#what a whumpee

[cepheusgalaxy]

@clickerflight @whump-art-exchange

Image ID: An ink drawing of Kolt, naked, from the whump series Fallen. He is bruised and looks away as the chain attached to his collar is tugged. He is inside what appears to be a cell, with multiple eyes on the walls watching him intensely. /end ID.

Ok, so, I tried to do this like two times and it took me a while to lay the sketch. I had an idea for what to do--i went to give the series a shot, once i noticed this buddy here is a part of one so i could get better context--and so the idea i had was for making something from his villain days! It appears that Kolt as a villain was very intriguing (at least for me) but I couldn't make a sketch I was satisfied with, so I decided to go more whumpy! I remember a part where Kolt is in his recovery and he remembers when multiple people were watching and mocking him....couldn't get this over my head. Overall, I haven't finished it yet, but Fallen is a great series! They write it so well!

Art taglist:

@for-the-love-of-angst

[letitbehurt]

When a stoic Whumpee is seen fraying at the edges. They ignore the way their hands shake, their breaths are uneven, and only a thin, straining thread of will is keeping them upright.

Maybe they’ve been poisoned. Maybe they’ve worn themself past exhaustion. Maybe Whumper has found a secret to use against them, and they are fighting to remain in control of themself.

And they are failing.

[whumpypepsigal]

Dune: Part Two (2024) “Chani, his body is fighting the poison and he needs your help.”

[shywhumpauthor]

A Whumper with fire powers branding their Whumpee not just with their name or initials, but their handprints.

Two palms scarred against either side of Whumpee’s neck, fingers wrapping around their throat in a collar that can never be removed. Hands on their sides, just below their broken ribs, a touch that will never relent. Fingers wrapped around their wrists in shackles that won’t be unlocked. A handprint against their face, cupping their cheek that had already suffered so many punches. The small of their back. A single hand just between their shoulder blades. Dragging down their thighs.

Just. Branded handprints.

[epiclamer]

Hiiiii Epic! I'm not sure if requests are open so if they aren't feel free to ignore!

My depression is getting bad again and I was wondering if you'd be willing to write about a depressed Hero who keeps purposefully putting themselves in harm's way, getting more and more reckless in every fight. Villain notices and has to save Hero from themselves. However they choose to do that, be it kidnapping or something less nefarious is totally up to you!

Hiya! I hope this makes your day a bit better!!

Subtle

“It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

Villain huffed, “I think that’s my line.” They looked around, taking in their surroundings, calculating the amount of damage control they’d need to perform.

“If you’re here that means it’s bad.” Hero avoided the other’s gaze, glaring down at the hardwood floor beneath their feet instead.

“Does that make me the bearer of bad news?”

Hero shrugged, turning their back on the villain as they began to shuffle through the clutter of their home.

The criminal cleared their throat, resuming a bit more of an awkward stance as they watched their nemesis sift through piles of dirty clothes and dishes. “Unfortunately, if you were to bet that was the case, you’d be correct.”

Villain took a few steps forwards, keeping enough distance to assure the hero they weren’t a threat. When the other barely acknowledged them, Villain moved in closer—close enough to place a gentle hand against their bare shoulder. Normally they would’ve delighted in the shivers and twitches of their enemy’s skin under their palm, yet this time it felt more like a punishment than anything else.

“Did you use antiseptic?”

“Sorry?” The hero’s voice was strained like they were on the verge of tears.

“You’re burning up. I watched you take that beating for your sidekick and I know that Supervillain did a number on you in return.” Villain pulled their hand back, worried they were doing more harm than good. “Did you use antiseptic when you flushed your wounds? Or could they be infected?”

They were crying now, the villain could see it, tear drops hitting the wood floor one after the other. Still, the hero refused to look at them.

“Fuck, I don’t know, Villain. I didn’t even have time—I haven’t even checked—Fuck, I’m sick and I’m fucking exhausted and I-I’m bleeding all the time I’m bleeding its everywhere on my clothes and my sheets and my fucking everything, I’m so dirty—” Hero interrupted their ramble with a sob, curling in on themselves, leaving their previous mindlessly searching on hold.

Villain bent down, but they hesitated, taking a moment to scan their nemesis in their fetal position. Both of their hands grasped their head, protecting their skull from invisible blows, their knees tucked into their chest, shielding their vital organs from a relentless imaginary beating.

Even unconsciously the hero’s body accepted torture.

“I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it.” Rang sickeningly loud through the hero’s apartment. Words Villain never thought they’d hear their nemesis chant.

The hero was always so full of surprises.

“Breathe, Hero, breathe.” What the hell were they supposed to say? Sure, they had taken care of their nemesis prior, whenever it started to unravel for them, but never before had the crime-stopper broken down like this. “Everything is okay, I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

Whatever was left of the hero’s facade shattered at that. They crumpled back against the villain—to which they were greeted with a warm embrace—tears uncontrollably streaming and sobs so hoarse they seemed inhuman.

Soundlessly, the villain pulled a pin-prick from their inner jacket pocket, carefully lining up the end of the needle with the hero’s exposed jugular vein. It felt wrong, to drug the one person they had come closer with than anyone ever before. But at the same time…

It was for their own good.

[defire]

Socially inept whumpee (autism coded)

(this was not going to be funny but I'm laughing now)

"I told you to stay there!" Throws whumpee down on the ground. "Fuck you, you said to sit, and I did sit for a second!"

"where is it." "Where is what?" "Don't play stupid..." *Whumper aproaches with red-hot poker* "no SERIOUSLY WHERE IS WHAAAA--" (screaming)

*points gun into whumpee's back* "walk." "Walk where? Where am I walking?"

"do you want to get shot?" "Do I want to get shot. No? What would give you that impression? And they say I'M bad at social cues..."

Whumpee crying. "Please just tell me what you want. More clearly."

[whumpy-wyrms]

some random whumpy doodles i forgor i made :P teehee

[t0rture-me]

"I'm sor-"

"That's not fucking good enough!" Whumpee shouts, cutting off Teammate. "You left me behind, you knew what would happen if Whumper found me and you let it happen."

"Whumpee..." They put their hands up appeasingly. "It wasn't--"

"SHUT UP!! It was exactly like that! You let it happen, and now I'm ruined and fucking useless." Whumpee gestures to themself, everything Whumper did to them. Mental and physical. "Did you fucking want this? Are you happy now?"

[tender-traps]

you are an agent in the service of your king, a spy. you know that six months ago, the four spies sent to a rival kingdom suddenly fell out of contact, all at once.

now your king has been invited to visit his rival’s court, and you are being brought along, disguised as a servant, to see what you might find out about the missing agents.

you’re there when your king is presented to the other ruler, and you see the kneeling person wearing a collar chained to the throne. you know him. he’s the reason you begged to be here—your mentor, your best friend. the same one who went silent six months ago.

you’re there to see him pulled into the ruler’s lap later that evening, his face flushed with shame. you can tell he’s noticed you from the way he pointedly avoids looking in your direction.

you manage to sneak into his room at night and speak to him alone, urging him to run back home with you. terrified, he insists that you can’t be here, they can’t find out you matter to him. he can’t run or the other three spies in the ruler’s cells will suffer for it. and the ruler has every resource at their disposal, leaving no chance for a clean escape.

you have to go, you have to leave him here, he begs you.

but you aren’t going to accept that.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

What is... Whump?

Whump is a genre in fanfiction that involves placing your character into a traumatic, physically or psychologically tormenting scenario.

It is a darker form of hurt/comfort that focuses heavily on the hurt and puts the character in jeopardy, tortures the character and tries to break them. Sometimes even without any comfort at the end.

The characters in these stories can be called:

whumpee - the character being hurt

whumper - the character causing the harm

caretaker - the character comforting

[ziptiesnfries]

my current favorite crack whump dynamic is a masochistic whumpee vs a whumper who is absolutely DETERMINED to find a form of torture that whumpee doesn't enjoy

[letitbehurt]

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

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

[rainysflowers]

CW/TW: INTERNALIZED VICTIM BLAMING, Wishing for Pain, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP THOUGHTS, Stuff that comes with an Abusive Relationship, Self-Deprecation, OP venting in tags

Obedient whumpees.

Broken, miserable, boot-licking, obedient whumpees.

Whumpees that don't even try to talk back, not for lack of thought, but for the fear of it. Whumpees who come to want to be scolded, who want to be yelled at, and yet are afraid of the scorn. Whumpees who will do anything for their Whumper, their Whumper, and wish for that pain.

And they're disgusting for it.

They're a horrible, enabling, victim-mentality, worthless thing that doesn't deserve anyone's favor.

This, being yelled at for every little thing despite how hard they try, that's what they want, they know it deep inside, and yet they cling to the idea of being saved and for what.

A freak like them doesn't deserve love that's not toxic. But that's the beauty, isn't it?

Toxic, corrosive, burning love is what Whumper gives them, and it's what they work so hard to keep, because thats what they are.

An obedient whumpee.

A broken, miserable, boot-licking, obedient whumpee.

[siren-of-agony]

Does your living weapon prefer to be seen as a monster or a machine?

Yes those are the only choices they get.

[blitzwhore]

Thinking about this moment again—

—and imagining what would happen if Blitz was badly hurt by a Goetia here. Maybe Blitz jumping in is just enough of a distraction that either Stolas or possibly Octavia (arriving at the scene just in time) are able to jump into action and get them both out of there through a portal, but not before Blitz is attacked and severely injured.

Thinking about Stolas rushing Blitz to a hospital, holding him desperately close as Blitz bleeds out in his arms. Thinking of Blitz being unable to speak, quickly losing consciousness; about Blitz feeling content and lucky that he gets to go in Stolas' arms, but remorseful that he didn't get to tell Stolas how he really felt before he died. Meanwhile, Stolas is moving heaven an earth for Blitz to be seen and treated immediately, only half-realising that his privilege as a Goetia might be the only thing standing between Blitz and death.

Thinking about Stolas in the aftermath, once the worst of it has passed. Blitz is alive, but still in critical condition, and is unconscious on the hospital bed. And as the hours go by Stolas wonders if he should leave, but he can't, because Blitz came back, Blitz saved him, despite it being a death sentence for him to do so. He can't go now. He can't leave Blitz's side.

Thinking, too, of Stolas, who has previously been at a party full of people dedicated to hating Blitz, now seeing the hospital room slowly fill with people who love Blitz.

His employees, Moxxie and Millie. They sit by his side for hours, whispering amongst themselves and occasionally talking to Blitz, updating him on their lives. Millie holds Blitz's hand in hers; Moxxie alphabetises all the gifts Blitz gets because he knows Blitz likes things organised that way. There's a lot of gifts in the 'H' section, of course.

Fizzarolli, who could never make the same mistake again and not visit his injured best friend at the hospital; and Ozzie, too, who is there not just to keep Fizz company but also because he cares about Blitz, because he knows just how much Blitz and Fizz mean to one another.

And Loona.

She's so quiet. She never speaks to anyone, mostly just scrolling on her phone, and barely ever leaves Blitz's side, not even during the night. Stolas doesn't know why; he doesn't know that Loona made a promise that she wouldn't let her dad die alone, doesn't know that he's all she has in this world and she needs him and she's scared, even if she would never admit it. But he can see that she loves him. That she cares.

Thinking about Stolas getting to see the other half of Blitz's rocky history with relationships. Getting to see all the people who care, who worry, who are thankful and loyal to Blitz, who couldn't bear to lose him. And thinking of Stolas realising that, just as he's far from the only one whose heart Blitz has broken, he is also not the only one who has felt awakened, embraced, seen, and freed because Blitz came into his life. He's not the only one whose life Blitz has saved.

Thinking of Stolas finally seeing the pattern. Finally understanding that Blitz keeps changing others' lives for the better, and being too blinded by his own self-hatred to realise it himself.

And thinking of Stolas maybe, just maybe, falling a little bit more in love with Blitz by seeing him through the eyes of every other person who has grown to love him. Of Stolas impatiently waiting for Blitz to wake up so he can join everyone else in loving Blitz the way he deserves to be loved.

[epiclamer]

Hero shot up, the first thing they knew was that they couldn’t breathe, the second was that it was because they were vomiting. Or, at least, their body was trying to.

They keeled over the side of their bed, clutching their spasming abdomen with one hand while the other held desperately onto the mattress. Their blanket swamped their legs, their shirt was glued to their back with sweat, and their hair was plastered to their burning forehead.

Again, they couldn’t breathe, every muscle in their body squeezed relentlessly as it tried to rid itself of the contents of their stomach. They gagged, shook, and breathed, then the cycle repeated itself. Over and over again, Hero hadn’t even realized it, but they were begging.

Please, please, please, please—

Begging someone or something to save them, to stop this. They convulsed again, eyes rolling back, mouth open, but nothing came of it.

Eventually—after another thirty seconds or so—it stopped. Hero wheezed, their whole body was sickly cold and yet somehow also sweaty, their head was reeling and they couldn’t hold themselves up anymore, they just collapsed.

They had expected to hit the ground head first with a thud, their grip on the mattress was loose and they knew what was in store for them, instead, two arms swooped them up before they could collide, pulling them in close to the stranger’s chest. Hero’s first instinct was to pull away, fight, claw themselves out, but then they recognized this feeling, those arms, and that chest.

“Villain?”

The light on their nightstand flicked to life with a dim yellow glow and with a good twist of their neck Hero could see their nemesis as clear as day.

“Hey, Hero.”

Unwillingly, the hero’s body relaxed, practically melting into the criminal’s arms as they were hauled back up to their bed. Once they could see the villain again, Hero noted the sad smile they were sporting. They looked tired, definitely not as tired as the hero did, but there were bags under their eyes nonetheless.

What time was it anyways? Hero turned to check their alarm clock, it was four in the morning. What the hell was Villain doing in their house?

“Do you know what… that was?”

Hero startled out of their thoughts, eyes meeting the villain’s once more. They nodded, slowly but surely and with some weird ever-growing shame gnawing at their gut. “Nightmare.”

The villain let out a small chuckle, “That is what your nightmares look like?” Their expression however was one of fear.

They nodded, their nightmares had just been getting worse and worse lately there was no use trying to hide it. For whatever reason Hero hoped that being honest would get them some comfort from their lifelong enemy.

A silly thought at best and utterly ridiculous at worst.

Villain pulled the blanket up to Hero’s shoulders, tucking them in carefully. “Are they all like that? Or are some just worse than others?”

“It depends, yeah. This one was one of the more… difficult ones.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” It came out faster than the Hero had expected, almost like the villain had been keeping it on the tip of their tongue this whole time.

The villain’s eyes met the hero’s once more, they locked and finally Hero could see that their nemesis was actually worried. Not scared, or sad, or tired, it was worry. Hero had to fight to keep down whatever emotion bubbled up at the thought of someone actually caring enough to worry about them.

“It’s just violence. Senseless killing, or running from being killed, or chasing after someone to kill.” Their cheeks burnt up in shame, they were a hero, they weren’t supposed to have dreams like these.

They must’ve been deranged, it was the only plausible answer. Heroes were peace-keepers, not killers, clearly, their subconscious hadn’t gotten the memo.

“I’m sorry.”

Hero’s thoughts skidded to a halt. What.

“I’m sorry.” The villain repeated, placing both of their hands against the blanket as if they could read the hero’s mind. “That sounds terrible. I-I can’t imagine what it feels like…” They trailed off, somewhat lost in thought.

Hero’s stomach clenched again, this time out of pure nerves. The worst part of this was that the villain seemed so genuine; Hero was smart enough to know they didn’t deserve that.

“You should really be apologizing for breaking into my house—” They chuckled and even though it was a last-ditch attempt to lighten to mood it seemed to have worked.

Villain scrunched their nose in response, shooting a glance over their shoulder at the pile of notes they had been filing through just a moment ago. Suddenly coming back to the current situation and the realization of what they were doing—caressing their nemesis in bed.

They stepped back and Hero shot up, reaching for the villain before they could stop and think. Tears welled up in their eyes, their breath quickened, the horrible thought of being alone again to manage their own dreams struck them like a blow to the head.

“Wait, wait, wait, please— please stay, Villain please don’t leave me—” They were blubbering, they could feel it, but it didn’t matter; they were desperate. “Please, just stay for one night, please…”

Villain only thought about it for a second, they didn’t need any more time to decide to crawl under the duvet.