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[writerbynight]

hey you, a defiant whumpee can cry. I know you don’t want your writing to be out of character for them and you’re worried that having them cry or break down might be out of character, but believe me, it’s not out of character for someone who’s been pushed beyond their limits to eventually break down. I know they’re supposed to be prideful and defiant, but thing is: eventually we all have a breaking point.

actually, having your defiant whumpee break down when they can no longer take it does make your work a dozen times more angsty and realistic. because yeah, no matter how strong or invincible someone is, they can only take so much before it becomes too much.

so yes, you can have your readers at the edge of their seats by spicing up your chapter this way. character A, who had never showed a hint of emotion, curling up into a ball on the floor and crying after they can no longer take the pain? OH MY GOD I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. YOU GOT ME HOOKED AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[writerbynight]

Gunfight In Abilene (1967)

[writerbynight]

[writerbynight]

I love that feeling of like… having alone time but also with someone? You know when you’re in the same room, sitting together on the sofa or the bed, quietly and separately doing your own things. Maybe leaning against each other or softly touching. Sometimes you don’t actually wanna talk but you’re still enjoying the silent presence of that person. There’s a sense of quiet, peaceful comfort.

[writerbynight]

Three Undercover Caretaker Things

Caretaker having to ignore the way Whumper is treating Whumpee to keep their cover or even having to participate.

Whumpee recognising Caretaker and accidentally blowing their cover.

Whumper revealing they knew who Caretaker was the whole time but wanted to see how far they’d go.

[writerbynight]

Hostage

When Whumper is negotiating with Whumpee’s team, they always have Whumpee kneeling silently next to their chair. They don’t reference their presence in any way, they just have them there as a reminder.

[writerbynight]

Me writing literally anything: ah yes what a perfectly normal story that has nothing at all to do with my complex religious trauma

Me reading what I wrote: god fuckim damnit

[writerbynight]

The whumpee always has vivid nightmares when they sleep, and there’s times that they end up involving the whumper- so the whumpee tries to avoid sleeping as much as possible. The caretaker notices almost immediately, since the whumpee’s appearance just gets worse and worse as time goes on.

[writerbynight]

I demand a whumpee-forced-to-dance-with-whumper ballroom scene. I have read like four total ever and I need more.

Write them.

Then tag me.

I'm begging you.

Please.

[writerbynight]

Liking whump is a choice. You CHOSE to watch Teen Titans (2003) and see Slade beat the shit out of Robin (formative) and now you write hero/villain whump prompts

[writerbynight]

Febuwhump Day 2: Failed Rescue Attempt

Content: Death, suicide, blood, missing limb, sci fi

Masterpost | Febuwhump 2022 Prompts

Pallas shuddered against the cold metal that made the walls of her ship. The food ran out today. Modern ships, even ones as shitty as hers, recycled water and air with no problem. But there was nothing she could do about the food. And there was nothing she could do for Zira, who sat grinding her teeth across from her, trying to sit comfortably and distract herself from the pain. Her flannel was bundled at the end of her knee, soaked in blood, where the rest of her leg once was, and her suspenders were tied tightly above her knee. Pallas was relieved that the bleeding stopped, but the pain still continued to flow.

The only light in the cabin now came from the blinking red light of the distress signal. Pallas had no real way of knowing how much time had passed, but that light must have been blinking for several standard days – at least seven, the number of days the emergency rations on board were supposed to last. No one comes for pickin’ boys. They were gone now. Pallas cursed at herself for not realizing sooner that the pirates tore through the fuel line when they ripped their towing haul from behind the ship. Pallas and Zira knew their line of work was dangerous when they first picked it up as teens. But they didn’t come from rich families, they didn’t have school. All they had was their strength, and strength was all you needed to be a picking boy. Strength and a little desperation. No one hired picking boys from reputable families, no one hired someone they thought could be missed if something went wrong on the job. Picking boys only needed to do three things: be strong, clear scrap from high traffic space lanes, and be expendable. The pay wasn’t great, but it was enough to eat and pay for a ship. After that, all Pallas needed was Zira and Beeper.

Beeper was curled up in Zira’s lap, purring but not asleep. Pallas always thought that Beeper was more aware of his surroundings than he let on. For a cat with only one eye and missing half an ear, he was very perceptive. He was a much needed friend in the cold loneliness of space, and hearing his meows and beeps always made Pallas’s day even after a long scrapping job. Now, he comforted Zira in the only way that he could.

“Pallas,” Zira croaked. Her dark hair stuck to her sweat-soaked forehead. “We need to make a decision.”

Pallas squeezed her eyes shut. The pain in Zira’s voice was hard to listen to. “Someone’s gon’ come for us, Zira, we just need a little more time.”

Zira sighed. Her eyes were full of sadness, and she was losing hope. “No one’s comin’ for us Pallas,” she said. “That blinker’s been goin’ off for days. It’s just buggin’ someone in their office. Ain’t no one comin’ to get pickin’ boys.”

“Maybe they’ll send someone–”

“Oh they’ll send someone, alright,” Zira said bitterly. “They’ll send a pair a pickin’ boys like you ‘n’ me for the scrap when it gets in someone’s way. By then it’ll be too late.”

Pallas choked back tears. She knew it was true. They had been out drifting in space long enough that if anyone was coming, they’d have been there by now. They were truly on their own. “I’m scared a dyin’,” she said quietly.

“Well I’m scared a starvin’ to death,” Zira replied. “The food’s already gone. We ain’t gonna eat Beeper. If we wait ‘til we starve, we’ll die slow. It’ll hurt. We won’t be ourselves no more. ‘N’ I ain’t up to watch you ‘n’ Beeper suffer.”

Pallas let the tears go. This wasn’t how she wanted to die. She knew the job was dangerous, she knew this was a possibility, but she had hoped she would at least be ready when the day came. She wondered if anyone was ever really ready.

“But if we cut the oxygen, it’ll be like fallin’ asleep.” Zira’s voice began to shake. We just won’t wake up.

“I’m afraid,” Pallas cried.

Tears trailed their way down Zira’s face. “I know Pallas, I know. I’m scared too. I’d do it myself but–” she looked down at her leg. Pallas understood.

Pallas hauled herself to her feet. She was so afraid. If she were alone on the ship, she wouldn’t do this. But Zira was in pain, and she was asking for mercy. Pallas couldn’t deny her that.

Slowly but surely Pallas put one foot in front of the other, wielding a wrench in her right hand. Her muscular arms felt heavy as she made her way over to a wall of pipes. This was all so familiar to her. She could take this ship apart and put it back together wholesale – there were times when she needed to, with no money to pay for real maintenance and repairs. It was her knowledge of fixing this ship that told her exactly how to break it. She took a deep breath, savoring the oxygen in her lungs while she still could. The air on this ship recycled, but if she burst the right pipe the last round of filtration would be all she, Zira, and Beeper would have left. Pallas braced her wrench on the pipe, leaning it against a sturdy brace, and pushed hard. Creak, whoosh, hiss. The metal split, sending precious air shooting into the cabin – a leak that wouldn’t be repaired.

Pallas dropped her wrench and returned to Zira, sitting down right next to her. The touch was comforting to her. “Pipe’s burst,” she said. “It won’t recycle no more. After this last rotation…”

Zira nodded and leaned closer to Pallas. All Pallas wanted to do in this moment was hold her and Beeper close, to feel her warmth and comfort and take as much of it in as she could. She listened to every sound they made, played through every memory they ever had together. She closed her eyes, sending another round of tears pouring down. It’ll be like fallin’ asleep.

***

The dull clang of metal against metal rattled through the ship, waking Pallas from her sleep. Everything was so fuzzy. Zira was still sleeping. Her breathing was so light it was barely noticeable. And Beeper was lying still. Pallas hated the thought that Beeper was already dead, and she began to cry.

The clanging sound grew louder. It vibrated Pallas’s skull, sounding so far away and yet so close. She pulled herself to her feet. Her body was like lead. She leaned against the wall for support. She was so dizzy. She wanted to find the sound, but she couldn’t figure out the direction it was coming from. She pressed forward, grasping at the wall, desperate to stay standing.

The ship rocked and sent Pallas stumbling. She caught herself on the opposite wall with a grunt. She heard voices, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She should call for help.

Save us.

My family is stuck here.

Her leg is gone.

I don’t wanna die.

It ain’t too late for Beeper.

Every word left her feeling more lightheaded. Who comes to rescue pickin’ boys anyway? It couldn’t be anyone good. But at least it was someone. Even if they came just for the scrap, they wouldn’t just leave them here.

Don’t leave us here.

The voices got louder, but not because Pallas got closer. It was too sudden for that. There was fear in those voices, now. There was anger. There was commotion. There was panic. But they were so close now. Pallas swore she could hear—

“You fucking idiot!”

“I told you not to touch that!”

“You just fucking killed us all!”

The ship lurched backwards. Pallas fell to the floor. She couldn’t pick herself back up. She had no more strength. Explosions pounded against her ears. Screams filled the cabin and were suddenly gone. The ship jerked and groaned. Air rushed in the direction of the cacophony, sucking Pallas with it. She grabbed the nearest… something, anything she could grab, anything to hold on. She gripped with her hands so tight. But she had nothing left, no more strength in her. She was too foggy, too spent, no more oxygen in her lungs. Her brain felt muffled, but it was consumed in fear. All Pallas could do was cry. I didn’t wanna die. She was glad Zira wouldn’t see any of this. Pallas wished her last memory wasn't this. She wished her last memory was holding Zira, Beeper curled in both of their laps, so much warmth between them. She searched for that memory now. What did it smell like? She should have tried to remember the smell. She regretted not remembering the smell. She should have held Zira’s hand tighter. But she let go–

It’s so cold.

Tag List: @febuwhump @villainsvictim

[writerbynight]

working on the day 2 prompt of febuwhump brb

[writerbynight]

Had my first therapy appointment today. Felt very good

[writerbynight]

Febuwhump Day 1: Head Wound

Content: Drowning, concussion, cold, heights, CPR, blood mention

Masterpost | Febuwhump 2022 Prompts

Delmar leaned her head back to bask in the warm light of the setting sun. The heat was a welcome contrast from the cold ushered in by the wind whipping through her thick black hair, wet and matted with salt water. She breathed in the scent of the ocean below the cliff’s edge, enjoying this moment of peace, before returning her attention to the shells and rocks lined up on the ground in front of her: spoils from her freediving session with her brother earlier. After freediving all day, the two siblings drove to their favorite clifftop to recover. Now Delmar selected each of her treasures and tossed them around in her dark hands, paying special attention to the smooth surfaces of the pebbles and the satisfying ridges on the shells. While Delmar took the moment to relax in the golden sunset, her brother Beau wass still full of energy and excitement as usual. He paced around, picking up sun bleached rocks and tossing them into the sea below, the sound of their final splashes muted by the raging wind and the crashing waves. Unlike Delmar, who had changed into dry clothes over her swimsuit, Beau was still wearing his wetsuit. Delmar had a feeling she knew why.

“Let’s go cliff jumping, Del!” Beau said excitedly, confirming Delmar’s suspicions.

“No, Beau,” she replied. “We’re both tired and it’s freezing out here. And it’s starting to get dark.”

“You’re no fun,” Beau complained. “What’s one jump? One last dip before we head home for the night?”

Delmar chuckled. “Not all of us have endless energy, unlike you,” she said. “Plus I’ve already taken off my wetsuit and I’ve dried off. I’m not about to get my ass all cold and wet again.”

“Fine then,” Beau sighed. “I’ll just go by myself.”

Delmar noticed that he didn’t approach the cliff’s edge just yet, but returned to the truck to grab his goggles first. She cocked her head. “I hope you’re not planning to go diving in those caves, Beau,” she said. Beau rolled his eyes at her, but didn’t respond. He quickened his pace to the edge of the cliff.

“We’re not trained to go cave diving,” Delmar continued, raising her voice over the wind. “Especially not in the dark. You could seriously get hurt!”

“Damn, relax Del!” Beau shouted back. “Can’t I just bring my goggles because I want to? I’m not going in the caves, and I’m not going to get hurt!”

Delmar rolled her eyes as her brother jumped with a “whoop!” She didn’t believe for one second that Beau wasn’t going to swim through at least one of those caves. He was always looking for thrills and danger; it seemed to Delmar that Beau thought he was immortal. She was afraid that would catch up to him one day. So she counted the seconds as they went by, just like she did while she was diving herself. After two minutes passed, she huffed in annoyance and jumped to her feet, walking to the edge of the cliff to see if her brother was on his way back up yet. But she didn’t see him at all.

Another minute passed. Delmar’s brows knit together with concern, but three minutes wasn’t that long for her brother to be under the water. She knew from freediving with him that he usually averaged about four minutes without coming up for air – one minute less than herself, a point of pride for her and joking contention between the two of them. By now Delmar was pretty certain that Beau had gone exploring in the caves. She rehearsed her chastisements in her head for when he returned. What were you thinking? You know cave diving is dangerous without proper training! Especially with the sun setting! Oh, you think it’s no big deal? Well in that case I guess you won’t care if I tell mom…

Four minutes. Delmar put a finger down for each passing minute, just like she always did to keep track of the passing time while she was underwater. She searched for any sign of her brother emerging from the water, but between the crashing waves of the rising tide and the encroaching darkness as the sun continued to set, it was seriously getting hard to see. She shouted his name down to the water below, but it was no use. The waves and the wind were too loud, and even if he had heard there was no way she would be able to hear his call back.

Five minutes. Delmar had no more fingers to put down on her left hand. It was officially too long for Beau to be down there. There was still no sign of him resurfacing. Shit. Delmar needed to make a decision, and quick. If she called the authorities they would take too long to get all the way out here, if she managed to get any cell service at all. Her heart pounded against her sternum, slowly catching up with the pace of the seconds passing in her head. Delmar knew what she needed to do. Without wasting any additional seconds, she yanked off her dry clothes and tossed them to the ground. There was no time to pull her wetsuit back on. Bracing herself for the cold, she gripped a pair of goggles tightly in her hand and lept into the icy, dark water. I can hold my breath for five minutes.

Six minutes. Cold darkness wrapped around Delmar’s body, taking the breath out of her lungs. She paddled to the surface, careful not to let the angry waves push her against the rocky cliff side. She pulled her goggles over her head, exhaled everything she had, and sucked down as much air as her body would fit. With that, she once again plunged into the abyss, kicking her legs furiously and looking for any sign of Beau. But it was already so dark, even darker in the water. She wished she had a flashlight or anything to help her out.

Seven minutes. Delmar was still counting. She had been under for two minutes – still no sign of Beau. Then she spotted a cave. Her heart sank. Beau must have gone into a cave, but there were so many down here, possibly hundreds. She would only have time to check one. But even if he was in this one, Delmar wasn’t any more qualified for cave diving than her brother. It was dangerous to do such a thing, especially in the dark, and it was only getting darker. Every instinct in her body told her not to go in. But if she was going to save Beau, she had no other choice. She would never forgive herself if her brother died inside that cave. She steeled her nerves, knowing that this was a gamble, and swam inside.

Eight minutes. Delmar’s third minute underwater – two minutes before she needed to return for air. If she didn’t turn back now, she might not have enough time to get back to the surface. But she wasn’t going to turn back without her brother, at least a sign from him. She swam deeper into the darkness, barely able to make out the jagged rocks lining the walls. It was so cold her body began to shiver and her muscles cramped. It was like ice pressed against her bare skin, too cold to be swimming without a wetsuit. The farther into the cave she pressed, the harder it was to see the exit. She did her best to stay calm, knowing that panic would only make things worse, but fear slowly crept into her brain. What if you don’t find him? What if you can’t find your way back out? Which way is up? What if you run out of time? Then she spotted him. Like a miracle, there he was. Beau was floating lifelessly at the top of the cave, his head bouncing against the unforgiving rocks. The water around his head was somehow darker – it must be blood.

Nine minutes. Delmar had been under for four. She only had one finger still held up. If she didn’t hurry, both she and her concussed brother would die down here. Would anyone ever find them here? She needed to hurry. The air in her lungs was turning stale. She was running out of time. Delmar turned Beau onto his back and wrapped an arm around his chest, under his armpits, and started swimming backwards with her legs and other arm, just like she learned when she was a lifeguard over the summer. But with the extra body and one less arm she was moving much slower, too slow. It was truly pitch black now in the cave. She felt along the walls, hoping that she hadn’t gotten turned around and doing her best to not hit any of the rocks herself. It was all slowing her down so much, and her lungs were crying out for air.

Ten minutes. No more fingers. Had she already been underwater for five minutes? The raging fire in her lungs answered that question. It was so cold, her fingers and toes were going numb and her skin was burning against the chill. Delmar fought the urge to inhale with every ounce of willpower in her body. She felt a sudden shift in her environment. There were no cave walls when she reached out with her hands, and once again her body was tossed around by the tides. Open water. Her heart pounded so hard she thought her ribs might break. Her mind began to fog over. Her chest lurched, begging for air, but she fought back the urge to breathe. Which way is up! Delmar furrowed her brow with self control, carefully letting out a few bubbles to orient her body. She desperately followed them as they floated to the surface, dragging her brother and ignoring her clouding vision.

Eleven minutes. Delmar’s chest heaved again, this time with greater force. She couldn’t fight back any longer, and bubbles exploded from her lips. Just a bit farther, hold on just a bit longer– With one last powerful kick, her head breached the surface. She gasped for air, coughing and fighting the urge to hyperventilate. Beau was not safe yet. He likely inhaled some water, god knows how long he’d been drowning at this point. At least five minutes, possibly longer. He could be suffering brain damage. He could be dying. Delmar paddled to shore as quickly as she could, fighting against the pounding waves that pushed her head underwater again. Every second she could she was taking in greedy gulps of air.

Twelve minutes. Delmar dragged Beau’s body onto the rocky shore and tilted his head back, immediately starting compressions. She couldn’t count the seconds and the thirty compressions at the same time. Why was she still counting the seconds? She needed to be counting something. Compressions it is. She pinched her brother’s nose and administered two rescue breaths. She hoped she remembered all of this correctly from lifeguard training. Still nothing. Thirty compressions. Two rescue breaths. Thirty compressions. Two rescue breaths. Come on, Beau! Stay with me! Beau’s body lurched and his chest heaved with a cough, water pouring out of his mouth. He was breathing again. Delmar felt like she could cry with relief, but this was far from over. Beau’s head was still bleeding and he definitely had a concussion. With the blood mixing with water, who knew how much blood he had lost? There was nothing dry nearby Delmar could use to bandage his head. The closest things were the towels back in their truck at the top of the cliff. She was still so cold, now shivering against the wind, and the sun had completely set. But Delmar was not about to let her brother die, so she hoisted him over her shoulder and carried him to the top of the cliff, counting her steps as she went.

At long last, Delmar laid Beau across the seats in the back of their truck, wrapping his head in a dry towel. She jumped into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine, thankful for the shielding from the wind and the headlights to cut through the dark. With a deep breath, Delmar prepared herself for a difficult drive to the emergency room. There was nothing more she would be able to do for her brother now.

Tag List: @febuwhump @villainsvictim

[writerbynight]

Hoping to find some inspiration from this to get back into the swing of writing regularly

FEBUWHUMP 2022 IS HERE!

the prompts this year were chosen through a suggestion poll and subsequent vote; the top 28 make up the core prompts and a mixture of the next most popular and the blog’s personal favourites have become the alternates!

i’m super excited to see what you all create with these prompts! if you have any questions, make sure to check out the blog’s FAQ or send an ask! 

please note: this year, notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form that will be released closer to the end of febuwhump.

and click here if you’re interested in the bonus march 1st prompt known as febuclown!

full write up of prompts and rules under the cut:

Keep reading

[writerbynight]

lightsabers have one fatal flaw: you cannot use them to homoerotically tip up somebody’s chin during a sword fight. that would hurt very bad actually

[writerbynight]

I just want to thank everyone who showed support to my posts recently. It really has touched me yall are just so sweet. It may not seem like much but it has made my day <3

And hello new followers I love you so here is a virtual forehead kiss ~*