#curse whump

[marvel-ous-whump]

aftermath of statue curses

Let's be honest. We all love a good "Turned to stone" or "Turned to ice" curse right? The angst of a caretaker finding a whumpee like that is just *Chef's Kiss* so good. But we're really snoozing on the aftermath. of what happens to poor Whumpee when the curse is broken. Seriously;

Atrophy or weakness of the muscles.

Gravel Rash everywhere. (for the stone curse)

Frostbite EVERYWHERE (for an Ice curse)

frequently recurring chills (both, Stone is still cold y'all.)

incredible disorientation or dizziness.

coming out of the statue starved and dehydrated.

Whumpee collapses into Caretaker's arms the minute the curse is broken.

Coughing up particles of whatever they were encased in.

Whumpee is desperate for the Caretaker not to leave them, ever. Especially if they were somewhat conscious inside the statue

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whump Prompt 116

Write something inspired by this concept:

Hero is cursed to transform into a monster, but every time he dies in his monster form, he comes back to life as a stronger, more hideous, more beastly version of that monster. Hero tries to hide this fact and his transformation from everyone, because the more times he dies and transforms, the less human he becomes. But villain finds out and hunts him down.

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 150

"So...." Caretaker's voice trailed off, as they analyzed the cursed sword now in their hands. They read the curly and cursive writing etched into the blade over and over, fully taken in what it looked like to have their own name on it. "What will it be like?"

Whumpee gulped, trying to find their words, "Hell."

"Well... I guess I'm ready for it, as long as it brings you relief."

"Please, don't do thi-"

Caretaker already passed whumpee's curse onto themself.

[clickerflight]

Clove: Part 11 - Unburied Grief

Masterlist

Part 10

Hey! Look at that! A vampire who is having a bad time!

Content: Werewolf whumpee, emotional whump, fear of going back, disassociation (?)

Vampire whumpee, laceration across the chest, curse whump, emotional whump, grief

...........................................

Hyrum didn’t know why they stopped on the hill, only that Ephraim stared at the cottage with widening eyes. He looked down at Hyrum and whispered, “Goldenrod, I need you to be very brave, okay?”

“What?” Hyrum asked, clutching his toy tighter to his chest. 

“I think there might be someone dangerous here. I need you to go hide in the village. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

Hyrum’s mind sparked with waves of panic. “What do you mean?” he whimpered, his trembling growing stronger. 

“Just go to the village. Please,” Ephraim said, gently propelling Hyrum down the slope. “Go.”

The urgency in Ephraim’s voice raised Hyrum’s thin hackles and he nodded before turning and running back down the hill, his heartbeat in his ears. 

The rattling of his toy did not cover the sudden scream of rage, nor the horrible shrieks and hisses of an angry vampire. 

Hyrum whimpered, running faster down the hill. He screamed as he tripped, his legs feeling like jelly underneath him and he rolled down the hill, limbs searching for some way to stop himself. 

He finally came to a stop in the dirt road when he heard more nightmarish sounds from the top of the hill, and that pushed him to his feet again. 

An endless stream of whimpers fell from Hyrum’s lips. He needed to stop. He needed to find somewhere to hide, he needed to be quiet. Jack would punish him if he was too loud. He would have to kneel on silver for hours if Jack heard him whimpering. Weapons didn’t whimper. He knew that. 

But there was a quiet voice inside of him that told him he wasn’t a weapon. One that smiled with a chipped fang and pressed kisses to the top of his head. 

Just as this thought was starting to pull him from his panic, someone touched him and he scrambled to get away, yelping and crying. 

“Hey, hey,” a deep voice said soothingly. It didn’t sound like Jack but it smelled human. “It’s okay, lad. Where’s Ephraim?”

Hyrum sobbed, pushing at the firm, though gentle hand that had wrapped around his arm. He was going to be taken and put in a dark room, he knew it. He’d get so hungry he’d start eating beetles and stones again. He didn’t want beetles and stones, he wanted berries and stew and bread. He didn’t want a cold cage, he wanted impossibly soft blankets. He didn’t want punishment, he wanted soft touches and gentle hugs, and loving kisses. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t handle it. He would surely break. Every small part of him would crumble away and he would become the dust underfoot. He would shrink away to nothing. He would flee his own still breathing body. 

When Hyrum was picked up, arms around his torso to keep his arms pinned, he screamed. He had never before known anguish so terrible. Never had he imagined that his soul could hurt so badly. There had been light after so much darkness and the darkness was all the more terrible for knowing he wouldn’t see that light again. Like fate had handed him love and kindness only so he could know what it was like to lose it. 

How much more would he be forced to bear?

……………………………….

Ephraim stumbled into the village. The wound in his chest was deep and ached with each breath. It wasn’t healing like it was supposed to, and he could feel a small curse eating away at his flesh. It wouldn’t kill him, though it might leave a scar. 

Ephraim didn’t have time to think about scars, though. He had found Hyrum’s toy dropped at the bottom of the hill and picked it up, trying to find his little werewolf. 

“Goldenrod!?” Ephraim called, disregarding the fact that he was certainly waking people up. “Sweetheart, where are you!?”

“Ephraim!” 

The vampire spotted Anna stepping out of her house. When she saw the blood in the moonlight her eyes went wide and she firmly closed the door to keep her eldest from coming out and seeing it. 

“Stay inside. Everything is fine,” Anna said through the door before rushing to Ephraim, steadying him and pulling at his torn shirt to see the cut better. “Ephraim, what happened?”

Ephraim bore his teeth, a hiss escaping before he could find his voice. “There was a madman in my cottage. He was trying to take Hyrum from me.”

Anna only just managed to keep from covering her mouth as her hands were covered in Ephraim’s blood. “No! And he did this to you?”

“Yes. Have you seen Hyrum? I sent him down here to be safe.”

“I haven’t, but I did hear someone scream-” Anna admitted and Ephraim surged from out of her grasp. 

His voice broke as he called, “Hyrum!? Goldenrod!?”

Doors were opening all down the street, voices asking what was going on, but one person’s voice boomed over the rest. 

“Ephraim! He’s over here!” Guntar called. 

Ephraim practically melted with relief, stumbling over. Guntar caught him as he tripped on the first step. Ephraim felt the spell eat deeper into his chest and he coughed as it caught in his lung, gripping onto Guntar as he spasmed. 

“Anna!” Guntar said, “Get Margie.”

He helped Ephraim into the house as Anna disappeared into the darkness. 

Ephraim got his breath back, his healing pushing the curse away from his lungs where it became invested in his sternum. 

“Goldenrod. Where is he?” he asked quickly. 

“In here. I don’t think he knows where he is, poor lad.”

Ephraim pushed past Guntar, looking around wildly for the werewolf. 

He found him hiding under the well carved kitchen table. He was laying perfectly still, nothing to prove he was alive besides a faint twitch every now and then. 

Ephraim slid to his knees, pushing in to scoop the boy into his arms. Hyrum was limp, his head lolling back as Ephraim did so. The vampire pressed the boy’s head into the crook of his neck, pressing kisses all along the side of his head. 

“Goldenrod, I’m here. It’s okay, I’m here. Please, you’re okay, please, come back sweetheart.”

Hyrum twitched, his breath catching in his chest. He whined, high pitched and scared. 

Ephraim did nothing to stop his tears from running down his face, soaking into Hyrum’s golden hair. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I-”

Ephraim choked on his emotions, sobbing in rhythm with the curse throbbing in his chest. He wanted to apologize for the terror Hyrum lived with every day, he wanted to apologize for not killing the man who had done this, he wanted to apologize to a fledgling who wasn’t here, who he hadn’t seen for just over 40 years. None of this would do either of them any good, so he cried into Hyrum’s hair while the werewolf fell asleep in his arms. 

“Alright, what’s all the fuss about?” a crotchety old voice asked. “Ephraim, I really hope you don’t mean for me to go under there to treat you.”

Ephraim tried to slow his sobs, but only managed to make them wretched little hitching things. 

“Oh,” Margie said, a softness entering her grizzled tones. “Ah, Guntar, could you help Ephraim out?”

“Yeah. I’m going to pull you out now, Ephraim.”

Guntar’s large hands pulled him and Hyrum out before the butcher gently coaxed Hyrum out of Ephraim’s arms. 

“I’ll put him in bed,” Guntar promised as Ephraim gathered himself to pull himself up into a chair. 

Margie pulled back his shirt, eyeing the wound and the curse that was starting to play across Ephraim’s ribs. She muttered something and the chewing pain that had been crawling through his chest faded as she stifled and put out the curse. 

Ephraim took a shuddering breath, moving to look at the wound in his chest and see how bad it was when Margie’s weathered hands cupped his face. He looked into the old crone’s eyes, unchanged from the beautiful woman she had been 50 years ago. 

“Ephraim,” she said softly. “What happened?”

Ephraim stared for a moment, captivated before he found his voice. “There was a man in my home. The one who……”

“I see,” Margie said, reaching for a rag to clean out Ephraim’s wound and see if it was healing. “He was there to take Hyrum, hmmm?”

“Yes,” Ephraim breathed. “I was going to kill him.”

Margie hesitated. “And you didn’t?”

Ephraim’s eyes burned as he looked away. “He.. ah, he said he knew where Ben was.”

Margie froze at the mention of her older brother, eyes wide for a moment before she narrowed them again, cleaning Ephraim’s wound a touch more fiercely. The softness in her voice was gone as she said, “Ben is dead. You said so yourself. You couldn’t sense him through the bond. That means he’s dead.”

“No. It means one of two things. He’s dead, or-”

“You don’t seriously believe in the fae courts, do you?” she replied harshly. 

“I’ve met the fae. Just because they haven’t been seen for a long time, doesn’t mean they’re all gone. The man said that Ben had been taken by the queen.”

Margie gritted her teeth. “Then Ben’s as good as dead. We can’t get him back, even if there was such a thing as a fae court. You should have just killed the fool.”

Hurt, Ephraim looked away, towards the room Gunter had taken Hyrum. “I’m sorry, Marigold.”

Margie ignored him, and finished looking at the wound. She rubbed some balm in and patted his chest. “Go sleep,” she said. “I’ll check your cottage in the morning. If that man could cast that sort of curse on you with just a cut, I can imagine he left some rather nasty traps for you.”

Ephraim nodded, standing up. He opened his mouth to thank her, but she was already gone, refusing to meet his eyes. He stood in Gustav’s house, exhausted and drained, and he let his clenched fists relax as he turned. 

Gustav was still in the bedroom with Hyrum. He was running his hand over Hyrum’s back over the blankets. He looked up when Ephraim entered and whispered, “Before you say anything, you can stay here for the night.”

“Thank you, Gustav.”

“Do you need something to eat before you go to bed?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Ephraim said with a weak smile.

Gustav stood up and Hyrum whimpered at the loss of contact. “I’ll bring the blood to you. Why don’t you stay with him?”

Ephraim nodded and sat in the chair, putting his hand on Hyrum’s head. The new hair and fur starting to grow in were already so much softer than the rest of it, and Hyrum seemed to enjoy it the most when Ephraim wiggled his fingers into his curls to find the softest of it. 

Hyrum’s small, crooked, questing hand reached out and grabbed at Ephraim’s arm, following it back to his shirt before weakly tugging. 

Ephraim leaned forward, but Hyrum didn’t stop pulling until Ephraim realized what the boy wanted. 

Ephraim sighed and slid into the bed, pulling the covers over both of them. Hyrum curled up against his chest, and Ephraim could feel the tiny tremors that vibrated through Hyrum’s body. 

Ephraim held the boy close, running and hand down his back silently. 

Gunter came back with a cup of blood, which Ephraim drank quickly before curling back up and closing his eyes, listening to Gunter leave and get settled again before falling asleep. 

………………………………..

“You shouldn’t go up there alone, Margie,” Anna said. She had come by in the morning with her youngest to pick up something for a cough he’d picked up to find the old woman preparing to go up the hill to the cottage. 

“I may be old, but I can take care of myself,” Margie replied. She was rather testy that morning. More so than usual though Anna wasn’t easily scared off. 

“I’ll have Josh go up with you.”

“I don’t need your husband to-”

“Margie, you are taking someone with you,” Anna said sternly, and Margie glowered at her, trying to decide if it was worth the energy to keep arguing with the determined mother. 

“Oh all right,” Margie sighed and Anna nodded firmly. “Now, you’d better not go up alone.”

Margie grumbled as Anna gathered up her youngest and headed back out, leaving Margie to finish packing her bag with the things she would need to take care of any curses or traps she found. She hoped there was nothing too surprising up there. While she had a lot of practice with countering curses or even casting them, she was self taught and she knew there was a lot she still did not understand about magic. 

He left her house, taking her cane with her. She usually didn’t use her cane, but she had woken up with aching knees and there was no way she would be climbing up that hill without it. 

She walked through the main street of the village, passing by the shops and homes and making it out to where the dirt road thinned out. She was halfway up the hill before she heard someone jogging to catch up behind her. 

She smiled to herself and called out, “Slow this morning, aren’t we, Josh?”

Josh snorted as he caught up. “Only because Kate was throwing a tantrum. So, what’s the story? I know there was someone here who attacked Ephraim last night.”

“Indeed, and he’s a nasty piece of work. Throws curses wherever he goes, it seems. I’m here to try and clean up any traps or curses he may have left behind. Ephraim has enough going on without needing to worry about that too.”

Josh nodded. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, yes. Trust me, I’ll put you to work.”

Josh smiled and looked up at the cottage. The door was open, a little askew on broken hinges, the inside yawning darkly at them. It felt so wrong to look into that friendly cottage and feel a strange prickle of fear on the palms of his hands. 

Margie sighed. “Yup. Lots of work to do.”

Part 12

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff @honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs

[whumpwillow]

what do you think about curse whump? (ask inspired by some art I've seen recently of sora kingdom hearts being forced to eat a poison apple)

*looks at my current wip* uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

but no really, I think it's really good! depending on the nature of the curse, you can get really creative with it and it can lead to a lot of interesting scenarios

[foundfamilywhump]

being aromantic and into whump is like. shoutout to whump for being a great opportunity to engage with stories about intimacy and vulnerability and powerful emotion and physical interactions with other people and intense relationships that are not presumptively based in romance. what would i do without you.

[letitbehurt]

Whumpees who used to be notoriously heavy sleepers, but after their captivity they hardly sleep at all and the smallest sounds jolt them awake.

Caretaker hardly dares to breathe when Whumpee falls asleep around them. They silently threaten anyone within earshot not to make a sound. They protect Whumpee’s rest with a vengeance, because it’s so rare.

[echoingalaxies]

Whumpee has been given some kind of drug (or is under a curse) that heightens their senses by a lot, to the point touching anything or moving will cause them unbearable pain. They're in agony even by the mattress they're lying on.

But Whumpee's friends don't know this - all they know is they're in pain and don't know what it is or how to help. So they stroke Whumpee's cheek, hold their hand, rub their back, trying to provide comfort. They don't know if Whumpee could speak, they'd be pleading for them to stop because every touch, no matter how light, feels like a blowtorch on their skin.

[whumpberry-cookie]

Whumpee's mind is really fucked up and they never voluntarily show it.

But the circumstances do.

(Cw: magical whump, mention of waste fluids)

----------------------

An Empath that they freshly met strongly refuses to even be in the same room with Whumpee. No one understands why except of Whumpee themself.

A Mind Reader tries to get inside Whumpee's mind for some reason. Focuses, closes their eyes, places a hand on Whumpee's forehead. But then sudenly gasps, breaks the connection and runs out of the room to vomit.

There's some terryfying situation that makes all of the Teammates freeze in mindless fear. Whumpee however stays focused and takes actions to protect the rest. Because Whumpee's used to being in constant stress and fear.

"I trade my magical services for human memories. Pick one person from your group to make the sacrifice of their past. Anyone except of that guy over there. I don't want theirs."

-------------------------

[whump-mania]

(Loosely inspired by THAT scene in 1984)

(tw: forced love/relationship (nothing explicit), electrocution torture, brainwashing, cursing)

Whumpee gripped the sides of the chair that their arms and legs were bound to. They stared blankly forward, ignoring Whumper’s fingers combing through their hair.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions, Whumpee,” Whumper said softly. “You know well what happens if you answer incorrectly.”

Whumpee sat still and waited. They hated Whumper more than anything. They wouldn’t show their fear.

“Do you love me?”

Whumper took a slow breath, closing their eyes. They braced for pain. “No.”

It came immediately. The electricity coursed through their body, making them tense and writhe as much as the chair allowed them. The pain stopped as quickly as it started, and Whumpee slumped in their restraints, whimpering.

“Incorrect. Let me ask again.” Whumper’s tone was dangerous. “Do you love me?”

“No.”

Pain. Searing hot pain, and for longer this time.

“Do you love me?”

“No!”

Again.

“Do you love me?”

“FUCK YOU!”

Again, and worse.

Eventually, around the tenth go, Whumpee couldn’t answer anymore. Whumper took a break and lifted their heavy head in their hand by the jaw.

“So stubborn. I thought I’d taught you better.” Whumper dropped Whumpee’s head. “You’ll learn.”

“Please,” Whumpee pleaded weakly. “Please, make it stop…” they whimpered. It was too much. They couldn’t put up the act anymore.

Whumper chuckled and kissed Whumpee on the cheek. “I will, baby…when you answer me the way you need to.”

Whumper walked behind them again. “Whumpee. Do you love me?”

“Y-Yes,” Whumpee choked out. Anything for it to be over. Anything for this all to—

Pain.

Whumpee wailed and twitched when it was over. They hadn’t been ready that time.

“I—I said yes!”

“But you’re still lying, love,” Whumper said darkly. “You don’t even believe the words you’re saying.”

“But I do!” Whumpee yelled desperately, the panic clear in their eyes. “I love you, I—”

Pain, screaming, nothing.

“Liar.”

Pain, screaming, nothing.

“You love me.”

Again.

“You are obsessed with me.”

Again.

“You are so deeply in love with me that no one else matters to you.”

Whumpee couldn’t scream anymore. Their brain couldn’t catch up with the pain. Whumper walked back around and lifted Whumpee’s head again. Whumpee was unconscious.

Whumper sighed deeply and undid the restraints to the chair. “We’ll try again tomorrow,” they said as they carried Whumpee off to bed.

[whumpneto]

Jonah Hauer-King as Max Mallowan in Agatha and the Curse of Ishtar (2019)

[simply-whump]

Destined with You : Episode 12

>> Whump List

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whump Prompt 89

Write something based on this concept:

Hero's cursed weapon allows him to fight villain more effectively and powerfully, but the more he uses it, the more quickly it will destroy him.

Villain finds out about the curse and turns this knowledge against hero, forcing him to use the weapon over and over again until he's barely capable of fighting back.

[spinjitsuburst]

most sane Jay Walker fan (regularly spends time imagining him in Situations where he gets the shit beaten out of him)

[whumpypepsigal]

Nancy Drew s04e10: “Tristan needs a hospital.” — “A hospital can’t help. The wound is supernatural. Too many questions.”

[whumpasaurus101]

“Say that again.”

Whumpee went to open their mouth but before any words came, Whumper grabbed them by a fistful their hair, shoving them against the wall and brought a knife against their throat,

“I fucking dare you.”