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chaotic-orphan · 7 months

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Could you write a story where a king who outlawed magical beings (like fae, elves, sorcerers, etc Bc they’ve tried to kill him multiple times ) has a trial for a young magical creature found in his lands, but the creature isn’t evil, didn’t even KNOW they were trespassing, and is terrified they’re gonna be executed or tortured or something. But the king doesn’t hurt it, since the magical being didn’t mean any harm? Could turn into found family or he just lets it go or something

Love ur writing!!

A Benignant Mischief

@annablogsposts THIS ASK HAS CONSUMED MY EVERY WAKING THOUGHT SINCE I GOT IT! IN THE MIDST OF FEBUWHUMP NO DOUBT! THE GALL, THE NERVE!!!! I must say, this idea has taken hold of a good chunk of my brain and I have just been obsessed with Cosimo and Henrik (who will be introduced in part two), I hope you love them as much as I do. There is far more than this part written, but I had to divide it up to get some of it published so you didn't think it was just collecting dust in my inbox.

Thank you so much for this ask, it has rekindled an obsession with writing plot that isn't exclusively whump?! If that makes sense. I hope you enjoy it!

*~*~*~*~*

Cosimo ran through the forest with a sharp urgency, an unconscious boy cradled close to his chest as he went. The rain pattered down on his head as he ran, bare feet clawing at the ground to keep his grip. To an onlooker he could have been running on plain terrain instead over the wiry and rough forest, leaves slick with water; as if he were one with the Earth; knew every root, every nettle and broken tree bows that he hopped over with graceful ease.

His sharp eyes searched the forest frantically, pleading for a shelter to open up to them. Ahead was a wooden fence, tree branches crisscrossing before him like a blockade. Cosimo bowed his head and turned to the side, curling his upper body around the smaller one in his arms. Branches snapped and scratched at him as he pushed his way through with a determined resolve.

When he finally emerged from the branches, he found what he knew would be waiting for him. A small burrow made in a circle of trees, an opening in the trunk of a thick elfbow tree, the size of three fully grown oaks. A shelter mercifully presenting itself. Cosimo let out a soft sigh and whispered a soft thank you to the forest for providing.

His limbs grew heavier and heavier the closer he got to rest, but he walked on, slower now but just as strong as he was when he set out from court. He lay the boy in his arms down on a bed of leaves for the moment under the shelter of the elfbow. Cosimo touched the trunk as he entered, his heart feeling full as he did.

“Thank you protecting us,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to the entrance. Then he pressed his knuckles against the unconscious boy’s forehead, letting out a soft sigh. He was okay. Not as hot as he was before. Cosimo would gather food and herbs tomorrow to help the fever, but at least he was stable for now.

Cosimo took off his pack that he had hastily gathered from home. Two blankets, two pillows, a canteen of water, a hunting knife — just the essentials.

“The very bare necessities, Cosimo,” Cosimo chastised himself with a sigh, running a hand through his soaked hair flicking the rain from it. Cosimo put a pillow under the boy’s head and wrapped him in a blanket to keep him warm. Cosimo sat with back against the trunk of the tree, arms wrapped around his knees that he hugged to his chest and just watched the rain patted down on leaves outside the elfbow. The gloomy grey of the evening bled into a darker, broodier grey but the rain let up before night fell with its coat of deep purples and midnight blues.

Cosimo didn’t know at what point he fell asleep, but he woke to footsteps cracking the leaves beneath its feet and he was immediately alert. His hand shot and grabbed the hunting knife, unsheathing it and lunging forward teeth bared.

He came face to snout with a fox that was frozen in place, brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s with a slightly dazed and stunned glimmer to them. Cosimo let out a breath that reflected on the air with a rolling wave of smoke, before settling back into the nook-like shelter of the elfbow. The fox didn’t retreat, instead he sniffed the air and timidly took a step towards Cosimo and the unconscious boy beside him.

Cosimo inclined his head slightly and the fox entered the elfbow with all the inquisitiveness of a cat trying to sniff out the source of fish. The fox turned his head to the boy, and glancing back at Cosimo quickly for permission he curled up on the unconscious boy’s chest. Curling into a little ball on top of him, deep brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s again before closing half-lidded.

Emotion clogged Cosimo’s throat as he reached out to pet the fox, allowing the animal to sniff his hand before allowing the affection.

“See?” Cosimo whispered to the air. “You’re not nobody. You’re like me.”

Cosimo didn’t sleep exactly, but he at least got some semblance of rest before Dawn broke and he woke with it. He looked down at the sleeping boy, who was still asleep, the fox now curled up to the boy’s side. Cosimo reached his hand out and brushed the boy’s hair back from his forehead to feel it.

He was warm, not too hot. Maybe the fever had passed with the rain? Cosimo didn’t know enough about it, but he knew the rejuvenation powers of rain that came with him so he suspected maybe it could be the saviour of the boy too.

Cosimo drank some water from the canteen before grabbing the empty rucksack he took with him and slinging it over his shoulder across his body. He took the water and the hunting knife and set off about the day. When he exited the elfbow the sun was only starting to rise, birds heralding the morning.

Cosimo looked back to the sleeping boy and the fox. He pressed his hand to the tree and leaned his forehead into the back of his palm.

Protect them, please. I’ll return with food.

Cosimo felt the rush of feeling that flooded him when he felt around nature. Then he turned and walked out of the small clearing and into the embrace of the forest again. He remembered hearing running water when he was running with the boy, the sound distinct from the patter of the rain.

The dense woods were not nearly as imposing as they were the night before, when Cosimo’s thoughts were on finding shelter and nothing else. There should be some mushrooms nearby he could roast, maybe some berry bushes if he was lucky and water. Not enough to feed them properly, but to sustain them? It would be enough.

Cosimo found the stream under a thicket of leaves. It was slightly lower than the ground that Cosimo was on, so he simply extended a leg and slid down the bank to the stream, opening his canteen as he went. His feet settled into the damp earth, and he crouched down to refill the canteen. Not before drinking the last of the remaining water.

He heard a huff from his left so Cosimo glanced towards the sound and saw a horse lapping up water from the stream. Cosimo froze like the fox had the night before, before kicking himself into action. He sprung up, canteen forgotten in the stream and bolted back up the bank, his fingers clawing into the clay.

He scrambled to the top and was met with a pair of legs. There was a flash and a pressure on his chest and Cosimo was airborne, gravity grabbing at him and bringing him down hard into the outer bank of the stream. Cosimo let out a gasp of air on impact but quickly sprung to his feet and turned to hop the stream to the other side.

A hand grabbed him by the strap of his rucksack, and he was yanked backwards. “Hey! Wait!” Cosimo cried, bringing an elbow back sharply and his head back too. He slipped under the strap of his bag and grabbed the hunting knife and hopped the stream with ease. He didn’t look back.

Humans were bad. They killed people like him, there shouldn’t even be any for miles around!

Cosimo climbed up the opposite bank of earth with deft speed and hoisted himself to the other side, knife ready in one hand, the sheath in his other with one thought and one thought only — to go back to the boy in the elfbow.

He didn’t account for more soldiers to be on the other side of the stream. Cosimo froze again when he was first recognised by another man. They were all fully grown humans. Cosimo had yet to pass his fifteenth year, at least he had a slight boost in height, but he was too skinny to fight.

There wasn’t time to think before a hand was bunched in his shirt again. Cosimo whirled on his heel, slashing out blindly with the knife. The blade cut into the soldier’s cheek Cosimo realised with wide eyes, and the Soldier let him go. Cosimo fell to the side at the sudden lack of force holding him, but quickly got his bearings again and ran to the right of the soldier’s camp.

An arrow whizzed by his ear, startling him and Cosimo lunged to the left only to be caught with a kick to his leg. Cosimo stumbled but remained standing, turning to his new attacker baring his teeth only to get a punch to the face. Cosimo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell, stiff as an oak onto the forest floor.

A boot stomped down onto Cosimo’s wrist wielding the knife and Cosimo cried out, reaching over with his free hand to paw at the boot but it wouldn’t budge. A knee to the chest followed and Cosimo cried out, trying to wiggle himself free but the human was too heavy. Whether his weight was from his diet or the weight of the uniform of metal that the man wore Cosimo didn’t know.

“Well, well, well,” the human man remarked. Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling to free himself from the man’s pin. “You’re only a baby, aren’t you?”

Cosimo bared his teeth in response. They were so close to where Cosimo had left the boy and the fox, and he prayed that the elfbow would protect them from the soldiers.

“Let go of me,” Cosimo demanded, eyes blazing up at the man. The man smiled, something wicked twinkling in his eyes.

“Have you run away from home? You do know what we do to your people in these parts, don’t you?”

Cosimo let out a cry of frustration at trying and failing pathetically to free himself from the man’s grip.

“Please,” Cosimo said. “I don’t mean you any harm. I was just coming for water.”

“Won’t do harm my arse,” the soldier that Cosimo cut ground out, fury winding his features tight. Cosimo didn’t see him lift his leg, but his head whipped to the side with the impact. Cosimo righted his head too early as the man he injured stomped a foot down on Cosimo’s face.

Cosimo heard the bones in his nose crack inside his head while he screamed out loud, a quiet whimper following after his scream died in his throat.

“Hey!” The soldier pinning Cosimo growled. “You can’t kill it. They must be brought to court before their execution.”

Execution?

Cosimo’s struggles to break free renewed at the thoughts of the soldiers taking him away from the boy. “No! No, you can’t! I can’t leave the forest, please!”

The man above him tilted his lips down into a frown. “Sorry kid. Orders are orders, we have to bring ya in.”

“Don’t talk to it like it’s a child,” the angry soldier scolded. The man on top of him reached over and plucked the knife from Cosimo’s grip. Cosimo let out a soft whine at the object of his defence leaving his grasp.

“Just get the irons and let me deal with h—” the man above him said, then corrected himself, glancing down at Cosimo with a frown. “It.”

The angry man stormed off out of sight. Cosimo just stared above at the man still pining him to the forest floor.

“Please…” Cosimo tried. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Like I said kid,” said the man. “There has to be a trial in front of the king.”

Cosimo’s eyes widened significantly. There wasn’t a king for miles around court… how far had Cosimo travelled, and in what direction? The question lingered on his tongue, and he wanted to voice it, but thought better of asking the enemy… or even worse, letting them know just how clueless Cosimo really was.

The man stared down at Cosimo with a stern glance. “I’m going to get you to sit up, if you try to escape, we will catch you, and the other soldiers will hurt you again. Do you understand?”

Cosimo nodded. He hated himself for it, but he had to listen to this man. He seemed to be the only one who didn’t want him dead at that moment. The angry soldier returned with two bands of metal attached together with a thick link of metal between them.

“What— what are they?” Cosimo asked, his voice cracking with fear. The soldier helped Cosimo to sit up which caused a wicked amount of pain in his nose to flare up and Cosimo grunted with the effort.

The man took the metal from the angry soldier and dismissed him with a wave. The other soldier didn’t want to listen but obeyed the man when he told him to go verbally.

The man opened the metal loop and showed it to Cosimo, saying with a reassuring smile: “They open like this, see?”

Cosimo leaned in closer to inspect the metal. “What do they do?” He asked, a little less scared at seeing them up close. The man lifted his hand and put the metal over his own wrist.

“They tighten over your wrist like this, see? They lock— well, they essentially keep your hands tied behind your back so you can’t hurt someone again.”

Not have use of his hands. Cosimo shook his head vehemently. “No. No. I won’t hurt anyone else; I promise. Don’t put them on me.”

The man’s smile faded back into a frown. “I’m sorry, but I have to. Please don’t fight me. I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Cosimo was trembling in the man’s hands, but he nodded his consent for the man to grab Cosimo’s wrist. Cosimo screamed when the metal touched his wrist and bolted back away from the man.

“Wait! Please! Please! Wait! Ow, please! I won’t hurt anyone!” The man caught Cosimo’s ankle before he could get further away from him and dragged him back. “Please don’t. Please! I’ll be good.”

A shadow crossed the man’s face as he grabbed Cosimo’s arm and pulled it behind Cosimo’s back before locking the second cuff around Cosimo’s wrist.

Cosimo let out a hiss as the metal burned a circle around his wrists, tears coming to his eyes. “Please, I’m sorry. Take them off. I’m sorry. What— agh! What is it?!”

The man grabbed Cosimo’s arms to stop him struggling more and hurting himself. “Iron. It’s a metal that is poisonous to your kind.”

“Please,” Cosimo whispered, the plea coming out soft and childish, fat tears trailing down his cheeks. “Please take them off.”

“I can’t,” said the man. “I’m sorry,” and it sounded like he meant it. The man then got to his feet and waited patiently for Cosimo to do the same. Cosimo pushed himself up, his balance going off and he hissed as he moved his hands to catch himself. All they touched was iron and it burned. The man put a hand under Cosimo’s armpits once he saw the boy struggling and helped him into a standing position.

“Thank you,” Cosimo said, the words like ash on his tongue. Thanking humans now? What would court think of him? His mind trailed back to the boy in the elfbow and guilt flood his body as he was pushed forward gently by the man.

“Change of plan, boys. We are bringing this one back to the King.”

One of the other men stood up, his face the shape of a weasels; small wisps of hair clung to his upper lip and chin in what Cosimo could only assume was supposed to be a beard and a moustache. The soldier lifted his nose high in the air when he looked up at Cosimo, grinning up at him and revealing yellowing teeth.

“It’s not even fully grown,” said the soldier with a high-pitched voice. The nice man holding Cosimo scoffed and pushed Cosimo forward again.

“Either are you, McClagen.”

“Does it know that we kill things like that?” McClagen sneered. The man didn’t reply, but Cosimo’s fate weighed heavy on him, heavier than a cloak made of stone. He frowned as the nice man led him passed the other Soldiers readying to take off again.

—

Continued here

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erdarielthewhumper · 8 months

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For @whumpers-monthly's this january's prompt! A bit shorter this time bc I haven't really had a lot of writing juices recently, but eh, it's whump nonetheless!

When the arrows began to fly, the first one hit Meldie. She never had the time to notice, to react, to attempt to protect herself. One moment, she was riding along near the back of the caravan, half-dozing in the saddle, since it wasn't her watch. The next, pain like a lightning bolt lanced through her.

Before she knew what had happened, everything was already exploding into chaos. She tried to draw her sword, but pain flared up through her right side and her arm. She glanced down; an arrow-shaft stuck out of her side, just a little below and in front of her arm, sunken into the part of her that her breastplate could not protect.

Even so she grasped her sword, and urged her horse to ride down the nearest enemy, striking at others with her blade. Her warrior's instincts led, the noise and chaos drowning out any conscious thought.

Pain was nothing new, and easily pushed aside. The only way out of the battle was through, in any case. She half-forgot about the arrow as she hacked through enemy after enemy.

But though her mind could push the injury aside, her body could not. Second by second, it was harder to breathe, harder to lift the sword, the edges of her vision were getting blurry, the sounds of battle distant and distorted.

Again she lifted her sword, but this time the movement jerked her out of balance. Someone grabbed a handful of her hair, and she cried out, but hardly a sound came from her mouth. The cry turned into a cough, she tasted blood, hardly even noticing as she was pulled down from the saddle and crashed into the hard, frozen ground.

She lay there, dazed, as the battle raged around her. All she could do was gasp for air and cough, each cough bringing up thick ribbons of red blood. The world was a blur of color and movement and incomprehensible noise...

No! she would not die here! Some last part of her mind struggled to rouse her, grasping desperately for something to hold onto, but it was all it could do to hang onto the last remnants of consciousness.

The pain had melted away, it was dull and distant now, but the tightness in her chest hadn't gone anywhere. It seemed she could hardly draw air into her lungs, and she felt, vaguely, that it should have worried her, but she could hardly bring herself to care...

There were voices, above her, and movement in her fading vision, but she could make no sense of it. She was grabbed by the arms, and that finally sent another jolt of blinding pain through her, and that, finally, dragged her down into darkness and oblivion.

#meldie #my ocs #my writing #my art #whump fic #whumpers monthly #issue no 24 #shot by an arrow #fantasy whump #battlefield #elf whump #whump #female whumpee #oc art #whump art

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splendidissimus · 1 year

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November 1999 - "You're doing it to yourself."

((Content warning: sleep deprivation, hallucination, abusive parent))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 2: Delirium ))

Genre: whump

Romance level: negligible

Angst level: 5/5

Draco's headspace: depressed / passive

((words: ~1000))

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Draco had been staring through the same page of a book on his desk for some time, the words drifting around unsteadily while he didn't even try to comprehend them, when a familiar voice gnawed at the edge of his attention. He raised his head, blinking, trying to pinpoint it.

Just as he resigned himself to giving up and started to drop his head again, there it was, under the sound of the rustling book pages. He could swear he heard Theo calling his name.

"Theo?" He pushed away from the desk and stood stiffly, rubbing his aching shoulder. He wasn't supposed to be here. It was months since Father made them part ways, and he would be furious if he caught him here. But coming back against explicit orders and implicit threats just because he wanted to sounded exactly like something Theo would do. Theo who had shown up at the gate calling to see him despite the Death Eaters in the house. Theo who bartered with him in public over kisses because it made him forget he was ill.

He didn't think he heard an answer, but he had to find him before someone else did and send him away where it was safe.

Outside his door, he paused, listening, but didn't hear him again, so he went for the stairs, figuring he would be downstairs somewhere.

He didn't hear Theo again; he spent a while checking, but there wasn't any sign of him, and eventually he started to wonder what he had actually heard.

It felt too exhausting to go back upstairs immediately, so he ended up staring out the bay window at the garden. There was a young peacock there, scratching at the edge of a flowerbed, shining white in the watery sunlight. He watched it for a while, not thinking anything, but vaguely relaxed.

A shifting in the shadows caught his eye, and he was trying to focus on it when iit suddenly resolved into Nagini — striking out with lightning speed to seize his peacock. "No!" He hit the window like that could stop it.

Then between one blink and the next it was gone. The peacock was looking up at the window in cautious alarm, but there was no snake.

And of course there couldn't be, anyway. Nagini was dead, he'd seen the body and the head spread across the Hogwarts lawn. She was as dead as her master. He knew that.

"What are you doing?"

His shoulders tensed at his father's voice behind him. He wished he had a good answer. "I apologise," he said properly, turning around and looking toward his father's feet.

"That wasn't the question."

He stole a glance back toward the window. Still no undead snake. The peacock was ripping down a flower with its talons now, to try to get the fairy sitting on the top of it. "I thought I saw…" Nothing. He clenched his hands behind his back. "I think something's wrong." He dragged the words out past a mind that didn't want to say them, looking back at his father's face. "I keep seeing things that aren't possible."

His father studied him. "Like what?"

"I thought I saw Nagini going after the peacock. Or heard… somebody… in the house."

"The snake is dead, and no one has been here."

"I know."

His father came closer to look out the window, then looked him over, studying him for a long minute. "How long has it been since you slept?"

"Not that long," he said quietly, but his hard eyes demanded an answer. "I think Friday," he admitted, even more quietly.

"For Merlin's sake." His voice was sneering and his expression impatient. "If you haven't been to bed in five days, of course you're seeing things. You're not ill, you're doing it to yourself."

Draco didn't respond. He didn't have any excuse. He looked into the middle distance, his father's words sinking in without resistance.

The lack of reaction seemed to be even more irritating. "Am I supposed to believe," he snapped, "that you need a nurse to tell you not just to eat, which you've obviously not been doing, but also to sleep now? You are a grown man. Even toddlers know to go to sleep when they're tired. Do you need to be told to use the lavatory too?"

He continued to stare impassively, until his father grabbed his jaw and lifted his face, forcing him to answer the rhetorical question. "No," he said, insides crawling with shame.

"What a positively minimal accomplishment." He threw down his face. "Elf!"

Tolly appeared beside his foot, cringing a look up at him. "Master?"

"Until further notice, Draco's bedtime is ten o'clock. You will put him to sleep at precisely that time, regardless of where he is or what he's doing."

"Don't," Draco pleaded quietly.

Finally getting a reaction gave his voice an edge of satisfaction. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," the elf squeaked promptly. "Tolly will make sure Master Draco sleeps."

"Good. Shall we have her feed you as well?"

"No."

"No? Are you certain it isn't too much responsibility for you?"

"Please."

That display of submission seemed to mollify him. His father didn't respond, but walked away with contempt dripping from his voice. "Grow up."

Tolly vanished and swiftly spirited a tea tray into the window to try to make Draco feel better.

Draco didn't move. He stood there in front of the window, staring at the floor, fighting off every physical reaction he wanted to do. He wanted to mess with his hair, grab his head, clench his fists — he carefully took all of it, all of the energy behind those urges, and pushed it down, down until it was buried and he didn't react at all.

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a-walking-human-disaster · 7 months

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"Be Human"

Prompt Credit To @whump-in-the-closet! Amazing person. Prompt Post Used: Elf Whumpee

CW/TW: Possible Gore, Noncon Body Modifications, Imprisonment Also contains mentioned starvation, implied neglect of needs (like lack of water I guess), and past torture. There is also a description of throwing up.

Enjoy! - This is my first attempt to write whump, so sorry if it's bad.

Contains: Elf Whumpee & Human Whumper

❝You draw too much attention with those,❞ WHUMPER hissed as they stood outside the cell.

The cell door clicked open, and WHUMPER entered the cell, grabbing WHUMPEE by the wrist. WHUMPEE barely reacted to the action, limp as they were dragged out of the cell. They did not even have the energy to fight back even if they wanted. WHUMPEE's arm burned as it was pulled across the hard stone ground, with stray rocks stabbing them in the ribs.

Scars and bruises covered their body as a constant reminder of what happened in the past when they tried to fight back. Their deprived and starved form was not hard to move around due to the lack of weight. They let out a couple sounds of pain from their dry throat that ached with each soft sound that escaped their cut-up lips.

WHUMPEE was tossed forward into an empty room with nothing but a dirty floor. WHUMPER locked the door behind them, crouching down to WHUMPEE. They grabbed them by their hair, yanking their head onto their lap. WHUMPEE just whimpered silently as they watched WUMPER with wide eyes.

WHUMPER pulls out a jagged knife, pressing it against the base of WHUMPEE's right ear, "I've been meaning to remove these eyesores. You do not deserve any extra attention."

WHUMPEE feels their heart drop as they used some of the last strength they had to struggle. They did not want to even think of what WHUMPER had planned let alone feel it in action. WHUMPER clicked their tongue as they wrapped their free hand around WHUMPEE's neck, just enough to prevent movement.

The knife slowly was dragged upwards on the edge of WHUMPEE's ear, making them shake violently. WHUMPER grinned as they applied some pressure on the knife. It slowly started to break through the flesh, WHUMPEE shutting their eyes tightly. Tears started to burn in their eyes but they tried to blink them back. WHUMPEE did not want to give WHUMPER the satisfaction of seeing them cry.

WHUMPER starts to pull the knife back and forth through the flesh, using it as some sort of saw on their ear. The blood began to soak the side of WHUMPEE's head, dripping down the neck. WHUMPEE shifted and squirmed only to let out sounds of pain since WHUMPER would apply more pressure to the knife with every movement.

Once WHUMPER was done with the first ear, WHUMPEE's neck was stained with blood, and the top of their shirt had some red stains as well. WHUMPER pulled the remains left off, wiping the blood off their hand onto WHUMPEE's shirt.

"Stop fighting me, you're just making it harder for both of us," WHUMPER grumbled as they moved WHUMPEE to access the next ear. WHUMPEE was crying from the pain, on the verge of blacking out from the blood loss. As WHUMPER began on the next ear, WHUMPEE could feel their stomach twisting as their vision blurred. WHUMPER had barely broken through the outside of the ear with the knife when WHUMPEE passed out. from the pain and blood loss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

WHUMPEE woke up in their cell, clothes, and neck still covered in their dry blood. They reached up to their ears, with some effort. Their ears were rounded, the flesh still bleeding out slightly and raw. Tears were already streaming down their cheeks as they processed the information.

Their stomach flipped as they curled up, hands grasping at their ears. The bile clawed up their throat, their mouth-watering. They tried to keep their mouth shut, refusing to let the bubbling liquid out of their mouth. But the feeling of fresh blood staining their fingers made them gag, and they lost the battle.

The bile slipped out their mouth, coating the ground in a clear white liquid. They hacked it up for a minute, leaving them curled up holding their stomach. Not only did their ears hurt but now their stomach ached. Their head was rested against the wall, smearing some blood on the crumbled stone wall.

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★

672 Words According To Google Docs. Thank you for reading! And thanks again to @whump-in-the-closet for letting people use their prompts!

#whump writing #whump #prisoner whumpee #elf whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #tw torture #cw noncon body modification #based off a prompt #i don't know how to tag still #thank @whump-in-the-closet for letting me write things based off your prompts!#imagine asking stuff as an anon since you are too nervous to have it attached to your blog - (couldn't be me)#writing gender neutral for the only characters present is hard when you dislike using the same thing to start a sentence-#sadistic whumper #let me know if I should add any other tags #cw throwing up

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enigmawriteswhump · 1 year

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Whumptober 2023

Safety Net | Swooning | How Many Fingers Am I Holding Up

No: 1

Evanshi closed her eyes, even while she was the last of her tribe who should be trusted with meditation. And yet here she was. Curled legs, a simple, relaxed posture. But that thrumming energy couldn't sit still, her anxiety confined to to all but the flexing of her toes.

Why did Modar have ever believed she had potential in this area of study? To converse with the living and the life? To hear words of rippling bark, if one knew just right. Not heard, but to sit and know the yew tree behind her was whispering of fellow dangers, of orangisms trespassing against their roots, or leaping from arm to arm with little claw marks left behind. A remnant of the wood's passengers.

To be able to feel the sensitivity of the dark cylinders of bark, curled around the unscavenged center... To be able to feel the herbal remedies between each root, and know which fungus grew - just on the way the breeze flowed. To read the earth as if she were also a sapling, taking root and sampling what this earth had to offer.

Bogus. The lot of it.

Modar had never wanted her to succeed.

Evanshi let her hands slide from her lap, the bitter smile hard to keep away. This, these small strands of grass beneath her - all she could feel was the tickle against her soles. Not some hocus pocus druid magic. Still a fresh wound, knowing the truth; knowing she disappointed her mentor even now.

"Did you find it out here? What you were looking for?"

His voice caught her insidiously, and she startled, whipping her head around.

A low snarl ripped from her throat.

Evanshi felt the trill of fear, even as she rose lithely to her feet, light on her toes. Ready to pounce, or dart away.

"Catch you off guard?" Kazian's grin slipped through his nocholance. The long, beautiful wings curled outwards slightly, an expression of his proposed boredom.

She didn't believe it, not with the glint in his eyes.

"Why must you make me do all the talking? You sound like a rabid animal when you refuse to speak." he managed to step closer, while grimly inspecting his sharp, unbitten nails. Near talons, except for chipped nature of them.

A warrior clothed in littered, unspoken secrets.

She narrowed her eyes, unwilling to bite back. His baiting meant nothing, even if her pride prickled even so.

Evanshi knew the wise move was to kneel without flare, to snark back with a hint of sharp banter, wait for his hand to come and lift her head. To lean into the tenderness and pretend her feelings weren't flooded with his touch.

That she would be saved his game, if she bared her teeth threateningly, he would see a smile.

Her lips moved back, scowling.

Kazian huffed, rippling his wings in a flutter of irritation.

"If you are not being the elf I knew you were, we must treat you like the prey you've become." his lips retreated in that snarl, the look he gave her oppressive as he roamed down her body.

"Now run. Run," he took one more step, and his wings lifted, a bronze cloud blotting her light.

"Run, before they get you, little fox." his eyes darkened, and the playful spark dripped into ominous cruelty, "Run, for when I get you, you surely will not be able to reply."

***

Her attention snapped to the beat of her heart, like Isbasal's fastest fire-drumming, branches underfoot crushed as her passage erupted harmony.

Dipping between branch after branch, a silent fox as she could be, apart from the almost-humanoid howls which followed her. His favourite game - chase, hunt, kill.

She had naively assumed he wouldn't let his ire consume him. But with each wide wing-beat above the forest, the very real trickle of terror slipped down her legs. No, no, he couldn't - he was waiting for something. He had been for months!

She couldn't die like this, a head on a table, blood which dripped onto his curling nails as her eyes stared lifelessly above. She couldn't be the leg bone his heathens drank from. Not now. Not when she had been so brave. Had hidden her terror for so long.

"Oh Evanshi! Where have you hidden my little one?" his voice bellowed from above, a laugh crackling through the treetops. By Silas he'd suddenly sounded much closer!

Her mouth forced a wheeze of panic, her time confined unused to such a sprint. Each breath had too little air, each step sent a spiralling spike to her side.

Oh by Silas' crooked blessings, there was the tree!

With a last step, Evanshi pushed herself to the bark of the tree, inhaling moldering earth, and willow's green fingers ticking her neck.

Her fingers moved into the threads of hundreds leaves, her strings of fate as she tested their weight.

A stem of one snapped and she bit back a breathy curse, even as air trailed from her mouth and the appendage landed against her wrist.

These Willows were not the ones of home. She didn't have time to pinpoint the location of pain that sparked at the knowledge, but evaluated the hulking girth of the trunk.

Just maybe...

She was no acrobat, but even with her uneven gait, she gave her best leap into the tree branch's grasp. Using the extra strands she'd pulled down to loop around the other side, she used the multitude to haul the rest of her body onto the branch, large gasps echoing from her that she tried to stifle with a sweat-laved hand.

The eerie howls of creatures almost-human trickled to her ears, and she struggled to remain calm with her hands as sticky as they were.

Deep breaths, he can't smell you. He can't smell you.

The bark bit angrily into her thighs as she saddled the branch, waiting the howls to quiet, before she shuffled to the trunk.

Wrapping her arms around the tree, as best as she could manage with its width, she slowly rose to her feet. There was a moment where she froze, hearing that distinct snap of wings, a curling voice which had found her even in her most peaceful dreams, until it disappeared.

A sudden, treacherous weight lifted from her gut.

Tonight, tonight she would be safe nestled in the bowed nest of the tree trunk.

Even while she was proud to remember such a hiding place, she knew it was only a matter of time before they found her.

This was his safety net.

Kazian would have never let her into a real forest, after all.

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amonthofwhump · 11 months

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It's that time of year again! AMonthOfWhump's Winter Whumperland event runs from December 1-12, with a collection of prompts for your inspiration each day. To participate, create in any medium and share your works on Tumblr. Use the event tags or @ us in your post to get reblogged here. Prompt list transcript, tagging info, and a free-to-use post header under the cut.

1: Santa Claus

Claustrophobia

Forced Celebration

Panic Attack

Comfort: Secret Santa Exchange

2: Krampus

Sensory Overload

Temptation

Whipping

Comfort: Decorating Cookies

3: George Bailey

"We've lost everything we have."

Disowned

Drowning

Comfort: Christmas Market

4: The Grinch

Sedatives

Blackmail

Yandere Whumper

Comfort: Ugly Sweater Party

5: Ebenezer Scrooge

Power Outage

Time Loop

Overworked Whumpee

Comfort: Snuggling by the Fire

6: Jack Frost

Post-apocalyptic Winter

Amnesia

Comfort turned to Fear

Comfort: Snowball Fight

7: Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer

Inhuman Whumpee

Exile

Self-sacrifice

Comfort: You’re Not Alone

8: John Mclane

Held Hostage

Russian Roulette

Forced to Watch

Comfort: Rescue

9: Jólakötturinn

Feral Whumpee

Left Behind

Collared

Comfort: Wiping the Other’s Tears Away

10: Tio de Nadal

Conditioning

Left to Die

Final Countdown

Comfort: Holiday Traditions

11: The Yule Goat

Branding

Stitches

Public Whump

Comfort: Trimming the Tree

12: Elf on the Shelf

Trapped

Bedside Vigil

Used as bait

Comfort: Mistletoe (or avoiding it)

Event Tags: #amow winter whumperland 2023, #day1, #claustrophobia, (tag the prompt you're using)

And lastly, here is a post header to use for the event if you like. Happy whumping!

#whump event #amow winter whumperland 2023 #whump prompt list #whump challenge #whump community

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whumpsday · 5 months

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3 whumpy anime to check out this spring!

Go Go Loser Ranger is a heroes vs. villains anime where the villains are the good guys and the heroes are downright evil. Having wiped out all the powerful monsters more than a decade ago, the heroes keep the weakest monsters captive, to parade around and torment on a weekly basis while the public believes otherwise. Because they're immortal when hit with most weapons, they'll always reform to be hurt over and over again, despite feeling all the pain.

Footsoldier D is one of those weak monsters, an immortal shapeshifter made of dust, called a "duster". After escaping the heroes' arena, he forms a plan to kill the heroes and steal the few weapons they have that can permanently kill dusters, freeing the rest of his kind. Given that he has the constitution of a porcelain doll, he can't use strength to fight: he has to rely on wits, stealth, shapeshifting (despite knowing very little about humans or the outside world), and a shaky alliance with a double-agent ranger who seems to be taking advantage of him for her own gain.

Whump tags: villain whumpee, hero whumper, immortal whumpee

Watch it on Hulu, Disney+, or any unofficial anime site.

And if you don't have time to check out a whole anime, the Go Go Loser Ranger opening theme video is also really good, with fantastic visuals symbolizing D's struggles!

An Archdemon's Dilemma is a romantic comedy stuffed to the brim with popular whump tropes. Zagan is a demonic sorcerer who attends an auction for the possessions of another recently-killed sorcerer, when he sees that one of those "possessions" is an elf slave, Nephelia. Having had a destitute, harsh past himself, he feels a rush of sympathy and buys her way out, vowing to ensure her safety. However, Nephelia is terrified, believing she's about to be used as a sacrifice in a dark magic ritual. And unfortunately for both of them, Zagan is a socially awkward loser who sucks at communicating.

It's surreal seeing something that looks like it could be a caretaker-new-master whump fic as an actual, fully-realized anime. It definitely doesn't take itself too seriously despite the premise, leaning heavily on the "comedy" part of romantic comedy, and is mostly just a silly time with lots of whump-adjacent stuff thrown in. Fanfic-y to the point of "there's only one bed" being an actual line.

Whump tags: fantasy slavery (very pet-whump-esque in its tropes), caretaker new master

Watch it on Crunchyroll or any unofficial anime site.

The Grimm Variations is an anthology of horror retellings of several Brothers Grimm fairy tales. With each episode being written and directed by different people, it varies wildly in quality, with episodes ranging from laughably bad to incredibly good, but I'm here to talk about episode 2: Little Red Riding Hood.

The Little Red Riding Hood takes place in a dystopian future where the upper and middle class use virtual reality technology to augment their reality. One man, Grey, is tired of this and craves the real: specifically, the feeling of real blood spraying him as he murders countless women, his wealth and connections protecting him from consequences. But when this serial killer makes the mistake of targeting a woman called Scarlet, he finds himself on the other side of the knife. This episode is a complete and utter gorefest with multiple onscreen torture scenes.

This isn't even my favorite episode of the series, it's like my 3rd favorite. But episode 2 is the one with the gruesome torture scene, so it's the one that goes in this post.

Little Red Riding Hood whump tags: whumper-turned-whumpee, torture, gore

Little Red Riding Hood warnings: sexual assault, eye gore, fingernail gore, violence against women, major character death

Watch it on Netflix or any unofficial anime site. Orrrr if you just wanna watch the big torture scene without any of the context, it's on Youtube.

that's all I have for now :)

(P.S: Dungeon Meshi, while not really whumpy as a whole, is also currently airing and very very good and I might write whump fanfic for it at some point in the near future. Netflix or any unofficial anime site.)

#fandom

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whump-in-the-closet · 1 year

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(cws in the tags)

Kinda fascinated by the idea of Whumper purposefully ruining their Whumpee.

Scarring them in places that can’t be hidden. Leaving whitened lines jagged and uneven on their face and throat.

Refusing to give Whumpee stitches, or if they do, Whumper makes the stitches uneven and jagged so they scar in the worst of ways.

Finding out what Whumpee likes best about themselves and destroying it.

They’re proud of their nose? Whumper breaks it and leaves it to heal crooked. Proud of their hands? Whumpee finds they’re missing several of their fingers.

Whumpee used to considered book smart. Whumper gives them so many concussions that reading hurts. Or better yet, they make them forget how to read entirely.

An elf Whumpee having their ears cut into a rounded shape to look more “human”

An elf Whumpee who’s always had long hair has it roughly cut off and kept short.

“I never wanted an ornament. I wanted something to ruin.”

#cw creepy whumper #cw broken bones #cw noncon body modification #cw finger amputation #elf whumpee #whump prompts #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump ideas #whump scenario #feel free to add on other ideas

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frantic-fuck · 2 months

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Hey there!

You can call me Frantic. In my 20's, they/them pronouns.

Ever since I was a young child, I ~mysteriously~ loved torturing my characters. I've recently discovered that there's a whole community of people into the same things as me, so I thought it'd be fun to join in!

I like to draw and write, but I'm a bit out of practice with both, so I'm probably gonna start with just writing for now. I'm going to be trying to use August of Whump as a starting point, but we'll see how consistent I am, lmao.

A few examples of whump things I like, just off the top of my head:

Restraints

Capture

Dehumanization

Manipulation

Torture (physical, psychological, etc.)

Lab whump

NSFWhump

Carewhumper

Intimate whumpers

Hurt/comfort (eventually)

Giant/tiny (fairies my beloved)

Nonhuman whumpee (especially mashing creatures together apparently)

Fantasy/magical settings in general

Not a whole lot of squicks, but I do avoid needles and extreme realistic body horror.

The characters I'm most obsessed with writing about are from one of my ttrpg campaigns, so that's mainly who you'll be seeing on this page.

Whumpee: Ziri Kai (true name: Koios Pan)

A winged snampire (snake vampire) satyr who just wanted to make the world a better place.

Caretaker: Zop

Ziri's siblings Zip and Zap, a sea elf and a lightning drake, fused together after trying to save him, and later imprisoned with him to keep him happy-ish and obedient.

Whumper/Carewhumper: Janessa Vurbone

The heartless empress of Canafillion and inventor of denim; absolutely obsessed with Ziri, to his utter dismay.

Other Whumpers: Nerium and Co.

A pixie who's fallen into poor company after tragedy, who decides "Ziri hasn't been kidnapped enough" and makes it his problem

Snakelet Masterpost

Also, if you send prompts or requests for my blorbos I will love you forever.

That's all! See you around! :D

#whump blog #whumpblr #whump community #whumpblr intro #intro post #if anyone in my campaign sees this. no you don't shhhhhh #if i was smart i'd change the names but i like them too much

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erdarielthewhumper · 2 years

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For @whumpers-monthly's prompt "Collapse"

Character: Meldie (OC) Word count: 2802 Summary: The mercenary company Meldie belongs to is decimated in an ambush and she is injured. She joins together with two other survivors, aiming to make their way to the nearest city. Tropes: Battle/action whump, arrow wounds, broken bones, stubborn whumpee, female whumpee, (technically also multiple whumpees). A/N: I have some thoughts for where the story goes from here, so if I have the energy and inspiration to, and if people seem interested, I may write continuation to this

***

It was a shitty day to begin with. The mud was at places so deep that even the horses struggled, let alone the footsoldiers. They'd been marching since early morning; where they were bound, Meldie did not know and didn't care to ask. The company's captain ordered, and so she followed. So followed they all.

Right now she was helping push a supply wagon through the mud. On dry ground, the pair of mules harnessed in front of it would have had no trouble pulling it, but now it took the help of two strong warriors to move it at any reasonable place. And when it got stuck in some deeper mud bit, four more to help get it out.

She was sweaty, and exhausted, and very annoyed with the damned cart and the mud that had by now filled her boots. There was no room for thought in her mind, no room for vigilance. The only thing she paid attention was the drumbeat keeping pace, the side of the wagon against her shoulder, making sure the wheels moved forward after every step. She never even noticed they entered the canyon.

It wasn't the thunder of falling rocks that shook her from that trance. It was the screams that followed. Something swished right past her head. She looked, and saw a half-burned arrow sticking out of the tarp thrown over the wagon. The tarp was beginning to smoke.

The troops were in chaos, now. She heard one of the officers shouting orders, but could not make up the words from the general noise. More rocks and arrows rained from above. The edges of the canyon were high, the angle far too steep for the company to be able to fire anything back.

She threw herself against the canyon wall, hoping that the slight ledge just above would protect her from rocks. But she couldn't stay there, not for long. The canyon was a death-trap; she'd have to get out, that was the only way to survive.

Keeping near the edge, she darted forward, pushing the milling mass of other mercenaries out of her way. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a falling rock, and leapt aside just in time. Something else fell to the neck of a soldier a few feet away and exploded. Meldie was far enough that the fire did not scorch her, but she felt shrapnel clatter off her breastplate and stick into her arm. But no matter. She had to go on.

And then she came to the end of the canyon. It was cut off. Of course. Huge boulders and tree trunks were piled on top of each other. There were others already climbing it, trying to get away, but arrows rained on them. Bodies littered the obstacle, some dead, some dying, some still trying to crawl on. Others, still alive, were pulled down as their comrades grabbed anything they could reach to pull themselves up.

But Meldie was fast and agile, avoiding the grasping hands and kicking legs. She took care not to pull anyone else down herself. Her life wasn't worth that much more than theirs.

Finally she reached the top, and was about to begin the careful climb down. Something hit her hard in the thigh. At first she didn't even register the pain, just the impact, but that alone pushed her off-balance, and she lost her grip and tumbled down until she got caught in the branches of one of the trees in the barricade.

She struggled free and dropped the remaining distance to the ground. She got to her feet and ran. As soon as the canyon opened up to properly level ground again, she dove off the road, breaking through bramble bushes and the lash-like branches of young trees into the cover of the woods.

There she picked her path instincitvely, by the tricks that she had learned as a child long ago. The forest was old, the trees grew thick and shadowed the sun so that in many places smaller plantes couldn't compete and moving was easy. She found the paths made by animals and followed them, deep enough that she doubted anyone would pursue her.

Her heartbeat slowed again as adrenaline ran out. Pain returned, the ache of forming bruises and sting of little scrapes and cuts, and a stabbing pain in her thigh, so bad she could hardly walk anymore.

She looked down. The back half of a warbow arrow was sticking out of her right thigh. The blood-coated tip and a few inches of the shaft stuck out from the other side. Fuck.

She needed somewhere to stop and rest. The bubbling flow of a small stream somewhere not too far away came to her ears, cheerful and inviting. She limped towards the sound.

The stream's water was very cold, but it was clear and fairly clean. She fell to her knees beside it and drank.

But the wound needed attention. She shifted position, fashioned something like a tourniquet out of her belt, braced her back against a rock by the side of the stream, grasped the bloody shaft near the tip, and began to pull it out. It was slow work, and painful, but finally she got it out.

She cut the leg of her pants near the entry and exit wounds and washed them with water from the brook. The wounds on the skin seemed almost like cuts, thanks to the broad shape of the arrowhead.

She pulled on a loose thread on her shirt until she had gathered a good length of thread, and cut it off with a knife. The brooch that fastened her cloak was of elven make, one of the few such items she still had left, made of thin metal wire, but of material so strong it lasted just as well as the thicker wrought iron brooches many others wore. Carefully she began to tease the needle of the brooch off the rest of the thing, careful not to break or twist the loop that attached it, until at last the two pieces were separate.

She put her thread through the loop in the brooch pin and got to work stitching the wounds. Twice she blacked out from the pain, but at last she finished. It was crude, amateurish work, but it was better than bleeding to death.

And now, she had to find shelter for the night.

****

Elves need less rest than many other species, but nonetheless Meldie only woke at sunrise. She still felt exhausted. Everything hurt, from the arrow wound to the shrapnel cuts in her arm (they hadn't bled much so she'd just pulled out any pieces she could get a grip on and left it at that) to the various other scrapes and bruises. And she was hungry. Not that she could do anything about that; she'd thrown her pack on the wagon she'd been pushing forward, and hadn't thought to grab it when things had went to shit.

She wondered what had happened to their comrades. Had anyone else escaped? Had everyone been killed, or had some been taken captive?

She had liked the company well enough, and captain Raghesh was a good man. And she had sworn an oath of loyalty to it upon joining. Could she really abandon them all, like none of that meant anything? Could she go on her way and leave them to whatever fate had claimed them?

No. Of course not. She had to go back, at least to check to see whether there was anyone still alive that the enemies might have left for dead. And if there wasn't, well, she could always plunder what supplies remained in usable condition. She'd have more use for them than the dead did.

****

She hadn't really understood the magnitude of what had happened the day before until she returned to the canyon. Blood and scorch marks were everywhere, corpses still strewn about wherever they had fallen. It had been a massacre. Guessing by the amount of corpses she could see, at least half of the company of two hundred mercenaries had met their end here.

The barricade had been left where it was, and it took her an hour and a lot of swearing to get over it.

She went from body to body, but all were lifeless and long since gone cold. She took up a halberd from the hand of one, and leaned on it as she walked. Ten bodies, twenty, all dead, a few she recognized. She went on. Twenty-five dead, thirty, thirty-five.

One of the supply wagons, wheels stuck in the mud, was left fairly intact, and underneath it she thought she saw a dark lump. When she got closer and dropped to her knees by the wagon, she saw it was three figures. Two were still breathing.

The dead one was an officer whose name she couldn't recall. Half-elven, really quite young (or so Meldie thought; it was often hard to tell with those who were part elf and part something else) probably the typical story of a misfit bastard child ran off to the world to seek his fortune, but she'd never acually asked.

One of the living was Irk'adl, the second in command. Half her face was covered with burns, but Meldie could not at a glance see any other injuries. Her breathing was heavy, but regular. She was asleep, slumped against one of the wagon wheels.

In her arms lay captain Raghesh. His breaths came in harsh rasps. He was missing his chestplate, though the rest of his armor was still intact. His left arm was broken, twisted into an odd angle.

"Captain!" Meldie said urgently.

He stirred, opening his eyes and shifting to look at Meldie. The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

"Should've known that of all my soldiers, you'd manage to stay alive." Then his face darkened, and he glanced at the half-elf by his side. "Saran?" he asked.

Meldie shook her head quietly. Captain Raghesh closed his eyes and fell back down.

Meldie reached for him and pulled him out from under the cart. She lifted him up to the back of it, and began rummaging through the various packs and crates in search of medical supplies. It had clearly been plundered already, but she managed to find something that looked right.

"Poor boy", the captain said quietly. "I as good as raised him, you know."

"Saran?" Meldie asked, pulling out bandages and herb pouches.

"Mmh. Before I became a captain. Long before. I was in Lord Erril's army, back then", he said as if Meldie was supposed to know who he meant. "Had been, for a few years. I was a young man myself, but he was really just a kid. Took him under my wing. Showed him the ropes. Then Allorath fell, the war ended. But fighting was what we knew best. I didn't care to go back to the farm anymore, and I don't think he had anything to go back to. So we took our swords and our shields and went looking for whoever'd pay us to use them."

He went on, but Meldie barely listened. She eased his broken arm out of the armor and the arming jacket, set it as best she could and splinted it. His chest was dark with bruises, and from the pained breathing she guessed he had broken ribs, but there was little she could do at the moment.

"Do you know if anyone else here is alive?" she asked after a while.

"No idea. Probably not. They captured everyone, led them off. I think they took us for corpses. How did you survive?"

"I ran", Meldie confessed, grimacing.

"And you came back."

"I did. I can't forsake my oath so lightly. I had to see if anyone was still alive. I could go and check the rest of the canyon, to make sure."

Captain Raghesh smiled a little. "You do that. I'll wait here."

She found no one else alive. She also checked the carts and wagons for useful supplies while she was at it. They had all been ransacked, but a lot of the stuff was still there. The enemy had probably only taken such valuable and useful things as were easy to carry and they had need for.

So she took a crossbow for herself, and a quiver, and a larger sack of bolts on top of that. She took food, too, and a couple of filled waterskins. She found her shield, left on the half-burned cart where it had been, and strapped it to her arm.

When she returned, Irk'adl was awake. She'd gotten a small campfire going and was cooking something on it. She glanced up at Meldie, and nodded sharply.

"No one alive", she reported.

"Figured so", said the captain. "But I suppose it was worth checking.

"At least we know for sure, now."

Meldie dropped on the ground by the fire, grimacing as pain shot through her injured leg at the movement. Irk'adl handed her a bowl without a word. She'd made a sort of porridge out of dried meat and hardtack that had been broken into crumbs. Nothing fancy, but filling enough to keep them going for a while.

"So, what now?" Meldie asked after a while.

Captain Raghesh shook his head slowly. "The Crimson Gryphons are no more. It's over, there's no rebuilding the company from this." He lifted his gaze, and looked Meldie in the eye. "Lauremeldo Sunblade, I release you from your oath. You made it to me, but you made it to me as the captain of the Gryphons, representative of the mercenary company. I cannot hold you to it anymore. You too, Rigansdaugther Irk'adl of Greymountain."

"I'm not going anywhere for now", said Irk'adl with a grim but fond smile.

"Me neither. We might as well stick together for the time being", Meldie said. "But "Sunblade"? Wherever did you get that?"

"I know neither your kin nor your home, and I needed something to make it sound right."

Meldie shook her head. It seemed so pointless. But Sunblade it was, then.

****

They traveled northward for two days. There was a city there, and they still had enough money between them to probably get a room for a few nights from some cheaper inn. Meldie kept it to herself, but she also hoped the money would stretch to buying the services of some healer. Or that some temple in the city was inclined to charity. Captain Raghesh was in a bad way, and Meldie doubted he'd survive very long without help. And maybe a healer could keep Irk'adil from losing sight in her left eye completely.

Her own injuries she could manage with. Walking was very painful, and at the end of the day she was always left far more exhausted than she'd have liked, but she could manage. Even if she always felt like the injured leg was about to give out under her, well, she had the halberd to lean on, so she was able to go on anyway.

They'd probably get to the city within a day or two. Where then, that was another question, but it could wait until they were in the city.

Meldie was keeping watch tonight. Really, it had been Irk'adl's turn, but despite her exhaustion, Meldie hadn't been able to sleep from the pain, so she'd offered to keep watch instead. The campfire had gone out a while ago, and the cold wind made her shiver.

Something moved in the darkness. At first she just heard the rustle of bushes and saw a flash of movement. The second time she saw a humanoid figure.

"Who's there?" she called out.

No answer. The figure crept closer. She heard more rustling from other directions.

"Just so you know, I have a crossbow. Unless you tell me who you are and on what business, I will shoot!"

Still nothing. She waited a heartbeat longer, then seized her crossbow and fired. She heard a cry of pain, and at the same time, the rustling turned louder, into the sound of several people rushing at the camp.

"Ambush!" she cried, springing to her feet and hoping that was enough to rouse the others.

There was no time to load a second bolt into the crossbow, so she drew her sword instead and charged the first attacker she saw. She faintly registered that they had some kind of a uniform on, though it was too dark to make it out. Metal clashed on metal as her sword glanced off the man's armor. She brought her sword back and lunged forward, thrusting the sword into the open face of the helmet.

Pain lanced through her injured leg. She pulled back as her opponent fell, and whirled around, but halfway through charging at the next, her leg gave out. She collapsed to the ground with a cry.

She tried to scramble back up, but someone stepped heavily on her back. She tried to roll away or shrug it off, but didn't have the strength anymore. Then something hard hit the back of her head and everything went black.

#whumpers monthly #issue no 12 #whump #whump fic #fantasy whump #elf whump #nonhuman whumpee #female whump #female whumpee #my writing #my ocs #wounded #stubborn whumpee #meldie

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oxfordthyme · 1 month

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Intro / My Story

Hello, I'm Thyme and I only recently realized that whump was a thing!

Putting the TL;DR up top: I'm a (mostly NSFW & non con) writer new to the whump community, & very interested to see what's shaking here! Would ultimately love to find some new, like-minded readers to enjoy my fics and offer their thoughts.

(Also please forgive my lack of aesthetic, Tumblr has changed a lot and I'm still figuring things out)

Here's the longer story: I've written whump from the shadows for going on 20 years; no one had ever seen it until I made an AO3 account earlier this year.

In the shadows there is no community and no audience, so I had no clue other people enjoyed hurting their favorite characters as much as I did and always had weird shame about it.

Shame is a huge part of the way I grew up and has hindered my quality of life at every turn. I'm only just taking steps to shed it, and it's a process. I wish I had started it long ago, but better late than never, I guess.

The first part of my "fuck shame" journey was to try writing smut. I'd always just implied it in my fics—because shame—which is so crazy because again, I wasn't even showing these to anyone!!!

I don't even read much smut either so I did some *ahem* research and added some smutty scenes to what would become my first published fic. (It's a Baldur's Gate story reimagining, if Cazador bit a female elf bard instead of Astarion, and that bard embarks on the BG3 storyline with this new version of Astarion.)

The second part of the journey was to step out of the shadows (sort of) and post the fic. So I did that and expected no interaction. But when I started getting kudos and comments... man, I never realized what a dopamine junkie I am because that positive feedback was like a drug. I have never written so much nor so consistently in my life. I've published over 200,000 words since the end of April. Apparently ADHD is no match for my feral dopamine hunger and pathological people pleasing tendencies!

The third part of the journey was to find a community! I joined a whump discord server and now I'm back on Tumblr for the first time in like, twelve years?? I've been lurking in the whump tag and it's so heartwarming to see so many creative people finding community with each other. We don't have to feel like freaks anymore. 🥹

The Baldur's Gate hyperfixation is on the shelf at the moment, and I'm in the middle of a very dark Stranger Things non-con centered longfic in which an 18-year-old Max Mayfield is the whumpee. Three guesses as to who the whumper is 🙄

Anyway, excited to see what's up around here!

#whump #whump community #whump writing #non con

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serickswrites · 10 months

Text

Elf on the Shelf

Warnings: kidnapping, restraints, gag, threat of torture, blood, wounds, stabbing, unconsciousness, used as bait, rescue, hospital

Everything was wrong. Everything was wrong and Caretaker didn't know how to make it right.

It had started with them getting into an argument with Whumpee and Whumpee storming off, mumbling something about going for a walk to clear their head. Caretaker hadn't noticed how much time had passed because they were trying to clear their head. Whumpee had been right, of course, but Caretaker needed to cool off before trying to apologize. It was only when Caretaker realized it was dark and Whumpee still hadn't returned what had happened.

It didn't take them long to get to Whumper's compound. Caretaker knew that Whumper was using Whumpee as bait for a trap, but they couldn't leave Whumpee to be tortured to death at Whumper's hand. And so they walked into the compound knowing very well that they would not likely leave, but Whumpee would.

That was wrong too.

Caretaker found Whumpee bound and gagged in the center of a room with Whumper. Whumper loosely gripped a knife in their hand as they circled Whumpee.

"Let them go," Caretaker called, not daring look Whumpee in the eye. They couldn't bear to see the terror in Whumpee's eyes.

"You know what I want, Caretaker. Are you going to give it to me?" Whumper stopped as they stood in front of Whumpee, obstructing Caretaker's view of Whumpee.

"Yes. Let them go and you can keep me." Caretaker ignored Whumpee's muffled cries of protest. If they could do one thing right today, it would be to save Whumpee. They could do that.

"Just like that?" Whumper began to smile.

Caretaker nodded. "Just like that. Now let them go, Whumper."

"Ok," Whumper said with a wicked smile and they plunged their blade into Whumpee's stomach and pulled. Blood poured from the wound as Whumpee screamed in agony. "You never specified if I had to let them go while they were alive, Caretaker. That's on you for not using your words."

Caretaker lunged at Whumper. They were going to end Whumper. They were going to make Whumper pay. They were going to stop Whumper and get Whumpee to help. And then they could say they were sorry. They would never stop saying they were sorry so long as Whumpee lived.

Whumper was easily overpowered and knocked out. But Caretaker wasn't quick enough. By the time they had gotten Whumper settled and were ready to free Whumpee, Whumpee was barely hanging on.

"Baby, I'm sorry, hold on. Baby, I've got you," Caretaker said through their tears as they made their way over to Whumpee. Whumpee was slumped over in the chair, their front shiny with blood. Their eyes were barely open and Caretaker could see Whumpee struggle to take shallow breaths.

Caretaker removed the gag first. "I'm so sorry. Whumpee, baby, so sorry," they sobbed.

"'s 'kay," Whumpee whispered. They blinked heavily as they swallowed.

"Save your strength. I'll get you out of here. And I'll get you to a doctor. And you'll be right as rain. Just stay with me, baby."

Whumpee blinked once more as Caretaker began to untie them. "Almost there, just a little more," Caretaker murmured as they unwound the coils of rope.

In their haste to free Whumpee, Caretaker knocked the hilt of the blade. Whumpee screamed once, the terrible sound ripping itself from their throat, and they went completely limp. "Baby," Caretaker said as they tapped Whumpee's cheek. "Open your eyes. Baby, stay with me. Whumpee!"

But Whumpee didn't open their eyes. Their body slumped forward as Caretaker removed the last of their bindings. "Hold on, hold on, I've got you. Hold on."

Caretaker repeated the mantra over and over. Repeated it for so long they had to believe it was true. It had to be true. They couldn't stand the thought of failing Whumpee one final time.

And so Caretaker kept a silent vigil at Whumpee's bedside. They hadn't moved from the uncomfortable hospital chair that the kind nurse had shown them to. Hadn't moved from Whumpee's side. Hadn't moved because they couldn't. They couldn't leave Whumpee alone. The last time Whumpee had been alone, Whumper had taken them. And Caretaker couldn't let the enemy lurking in the shadows take Whumpee now. So long as Caretaker kept watch over Whumpee, death couldn't claim them.

"Stay with me, baby. I'm here. I've got you. You're safe," Caretaker whispered to the silent room. "Please, Whumpee. Stay for me."

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