shywhumpauthor

[shywhumpauthor]

You’ve Earned It

Cw: beating, choking, manhandling, abuse of power

The silence was almost worse than if Hero had yelled.

Screamed.

Spoke.

Sidekick swore they could hear their own heartbeat echoing throughout the room with the complete quiet that bathed over the two of them. They could hear the fear pulsing through their veins, the cold sink of their stomach. Hero wasn’t even looking at them, and yet Sidekick could feel the anger radiating off them.

“Please, Hero, I- I’m sorry,” Sidekick couldn’t bear it. The silence was a weight pressing against their chest, crushing their lungs until only a sliver of air could slip through their shaking body. They still wore their uniform, insulating them from the cold, but Sidekick could feel the frost creeping through their body. “It wasn’t-”

Hero’s head snapped towards them, eyes alight, burning a hole straight through to Sidekick’s heart. Their words died on their tongue, decaying in moments and leaving a bitter taste in their mouth.

Anxiety drove Sidekick’s gaze up, up for only a moment to glimpse at Hero’s expression and they cringed.

The documents Hero held slipped out of their hands, falling to the floor in a scatter of papers. Their arms slowly lowered to their sides, fingers curling as their stare never left Sidekick’s.

“Pick them up.”

Hero’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet Sidekick felt the words reverberate through their mind like the harsh clang of a bell.

There was barely ten feet between them, yet each hastened step Sidekick took felt like they were sprinting a mile. They quickly crouched, fumbling to gather the scattered documents with trembling hands. Their fingers brushed against a news clipping, printed only that afternoon.

CITY BANK DESTROYED IN TEAMS FAILED ATTEMPT

Sidekick quickly swept the papers into the folder, reaching to grab one that had managed to slip away.

A boot buried itself in their side, knocking them onto their back and forcing the little air from their lungs in a raspy wheeze.

“Hero-” they barely had time to brace themself before another kick slammed against their ribs, sending a jolt of pain shooting through their torso. The file fell once more, forgotten by both them and the hero. Henchman had managed to catch them with a solid hit there earlier. Sidekick hadn’t had time to examine the injury, but the ache had told them there was some nasty bruising awaiting them beneath their uniform. The new blow lit the injury like a match thrown in a puddle of kerosene, and they gasped. Tears began to well in the corners of their eyes, an involuntary response to the sudden attack.

Hero didn’t allow them a moment to process before the kicks were coming faster. Harder. All Sidekick could do was curl up on their side, tuck their chin and wrap their arms around their head as the hard sole of Hero’s boot came crashing into them over and over again. They were still in their uniform too, the hard boots meant for traveling rough terrain and facing brutal villains.

By the time Hero relented, Sidekick was sobbing, struggling to breathe through short, strangled gasps.

“Stand up.”

The command took a moment to hit Sidekick’s ears, a second longer to process in their mind. Their ears were ringing, a throb building beneath their skull that unfocused their vision as they dared to open their eyes.

Hero stood above them, boots not six inches from their face. Fear curdled in their stomach, making them hesitate a long moment before slowly unraveling themself to follow the order. They could only imagine how easy it would be for that same boot to smash their nose, split open their face.

The room swam as Sidekick struggled to get their arms beneath them, raising to their hands and knees. Every muscle in their body screamed in protest, every sliver of sense cried for them to run.

To cower.

They knew that wasn’t an option. It never was, but especially after today. They had barely began to get to their feet, trembling, before Hero grabbed a fistful of the front of Sidekick’s uniform, wrenching them up. Sidekick could feel their power leeching into their touch, a shred of inhuman strength aiding their movement. Hero was always in careful control of their abilities, of everything.

They slammed Sidekick against the wall with enough force to crack the drywall, and Sidekick couldn’t stop a small cry from slipping past their lips.

A fist slammed into their jaw with enough force to snap their head to the side, blinding pain exploding across their face. Immediately the taste of copper began to coat Sidekick’s tongue. For a moment, their vision went completely white, a billion fireworks stealing their sight before they felt Hero’s hand wrap around their chin, fingers digging into their face with such force Sidekick felt like their jaw was going to snap. Tears and snot streaked their skin, the saliva dripping from their lip tinted red with their sobs.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hero snapped, shoving Sidekick’s head harder against the wall as their body shook. Sidekick’s eyes screwed shut, their lungs failing as they gasped.

“This is on you,” Hero hissed, their other hand still fisted in Sidekick’s shirt, pinning them in place. “I’ve given you chance after chance to prove yourself. To show me you aren’t a fucking waste of time. But it’s still mistake after mistake, screw up after screw up. You can’t follow the simplest orders. You can’t do anything.”

Sidekick could feel the heat of Hero’s breath, their fingers digging in harder with each word. Sidekick cracked their eyes, their blurred gaze flicking to the door before Hero wrenched them forwards, only to throw them back against the wall. The hand in their uniform released, only for Hero to bury their fist in Sidekick’s abdomen, grip on their jaw holding them in place as Sidekick heaved.

“Don’t you dare look over there. No one is coming to ‘save’ you. Not Teammate, not Medic, not Other Hero. You are my charge and I’m supposed to deal with you in whatever way I see fit. Understand?”

Hero’s hand returned, finding its way to Sidekick’s exposed neck. Time seemed to slow as Hero’s fingernails began to bite into the skin, constricting Sidekick’s throat.

“You’ve had this coming for way too long,” Hero spat, before their grip tightened to completely cut off Sidekick’s air, leaving them to gasp and choke. “You’ve certainly earned it.”

[shywhumpauthor]

Hey! I'm currently in desperate need of some inspo for magical torture whump? My whumpee is thought to have a corrupted soul and needs to be "healed", kinda exorcism vibes. Any ideas maybe? :)

Hey! I’m sorry this list is so short, I ran out of time but I wanted to give you something. I could follow up with some more ideas later if you’d like!

Anything with fire/burning. Hot iron rods, magic restraints that are always burning hot, being kept near/exposed to fire to “burn out the evil” or something

Branding / carving certain sigils into their skin, ones associated with healing / goodness, etc

Sensory deprivation with some sort of physical violence. Chain them up by their wrists, ankles chained to the floor, blindfolded, gagged, ears covered so they can’t hear. Then add something like caning, cutting, or just a general beating.

I feel like whipping in general would work to some extent, and that that is often associated with what you’re kind of going for.

On the opposite hand as earlier, freezing. Force them into a tub of ice water, shove their head under, dump buckets over them, cold is cleansing after all, right?

Poisons, harmful elixirs, stuff of that sort

[shywhumpauthor]

Hey I just wanted to reach out and say how good it is to see you writing again :)

I stumbled across your work one night a couple years ago and it launched my interest in the whump community. A few months ago I finally worked up the courage to post my own writing. It's been an incredible journey, one that you started for me.

You're an inspiration to people, even if you're hard on yourself. Thanks for what you do!

Thank you!

It’s so inspiring to read this, most of the time when I post my writing I feel like I’m tossing it out to the void, but I really appreciate you taking the time to write this and I’m so glad I could help spark your interest!

I’m going to try to post something again soon, now comes the problems of 1. Figuring out what I want to write 2. Remembering how to write good and 3. Actually writing it.

[shywhumpauthor]

Golden Apprentice

We’re going to pretend I posted this yesterday, okay? And I know it’s terrible I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of a better title.

Cw: violence, restraints, manhandling, threats

A fist wound in the front of Sidekick’s uniform, slamming them back against the alleyway wall with enough force to knock the air from their lungs. Uneven edges of bricks clawed at their back, latching onto the fabric of their jacket like thorns.

Sidekick gasped, but they didn’t have a moment to draw in a breath before a fist struck their jaw, snapping their head to the side. Fire exploded along their face, radiating along their mouth and jolting up their cheek, painful enough to make their eyes water.

They brought their knee up in a barely formed defense, feeling like they were fighting a force a hundred times stronger than gravity. They met nothing but air.

The hand bunched in their uniform ripped them away from the wall before their leg could find purchase, throwing them against the ground. Gravel scraped their chin as Sidekick scrambled to catch themself, sparks of pain igniting across their palms as the rough ground embedded in their palms. Words caught in their throat, half-formed and trapped as they choked out only a strained wheeze in protest. They had barely gotten their hands beneath them, bracing to stumble to their feet when a strong pressure on their back shoved them back to the ground.

“So this is Hero’s golden apprentice? The agency’s shiny new star?” A crude voice laughed, as rough as the pavement beneath them as the pressure on Sidekick’s back increased. Their assailant leaned forwards, shifting more weight to the boot planted just below Sidekick’s shoulder blades, and scoffed, their voice dripping with mockery and amusement. “The best and brightest? The promising new rookie?”

“Ff- ‘uck,” Sidekick grit through clenched teeth, blinking hard against the crackling pain that sparked through their skull. One arm was trapped beneath them, pinned awkwardly under their body and strained with the suppressing weight. With the other they made a grab for the sheath strapped to their hip, arm barely managing to move before their attacker’s other foot drew forwards, settling heavily to block their attempt.

The pressure on their back released, but Sidekick didn’t have a moment to act before a heavy weight by dropped on their lower back, knee digging hard into their spine. A hand grabbed onto the back collar of their uniform, dragging their torso up as so their assailant could grab their trapped arm. Nails bit into Sidekick’s wrist as their arm was twisted behind them, drawing a sharp hiss as they felt the muscles in their shoulder strain.

The hand released their jacket, moving to wrench their other arm back. Cold metal pressed against the back of their wrist, snapping painfully secure before the metal snared their other arm, securing their wrists crossed behind their back with a sharp tug.

“Shh’t- stop,” Sidekick spat, pink tinted saliva dripping from the corner of their mouth. In response, their attacker only forced the cuffs tighter, leaving Sidekick to wince as the metal bit into their wrists.

“You’d really gotten my hopes up, I hate to admit. Usually I’m better planned,” they sighed, exaggerated disappointment lacing their tone. “After I saw your fight with OtherVillain on the news, I just couldn’t wait to meet you. It just seemed so promising.”

Sidekick squirmed, staggering an inhale as they tried to fight the fog clouding their thoughts from the various hits. They were better than this, they had never lost a fight like they just had. They always fought smart, training with the academy or sparring with Hero, and when they lost, however rare, it was always a strong loss.

This could barely be considered a fight, rather a straight assault. Sidekick was tired, a rough scuff with Henchman had left them dappled with bruises and scrapes, worn muscles that protested with every move. It had been a long fight, and despite Sidekick’s eventual triumph, they were tired and aching. All they had been trying to do was return to Hero’s home, to take a hot shower and wash away the dirt that smudged their skin before settling for a long sleep in their own bed. The thought had snared their mind the moment they watched Henchman be loaded into the back of an agency transport van. It was evening, the last scarlet streaks of sunset were disappearing over the crests of the tall buildings, but the city was still settling into night, and they hadn’t wanted to deal with the publicity on the streets. So they took a back route, cut through a few neighborhoods down alleys and cracked sidewalks. They had let their guard down, stupidly allowed themself to delve into the daydream of a warm bowl of soup and ibuprofen, listening to Hero’s voice hum through their communicator.

They had been attacked from behind, their legs kicked out from beneath them. It had all happened so fast, their hasty flail of defense barely holding a few seconds before they were overpowered. The ear piece was ripped from their ear, crushed at some point during the short skirmish.

The pressure lifted off of them for a moment, rough hands twisting them onto their back before a knee planted hard against their abdomen.

Cold eyes stared down at them, the faint streetlights reflecting against their glare with gleaming, predatory flickers.

Sidekick had known it was a villain even without seeing their assailant’s face. No civilian would be foolish enough to try to attack anyone wearing an agency uniform, especially not one who had been featured across the media in recent weeks as a promising new hero.

Now, with that piercing gaze striking them like a knife, their stomach twisted. They were sure Supervillain could feel the drop of their heart, their lips curling into a smirk as Sidekick’s eyes locked wide.

“I wonder what the Agency would do to get you back. What Hero would do,” Supervillain mused out loud. “Their treasured little trainee. I’ve seen all of the interviews, the way they talk about you. They’re always so proud, they adore you.”

Sidekick’s chest tightened as Supervillain spoke, feeling the sparks of fear creep into their throat, burning away any words into ask.

“I don’t know how much Hero’s told you about me, but I have to assume it hasn’t been much. You see, Hero and I go way back,” Supervillain brought a hand up, letting their fingers draw over the red blotch swelling on Sidekick’s jaw, the beginnings of a nasty bruise. “There’s been a few favors I’ve needed them to do for me, but they’ve never had any incentive,”

Sidekick winced as Supervillain grabbed their chin, a wisp of touch turning into a throbbing grasp in a moment.

“You, however,” Supervillain’s lips curled back, expression caught somewhere between a grin and a snarl. “You will change all of that.”

Supervillain released their jaw, shifting off of them and grabbing Sidekick by the collar of their jacket, hauling them up as they stood. Supervillain’s grip quickly moved to the back of their neck, fingertips digging into Sidekick’s skin.

“I really hope you aren’t this boring all of the time. That would make things much less fun for me and much more painful for you.”

[shywhumpauthor]

If I post something tomorrow I need you all to pinky promise not to judge on how terrible it is. I seem to have forgotten how to write, and it has been extremely difficult to get this piece going and keep it going. I can’t seem to write a plot anymore, or characters or setting or anything really.

I miss writing but it’s really not working. I want to write and I have ideas but I can’t translate them to actual writing anymore. If you have any idea how I can get over this please share. I miss posting and I feel bad that I haven’t been posting regularly for over a year now. Thank you for sticking with me, I will try my best to finish up and post this crappy piece tomorrow.

[shywhumpauthor]

I… I want to say I don’t have an excuse for my absence, but I do, and it’s just a bad one

I just wanted to post to let yall know that I’m still alive! I’m so sorry for the lack of content and I am going to be completely honest when I say I don’t know when I’ll be able to get something out.

I have been working on a piece for a bit, it’s coming together really slowly. My writing drive has been down the drain and life had given me no time to sit and work on anything. I will try my hardest to post that piece in the next week or so.

I’m so sorry for not posting any content, and I promise I’ll try to get back to it soon.

[shywhumpauthor]

You Can’t do This

Cw: kidnapping, restraints, torture, mentioned mouth/eye whump (doesn’t actually happen), non-con touching, knives, threat of asphyxiation/choking

“Wait- wait,” Villain sputtered, the words tripping over their tongue, snagging in the back of their throat. “You can’t- Hero, this is illegal- you can’t do this!”

They twisted their wrists against the restraints that bound them to the chair, flexing their fingers to try to relieve a fraction of the pressure. The movement only pushed the cables deeper into their skin, dragging a hiss from their clenched teeth.

A warm hand wrapped around their neck from behind, turning their exhale into a wheeze as their head was shoved against the back of the chair.

“Since when have you cared much about what’s legal?” Hero responded, amusement adding a drawl to their words. They circled the chair, grip on Villain’s neck adjusting so their palm lay against the villain’s wind pipe, fingers digging into the sensitive skin on the side of their neck. Just enough pressure to fear, for Villain to feel the threat of their airway being crushed, but not enough to cut off their breathing. Not yet.

“He-Hero, this isn’t funny, stop.” Villain grit out, shrinking as far back as the chair would allow. Hero only pressed closer, moving in so their legs were on either side of Villain’s, their ankles bound to the chair legs.

“Was it funny when the roles were reversed? All those nights I spent tied up in your basement, bleeding and cold? Was it funny then?” Hero hissed, their other hand raising to Villain’s face with the speed of a strike. Barely in time, Villain braced themself, only for a warm hand to press against their jaw, fingers brushing over the curve of their cheekbone. The touch was stark against the chill in the air, a misplaced comfort—artificial. Hero’s stroked their thumb below Villain’s eye gently, before coming to a pause with both hands cradling either side of Villain’s face. “Was it?”

“No, no Hero, it wasn’t,” Villain’s voice wavered now, threatening to crack. “You can’t do this, you’re s’posed to be the good guy-”

Hero stepped back suddenly, tearing their hands away from Villain’s face like their skin had turned toxic. Villain tried to ignore the ache that swelled in their chest as the cold air drowned any remnants of the warm touch in moments.

“I guess I am, aren’t I? The ‘good guy’?” Hero repeated, turning their back to Villain. They stepped to the side of the poorly lit room, to something that resembled an old workbench, their body blocking Villain from seeing what they were doing. “I wonder what the press will say about your sudden absence. They’ll publish anything I tell them to, you know? I could feed them some story about you fleeing the city, the country even, and your name would be forgotten in a week.”

Hero turned around, bracing their palms against the workbench and leaning back.

“Everyone always believes the good guy, don’t they?” Hero shook their head. “No one cares about another pesky street criminal, do they? All they care about is Supervillain, the papers would move on from you the next day and you’d be forgotten. You wouldn’t even get one of those ten year follow-ups.”

“Hero, let me go. You can’t do this. You can’t,” Villain twisted their arms against their restraints in one last pitiful attempt to free themself, accomplishing nothing but to make Hero chuckle.

Hero pushed themself forwards, striding closer. It was only then Villain noticed something in their hand, slender and orange—a box cutter, they realized quickly, as the hero closed the distance between them in three steps.

“Tell me exactly what I can and can’t do, Villain? What can’t I do to you?” Their hand twisted in Villain’s hair, shoving their head back against the chair while the other flipped out the blade on the box cutter.

The words died in Villain’s throat. Their lips parted, eyes tracking the blade as Hero lifted it up to their face.

“I can do anything I want to you.” Hero’s eyes stared directly into Villain’s as they placed the blade against their skin, just below their eye. “You should be glad, your eyes look so pretty when you’re scared. Otherwise I would’ve plucked them out by now,” Hero began to move the blade to the side, putting just enough pressure to split a thin line of red below Villain’s eye.

Villain didn’t dare breathe as Hero paused, gritting their teeth against the sting as they felt the blade puncture a bit deeper. A drop of blood rolled down their cheek like a tear.

“I thought about this moment every night in your basement,” Hero muttered, pushing the edge harder into Villain’s flesh as they followed the track of the blood, drawing a half suppressed yelp from Villain as the pain suddenly intensified. “Planning out exactly what I would do to you, how I’d pay you back for everything you’ve done to me.”

Hero accented the last word with a sudden sharp twist, finishing the line to Villain’s jaw before pulling their hand back. Tears burning in the corners of Villain’s eyes, welling faster than Villain could suppress them.

“Ple- please, Hero, you can’t,” Villain’s voice trembled, any thoughts of maintaining their dignity gone with their fear.

Hero’s palm cracked against their bleeding cheek, catching them off guard. Pain like fire burned from the cut, their head snapping to the side with the force of the blow.

“This will be your only warning,” Hero began, their empty hand grabbing Villain by the chin and tugging them back to look at them. “I do not have the same reservations about your voice as I do your eyes. Another word from you, I’ll cut out your tongue and shove it down your throat and it’ll be the only food you get for a month, got it?”

[shywhumpauthor]

So I’ve had this story idea in my head for a while, it’s changed a lot lately but there’s a new version kinda that I think will stick—unnecessary precursor to this post.

I posted abt it yesterday with a question that someone answered so I deleted the post, also irrelevant. But I mentioned that there’s main characters—Prince, Thief, and Soldier (Some have names so far but for the sake of organization rn they don’t in this post). And also Servant. It’s a fantasy world, so there’s powers. Anyways, I know it’s overused, fire powers and royalty, but sue me.

So the royal family has fire powers. While I was fleshing this idea out a bit, I was thinking back to my prompt from a while back about branded handprints.

Can you see where this is going?

Anyways all of the royal servants are branded with the king’s handprint. It’s supposed to be a symbol of “honor”, but really it’s just a sign of authority, in case any of them decide to try to flee or run away it’s a quick way to return them to where they belong.

So Servant is assigned specifically to Prince, and their relationship is about what you expect. Prince is second in line for the throne after his brother, so he’s bitter and power hungry and poor Servant is just trying his best but it’s never enough.

Traditionally, it’s only the king’s handprint, but Prince doesn’t think that’s enough. So he brands Servant with his own. Multiple times.

This happened a few years before the story would begin, and Prince has grown a bit in maturity. He’s no where near “good”, but he’s no longer as impulsively cruel—so he tries to mend the relationship a bit. He’s also fairly bored and lonely, and Servant is always around, and it’s a little awkward trying to make amends with someone who is scared to walk too loudly around you.

Idk I wanted to share because I love finally giving a vague context to the prompt and also like this story is buzzing around my brain but I can’t write it so I wanted to share it with someone

[shywhumpauthor]

Concept: whumpee that breathes normally

Ehh, not sure I’m a fan of this one.

[shywhumpauthor]

Concept: whumpee with skin

Woah, I’ve never thought of that!

[shywhumpauthor]

Concept: uneven ribbed whumpee

Could you elaborate on this?

[shywhumpauthor]

What oc is living rent free in your head right now?

We want pictures! We want rambles! We want chunks of scenes and favorite lines! This is a vent-about-your-blorbo free card! Go wild!

Right now there’s an unnamed novelized blorbo living in my head rent free. He’s begging for a book and I don’t know what to give him. He’s a soldier, young, arrogant (at the beginning), fighting on the “good” side of the war. What that means, I’m not sure. Shit hits the fan and he ends up betraying his side and his friends in his troop, and he just keeps digging himself deeper into the hole until he can only ever see himself as the villain even though he tried a few times for redemption. The first time, his friends believed him but then he just fucked that up again and now there’s not a single person on either side of the war who trusts him. He climbs the ranks then, trying to forget everything until he’s eventually somewhat of a right hand to the Big Bad Guy ™ (no clue who or what that is). His name might be Jameson idk. Right now we’re at the very very beginning of his story and he just got beat into the dirt during a sparring match gone bad, and his friend who plans to be a field medic helps stitch him up.

That and the dudes from my novelized coffee shop dream here.

Really I just want to write a book. I want something with whump vibes but it can’t be direct whump the entire time which is annoying, but I want a comprehensive story with world-building and effort and plot and deep characters. These two ideas have been bouncing around as possibilities but I haven’t had like any time to write lately so idk if I’ll ever write these. The more I think about it the stupider the ideas seen yk?

And then there’s Noah, he’s just always sitting in the corner of my mind just like he’s sitting in the corner of Declan’s office lmao. Favorite spy Whumpee, can’t wait until I get to the point in his story where I can completely break him. It’s coming up, Declan’s next demonstration… :))

Just need to finish the precursor Christmas drabble though aha

[shywhumpauthor]

For the Q&A session!

To you: how did you get into whump?

-- @whumperofworlds

Michael Vey, book one, when he was in the cell. And just generally all of them

School for good and evil book two, the tedros beating/torture

Just. all the violence in warrior cats

The betrayal of Luke in the Percy Jackson series, all the emotional crap Percy went through

When annabeth was stabbed

The malfoy manor scene in the deathly hallows movie

Just everything with umbridge in order of the phoenix

There’s so many more these are just off the top of my head

[shywhumpauthor]

What is your favourite Whump trope? And! Follow up, what is your favourite Whump scene to write??

Hmmmm

It changes by the day haha

I’m really into scars right now, especially visible ones. Like facial, neck, hands, etc. Constant reminders of the trauma and torture the Whumpee had to face, not just to themself but to everyone else. Especially if this Whumpee is in some leadership position, like in a team situation, and everyone else is just constantly wary around them. The Whumpee has learned to avoid long conversations or any non essential contact, isolating and only making the dynamics worse.

That or a Whumpee who is in some sort of situation with a caretaker that’s unable to really help them, particularly if they’re from the other side. Like a Hero Whumpee in a villain’s lair, and a henchman wants to help but they can’t actually do much of anything.

Also I love your typical power imbalance tropes, a Whumpee who used to be powerful/influential reduced to nothing (particularly with royalty dynamics paired with public humiliation), your good old fashioned whipping and torture, branding, there’s so many lmao

To write? Now that’s harder. While I love all of these tropes, some of them are just difficult for me to write in terms of complex dynamics or just plot. If I were to start one with say, the royal/powerful Whumpee, I would need to go so much deeper than just “they used to be royal”, and I’d get caught up on that for so long I wouldn’t end up writing it. So I guess I’ll just say power imbalances in any context really, because that’s always so much fun to exploit (as you can see with Noah and Declan, Kaden and Mathias, etc lmao)

[shywhumpauthor]

Part 2/2

Happy holidays, @shywhumpauthor! (Part two!)

[shywhumpauthor]

Hi everyone LOOK AT THIS. (Part 1/2)

To my secret Santa- holy crap THANK YOU. You went above and beyond and oh my god it’s perfect. This was such a perfect way to start the year, and it’s just AGH. ALL OF THE WORK YOU PUT INTO THIS. ALL OF THE SMALL DETAILS. I don’t even know how to put this into words.

Part 2

Happy holidays, @shywhumpauthor!

(Your gift is in two parts because there’s too many images for one post!)

[shywhumpauthor]

Hi, Coal! This is anonymous from the Whumpuary question

There's no need to respond to this, lol-

I really just wanted to say thank you for taking the time to respond to my previous question :))

(I enjoyed reading the dragged out version of your response, lol- better for my brain to process and take in for sum reason)

I'm good with whatever decision you make. I was honestly just curious because I do enjoy your stories and writing style, so there's that-

(#love Noah)

And, I get where you're coming from with writing series and all, so like- yeah

Regardless of your decision, as long as you don't stress yourself out about it, I'll be fine with whatever

So, uh, yeah- thanks for responding and– take care :)

I am so bad with responses but I wanted to say something just to lyk that I appreciate that you read the long response and then also took the time to reply. That sounds so stiff and insincere written out like this, but I promise it’s not lmao

You as well! Happy new year!

(#love hurting noah)