#wump

[dramastream]

WOO DO HWAN as Kim Gun Woo BLOODHOUNDS 사냥개들 (2023) dir. Jason Kim

[captainmera]

Hey!! If you ever could .. could you draw the scene from TTOCW where Caleb is sick, and Evelyn takes care of him? I’d love to see it ❤️

No pressure! Feel free to ignore this.

Let me take two asks with one stone. :')

From my fanfic: The Tales Of Caleb Wittebane, chapter 4: Punishment.

[ryleigh130]

Frostbite- - - ryleigh130

Summary- reader gets hypothermia on a mission and the boys help warm them up.

Relationships- platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

Characters- cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

Word count- 2.2k

Warnings- hypothermia, profanity, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

Note- This is my first ever fanfiction written on here so please leave me suggestions on how to improve! This story is inspired by the creator @python333 so go and check out their work it’s absolutely amazing! If you would like to leave a request for me to do a specific prompt feel free to message me! That’s it, thank you and I hope you enjoy! <33

It’s. Fucking. Cold. The three words repeat in your mind over and over again as you consider voicing your complaints to the team for what had to be the 8th time in the last 30 minutes. You couldn’t help it, it was cold. Freezing actually, you and the others were assigned a mission in the middle of butt fuck nowhere Siberia so excuse you for being cold.

To make matters worse for you, you’re the only 141 member currently suffering the biting cold as you were the one who drew the short end of the stick and got put on sniper duty whilst the others get to enjoy the warmth of actually being in the building they’re trying to get the info from.

With that thought, you sigh and shift your position slightly from where you are laying looking through the scope on your M107. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were actually moving around but instead, you’ve been laying in the same position, in the snow, for around 3 hours and you’re starting to loose feeling in your fingers and toes.

“[c/n], how copy” your radio sparks to life as the gruff, British accent of your Captain comes through.

“Still fucking cold, are we almost done here? I’m freezing my balls off out here” you groan, tentatively flexing your fingers trying to spark life back into them.

A low chuckle is heard over the radio as you can practically hear Price roll his eyes from where he is positioned, “you’ve mentioned. But yes, as soon as Soap plants the bombs we should be good to go. How’s it looking Soap?” A clicking can be heard over the radio when suddenly the loud, Scottish voice of John “Soap” MacTavish booms through,

“Aye Cap’n, jist aboot done” you hear another click and a hushed exclaim of victory, “Aw set!” You practically let out a cry of relief at the thought of going back to the safe house and getting warm,

“Took you long enough!” Gaz’ teasing voice pipes up before promptly getting shut up,

“Oh shut it you bawbag” Soap’s voice is light as you hear their footsteps going down the halls to escape the building. You watch through the scope of your rifle making sure to keep an eye out for any rouge enemies that might be hanging around the building the team was gathering the info from. You see Gaz leave the building first, followed by Price and finally Soap. You frown slightly, waiting a few moments before radioing,

“Ghost, how copy” you wait a few seconds before radioing in again, this time sounding more worried, “Ghost, ho-“ before you could finish your sentence, Ghost’s voice, accompanied by the sounds of gunshots filter through

“Solid copy.” He grunts out “I’ve got a few on my tail now but I’m taking care of it” you hear more gunshots as you look through your scope trying to spot Ghost’s form. Suddenly, an alarm rings through the building, you watch as dozens of enemy soldiers flood into the building your team once occupied,

“Fuck Ghost, incoming” you manage to warn before you hear Price’s loud and commanding voice boom,

“Ghost! Get out of there now! We need to detonate this thing now!” You hear Ghost reply with a short grunt. You watch as Ghost’s body runs out from the quickly populating building spraying round after round at accompanying enemies following. You try and help the best you can picking off as many enemies as possible before you hear Soap’s shout,

“CLEAR!” And with that, the building goes up in flames. You duck your head from where you’re positioned to avoid the ash and debris from the burning building,

“All Bravos, how copy?” You hear Price’s voice through the slight ringing of your ears,

A chorus of “Solid, copy”’s respond to the Captain, including your own as you begin to pack your weapon up to head out.

“Brilliant, alright everyone good work. Let’s regroup at the safe house 5 clicks from this position.” A murmur of approvals ring through the coms as you absentmindedly hum your approval and mute your radio. You finish packing up your gear when you hear a twig snap somewhere close by. You perk up and draw your M18 from where it’s positioned in the small holster on your thigh. As quiet as a mouse you sneak through the snowy brush to where the noise originated, peaking through the tree line your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach as you see a squadron of about 9 soldiers approaching your position.

Fuck me. You practically groan, you know you won’t be able to take them all down at the same time so you do the only sensible option, you run. Expertly navigating through the snowy taiga, you run, duck, and jump over the obstacles in front of you. You can hear the pounding of footsteps behind you and the whizzing of bullets flowing past your body, barely missing their target. You run until your lungs burn and your eyes water from the cold air. You look around seemingly cornered by the enemy soldiers and the barren landscape when you spot it. A frozen over lake and possibly your one chance at survival, without a chance to second guess yourself, you’re running towards the lake. You hear yelling in the distance followed by more gunshots as you continue towards the lake. You reach the shoreline and tentatively put your body weight on the ice, judging by the fact it didn’t immediately crack, you take the risk and start sliding toward the other side. Luckily you are small and light enough to be able to tread across the slippery surface. You look over your shoulder to see the soldiers staring at you and continuing to try and shoot you. Before you could react, a stray bullet embeds into the icy surface and a loud crack and be heard. You look down in terror as the ice begins to crack and splinter. With a new objective in mind, you quicken your pace to the reach the other side of the frozen lake.

It’s too late. You’re about 3/4ths of the way when the ice suddenly relents under your weight and you get plunged into the deep icy depths of the water. The icy water causes your body to immediately freeze and jolt in pain as the below freezing water feels like pins and needles getting pushed into your skin slowly. You sink toward the bottom of the frozen pool before your mind catches up with your body and a gasp of air leaves your mouth. You’re choking on the icy water as you struggle against the cold, slowly and painfully you make your way back towards the surface. Your head emerges from the water first, then followed by your hands as you desperately try and grab onto something to be able to drag yourself out of the water. You can’t get a grip on the slippery surface causing you to gasp and sink back into the water, kicking your feet one final time you propel yourself out of the water and onto the ice. With the last bit of your remaining energy you fling yourself to the safety of solid ground on the other side of the lake.

You lay on the snowy ground shivering violently. You look out at the side of the lake where you came from and notice the soldiers were gone, must’ve thought I was a goner, you think bitterly. You don’t have time to reminisce on it as the wind picks up and reminds you that you are currently shivering, wet, and unable to feel your own body. Weakly, you try and turn on your radio to signal for help. You almost cry when you realize it’s gone, you must’ve lost it when you fell in. Coughing violently, you shakily get on your feet, stumbling once, then twice, you manage to stand and take unsteady steps towards where you assume the safe house should be.

The hike takes longer than it should’ve as you continuously stumbled and fell, taking longer than you care to admit to get back up and continue. It’s around 1700 judging by the just setting sun, when the small cabin comes into view. You almost weep in relief when you see it, you pick up your pace into a small run and, promptly fall down face first into the snow. You lay in the snow no longer shivering as your body begins to shut down, No! Not like this, I’m right there! You feel yourself thinking. You feel as if you hear a noise that resembles a door opening and voices yelling but you chalk that up to your imagination as your vision slowly fades into black. With one last tired breath you close your eyes and let the warmth take over you.

When you wake up, you’re burning, and not in a nice way. You feel as if your skin is on fire and is about to melt off your bones. It hurts, painfully so and you make sure to vocalize your discomfort with a pained screech. You try moving your body away from the burning heat but your muscles won’t respond to your brain so you can do nothing more then just let out pained screeches as tears flow down your face. Faintly you can hear hushed voices trying desperately to soothe you but you’re too out of it to notice. With one last screech you black out, in the back of your head you feel as if you can feel a hand card through your hair.

When you wake up again, the pain is still there but significantly lessened. You can feel yourself lying on what you assume to be a mattress with possibly the fluffiest blanket you’ve ever felt on top of you. You try opening your eyes, the light took adjusting to but after a moment you are able to look around the room where you are laying in. Almost immediately you spot the sleeping form of Captain John Price, he’s leaning back in the old wooden chair he’s on with his mouth open in a soft snore. His hand is laying on your covered leg comfortably, he looks tired and worried like he hasn’t slept in a good while. You look around the room trying to figure out where you are before you make yourself known. With a small clearing of your throat Price violently jerks awake and stares at you for a moment before he moves into action,

“Jesus Christ you’re awake!” He states as he starts to worry over you. He gently takes his hand and puts it over your forehead, frowning at what he feels, he moves toward yours eyes. With a flashlight he checks your eyes and nods once before setting the flashlight back aside. Once he finishes his initial exam, he surges forwards and wraps you in a tight embrace,

“NEVER do that again, you hear me?!” He started firmly, his voice laced with clear worry and concern. You chuckle lowly and rasp out,

“My bad, next time I wanna take a quick dip in the pool I’ll wait until summer.” This obviously was the wrong response as Price fixes you with a firm glare,

“I’m serious [c/n]! Do you have any idea how worried we were! First, you were MIA for 2 hours! Then, you show up DRENCHED in −5 °C weather! And THEN, we find you face down in the bloody snow! [y/n] we thought you were dead!” He scolds. You look down with a light blush of shame tinting your cheeks but before you could apologize, the door slams open causing you and Price to jump. In rushes both Soap and Ghost as they storm over to your bedside. Soap grabs your hand and holds it to his face,

“Steamin Jesus kid, ye gave us quite the scare there.” He says into your palm, Ghost approaches his side and stares at you in worry,

“How are you feeling?” He asks. You open your mouth to respond when suddenly footsteps echo through the hall and Gaz comes barreling into the room.

“[c/n]!” He rushes to your bedside and pulls you into a tight hug,

“Gaz! Quit it! Ye gonna hurt the lad” Soap scolds immediately as Gaz pulls away sheepishly with a muttered apology. You take a moment to gather your thoughts before looking back up at the team you consider family.

“M’sorry” you mutter out, tears threatening to fall, “they- they came so quickly and and I tired to run but I couldn’t lose ‘em so I tried to cross the lake but then they shot at it and I fell in and itwassocold-“ your rambling coming to a stop when a firm hand lands on your shoulder. You look up to see Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Hey, hey kid. It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe now” Price soothes gently. “It’s gonna be alright we’re here.” He continues giving you a soft look. You nod looking at your shaking hands when suddenly clothed hands cover your own. You look at Ghost as he warms your still cold hands with his own, you feel a hand in your hair and smile as you lean into Price’s touch. Soap and Gaz bring up a chair next to your bedside and sit close to you, protectively shielding your body from further harm. With the team you consider family so close to you, you give into your quickly tiring eyes and fall into a deep, comfortable sleep.

[jazzyvlogs]

Ellis experiences nicotine withdrawal for the first time after attempting to appear cool and establish a common ground with Nick. As a result, Nick becomes aware of the negative impact he has on him.

Stop drawing Neills wump

Me: I no no wanna :'(

[fox-stan]

wing whump for the wip game? wingfic is always such a fun concept and i love angst and whump so i figured i'd ask (((: (no pressure ofc)

I'm so sorry it's taken so long to reply to this, it's been a crazy couple months for me. I’m super excited about this one because I also love wingfics and whump and was like why not combine them.

Basically the Kaminoans spliced Jangos DNA with some sort of bird so they could have a flying army. I was thinking a lot about the ways this would affect clone culture and figured that main social things/ways to catch up and talk with each other would be flying together and preening each other’s wings.

Anyways, in this universe Palpatine makes Fox bind his wings so that he can’t use them because they’re unprofessional or some bs excuse like that. It’s really about control and suffering like it usually is of course. The result of always having his wings bound is that they’re too weak to hold his weight now.

His batchmates always invite him to go flying together whenever they’re on leave and he always makes excuses because he’s embarrassed that he can’t fly anymore and doesn’t want them to think he’s weak because he’s not on the front and his batchmates assume he thinks he’s too good to fly with them now.

Then his batchmates decide to surprise him and force him to fly with him only to discover what Palpatine has been doing to him and then there’s a bunch of comfort and maybe they murder Palpatine depending on my mood when I get there lol.

Little snippet under the cut

“It’s okay, Thire.” Fox mutters tiredly into his folded arms. Behind him, all the noise cuts off for a second, and Fox is tempted to look over his shoulder to see Thire’s face and get a better judge of his reaction, but then gentle hands are on his wings again, so he stays carefully still.

“It’s not okay, Fox. It’s-” Thire trails off even as his fingers begin to smooth over Fox’s rust colored feathers, arranging them back into a slightly more natural order as he tries to come up with words for the torture that the Chancellor subjects Fox to.

Fox knows what he means. The clones grew up soaring through the skies and helping each other maintain their wings in the barracks. To have to deny something so fundamental to their experience is unheard of, even on Kamino where individuality is crushed under the heel of obedience.

Fox sighs again. “I know. But look,” and this time Fox sits up and turns around, pulling his vod’ika’s forehead against his own, “if I deal with it, if I don’t complain, he won’t make it a regulation for the entire Guard. I’d have to do it either way, at least this way you guys don’t have to suffer too.” Thire lets out a small wounded sound. It’s so quiet Fox wouldn’t have heard it if they weren’t pressed together like this. “I would do far worse than this to protect you, and I’d do it with a smile on my face.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

Fox just grimaces and stays silent, drinking in the feeling of Thire safe in his arms. He doesn’t regret his choices to protect his vod’ike.

[field-medic-lewis]

I just realised...

Yk how Steve's serum amplified everything about him? All the good, and righteousness, any humanity and kindness were all increased.

Well, the same would of happened for Bucky, and goddamn, we know how beautifully human he is. He left his family to take care of Steve (an outcast and someone who would of struggled to keep up with a fit able bodied young man who had no issue with picking any woman he wanted), he worked shift after shift just to keep the two of them afloat; that is more than kindness and care. His serum would of made that all so much stronger, but you know what that got him? It was torn from him.

"Wipe him"

Over and over again. Any time any kindness (because recognising his love for Steve on that bridge was kindness), was shown, any time any humanity was shown, or any righteous was displayed, it was ripped from him.

They amplified his humanity only to cover it and let his anger and hate pour out, until even that was gone. A mindless killer left in the wake of James "Bucky" Barnes.

[somefanficrecomendations]

Never Say That

Author: JackHawksmoor Fandom: Batman

Summary: "Calm down, I'm not aiming for anything vital," Jason said irritably.

Batman turned away from the man he'd just floored. "We agreed-" he began sharply.

"I didn't promise anything," Jason snapped. He lifted his gun, muttering under his breath. "You ought to be grateful, it could be worse-" ---------------------------------------- Or: the Bats have an extremely bad night in Gotham City

Readers Notes:  This fic manages to pack in a shocking amount of intensity despite having such a short word count. The flow and pacing of this story is flawless, the character work is on point, and the combination of comic superhero shenanigans and tragedy makes for a tone that feels a little like whiplash. THE WRITING STYLE!!!! Very English Author from the 1900’s, I can’t get over it.

Rating: General     Warning: N/A   Words: 9,683         

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Barbra Gordon, Clark Kent, Stephanie Brown

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Wump, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, POV Third Person Omniscient

Additional Info:

Part of the Whumptober 2022 Collection

[illzazzorino]

I was gonna post this with the Sickos meme attached but it was actually pretty cathartic for me so, here you go

Glaze chewed it up a little but it works with what I was going for.

[aludraslytherin]

I can read angst, fucking smut, wump, whatever the fuck you think about with a fuckinbg amazing poker face, but the moment there is fluff, I'm done, I'm smiling like an idiot !

[captain-cold-approved]

a small collection of coldflash fanfics i have written/am writing:

So Long, Scarlet Speedster - 4.6k Time travel wump. Lots of angst my loves.

Give it Time - 700 words Len kills someone who deserves it.

Ghosting Along - 700 words Len's ghost watches Barry as he visits the Rogue's Graves.

Apple Pie and Other Warm and Fuzzy Feelings - 5.6k Tooth rotting fluff of Barry meeting Mick Rory's daughter who loves the Flash. (I don't always write angst.)

The Ice Beast of Central City - 4.2k HalfBad Au! Len has magical abilities and runs the mob in Central. Barry works as a speedster for the police force bent on stopping him. Unfinished.

more to come >:^))

[sallowsunshine]

MC was able to take away Anne's curse, but in order to prevent her from losing all emotion, the curse had to be transferred to MC. Summer before year 6, MC isolates herself, not wanting anyone to know.

[dramastream]

Burn the House Down 御手洗家、炎上する (2023) dir. Hirakawa Yuichiro

[hero-of-courage]

This was kinda a writing exercise for me since I haven’t written anything in a while. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I got Hyrule Warriors for Christmas and it’s been occupying my brain quite a bit. I was inspired to write a bit about what might happen after one of the characters falls after my first defeat.

He could taste iron on his tongue and feel dirt crunch between his gritted teeth. His head and heart pounded in unison sending waves of pain through his body. He blinked in vain to clear his blurred vision, but all he could see were distorted images of boots sprinting in and out of sight. He felt as if he became one with the earth absorbing every vibration, every tremor into his body.

Dust powdered over him as the shuffling of feet in combat kicked it into the air. He was lying amidst the chaos of war, yet he could hear none of it. The screeching of monsters, the cries of men, the song of steel, all were drowned out by the singular high pitch ring that pierced his brain like an arrow.

He needed to get up. He had an army to command, men to lead. Leading them he was, lying there. He was leading them to their deaths.

His fingers dug into the dirt beneath him and he willed himself to sit up and then to stand. He felt inclined to regret it. Groaning, he teetered on his feet as his head spun. He decided that he may be in need of a potion or even a fairy. He was feeling particularly dreadful.

Hands gripped his shoulders, his arms, his waist. His mind screamed at him to shake them off. He couldn't be captured! That is the exact motive behind the conquest of the enemy. He was wanted by the sorceress. The sorceress who was tearing apart space and time simply to get his soul into her possession. For what purpose he did not wish to know. If he were to be captured, the war would be lost.

It would be over.

He didn't have the strength to fight off the hands on his person. He hardly had the strength to stand. Slumping forward, he let himself be dragged. He prayed that his men had the good sense to retreat. They shouldn't have to risk their lives for his. They shouldn't have to risk their lives at all.

It would be over soon. If he was all the sorceress wanted, then the land would know peace once more... right? Could it possibly be better this way? Would their legendary hero be better a sacrificial lamb? A martyr.

Would it save more lives if the war ended in defeat?

"Captain."

"Captain Link, can you hear me?"

Link opened his eyes to be met with a white cloth ceiling. The earthy scent of herbs and mushrooms filled his nose as he breathed in.

"Captain." The voice of the medic, he assumed, prodded again.

"Hm," was his only reply. It was an acknowledgement and nothing more.

"Good," said the medic knowing well enough Link's mannerisms to understand that he was listening and awake. "The general will see you in a moment."

The rush of fabric told him that the man had exited the tent.

With a sharp exhale he pushed himself upright to have a glimpse at his injuries. A bandage was wrapped around his ribcage and he found another about his head when he reached to fix his hair. What he also discovered was the intense pain that came with raising his arms too high. Immediately his arms returned to his sides, with a hiss.

"Hey."

Link must've missed the sound of the tent flap opening, distracted by his punishment for reckless movement whilst he was healing. He turned his attention to the sheikah warrior before him who looked him up and down with a thoughtful brow. After a moment, she locked eyes with him.

"Are you alright?" She asked. His face must have betrayed his confusion because she continued with an explanation. "I'm asking if you're okay emotionally and mentally." She pointed to her chest and then her temple. "The reports I had received from your field medic and your other men were... concerning."

Link let his gaze fall to his sheets. Was he alright? He really thought he had fallen into the hands of the enemy and he was starting to think that it would have been better that way. He almost shyly met Impa's gaze once more.

"Could be better..." he answered quietly with a weighted smile.

Impa's expression only grew more concerned. Her lips pressed into a thin line and her brow furrowed.

"Your men said that you fell just after you called for a retreat. Your troops were vastly outnumbered and we hadn't anticipated..." she trailed off with a sigh. So he had called for a retreat. That was good. He grimaced at the thought of the enemy numbers. "I'm sorry, Link. Sometimes in war situations can be unpredictable, but maybe this was a misstep on my part and I could have equipped you better. It certainly wasn't your fault so don't dwell on this battle too much."

The blond soldier nodded slowly, but kept his own thoughts to himself.

"Hey, Link! Are you okay? Are you in any pain? Oh goddesses! I was so worried!" Proxi chimed as she zipped up and down, side to side examining her friend.

Link let out a light laugh at the fairy's antics. He smiled at her sweetly, but it was still weighed down.

The fairy seemed to notice since she flew close and pressed against his cheek in a comforting gesture. "Oh... Don't be hard on yourself Link. Defeat happens from time to time. The only thing that matters is that you get back up again." She backed away from his face so he could see her. "Look you made sure that everyone else would live to fight another day. They trust you and will stand with you. Now all you need to do is take care of yourself! That witch Cia can go... go die in a hole! She's not taking my best friend!"

Link turned his gaze to Impa for a moment. She bore a mild smile on her lips as she nodded with a soft hum.

"Oh! Impa! Hi! I didn't see you there!" Proxi's babbling faded from Link's ears as he entered his own mind once again.

He still wasn't sure if the path he was on was the right one, but so many have fought for him already and some have even died. Would their all efforts be in vain if he gave himself up? No. He couldn't bare to dishonor them in such a way. If he chooses to never give up, then his spirit at least will never be defeated.

[automeris-io-moth]

Defeat. 

cw. blood

A hand was gently placed over Hero’s head, unexpectedly, of course, for a shove or a push would have been way more predictable, a kindness then, they thought, because at least that they could prepare for. 

But it was not what happened, and Hero was not granted the decency of prediction.

Blood warmed their face uncomfortably, dripping to their pants, staining the not very well though light beige colour, leaving a stain they would never be able to wash out. 

Hero had really liked those pants, a shame. 

The free hand of their enemy approached slowly before them, lifting their chin to meet them, firm, but not more than they needed to be; there was no anger, no wish to bring them more pain than necessary, and Hero hated that, mockery was even worse of an act than just mre raw violence, it involved more intent, it reflected how little the other though of them as an enemy. 

Hero could barely keep themselves upright.

A harsh frown and eyes full of anger met Villain, Hero’s mask discarded long ago on the floor right beside the both, letting the world examine their features, allowing the Villain to skim their factions, to know who they were. 

And Hero could hardly return the favour, an eye closed by the inflammation of the hits, the other quite unfocused, they had a concussion, Hero found obvious as the world danced as a drunk man on top of a bar. 

They dared not to look at the cameras still, so they kept their head facing Villain.

“You were incredible,” Villain said, gesticulating exaggeratedly as if knowing the state Hero was in “a deserving last goodbye to the public 

And they fell, knees to the floor before they could be caught by someone, perhaps a guard, perhaps some henchman lying around. 

At least the humiliation was over.

_

Masterlist

It's been a while, I'm sorry, college is quite literally consuming my soul.

End of next week I expect to have a bit more time to do the requests I've been getting, for now I leave you this, it ain't much but it's honest work.jpg.

[jazzyvlogs]

some wip art for y'all

Ellis Wump

[sirclitoressa]

larissa weems x morticia addams née frump

broke: Morissa

woke: Larticia

bespoke: WUMP