dies. It’s right outside the door. He’s going to die. “Are you in here?” The person outside tries the knob. It doesn’t open. He doesn’t move from the bed. “I know you’re in here, Gabriel. I was told to kill little boys like you.” 

The click of the door. Is it… did they unlock it? How? How?

“You don’t want me to kill you, do you?”

And then the door opens, and Gabriel feels it in that instant—that horrifying instant, where his vision is tunneling and his mind is projected out of his body—that he will remember this forever. Forever, especially if this person, this monster, kills him right here in bed, no time to even try to escape. He will remember this forever.

The person steps forward. It’s now, only now, that Gabriel registers what he’s looking at. They can’t be much older than him, definitely not an adult by any means, hair coiled tight and tied back behind them, eyes a shade of the 2AM sky outside and death. And they grin, and in that grin Gabriel sees everything his life has been for. His parents wanted him to live, his parents wanted him to be the one to carry on if they could not. All of this potential, all here, all bundled up inside of the killer in front of him. They’re definitely not the only one, but they were sent for him. He is their purpose.

There’s a frozen moment in time between the two, eyes focused on each other, some mutual promise made in the silence of a home now haunted and abandoned. Gabriel goes to turn his head towards the window—maybe he can make it out in time, maybe he can be brave—but before he can, the killer raises a finger to their lips. Silence.

There is so much silence here.

They pull a knife out from behind their back now. It’s almost iridescent, glittering in the light from the hallway, catching a shine from the killer’s eyes. The parts that aren’t shining are covered in a thick coat of blood.

“Will you miss your mom?” The voice is gentler now. No one else in the world will know of this conversation. The others are surely waiting outside… is he being spared? Is this mercy?

Gabriel nods his head.

“I want you to remember her.” They hold up the knife, and instantly Gabriel can imagine it being driven through him right here and now, but the killer–the savior?–sets it on the floor in front of their feet instead. “She’s on that blade. You’ll always have her.”

He wants to scream. He wants to scream and run and jump out the window and be brave and fling the knife in his savior’s face, it is his mother’s blood, that much he’s figured out now in the midst of all this shock, and yet. And yet.

The savior holds their finger to their lips again. Their next words are muttered, as deep and haunted as their eyes, as this house. “I will not forget you.”

They shut the door behind them.

Gabriel stands, takes the knife, grabs the windowsill, tumbles down to safety, runs into the woods, carries the weapon of his mother’s death forever.

The rest of the year is a blur.

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Unexpected first meeting

Characters from CTC

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MediwhumpMay Day 23 - Bleeding out

Cw: blood, needles, death (temporary)

For the fifth time that day, Aziphem was passed from latex gloved hand to latex gloved hand, a different set of angels taking him away. Apparently Kotarou's first round of research had been published and now he was "interesting" "fascinating" and "abnormal. All these words were murmured around him, accompanied with pokes and prods. Blood samples, tissue samples, bone marrow samples, even with his decent regeneration factor, he was being picked apart.

By the time this new set of angels strapped him into the chair and started the blood draw, Aziphem was already starting to feel woozy. The last 4 had gotten progressively worse and worse, and without time or food needed to regenerate he was starting to feel the effects. How many of those bags of blood could they take from him? He couldn't have had that much in him.

To make it worse, this time they had a machine to help them do it. It whirred ever so softly, the clear tubes up top slowly filling with thick crimson blood.

His blood.

His tormentors had stepped out for a moment, he could hear them in the hall laughing about something. The sound warped and oozed, barely making its way into his ears. Even that incessant whirring blurred, drowning under the rising sound in his chest.

His heart slammed against his ribs, creating the only unmuted sound he could hear; and ever increasing thud. A chill from beyond the cold metal he sat on slithered through his skin, coiling around his core. He had died enough times in his existence to know the feeling when death cradled him, but that would not make it any more pleasant.

Even if death was inevitable and in this sense, inconsequential, his body's human instincts took hold. A deep panic thumped alongside his increasing heartrate causing him to thrash against the restraints to no avail. He even tried screaming for help, but the words failed to breach the gag.

Outside there was another round of laughing, someone making a loud response, no one listening to him scream.

The medical cell around Aziphem blurred, slowly going dark. At least his heart stopping would set the monitors off. They would unhook him and let him rest, right?

A familiar cold, dark pressure surrounded him, accompanied by a silencing of his thrashing heart. And for that single moment, he knew peace again. Blissful nothingness, fried nerves relishing in this moment of total stimulus deprivation. Dying may be a painful afare, but at least death was sweet.

Yet it could never last forever.

The jolt back to life was equally as familiar, a fire burning through his veins to heat his chilling body. In that moment he was ice and he was flame, two violent sensations fighting one another. He screamed as loud as the gag would let him, thrashing against the bonds.

As the intensity of rebirth slowly subsided, the sounds of the lab returned around him. The humming of electricity. The beeps of his heart monitor. And the same whirring of that damn machine.

Desperate not to die again, Aziphem screamed another muffled scream, craning his neck to look out the door. Just outside, he could see them sipping cups of coffee, comparing notes, and chatting as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just died.

The wooziness started much sooner this time. Even if he had regenerated, he still needed time for recovery. As the spinning darkness creeped into his vision, all he could think about was his cell, going back and curling up on his section of the floor, alone.

Not alone, he was never really alone. Kotarou never left him unattended. He hated that bastard of an angel for every hellish experiment he had been through... but in this moment he longed so desperately for someone to watch over him. Someone to keep an eye on him and make sure that he got through even the roughest experiments. He wanted the angel who carried him when he was too sick to walk and would stroke his hair and remind him that he wouldn't let him go.

As much as those hands had hurt him, Kotarou was the only one who cared for him. As the world started to go cold for the second time, Aziphem glanced out at the apathetic angels who simply poked and prodded and took what they wanted. In that moment he knew, as much as he hated him, Kotarou was the only one here who would care for him.

And he desperately wanted to go back to him.

@mediwhumpmay

Art tag list: @whump-tr0pes @whump-queen @whumpsday @whumpinthepot @kixngiggles @onlywhumpcomments @project-xiii @quietly-by-myself @ka1imba @suspicious-whumping-egg @cyborg0109 @whatwhumpcomments @dwcomics @i-eat-worlds

I fucked with the tag list and this should work!! Let me know if it doesnt!! I dont know tumblr and am v stupid

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Love how there's fevers and then there's fevers.

How sometimes you have a whumpee who just feels awful and achy and chilly, can't get comfortable and really really don't want to get out of bed because they're dizzy and their legs are all wobbly, and just need someone near them because they're lonlier and clingier than normal but can usually be comforted by a warm hug and some attention, maybe an extra blanket and a gentle fingers stroking their hair

And then there's whumpees who are so, so very sick they literally can't get out of bed even if they want to. Too weak and lightheaded to sit up on their own but so dehydrated they need someone to cradle them in their arms and help them drink, shaking violently from head to foot one minute and sweating through their clothes the second, barely even awake and half trapped in fever dreams that manifest as terrifying hallucinations the second they're conscious, skin horribly hot no matter how many cold cloths the caretaker gives them, unable to do anything but lie in bed with their eyes squeezed shut, whimpering in pain and discomfort

...And they're both amazing

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What does it take to break them?

The crack of the whip? Whispered threats of horror unending? Is it the slither of steel and the sight of their own crimson blood dripping to the floor?

How many times do you have to kick them to make them stay down? Once? Twice? A hundred times? Do it. And then kick them when they’re down to drive the point home.

Are they on their knees, begging for the smallest of mercies, like the dog they are? Or are they still defiant? With bared teeth and bleeding lips, do they curse at you still?

Still defiant, hm.

Perhaps they need a bit more incentive.

Drag in their loved ones. The ones they thought they saved.

Hold a knife to the lover’s throat. A gag in their sibling’s mouth. Beat their best friend unconscious.

See how long they remain defiant. Watch the biting curses falter and turn to sobbing. If they won’t beg for themselves, maybe they’ll beg to save the ones they love.

Once they start to beg, screaming for it to stop, crying for the ones they can no longer save, remind them this is all their fault.

Tell them that the others would still be alive if it wasn’t for their defiance.

Have they finally shattered beyond repair? Excellent.

There’s no coming back from the sobbing wreck they are. They’re throwing up and screaming but do you see the burning? It’s in their eyes still.

What does it take create a monster?

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Idea

Cyborg whumpee's who can see as their system screams warning after warning until it shuts down. Whumper not worried about pulling the whumpee apart because its more wires than flesh.

Cyborg whumper who doesn't need a knife. Just their metal pieces ti beat up whumpee and have them so scared of people in general. Monitoring vitals of whumpee without being in the room thanks to their stuff.

Cyborg caretakers who can raise the tempature of their limbs to warm whumpee back up. Who can note the elevated levels of stress before the breakdown. Who isn't afraid to go after whumper because they are more wires than flesh. Who has a dozen and two hidden compartments stocked with stuff for whumpee, bandages, medicine, comfort items, (a knife to stab whumper with).

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May as well drag this here too, my art btw. (and my main hehe-)

Guys what do you think?

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Feel free to snatch anything off my blog. Got a bunch of old prompts. Need to start posting prompts again.

school's about to be out in a few days, so does anyone have any generic snippet prompts or starter sentences or anything? this last semester has been rough and i really wanna get back into writing on a regular basis.

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Me; Today I want to write. (Gets barely 100 words down)

(later when I'm busier)

Me; (between task puts down nearly 2k words) WHYYY

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GOd i fucking love it when they won't stay down

When the whumpee fights back and they know how it ends, blood, broken bones, restraints but they get back up again anyway because they won't, can't stay down. They're given an ultimatum and maybe it’s almost fair, they could take it, walk away with only shattered pride but they tear it up, put their fists up, because they won’t go down without a fight.

They’ve got a black eye, a split lip and their arm shouldn’t look like that but they’re taunting the whumper, make me, I dare you. Their knees buckle and they hit the ground but it doesn't stick. They’re begging but it’s a for another fight, another round.

Maybe there’s a loved one, maybe it’s for their team or maybe they just don’t know what’s good for them. But they’re back up, swaying, fists bunched, spitting blood, fiery eyes.

You want a fight? Come and get one

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Military Whump Prompt List

Character A getting dragged by their equipment to safety by exhausted Character B

Trapped inside a main battle tank

Wounded character in hiding gets discovered and rescued by local villagers

Enemy and Ally compromise on their differences in order to survive a harsh environment they both ended up stranded in

Leader type gets incredibly sick, last minute discovery proves that it's poison

Medic has been rendered unconscious, and now random character has to do the job, but doesn't feel up for it

Sea sick on a battleship

Character needs shrapnel picked out of their back

Exhausted character becomes too weak for their own gear, and gets weighed down by it

Enemy shows a suspicious amount of humanity to Ally, sharing water, bringing rations, and even a thin blanket on cold nights.

Intimidating commander gets captured, is found half-conscious

Character A loses track of Character B in a snowy hellscape. Finds them haven accidentally fallen into hidden enemy foxhole.

Enemy turned frenemy, is ashamed of their facial scars, and keeps them hidden behind their helmet

Character steps in bear trap running from the enemy

Character is found my enemy's loyal hound

Weapon blew up in character's face

Trapped inside downed plane

Enemy and ally awake in 2nd Enemy's custody

Character A and Character B are both allies trapped in the same situation, but from different nations. Neither has even heard of the other's nation, aside from occasional news back home.

Stabbed by weapon lacerated in poison

Character is part of a sinking, but manages to cling onto to a buoyant piece of debris. Only now they're getting tired, and questioning if anyone would ever come for them.

Paranoid character gets scared and shoots an ally

Ally takes shelter from a natural disaster, only to find enemy company in their midst, a gun commanding them to go back in broken language.