#drunk whumper

[letitbehurt]

Whumper forcing Whumpee to get drunk.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 15: "Who did this to you?"

Content warning: drunk Whumpee, noncon kissing, kidnapping, intimate whumper

By the time Whumpee stumbled out of the bar, reeking of cheap booze and cigarette smoke, it was already pitch black outside. The air was frigid, snow an ugly slurry of refrozen water and dirt beneath their feet.

It was absolutely miserable out, and if the bartender hadn’t cut them off, they would’ve stumbled back in for another drink.

Whumpee sighed, half spoken curses leaving their lips. They squinted into the dark, looking for a sign, a landmark, anything that would help them remember the way back home. Or to another bar.

“It’s a beautiful night out, isn’t it?” a voice asked, suddenly beside them.

Whumpee turned towards the noise, squinting as a lanky figure had moved to stand beside them. Their face was turned up towards the night sky, though their gaze flicked downward to glance as Whumpee.

Whumpee hadn’t even heard them approach.

“Who the hell are you?” They slurred, drunken indignance on their face.

The figure smiled, cheeks painted red from the cold. They gave a theoretical half bow. “Whumper. Consider me a…friend.”

Whumee didn’t want a friend right now. “Fuck off.”

Whumper only laughed in response, and there was something so light, so unbothered in the noise that Whumpee felt their anger slipping away. They watched as Whumper dug into their pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. They elegantly lifted one from the package, offering it to Whumpee like a peace offering.

The cigarette was from their brand, back before they’d quit a few months ago. Distantly, they knew they should refuse. But it was late, and they were tired, and it wasn’t as if they’d gone out to get blackout drunk for their health.

Whumpee took the cigarette from Whumper’s hand, fingers brushing against theirs. Whumper’s fingers were boney and thin, almost delicate.

Whumper gave a pleased hum, stuffing the pack back into their pocket. A moment later, they were offering Whumpee a light. Whumpee accepted it without a word.

They took a deep inhale, warmth filling their lungs. The smoke tasted like chemicals on their tongue, unfamiliar in a way that caught them off guard. They must’ve forgotten how horrible they tasted.

The smoke left their mouth in a cloud, floating into the air.

And then the two of them were walking.

They were the only two on the street. The pair walked side-by-side beside empty roads, passing rows of shops long closed for the night. The only sound was the crunch of snow.

Whumpee’s footsteps were uncoordinated and wobbly, like a child still learning to walk. Each footfall threatened to send them stumbling to the ground, ice and snow working diligently against what little balance they had left.

Each time the ice got the better of them and they began to fall, a firm hand would set them on their feet again, lingering only long enough to ensure they’d remain upright.

Whumper effortlessly glided through the snow beside them, footsteps sure. There was a smile on their face, perfectly content, almost giddy. As if stopping a drunk from bashing their face on the cement was their favorite pastime.

Distantly, Whumpee wondered if they’d overdone it with the drinks. They took another inhale of the cigarette, smoke still foul in their mouth.

“Who did this to you?”

It took their mind a long moment to realize the silence had been broken.They turned, meeting Whumper’s eyes. “What?”

“This,darling,” they gestured to Whumpee’s disheveled state, a frown coming to their face. “A pretty thing like you, all twisted up with anger and grief, drowning your sorrows late at night. Who sent you there?”

“I…”

They’d done it to themselves, they knew. Like always. Because they always messed things up. Because they never saw things breaking apart until they were cutting their feet on the shards.

Because there was something wrong with them. They were stupid. so, so damn stupid. Because Caretaker–

Look I can’t–I can’t do this anymore. Whumpee, I can’t–

Because Caretaker deserved someone better than them.

The truth felt like a slap in the face. They took another drag, burning it until heat danced across their fingers, deep and choking, and prayed it would chase it away.

“It was Caretaker, wasn’t it?”

Whumpee could only nod, tears stinging their eyes. Had they mentioned Caretaker? They didn’t remember. “H-how do you–”

“They’re a idiot. An absolute moron, to not see how special you are,” Whumper interrupted them, voice sharpening. The change in tone was so dramatic, for a moment, Whumpee had to turn to confirm that the same stranger stood beside them.

Whumper’s gaze turned to them. Sharp, bright, so intense it stopped Whumpee in their place. “They looked at you and didn’t realize it was a honor to have your attention. They were blind, Whumpee. I would never do something so stupid. If I had something as valuable, as perfect to myself as you, I would never let go.”

“N-no I– fuck, it was my fault–,” The words fell out of them, unorganized snippets of half formed thoughts. They didn’t even know what they were trying to say.

Was this normal? The tension in Whumper’s words, the anger, all for a stranger they’d only just met? They didn’t know. Something was whispering in Whumpee’s head, anxious and frantic underneath the layers of haze. A warning alarm in the far distance, barely audible.

They didn’t want to think about it. They wanted to take any comfort they could, wrap themselves in the stranger’s anger and forget their hurt.

And yet there was that alarm, distant and full of warning. They could barely hear it, but they couldn’t ignore it either.

Hazy eyes glanced at their surroundings, and for the first time that night, Whumpee realized that they didn’t recognize the direction their feet had taken them. This wasn’t their street, it wasn’t even near their street. They didn’t recognize a single thing around them.

How had they gotten there? Had Whumper been following them as they walked aimlessly, or was Whumpee letting themselves be led to nowhere? They didn’t know.

They blinked, shaking their head in hopes of regaining any semblance of sobriety. Instead their vision smeared, a wave of dizziness hitting with such force that their legs gave out beneath them.

A pair of boney hands grabbed them.

“I’ve got you. Shh, I won’t let you fall, I promise.” The words were whispered against the shell of their ear. Whumper pulled them to their feet, moving one of Whumpee’s arms to rest over their shoulder. Their hand found a spot on Whumpee’s waist and didn’t let go.

And then they were moving again, Whumper guiding them Whumpee could barely get their legs to work. They could only stumble along, The ground shifting unnaturally beneath them as they were all but carried along. They found their eyes slipping shut without their permission.

Whumpee’s head felt light on their shoulders, like it would separate from their body and float away. Their body felt so, so heavy. They didn’t know how Whumper was managing to carry them.

They weren’t a lightweight. They knew they’d drunk too much, but it shouldn’t have been this hard to stand. It shouldn’t be so hard to pull a thought together.

They blinked their eyes back open at the sound of a car door opening. Before they could speak, they were being rearranged, boneless body being all but carried into the passenger seat.

They wanted to say something, but the words turned to smoke in their mouth. The door was closed shut behind them.

A moment later, they heard Whumper slide into the driver’s seat. The car came to life beneath them.

Whumpee felt a hand run through their hair, the touch nearly revenant.

“I love you. I adore you; from the moment I saw you, I knew we were destined to be together,” their words were barely a whisper, but it filled the small space. They felt Whumper’s breath brushing against their face.

Whumpee tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited, how much it hurt to watch someone else touch what was mine. But we’re together now, finally. I’ll never hurt you like they did,”

Whumper leaned close, and the only resistance Whumpee could muster was a feeble hand against Whumper’s chest.

When a mouth pressed against their own, insistent and bruising, Whumpee couldn’t couldn’t move. They simply sat limply, mouth ajar as Whumper’s tongue moved.

When Whumper finally pulled away, they were panting, the smile so wide on their face it looked painful. Whumpee was barely awake anymore.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

ash i love vince so much he is my number 2 babygirl (antoni number 1 babygirl forever)

i would like to formally request some vince having a Bad Time, either past stuff with owen or present with recovery being a bitch

because there is nothing better than lovely characters having bad times that they absolutely do not deserve

CW: Alcoholism, withdrawal/cravings, alcoholic anger, Vince and Jameson both PTSD-ing all over the place, guilt

Oh, poor Vince. Takes place post-the Same Bed Arc, after Vince is living with Nat and Jameson.

-

Vince doesn't even look up when he hears Jameson stop in the doorway. He just pours a few shots worth of the gin into the glass, staring fixedly down at it. The liquid, clear as water but with the herbal scent washing over him like a welcome spring rain, spreads over the ice with those gentle cracks he knows better than his own heartbeat.

God, it looks good.

His hands don't shake, now. His heart doesn't race. He doesn't feel sweaty, or upset, or like he'll be sick.

He just feels like he's staring at the solution to all his problems, and all he has to do is swallow it down.

This should feel awful - he knows it should. It should taste awful, there should be something to remind him of the damage he does to himself every time he drinks again. He should hear his sponsor speaking in the back of his mind, he should hear the voices of the others at the meetings he goes to - one for alcoholism, one for survivors of sexual assault, twice a week there's movie star Vincent goddamn Shield among the normal people and admitting he's barely human, just a wreck that only survived Owen Grant because Nat decided she gave a fuck about him for reasons Vince still doesn't understand.

Here he stands, a hollow shell wearing a nice face who let someone else suffer in his place and was grateful for it for far too long.

Kauri hates him but it's nothing compared to how much he hates himself.

Vince lifts the glass, hesitating at the last second with the cool rim just touching his lower lip. Gin smells like blacking out and right now he could use the blessed darkness, hangover be damned.

He can worry about that when the headache kicks in tomorrow morning.

He realizes he's waiting for the sickening crawl of guilt at letting Nat down, at-... at letting himself down. Maybe that will come later, but right now... He feels goddamn good. Settled. Calm.

He and Jameson meet eyes just as he tosses the drink back, three large swallows of juniper-scented gin down his throat like water, leaving only the ice cubes behind.

The burn is perfect.

He pours himself another drink, feeling the warmth slowly spread through his chest to his shoulders, eyes briefly closing. God, it feels like goddamn heaven.

He looks up.

Jameson is still standing there in the doorway, looking oddly soft in a loose sweater that's far too big for him and a pair of old jeans that probably cost a dollar at a yard sale and even that was too much. Vince has jeans that distressed, somewhere.

His cost more than five hundred dollars.

He chokes on the next drink from trying not to laugh.

Jameson's eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Vince takes another sip, eyes half-closed, letting himself take it slow this time and really enjoy the taste.

He'd honestly been surprised the little liquor store down the block even carried this brand of gin. Not that he wouldn't have bought whatever he could get, when he stood there feeling like he would die if he had to go another day, but still. It's nice to have seen his favorite stuff, top shelf, pricier than it had any right to be. It's not even that good, but it's still his favorite. It still tastes, to him, like the nights he sleeps without nightmares, few and far between.

Gin tastes like those nights he gets to sleep at all.

The cashier had looked surprised as she wiped off the dust and rang it up for him. Then, with a shy smile, she'd asked him if anyone ever told him he looked a lot like Vincent Shield. He'd been kind of sad she didn't card him - it would have been nice to see the look on her face when she saw his name.

Instead, he paid in cash, laughed, and told her the standard I get that a lot, actually.

Jameson doesn't move closer, or leave. "It looks like you're fucking yourself up," He says, lingering in the doorway. "You can't just start drinking again. You know that, right?"

"Oh, I sure as hell can." Vince laughs, but it's a bitter sound. He licks the gin lingering on his lips, then gestures at the bottle. "Have some with me."

He's caught, for just a moment, when he sees Jameson wearing an expression Vince has never seen on him before. He looks... nervous. Afraid, almost, instead of angry.

"I-I don't want to," Jameson says, but there's a way he says it that makes Vince think he'd drink if he offers again. Maybe he wants to, or maybe he just doesn't want to make Vince mad.

If he commanded it, if he gave an order... Jameson would be as he's told, wouldn't he? Damn, that would be some power to have over someone.

This must be why Owen liked it so much.

No.

He won't think about Owen right now.

Vince gulps down liquid until he's breathless, almost panting. The warmth is like the familiar cradle of a softer reality settling in. He makes himself slow down this time, picking up an ice cube and sucking the juniper taste right off it before crunching it with his teeth.

"Vince." Jameson's voice gets harsher, and something seems to break his brief paralysis. He moves closer, grabbing the bottle and pulling it away when Vince puts a hand out to pour the third drink. "Fucking... look at me. What the fuck?"

Vince's hand just... hangs out there, reaching for a bottle that isn't where it was. He stares at the empty space, and feels that dark inside of him threaten to well up yet again. "What?"

Jameson swallows, his eyes moving to the glass, back to Vince's face. He steps backwards, and Vince watches the bottle go with him with a piercing need that could easily knock him off his feet if he weren't holding onto the back of a chair. Jameson clears his throat. "Aren't you... like, sober now?"

"Mmmn. Was. Got the like... three month chip thing and everything." He's gotten thoroughly wasted so many times in his life. Nothing relaxes him better than enough alcohol to force his body to stop living in constant, unending fear of who might hurt him next. "Right now, I am tipsy instead. In about an hour, I'm going to be absolutely fucked up. Give me back my gin."

Jameson's hand moves - then he jerks it back, taking a few steps backwards until he's back in the doorway. His eyes are on Vince's face, watching him with a total focus that Vince recognizes from the others he's worked with over the years - Jameson's just a trained pet, in this moment, watching to see if the master will be angry.

It makes him laugh again, more bitterly this time. Is he the master? Has he ever been his own master, let alone anyone else's?

"I... I can't do that," Jameson says, and Vince hears that he doesn't say no. When Vince moves towards him, he backs up a little more, and Vince comes to a stop just a foot or so away.

"Am... am I scaring you?" He asks, suddenly.

It wasn't what he meant to say, he meant to demand his drink again. Instead, this question that... that just sort of falls out of him like a waterfall.

Jameson's jaw sets and his eyes narrow. "You're not doing shit to me," He snaps, but Vince knows he's really saying yes.

Is this why people buy pets? So they can see something pretend not to be scared, and know they're the monster not just under the bed, but in it?

"Oh," He whispers. "What is it? Why are you scared? I'm just a drunk asshole, why are you scared of me?"

Jameson bristles, but then he offers - as if it's pulled out of him against his will - the softest explanation. "Brute and Robert got drunk all the time. I know what happens when-... when people get this kind of drunk."

There's a look in his eyes Vince has seen before in Kauri's. Not fear of him, not directly, but fear of someone like him, maybe. Fear of having demands made that can't be denied.

Is this how Owen felt, every time Kauri had to playact the loving boyfriend with bruises on his wrists and terror making his heart race? Is this how it feels to have power over somebody else when you can't even control yourself?

It's... it's good, almost.

It feels better than he thought it would.

"Back up, Shield," Jameson hisses, like a cat spitting and arching its back, ready to attack with claws and sharp teeth not because it's confident in victory but because it's so small it has to fight to have even the slightest chance to survive.

Vince looks him over, reading with an actor's expertise how he's projecting a confident swagger he never feels, how the irritation layers itself so carefully over a vulnerability that he sees as weakness. Vince has lived that way, too, since he was twenty-one, since his best friend turned out to be a rapist who wanted Vince to himself, since he started drinking to forget every single night and putting on the perfect face during his days.

They both survived, didn't they?

Jameson just did it by fighting his way out, and Vince by pretending to be someone he wasn't until nobody knew who he actually was, and that's a way of surviving, too. Wear another face, and make sure no one sees the fear in your real one, so they can't refuse to help you... because you've never asked.

"No." At least one of them can say it. Although that makes Vince's heart twist with ugly guilt, the petty cruelty of the thought. "Give me my gin," Vince says, pitching his voice low, and holds out his hand. "Now, Jameson. Give it to me."

"I can't." The strength is gone from Jameson's voice, and he looks at Vince with those dark eyes searching his own, trying to make himself understood. "If you drink, your-... your body's not used to it anymore, if you drink the same amount you'll fucking kill your stupid liver."

"What do you care about my liver?" Vince's voice drops low, almost a whisper. "What do you care about me, about my goddamn joke of a life, huh? What the fuck do you care? Why should anyone care?"

There's a flicker of something in Jameson's eyes - recognition, maybe. Something that lights up, just for a second, before the other man shoves Vince to the side with sudden violent strength and stalks to the sink, turning the bottle over and pouring that expensive artisan gin right down the drain.

"No!" Vince's voice is a ragged shout as he lunges after him, but it's too little too late.

Jameson's foot kicks out and slams into Vince's calf, sending him stumbling, clawing desperately as the gin is gone, glug glug glug, down into the pipes, disappearing towards the ocean.

Rage and terror fight in Vince's mind in a sudden white noise and he gets to his feet, grabbing Jameson by the arms and squeezing as hard as he can, shoving him back across the room. He hears Jameson hit one of the chairs, the clatter of wood and Jameson's grunt of pain as both hit the ground hard. The bottle is in the sink, and even when Vince scrambles to pick it back up, there's less than an inch of gin left.

He sucks it down, and only once he's gotten that final drop does he suddenly go still.

Oh.

There's the guilt and the horror and feeling sick at himself, just... twenty minutes too late. He sets the empty bottle carefully down, and then turns slowly around to look at Jameson.

Jameson sits on the kitchen floor, staring up at him with wide eyes. His face is pale, making the scar that twists the corner of his mouth stand out even more. His hair is nearly grown back in now, the bald patches hidden by the rest.

Vince exhales in a rush. "Oh, hell. Jameson-" He holds out a hand.

Jameson flinches.

Vince pulls his hand back, backing up until his back hits the edge of the sink. "Right. Okay. I'm-... I'm sorry Jameson-"

"Yeah." Jameson's voice is gruff, all the vulnerability and fear wiped away as soon as he realizes it's showing. He gets to his feet, shoulders protectively hunched, arms crossed in front of himself defensively. "Whatever. Sure you are. Drink yourself to death, shitbag, if that's what you want."

"I'm so sorry."

Jameson's jaw works. "... Everybody's always sorry. Then I get fucking hit again." Then he turns and walks - limps, really, his knees threatening to give out with every step - away. Vince stands there, frozen, listening as he makes his slow, painful way up the stairs.

Vince stares at the place he was for a while - he isn't sure how long. The gin is sinking its velvet claws into his mind, and he's drunker than he should be after only two drinks.

But then, it's been months.

Months, he made it without taking even a sip.

He swallows, again and again, and then pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, finds a contact, and presses the button to make the call.

The phone rings until he's certain it'll go to voicemail, before a voice he knows as well as his own is in his ear.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I-I need to talk to you," He stammers, his heart cold. "Please. Please. I-I've been drinking. I need... I need help."

There's a pause.

"From... me?"

"Yeah... yeah. You'll-... I need somebody who won't be nice to me-"

"Oh, well, if there's anything I love it's the chance to be mean to you, let me drop my entire life to come listen to you whine about yours."

"Please."

An exhale. "Whatever. Yeah, okay. I'll be over there in like... half an hour? An hour, maybe. Drink some water and I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't leave the house."

"Thanks... thank you, Kauri."

Kauri hangs up.

Vince pours himself a glass of water over the leftover gin-soaked ice, sipping it, barely flavored with a hint of the liquor he wants so badly. He rights the chair he'd accidentally shoved Jameson into, and listens to the creaking floorboards and muffled cursing above him as Jameson makes his halting painful way from stairway to his room, a couple thumps when he clearly falls and had to force himself back upright, until the pacing abruptly stops when he must have collapsed into his bed.

He hears the gentle patting of Trash Cat's paws as she leaves her place on the living room couch and follows him, too, her soft meowing until Jameson opens his door to let her come in after him. Then silence again.

Vince sits back down at the table, leaning over with his head in his hand, staring as the ice slowly melts, cooling the water around it.

He should have called his sponsor instead.

Whatever Kauri is about to say can only make this worse.

But he deserves it, anyway.

Vince doesn't move a muscle until he hears the sound of Jake's truck pulling into the driveway, crunching briefly over gravel before it's on the pavement again, when he raises his head.

Kauri walks in without knocking, stops in the doorway to the kitchen, and looks at him like his younger self ashamed of what he's grown into. Vince knows Jake must have driven him, but he's nowhere to be seen - maybe just staying outside, for now. He's clearly dressed for bed in a matching navy blue silk button-up and pajama pants, barefoot even.

"Hey," Vince says, weakly. The alcohol feels like poison now, not the soothing warmth it had been before. "I... I fucked up, Kauri."

"Yeah, I can tell just by looking at you, you're a goddamn mess." Kauri looks at Vince head-on, even though it still hurts him to do it, and Vince can see the flinch he suppresses as the headache kicks in. His blue eyes are identical to Vince's in nearly every way, except that Kauri's gaze has always been stronger. "What the hell did you do?"

"I got... I drank."

"Yep. I can see the gin bottle. Did you drink all of it?" Kauri's voice is flat and businesslike. It's like having his own younger self dressing him down, and somehow that feels... really good. Better than he thought it would.

"... No. Just a couple drinks. Jameson poured the rest out."

"Good for him." Kauri flickers a smile. "Where is he?"

"I-... I scared him."

"... you scared him?"

"Yeah. I was-... I wasn't-... I didn't mean to, but-"

"Shut up. All right. Tell me what you did. I'll fix it. This time, taking your place so I suffer for years while you run off and become obscenely wealthy is off the table, got it?"

Vince looks at him in horror only to see a surprising warmth in Kauri's smile. Not... not affection, but something like it. A wry compassion, maybe. Something else he doesn't deserve. "I don't know. I don't know if I can fix this, Kauri. I don't know."

"Well... I happen to the resident expert in trying to avoid dealing with your problems while making them all worse, so talk to me. Tell me what you did, start to finish. We'll figure out what comes next."

Vince lowers his head into his arms.

"Thank you," He says, muffled.

"Not enough thanks in the world, dumbass. Lucky for you I'm an amazing person who just happens to have spent most of my twenties making stupid drunk mistakes. So stop stalling and start talking."

-

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump  @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @autophagay

[whumperer-86]

I don't know if this is whump Bromance or not and it's real life not acting.. Wang xing Yue was drunk and his colleague carried him through the fans crowd

[befuddled-calico-whump]

tastes like copper

[whump-blog]

Okay here comes the request. Hope this isn’t too specific :)

Caretaker finds their friend Whumpee drunk out of their mind. They don’t know what happened but nevertheless they bring Whumpee home and take care of them. Whumpee, being rather incoherent, accidentally confesses something (maybe their treatment with whumper, maybe a love confession of what they think is unrequited love, maybe something else…)

Sorry it took me so long to answer this, but there wasn't enough creative juice in me, haha. I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but I still hope you like what I wrote :)

Thank you @whumpinthepot for helping me with this and doing a proof reading.

CW: drunk whumpee, abuse, alcohol abuse, protective caretaker, wounded character

“What are ya' doing Hero?” asked Civilian blinking slowly, trying to get used to the light in the flat while Hero dabbed his face with a wet cloth.

“What am I doing? I'm trying to wipe all the scratches off your face, you- idiot!”

“Wh- what scratcheees?”

“The ones you got when you decided to start a fight with that guy from the bar.”

“Ooh yeees! Well- he deserved it. He shouldn't have taken my drink.” Civilian swayed, and Hero had to grab his shoulder to keep him still.

The night among friends had been going smoothly with drinks and laughter, until Hero lost sight of a drunk Civilian for a few minutes and things got out of control. Resulting in Hero having to drag him out and take him home.

“That wasn't your drink!" Hero started, but he knew it was a lost cause, "ahh- never mind, can you take off your shirt? I want to see that you don't have any more cuts under it.”

“Heh, are you trying to flirt with me?” Civilian teased, trying with trembling hands to remove his torn clothes.

Despite the evening's outcome, the friends were enjoying their time together, but when Hero saw under Civilian's shirt, his face turned pale and the room fell silent.

The multiple scars covering Civilian's chest showed just how negligent Hero had been as a friend. How was it possible? Hero wondered. How was it possible that someone had been hurting his friend and he hadn't noticed? 

“Who- who did this to you? When did this happen? Why didn't you say anything?!” Hero bombarded Civilian with questions, while guilt and worry overwhelmed him.

“Wait- m’ head…” -Civilian pressed his eyes closed- “don't talk so- so loud," he said as if what Hero had just found out was not a big deal.

“Tell me, and I swear I will see to it that you get justice.”

“Wha- what ar-e you talking about?”

“Don't play dumb. Where did all those scars come from? Civilian, someone's been hurting you and that's- that's not right...”

In the silence after Hero spoke, all that could be heard was the gentle breeze ruffling the curtains. Civilian was quite drowsy from all the alcohol, and looked as if he would pass out before answering Hero's questions. Until he finally managed to put his words together to give a halfway coherent answer.

“I- well, all these here," Civilian pointed to his scars, "you don't have to wo-worry Hero, they we-were my fau-lt.”

“Civilian..." pity could be heard in his voice, "I don't know who told you that, but it's not true. None of this can be your fault.”

“Yes, yes it was. I- I got involved with the- the wrong-g people. If I had never met Supervillain… things wouldn't have gone this far.”

Civilian seemed lost in thought. But Hero now had more questions than answers. Suddenly, nothing seemed to make sense.

“So, was it Supervillain who hurt you like this?”

Hero was trying to remain calm, but a storm was raging inside him. What could Supervillain want with Civilian? No matter the reason, as soon as he got his hands on that son of a bitch, he would make him regret ever having scratched a kind and gentle person like Civilian.

“Well, yes- in part…”

“In part? What do you mean? Has someone else been hurting you?”

“Ah well…yes… hm- erm, I,” Civilian hesitated looking at Hero in the eyes, “I told you it was my fault… if only I had been better… I brought this on myself."

“Civilian, you have to tell me the truth, you can't go on like this." Hero pressed.

As the conversation went on, Civilian looked more and more stressed until a few tears managed to escape from his eyes. “I- I just, I don't want to tell you.” 

“Why?”

“You're going to get mad at me.”

“Civilian, that's not true, we are friends.”

“You won't want to be my friend anymore.”

“Everything is going to be okay. Just tell me. I can't see you hurt like this”

Hero took Civilian's hand into his own in a gesture that was intended to reassure his friend. But, which in fact ended up breaking Civilian, who began to sob inconsolably.

“I'm sorry, Hero, I'm sorry... It- It was you-”

If the night hadn't been strange enough, that last sentence had knocked him off his feet. That was not possible. For a long moment, Hero stood frozen without saying a word, without moving a muscle, just listening to his friend sobbing in the background. Until finally it all clicked. The answer had been so obvious. Only, he had been too blind to see it.

“Villain?” the question leapt from his mind and escaped his lips.

At the mention of that name, the sobbing turned to heavy weeping, and that was more than proof enough. Hero hesitated for a moment, but ended up sitting on the sofa next to- his friend? Perhaps the years of friendship had been a lie, all a great manipulation. It was the first thing that crossed Hero's mind. If it wasn't for the alcohol, Civili- Villain would never have revealed his identity. But the good times he had spent with his friend had felt real, Hero couldn't remember Villain ever taking advantage of Hero's ignorance of his identity and trying to get information out of him as Civilian. Besides, the scars on Villain's body were very real. Those could not be faked. Now that he thought about it, on occasions when Hero had fought with Villain, he had inflicted wounds to defeat him that he could now see reflected in some of the many scars on Villain's body. But he was definitely not the cause of all of them.

With that in mind, Hero moved his arms slowly until he wrapped Villain in a gentle hug. At the unexpected physical contact, his friend flinched, but when the surprise passed, he just rested his head on Hero's shoulder and cried there for a long time. By the time Villain had calmed down, the night breeze had stopped.

“So- you don't hate me?" was the first thing Villain asked, "can we still be friends?"

“Of course I don't hate you. Whatever happened doesn't change anything, you have been my friend for many years and always will be.” Hero shook his head. “I- I just don't understand why Supervillain would do something like this to you, you're his ally.” 

If Hero wanted answers, it would be better to get them now. Once the alcohol had cleared out of Villain's system, he would probably return to his charmingly stoic and cocky self. But... was it really the right thing to do to take advantage of the situation? Villain would never have confessed to something like this in his right mind. But before Hero could further question the morality of his actions, Villain voiced one last thought.

“H- he do- doesn't like useless- people. Losing to you…” he sighed, “I will always be a failure to him…” 

After that statement, a last tear rolled down Villain's cheek as he fell asleep in Hero's embrace.

Hopefully the next morning he won't be able to remember anything, Hero thought as he laid Villain on the couch to finish treating his wounds. Some of which he had apparently caused himself.

He would definitely pay Supervillain a friendly visit tomorrow.

[fleurrot]

I need more whump stories where the Whumper absolutely refuses to touch the Whumpee, not even going within 4 feet of them on most occasions. Whumper just wants Whumpee to themself but doesn't want to chance hurting them. All to the point that Whumper even scares off the people Whumpee surrounded themself with so that Whumper is the only one they recognize w

[snaillamp]

JOD - day 14 - What A Night...

Drunk Villain shenanigans, with a very tired and annoyed Hero trying to stop them from getting into trouble. Chaos ensues.

****************************************************

Masterlist

Day 14: “What were you thinking?” | Slurred speech | Impalement | Fight |

Hero heard a crash in the alleyway. ‘Probably rats.’ They thought, puling the hood of their hoodie up as they kept jogging. The sound of retching made them stop again. The cold wind of the night blew against their loose, sweaty clothes.

They had gone for a jog because of the peace and quiet of the night and yet, here they were, interrupted. Approaching the sound cautiously, they looked around a bin, finding someone on their knees, throwing up their guts. 



“Hey, do you need help?” Hero asked, touching the shaking person’s shoulder. They slurred some words that sounded like cursing in response, then looked up at Hero, who felt a chill rush down their spine.


It was Villain.

“Villain? Are you okay?” Hero asked, kneeling down to their level. “Shhhhhhureeeee…” The stench of alcohol wreaked from Villain’s breath. Hero felt conflicted, on one hand, this was Villain, their mortal enemy who had tried to kill them multiple times, but on the other hand they were vulnerable here in the street. Villain usually had a gravitas, an air of grandeur and confidence, but not right now. They were a sweating, slurring, spewing mess.

“Do you need help?” Asked Hero, their tone slightly amused. “Nahhhhhh. I’m finnnnnnne.” They gagged as more puke came up. Hero jumped back avoiding the acidic substance spilling from Villain’s mouth, but not before grimacing at the smell. “Yeah, you’re not fine.” They stepped around the new puddle, pulling Villain’s arm over their shoulders and guiding them out of the alley. Villain stumbled as they gained their footing, or at least attempted to. “Whaddaya doing?” They asked as they realised what was happening. Hero helped Villain down, off the curb and onto the road.

They crossed the street with them, which took them to the local park. There was grass there, so if Villain had to throw up, at least there would be something to absorb it a little. Hero helped them sit on a park bench, steering clear from the splash zone in case of any potential vomiting happened. 

Villain lay back and stared at the stars.

Hero sat tentatively next to them, hunched forward. They pulled their hood off their head. Villain turned to Hero, “Why are you helping me?” Their voice wavered as they slowly and clumsily formed each word. Hero glanced up, “You’re drunk.” Villain looked back up at the stars. “I might be a little bit drunk,” Villain started, earning a snort from Hero. “A little?” Villain looked at Hero, “Okay pwetty drunk. But my point schtill schtannnns.” They lifted a floppy hand to point at Hero. “But I know… who ya are… You’re Hero.”

Hero sat up properly, their back dead straight as a chill ran down it. “Yeah, I am, Villain.” Villain leaned onto Hero’s shoulder, making Hero turn their head to save their nose from the smell of beer and puke. “Shho, why are you helping me… If you hate me?” Hero froze for a second, considering the question as Villain hiccuped. “I have no idea.”

Hero stared out into the park. They used to skateboard here as a teen, they could see the outline of the bowl in the distance. Hero searched for the right words. “I can’t believe I almost have sympathy for you right now. You’re a bad person, I shouldn’t waste my sympathy on you.” Villain nodded, hiccuping again. Their voice was quite matter of fact as they spoke up. “Everyone hateshme...”

Hero pouted in slight annoyance, “Of course people hate you, you ruin their lives, take everything from them. How can you expect love and kindness when all you give is hate?” They shrugged Villain off their shoulder. “You’re showing me kindness.” A quiet voice pointed out. “You could leave me here, but you’re not.”

Hero sighed in frustration. “That’s what I do, I guess. Help people without judgement, even if I don’t want to.” Villain patted Hero on the back, “That’ssh a good thing. I wisssch I co-could be more like you, Hero…” They drunkenly patted Hero on the back.

Villain stood, swaying as the stumbled down the path towards the skate bowl. Hero tiredly stood, walking behind them slowly, annoyed. They were gonna have to babysit Villain till they sobered up. “Great.” They muttered to themself. 

They reached the edge of the skate bowl, Villain sniffed, looking down into it, leaning too far over. Hero grabbed their shoulder and pulled them back. “Careful idiot, you’ll fall in.” Villain staggered, as Hero tugged them to the ground. “If you have to go over here, at least sit on the edge.” They lowered Villain’s legs over the edge of the steep bowl, staring into the dark abyss.

Villain swung their legs against the edge of the bowl. “Shooo...” Hero plonked down next to them as they lay back against the ground. Villain smiled at the stars above them, reaching their hand up and counting then. “They’re shooo pwetty...” They gurgled, before they rolled and threw up against the concrete below them. Hero scrunched up their face and inched away a little. “Gross.” They mumbled. “I heard that...” Villain remarked, before belching. Hero’s face said it all at that point, “You’re disgusting.”

Villain shook their head. “No, I’m dishgusting when I’m drunk...” “Which you are.” Hero retorted. Villain stared at the stars with a sad look on their face, “My life hasssch fallen apart, Hero... I’m alone in the world, with nothing and nobody. No home, family, life… all I’ve done is dededi-dedicated myshelfff to this purssshuit of power. Annn for what? What do I have to show for it? Nothhhing...” Hero lay back against the ground more, “You did this to yourself.” they answered. “I knooooooow.” Villain sighed, grabbing at more stars. ‘This is so weird...’ Hero thought to themself.

Villain glanced at the tired Hero, “You could take me out right here. When I can’t fight for shhhhhit. But you’re not. Shhhome people would say you should take advantangshhh of the shhhituation... I think a little part of me wantssshh you to... An a little part of you too...”

Hero shook their head in disbelief, “You’re serious? No, Villain. I’m no gonna hurt you.”  Villain cackled, kicking their legs in the air, hiccuping again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Hero’s exasperation was increased. “Hero. I didn’t think it’d be like thisssh, when we were out of the ussshhual scenario.” They went silent for a moment before saying something that made Hero sit up in confusion.

“I wasss always jealoussh of you, Hero. You sssave people and everyone likesshh you. I want that shhometimes...” “You have to earn that and it isn’t easy. I don’t live a glamorous life like you Villain. Hell, I live paycheck to paycheck. You live in a mansion.”

“But are you happy?” Villain countered, a snide smile forming. “Sometimes. Sometimes I just want to walk away from it all though... Why am I telling you this?” Hero asked themself, astounded. Villain’s smile faded as they sat up, patting Hero’s shoulder. “You’re a good persshhon, you know.” Hero rolled their eyes, “So I’ve been told... repeatedly.” Villan shook their head violently, “No. I mean it. You’ve make people feel hope, feel shhhafe. You’re a hero for a reasshhhon.”

Hero turned, frowning at Villain. “Yeah, because I protect them from people like you.” Villain sighed, looking genuinely guilty. “I know. But I’m too far gone now. I don’t even have hen-hent-schhhmen anymore. I am alone in a marble boxshhh and you... you have a life beyond this...” Villain gestured at them both.

“What do you want Villain?” Hero ran a hand through their hair. “My identity is a secret. I don’t get paid for what I do, I work a shitty 9-5. You are set for life with all the money you’ve stolen or made doing things for other villains.” “But I don’t have any joy. Every day is the same. We aren’t shhhho different, you ‘n me, Hero...” Villain’s slurred speech began to get worse, “Hey... I don... ffffeel sssshhhgood...” They grabbed Hero’s arm as they fell forward, pulling them both down into the bowl. Hero tried to grab the edge, but Villain’s dead weight pulled them too fast. With a crack, Hero’s head hit the concrete at the bottom of the bowl, as a streak of pain shot through their head and they gasped in pain.

Hero moaned as they clutched their bleeding temple, coming to. They heard shuffling around the bowl and Villain muttering something. As they lay there, they realised what they were saying, “What were you thinking...? Ssshtupid Villain. Sssshhtupid. You were finally getting ssssomewhere and you sc-screwed it up. You killed them...” Hero sat up, a wave of vertigo washing over them. Villain noticed they were awake and with a gasp, rushed over. Their face, illuminated in the moon light, wasn’t much better than Hero’s, though Hero couldn’t be sure how much blood was theirs.

“You’re okay!” Villain whispered, hiccuping as they stuck their face close to Hero’s. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Hero grimaced, moving their nose away from Villain’s breath. “Just... Help me stand up.” Villain obliged, helping Hero to their feet and steadying them as they swayed, vertigo getting worse. “You’re not okay...” Villain pointed out, also swaying, probably more than Hero.

“Leshshh get outta here...” Villain mumbled, falling on their butt. Hero pressed their hand against their head, it seemed to help the swaying subside as they finally got their balance. “Wait there.” They mumbled, taking a couple steps back. They did a quick run up, leaping and scrambling out of the bowl. They lay on their stomach and reached a hand out. “Grab on.”

Villain crawled over shakily, reaching out and grasping Hero’s hand. Grunting, Hero eased the struggling Villain out of the skate bowl, before pulling them up to their feet. Villain began to tilt backwards, “Oh no you don’t.” muttered Hero as they grabbed onto them, guiding them away from the edge. They both collapsed onto the grass, panting as the cool, wet blades pricked their skin. Villain wretched, causing Hero to rapidly scramble away, but there was nothing left to come up. Villain coughed, before slumping back down onto the grass. “I feel like shit.” Hero sighed, finally done with Villain’s escapades. “Well, what were you thinking getting so drunk then? You did that to yourself.” Villain rolled over with a great effort, moaning dramatically. “Nooooo, I hurt you. When I woke up, you were still out and when I tried to wake you... You wouldn’t wake up.” A tear welled up in Villain’s eye. “I never wanted to hurt you, Hero...”

This made Hero scowl, “You’ve shot me, blown up a building on me and done just about everything you can to hurt me. I was in a month long coma because of you at one point, Villain! I am covered in scars, most of them are from you.” They groaned, running their hand through their hair in frustration. “Stop throwing yourself a pity party, and actually do something with your life. For fuck’s sake Villain, look at yourself!” Hero began to storm off, Villain calling out behind them, “I meant it Hero! It’s different when we are doing our jobs, but I never meant to hurt you. Please! Wait.” Their whines got further and further away as Hero marched down the footpath.

The wind ripped at their hoodie as they tried to start jogging again, but their head hurt too much. Sighing, Hero turned around to head back the way they came to go home. “Wait... No, NO!” Villian’s agonised scream ripped through the air causing Hero’s head to snap up. “What?” They breathed, taking off toward the sound, ignoring the pounding in their head.

Reemerging at the park, Hero gasped in horror at what they saw. Superhero was standing over Villain, a dripping knife in their hand. Villain’s arm was bent at a strange angle as they lay on the ground, breathing heavily. Hero reached for their phone, dialling a number. A sleepy Sidekick answered, “Hero, what the fuck it’s 3am?” “Sidekick. Get to the skate park in North Beach, now.” Their tone of voice was enough to make Sidekick hang up immediately. “Hey!” Hero called out to Superhero. “Oh, Hero... Well this is a pickle.” They pressed a heavy boot square on Villain’s chest, making them cry out in pain, “...stop...pplease....” They stuttered, shuddering. Hero saw red, rushing at Superhero, feeling their body explode with adrenaline. They didn’t care about anything anymore, Superhero was out of line, beating a person while they were down. Superhero let Hero rush into them, shoving them.

“Why!?” Screamed Hero.

Superhero snarled, “You said it yourself, Hero. Honestly I couldn’t have put it better, but then again, you were always one with words.”

Hero felt their breath hitch, “How long have you been watching?” Superhero shrugged. “Long enough. Well, long enough to know you were too weak to do the right thing.” The final two words sent a shiver down Hero’s spine as Superhero drawled their smooth, suave talk. “I don’t hit someone when they are down. I have restraint. I have a conscience. I know right from wrong, and this... this ain’t right.” They growled, assuming a fighting stance. Superhero smiled. “Oh, you self righteous little prick. I’m going to enjoy this.”

Superhero swung at Hero with amazing speed. Hero managed to duck, slipping behind the hero’s body and kicking their knee. Superhero fell to the ground, before picking themself up and swinging at Hero. Hero jumped back, avoiding the punch by a hair and stumbling. They glanced over at Villain for a fraction of a second. They were pressing their chest, a small amount of blood bubbling out.

In that brief moment of distraction, Superhero’s fist cracked against Hero’s jaw, their foot meeting Hero’s chest, sending them spinning to the ground. Landing hard, the wind knocked out of them, Hero spat blood. “I never liked this part of the job, but it is my duty to weed out the weak, Hero. It’s a shame really, you were always so promising.” Hero felt the rage inside them explode.

“Are you saying, all this time, the heroes going missing and ending up dead... that was you?” Superhero smiled sympathetically, “I can’t take credit for all of them, but yes, a lot were me. I have to ensure that the heroes protecting this city are strong, without compromise. If not, the villains will win.” Hero scowled.  “You’re wrong!”

Rushing at the hero, Hero unleashed a series of punches and kicks, Superhero blocking and giving just as many, if not more. Hero’s body was screaming for them to stop, as Villain gasped. Hero instinctively looked at Villain, who’s face gave them all the warning they needed. They twisted out of the way, but not before a strong hand caught their arm, pulling them close.

The knife pierced their stomach before they realised what was happening. The pain cut through everything else and the world felt still and quiet. Hero’s senses were all firing at once, but they felt nothing as they slumped to the cold wet ground.

Bright lights lit up the park as Hero heard a car door slam. Superhero glanced up, before taking off into the night.

Hero felt themself growing cold, the world growing dark as they tried to breathe.

They groaned as the annoying beeping cut through the pitch black silence. Peeling their eyes open, they shut them immediately as the bright white light pierced their retinas. They felt someone grab their arm and they flinched. “Hero it’s me.” Sidekick’s low, quiet voice comforted them. Hero opened one eye, looking at their ‘partner in crime’.

“Where... am I?”

Sidekick raised their eyebrows, “Hospital, Hero. You were stabbed pretty badly. It was touch and go there for a while... You scared me.” Hero squinted, trying to remember what they could of the night. It was all a blur. Suddenly, a knot caught in their stomach, “Villain?” their anxious tone quite obvious. “They’re on the mend. I won’t say they’re fine, they had a collapsed lung. But they should recover with time.” Hero sighed with relief.

“The mayor also wanted to send their regards. You managed to get a few good hits on Superhero, they were found a little way away, licking their wounds. Anyway, they won’t be doing anymore crime fighting any time soon. Rest up Hero, I gotta let the nurse know you’re awake.” Hero nodded, feeling fuzzy from the medication they were on.

What a night they had had...

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 23

Caretaker and Whumpee are out partying and see Whumper at the party. Caretaker convinces Whumpee to leave it alone, and focus on having fun. But now as the party members are slowly fizzling they discover Whumper a little bit more than drunk.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

Forcefully getting Whumpee drunk so that they'll blab all their sweet little secrets to you and forget about it by the morning, only able to think about the headache and nausea all day while Whumper now has an arsenal of intimate information to use whenever they see fit

bonus points if Whumpee was previously given a medication for one of their injuries that has quite the adverse reaction to alcohol

[augusnippets]

Prompts are out!

plain text and "rules" under the cut

path of hurt:

day 1: gaslighting/hypnosis/brainwashing

day 4: amputation/degloving/vivisection

day 7: waterboarding/drowning/choking

day 10: execution/fake execution/begging for mercy

day 13: drugging/poisoning/cannibalism

day 16: humiliation/dehumanisation/conditioning

day 19: collared/branded/chipped

day 22: captivity/recapture/tearful goodbye

day 25: intimate whumper/sadistic whumper/reluctant whumper

day 28: mind control/body control/betrayal

bonus prompts: forced to watch/whipping/stalked

path of comfort:

day 2: platonic bathing/hair care/make-up

day 5: drunk caretaking/concussed caretaking/feverish caretaking

day 8: reunion/found family/friends

day 11: escape/breaking the conditioning/safe and sound

day 14: toys/gifts/celebration

day 17: forgiveness/grace/resolving a misunderstanding

day 20: homemade meal/quenched thirst/favourite treat

day 23: massage/wiping away tears/gentle touch

day 26: nightmare/warm blanket/snuggling

day 29: singing/first words/inside jokes

bonus prompts: tending to nonhuman whumpee's nonhuman parts/protective caretaker/whumpee wearing caretaker's clothes

secret third path — whumperless whump:

day 3: thunderstorm/blizzard/heat wave

day 6: car accident/plane crash/ship wreck

day 9: hypothermia/overheating/dehydration

day 12: lost/trapped/avalanche

day 15: food poisoning/starvation/throwing up

day 18: apocalypse/infection/self administered medicine

day 21: delirium/vertigo/hallucinations

day 24: animal attack/bear trap/land mine

day 27: migraines/chronic pain/phantom pains

day 30: self-harm/addiction/overdose

bonus prompts: flashbacks/relapse/medical complications

day 31 — bonus day :) write whatever you feel like writing today or have a nice day of rest

AuguSnippets is an event that encourages the short and sweet of the whump genre. Ideally, your drabbles would be under 500 or even under 100 words, maybe even just a dialogue prompt. This, however, does not mean I won't reblog longer prompt fills! Don't stress too much on that limit. I just think it's sometimes nice to challenge yourself to write shorter drabbles, and it can also work as a very good exercise to write daily or semi-daily, and it doesn't need a lot of prep.

As for tagging your work, please use the appropriate trigger warnings. This is so everyone can stay safe and avoid potentially triggering topics while participating. Also, if your work is nsfw, please don't forget to tag it as mature content! If your work is not tagged properly, I won't be able to reblog it! Thank you!

Our special tag will be "#augusnippets day [x]". On the first day that would be "#augusnippets day 1". This is so I and others can find your work easier! You can also tag the blog, that's an even more surefire way to get me to notice your prompt fill :)

Is this a writing only event?

Yeah, this one is exclusively writing focused.

Do I have to use the special tag or tag this blog?

Not if you don't want to get featured on this blog :) It's just so I can find your work easier and reblog it here! If that's not something you're interested in, just scribble away without it.

Is the "under 500" a hard limit for the word count?

No, but I encourage everyone to try and keep to it in the spirit of this event.

Can I submit nsfw works?

Yes! Just please tag it properly :)

Can I mix and match the prompts from different paths?

Yes! Have fun!

What do I need to do to get the completionist badge?

Either you need to complete one whole path, or complete 10 prompt fills altogether while mixing and matching. Those who complete all 30 days (and maybe even the bonus day) will get something extra special!

Can I write fandom related things?

Yes! This event is both for original characters and fandom related writing.

Will there be an AO3 collection?

Yes! Here

[whump-queen]

I like the idea of a shock collar being like training wheels for a whumpee.

It’s a big deal when whumper can finally switch it out for a silken new one or even a sturdy leather one. 

Imagine the reveal of a whumpee’s new collar. The praise they’d receive from the other whumpers at a fancy event—for being such a good boy. Perhaps it makes their skin crawl. Or maybe it makes them proud.

Imagine whumpers at the party seeing a pet with an ugly shock collar still locked around their neck and judging instantly. They know it’s been bad. Maybe the pet had messed up that week. Maybe it’d been a bit too clumsy or a bit too stupid. Maybe disobeyed orders, or god forbid tried to escape. Rumors spread quickly amongst a half-drunk, gossiping crowd. 

Whumper blames whumpee, of course, saying it’s all their fault. How bad they are for forcing whumper’s hand, for making them lock that ugly thing back around their pet’s throat. How useless and worthless they are, that they have to embarrass whumper like this. 

But they will wear their shame. And they will bear the painful consequences of that tempting little remote in whumper’s pocket. All. Night. Long. 

[whumpalicious08]

Public humilliation whump🫡

---

Hired gun once-defiant whumpee being 'disciplined' in front of Criminal Whumper's colleagues.

Kingpin Whumper is holding an informal meeting in a private study. Genially drunk business associates are chattering about.

The heavy wooden doors are pulled open and a guard by Whumpee's side wrenches them into the room, one hand around their upper arm.

Whumpee is shirtless and shivering, sanguine leaking from the disorderly lines cut into their back. Fresh wounds layer on pale pink scars which layer on paler brown ones. Their arms are bound in front of them.

The sight of Whumpee sobers everyone up, but all are frozen in inaction from the threat Whumper presents.

Whumpee never cries in front of anyone.

But Whumpee's eyes are red rimmed and leaking now.

They're brought to Whumper. Whumpee picks a spot on Whumper's leather shoes and focuses on it, determined to avoid everyone's pitying eyes. The spark of anger burning within them turns it's flames inward, shame rising from the ashes of Whumpee's dignity.

Whumper smiles, and lifts Whumpee's head with a gentle press of his fingers under their chin. "Anythin' you want to tell me, pretty?"

Whumpee knows the answer he wants to hear. They meet Whumper's eyes for a moment, but rapidly abandons the challenge.

Their raw throat struggles to form the reply.

"Thank you, sir."

---

[scumashling]

Just Alcoholic Whumper Things

CONTENT WARNING: Noncon references, alcoholism, forced/coerced intoxication, emotional abuse/manipulation

Whumpee always going hungry because Whumper is spending food money on booze

Whumper who visits Whumpee in their cell after a long night of solo binge drinking

Whumper rapidly shifting between Happy Drunk, Angry Drunk and Sad Drunk during a conversation with Whumpee

Whumper throwing a bottle at the wall and it shattering near Whumpees head

"I'm glad I have you. None of my drinking buddies want to hang out with me anymore."

Whumper forcing Whumpee to drink with them so they'll feel less alone and worthless.

Whumper making Whumpee take shot after shot until they get sick

Alternatively, Whumper manipulating Whumpee into drinking with by playing into the trauma of being Whumped (you've been through so much. You deserve something to take the edge off.)

Whumper telling Whumpee "I like you a lot better when I'm drunk"/"You know, when I'm this drunk, you almost look cute."

Whumpers own trauma getting triggered while drinking, being too wasted to recognize where they are and who they are with, and starts screaming at Whumpee as if Whumpee is their abuser

Whumper sobbing about how lonely they've been while they strip Whumpee, not noticing they are also in tears

The taste of cheap vodka and stale cigarettes in Whumpee's mouth as Whumper sticks their tongue down their throat.

Whumper who loses days on end due to their binge drinking. Whumper never remembering the nights they took advantage of Whumpee. How can you apologize for something you don't remember anyway?

Alternatively, Whumper who does apologize for noncon but claims the booze made them lose control (it will not stop them from drinking)

Whumper drunkenly inviting Whumpee to stay in their room for the night as an apology. Whumpee choosing to sleep on the floor

Whumper relapsing and taking out the rage and shame they feel on Whumpee

Whumpee who cant even stand the sight or smell of booze without being triggered

Alternatively, Whumpee developing their own drinking problem after getting away from Whumper

[dainluvr]

Whumpee who gets super drunk and tells Caretaker all the things Whumper did to them, their eyes slowly filling with tears, things that they’d never say if they were sober. And Caretaker is horrified.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

I got my first tattoo yesterday! So to celebrate this huge event, have some tattoo whump! (◠‿◠✿)

Tattoo Tips/Reminders:

Getting tattoos hurt. (It's like a needling/burning sensation)

Tattoos need careful aftercare in order to heal properly and not fade.

Tattoos are basically open wounds, so aftercare (like rubbing ointment for tattoos on) can hurt.

Tattoos can't be in the sun while they heal.

Tattoos can't get wet while they heal.

Tattoos can itch badly while they heal.

Tattoos can get infected and untreated those infections can be fatal.

Tattoo Whump Prompts:

Whumpee gets their whumper's name tattooed on them.

Whumper tattoos their bitemark into whumpee.

Obsessed partner tattoos their bitemark into whumpee. (actual trend)

Whumpee needs to take care of a tattoo they did not want.

Whumpee has a tattoo they really wanted ruined.

Whumpee has a sentimental tattoo ruined.

Whumper tattoos whumpee and leaves their signature without them knowing.

Whumpee needs to get a tattoo removed.

Whumpee's tattoo gets removed without their knowledge.

Whumpee gets tattooed in an intimate place.

Whumpee's tattoo gets infected.

Whumpee has an allergic reaction to the ink.

Whumper tattoos whumpee with a different tattoo than agreed.

Whumper tattoos whumpee with a tattoo that has meaning only to the whumper.

Whumper is an amateur tattoo artist and uses whumpee for practice.

Whumper tattoos obscene imagery/innuendos/embarrassing/straight up nsfw things on whumpee.

Whumpee gets tattooed without their knowledge.

Whumpee gets pressured into getting a tattoo.

Whumpee gets a tattoo while high/drunk.

Whumpee gets recognized by a certain tattoo.

The tattoo is actually a curse.

Tattoo with meaning fades away.

"Temporary" tattoo is actually not so temporary.

A tattoo the whumpee didn't want puts their life in danger.

The Tattoo has magical properties.

Whumpee gets a prophecy tattooed on them.

Whumpee's tattoos don't heal well.

Whumpee gets a traditional (family/other) tattooed on them that they don't agree with.

Whumpee gets tattooed as punishment.

Whumpee gets their scars tattooed.