Whumpee knows they should be scared when Whumper pulls them up from their bed. But they were tired and bored.
Whumper had left them along for nearly the whole day, stapped to the bed with mittens strapped over their hands. They made it so Whumpees hands were nothing more than lumps. Completely useless.
Whumper carried them smoothly from their bedroom to the living room, where they were placed on the edge of the couch. They hadn’t been out here very often, it was reserved for when Whumpee was on their best behavior.
So when Whumper connected their chains to the couch Whumpee looked up at them in confusion, unable to speak past the muzzle in their mouth. “Shoulders back now, you’re doing good, but we need to be careful don’t we?”
Whumpee nodded, hoping they looked as grateful as they felt. Anything, even being chained to the couch was better, than Whumpers punishments. They had to throw the thoughts from their brain to enjoy this moment.
After Whumper was done they sat down next to them, curling up so they were nearly completely entwined. Not a second later the Tv turned on, starting to play the Harry Potter theme song.
Whumpees thoughts were completely swarmed by the show, they hadn’t watched it in, forever. A sense of nostalgia washes over them that was overshadowed when Whumper turned their head towards them.
“Are you having fun?” Whumper was smiling, showing all their teeth that glinted in the light of the TV.
Whumpee nodded, smiling even more when Whumper reached forward and unclasped their muzzle. Spit fell from it and onto the couch, “Aww look at you sweetheart. Where would you be without me?”
Whumpee didn’t know, but they still nodded they needed to give an answer, eyes lighting up when Whumper leaned over and grabbed something from the side table. The savory smell of soup was wafting under their nose and Whumpee was suddenly aware of how hungry they were.
They couldn’t think of the last time they ate, Whumper had said they didn’t need to eat.
And Whumper was always right.
So they ignored the way their stomach was cramping, how most of their thoughts turned to food.
They needed to be good.
But when Whumper brought a spoonful of soup up to their face they didn’t hesitate to take it into their mouth.
“Good job baby, do you want some more?”
A nod and another spoon were in their face. They counited to eat each spoonful that was placed in front of them. Gracefully taking each. Some part of their brain itched, warning bells ringing loudly but they couldn’t care.
After they had eaten through about half of the bowl though they started to feel happy. Fuzzy.
Warmth spread through their body, warming their fingers and making them want to wiggle their toes but they weren’t able to tell if they were moving them.
Whumpers form was no swimming in front of them, dipping in and out of focus. “Aww, are you feeling good? Does Whumper make you feel good?”
They nodded again and a doopy smile was spreading over there face. They felt weightless, but the hand on there thigh was the only thing keeping them from floating away.
They never wanted this feeling to end.
“Whumpee, eyes on me.”
Their eyes flicked to Whumpers with ease even as the room started to spin.
“What’s my name?”
The words left smooth on their tongue and they barely had to think before they were speaking, saying something they had refrained from.
Caretaker is sitting at Whumpee’s side, who is having yet another breakdown, though it’s been months away from Whumper and they had even changed bits of their identity and name to help protect them.
A part of Whump still felt the unsettling watchful eyes of Whumper on them, watching their every move, judging them silently from the shadows.
But caretaker was sure and positive that Whumper would never be able to find them where they had relocated Whumpee too.
That’s what caretaker thought as they firmly held Whumpee’s trembling hand that was poking out from the blankets.
Unbeknownst to them, Whumper stood not far away, peering in from the small slit in the curtains, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to reclaim their prize back.
I just came across this post from a crafty whumper! It got me thinking…. We have lots of community members who write and draw… but what other hobbies do you all enjoy?
Me, I like to sing, crochet, scrapbook, and take pictures (I like to consider myself an aspiring amateur photographer).
I do a little cross-stitch/embroidery, some calligraphy, and the occasional efforts at knitting and crocheting. I also dabble in scrapbooking sometimes, and occasionally try to draw. My roommate and close pal also taught me how to do Viking wire weaving a year or two ago, and that’s VERY fun! It comes out looking like this picture:
ALT
In the past, I’ve also sometimes messed around with woodburning and leatherwork. (I’d love to do some leatherwork again, but a relative across the country owns all the tools I learned on. :p)
As for other crafters around, I know @whump-it makes many lovely crafts, and @newbornwhumperfly does some cool things with miniatures! (No pressure to reply if you don’t want - just wanted to offer. ☺️) Edit: Also, @orchidscript does some gorgeous historical costuming I think!
I sew fancy outfits for art dolls, I used to be a set dresser and props builder, and I do art and play several different instruments.
Working on Lute Music transcribed for the Ukulele. No really- it works. (insert long spiel about history of stringed instruments, the Portuguese guitarra, and the uke, vs renaissance music)
I am also a Medieval Reenactor when the Plague permits me to be, performing music, sewing and embroidering, some light leatherwork, and Domestic History in general.
I spin wool now! With a lot of various spindles, Viking Style to Txoatile to Turkish. Gotta try them all.
I’ve ALSO joined the “reptile keeping hobby” with an incredibly tiny snakeling.
I knit, spin yarn from roving (have tried most fiber types), do the medieval reenactment as well, sing, do some sewing and weaving, play video games, and collect ball-jointed dolls. And like Red I have also recently adopted a tiny snakeling, though not the same species.
We’re besties for a reason, with all the hobbies we share. XD
Why is it so many whump writers/people in the community do stuff with yarn? It’s a fun commonality, I love it. I also crochet, mostly amigurumi, and I’ll knit, cross-stitch, or sew on occasion. I make jewelry and have started polymer clay stuff as well, and I play piano and sing
A closes their eyes against the harsh sting of B’s palm slapping their face. They’re hunched over with their hands on their knees. There’s not enough air in the world. Their chest burns from running so fast for so long, it feels as if they’re about to throw up.
B’s hand cups A’s cheek, grabbing the skin on their cheekbone painfully. ‘Get up. Fucking get up A, I swear,’ B yells.
vs
A closes their eyes against the agonising pain of their wound. They keel over, dust parting as they thud onto the ground. It feels as if all they’ve ever known is blinding, burning pain. There’s not enough air in the world. Everything burns.
B skids to A’s side, cupping their cheek softly in their hand. They rub their thumb tenderly over A’s cheekbone. 'Get up. A please get up, I swear,’ B’s voice breaks on the edge of a sob.
Hero lays bleeding as villain’s blade arcs down for the final blow. But it stops short.. Hero grits their teeth as they desperately hold the blade in their bare palm. Blood streams down their arm, splattering on their face.
Villain’s furrowed face mirrors theirs, pushing the blade against them.
‘Hero,’ their words are sharp. 'Let go.’
Hero is unrelenting- despite being mortally wounded their hand holds the blade firmly.
'Hero, you’ve lost. It’s over’ Villain’s tone is softer but still holds its devilish edge.
The edges of Hero’s vision turn fuzzy then dark. They’re fading. With one last burst of strength they pull the blade from Villain’s hand. Villain flinches as the momentum pulls them down, but the knife clatters away as Hero tosses it aside. Villain’s hands drop beside Hero’s head, their face just inches away.
Hero’s eyes look weakly into Villain’s.
'This was never about good versus evil’ Blood gurgles in Hero’s throat as they speak.
Villain cocks their head to the side, intrigued. 'What was it about then?’
'Love.’
'You think I love you?’ Villain’s voice grows deep yet doesn’t betray emotion.
'You fear..’ Hero coughs weakly, blood spraying onto Villain’s face. 'That you have broken the toy that promised never to break’ They breath shakingly. 'You cannot bear grief’
The corner of Villain’s mouth turns upward as they watch Hero’s eyes close and their breathing slow. 'Dear Hero, you cannot trick me into saving you’
Hero’s mouth opens slightly, 'What trick?’
And Villain’s face falls.
They roll onto their side, off of Hero’s body. Kneeling beside them, they place their hand on Hero’s neck - two fingers feeling for the pulse. The coldness of Hero’s skin is surprising but they kneel for a minute, feeling Hero’s pulse drop with every beat. Then when it’s a beat away from stopping, they yell.
Hoist the sails! It’s the Seasickness Trope, me hearties
The walkway on the water giving way as whumpee steps off of land, causing their knees to buckle slightly before they quickly correct themselves
Always being near the edge of the ship and keeping a firm grip on the railing
When whumpee has never been on water before but they lie when asked
Their pale face speckled with cold sweat
Dry, cracked lips
Gulping constantly, even hiccupping a bit when they speak to another character and pounding on their chest to try to get rid of that sickfeeling
The constant sway and creak of the boards beneath them, they cannot stand still without feeling lightheaded and dizzy
Walking or stumbling at a diagonal while the world spins around them
A headache forming, a bad one, with high pitched ringing
The contents of their stomach rising with a sudden heave
Sneaking away from the rest of the crew to rush to the toilet
Reaching for the edge of the seat and vomiting into it
It’s a lot and they cough miserably at the end before they let themselves fall back and lean against the wall gasping
But the ground beneath them won’t stop moving, their head is pounding heavier with every throb
Yet they drag themselves up, afraid of what the captain will say if they are missing from their post but when they stand, the vomit rises again and they collapse back down to throw up
^THIS CYCLE OF COLLAPSING AND TRYING TO GET BACK UP
The captain finding whumpee as a pale, sweaty mess on the floor and instead of being unkind they place whumpee’s arm around their shoulders and help them up
[Pirate ship with a found family vibe] The rest of the crew helping to make a brew that will cure whumpee’s seasickness and being so relieved to watch the colour return to their previously pale, sickly face
Little things in the hidden injury trope that give me life more than water does
Tying something between their teeth to stop their cries from being heard while they treat themselves in the dark
Bloodied bandages stuffed into the gap between the wall and the bed
Whumpee wearing long sleeves/pants but their bandages still finding a way to peek out
Blood running down their limb from inside their clothes and dripping onto the ground
Bloody footprints
Bloody handprints
Faint bloodstains on the floor that whumpee can’t get off no matter how hard they scrub
Whumpee limping as soon as the other person turns their back
Dark undereyes from obv no sleep
Those sexy beads of sweat and pale skin
Leaning against wall/ furniture whenever they get the chance
When a normally talkative character is quiet
Controlling their breath while they try to complete normal tasks but then doubling over and gasping for air behind closed doors
When they peel back the bandages to check their injury and it’s gotten worse
Whumpee trying to bring it up with someone but then deciding against it when the other person starts talking about future plans
Someone in the team feeling like there’s something wrong with whumpee but not knowing what so they don’t bring it up and then the GUILTthey feel afterwards holy
Whumpee FINALLY fainting - behind closed doors and being found by someone later or just dropping to the ground while they’re with someone else
I mean just imagine character A talking and thinking whumpee is beside them and whumpee just drops out of frame with a sigh and a thud
Whumpee trying to tell the others that they’re fine and that they can handle it while they’re literally bleeding out on the ground
Bonus! The scene afterwards when whumpee wakes up and their wounds are bound in those crisp white bandages instead of the bloodied, dirtied torn pieces of clothing they’d used before
NOTE: I’D LOVE TO BE TAGGED IF YOU WRITE OR CREATE ANYTHING INSPIRED BY THIS LIST
Whump prompt - vampire enemy but it’s forced proximity
Character A and their enemy - a vampire, join forces against a common enemy. They’re hiding from soldiers who are gradually converging on them. Vampire is weak and shuddering due to injuries and starvation. Vampire’s eyes grow feral and they become increasingly twitchy at the smell of A’s blood. A snaps at Vampire to ‘get it together’ but they are obviously not listening. So before Vampire’s erratic sounds reveal them to the soldiers, A offers up their wrist. Vampire looks at A, their face flashes apology, wanting to say no, before they’re overcome with hunger and lunge for A’s neck. Vampire’s jaw clamps on and blood sprays as they aggressively bite down. A tries to struggle against it but they slow and their expression turns euphoric. Vampire holds A in their arms, holding them closer to their mouth. A closes their eyes. The soldiers find the pair and hold weapons up to them. Vampire unclamps from A’s neck and suddenly comes to their senses. Now stronger, Vampire easily takes down the soldiers. But when Vampire looks back, A is still unconscious.
The spy and the healer (Enemies to lovers First meeting fic): ‘Your bloody knuckles betray you’
A strides quickly up the dark corridor, constantly checking behind her for the security chasing her. Her lungs burn but she manages to keep her breathing silent. It’s her first mission and she’s so lost despite having spent hours poring over the blueprint of the enemy’s headquarters.
The grey walls feel as if they’re closing in on her until she sees a door of frosted glass near. It’s dark on the other side so she opens it quietly and slips inside. A fumbles for her flashlight, allowing herself to pant freely in her temporary refuge. She can’t discern any wind that may come from a window. The room feels small, an office perhaps. She finally grabs a hold of her flashlight but before she can shine it, the room’s lights up in brilliant white.
A’s heart near leaps out of her chest, she almost curses aloud. Looking around, she sees a desk before her. It’s covered in paperwork and books. Behind it, a chair with a white coat laid carelessly atop. Against the far wall is a patient bed and various medical equipment lays beside it. There’s another door on the other side of the room, across from the bed. That’s where the figure steps out from.
'I don’t usually get visitors at this hour,’ B says, closing the door.
He walks up to A, running his hair through his messy black curls. He looks at her, and stops.
A averts her eyes and her hands move behind her meekly.
'Recruit!’ B says jovially, regarding her ill-fitting disguise.
'I’ve never seen you before. Guess you’ve never had the pleasure of being injured enough to see me’
A looks up and their eyes meet.
He looks young for a healer, he’s probably naive too. Under the white lights, his soft brown eyes sparkle.
'Recruit, take a seat’ B pats the patient bed.
Hesitant to leave the door, A steps slowly past the desk and toward B. She feels his eyes on her, assessing, undressing.
Sit sit, he gestures. And she does.
He pulls his chair close to her. Tutting softly, he brings a soft cotton pad to the angry red cut along her right jaw. It stings but as he does so, she looks around the room further. As she suspected, there are no windows in this room but she’s not sure about the room that the healer exited from earlier. Her best bet is probably to leave the way she entered. Right now, she’s sitting duck in this healer’s office.
'Luckily, your cut isn’t that deep that I need to stitch it’, B says softly, sticking the adhesive bandage to her face.
'Now, let me see these,’ B reaches for her hands. A’s knuckles are split and bleeding. She bites the tip of her tongue to stop her hiss as he takes one hand in his and spreads an antiseptic gel over them. Although he’s wearing gloves, his hand is warm and soft. A watches him as he focusses on cleaning her knuckles. The healer’s dressed in a sweater, he doesn’t wear his coat. He looks around her age. She feels a small guilt for deceiving him.
B finishes applying the solution to her hands and reaches over to his desk to retrieve a book. She holds her hands out as he fans the book over them. The cool air instantly relieving the heat and pain.
B smirks. 'Recruit, you’re a model patient. Even the toughest pros tear up when I give them the antiseptic for their cuts. But not you, recruit.’
He takes a small roll of white bandage out of a drawer and begins to wrap her knuckles.
'Tell me recruit, what’s your name?’
'A’
'Nice to make your acquaintance A. I’m B’
'Doctor B?’
'No no, just B’
'A, how did you injure yourself?’
The question is posed casually but A grows wary.
'Training. I, er, went too far’
B hums acknowledgment. He finishes up wrapping her second hand and leans back over to his desk. His fingers find a button beneath and press it.
Looking at A, he says
'You sure you didn’t get them from our guards, Agent A?’
He smiles crookedly.
'Your bloody knuckles betray you. All our recruits are forced to wear hand wraps during training’
The distant sound of boots approaching grows louder and louder. A stands up abruptly in an attempt to make a mad rush for the door but there’s a sharp, cold prick under her chin as B holds up a pair of scissors.
'Uhuh, not so fast little recruit. I’ll cut you a deal, since you were such a good patient. If you go now, you’ll have like five seconds on 'em.’
'In exchange for what?’ A asks through gritted teeth.
'This.’ B undoes the zipper of her jumpsuit and tugs off the locket at her neck.
A’s eyes go wide and she lunges for it but B jumps out of reach. She’s torn between retrieving her locket or running for her life. A bolts for the door but as she leaves she hears B call:
'See you around recruit’
When she’s gone, he looks at the locket in his palm.
Spy fic imagine - ‘You couldn’t be more wrong.. I worship you’
Agent A sags against her chains in her cell. Her hands and feet are bound with cuffs with spikes protruding inwards. Blood is smeared on her arms and ankles, it also drips off her chin from her broken nose.
The basement is dark and dead silent, save for her pained, shaking breaths. Then she hears steps and the cell door rattles.
'A! Are you okay?’ A voice whispers.
A is losing consciousness but at the sound of B’s voice, it’s low rasp, she jerks awake.
'B?’ Her voice cracks hoarsely from the two days without water or food.
She searches for his brown eyes but they’re focused on padlock. Deftly, B picks the lock and enters her cell silently. He doesn’t look at her and instead eyes the locks around her wrists and ankles. Bending down, his hair brushes against her knee as he picks the lock around her ankles. When it springs free he grasps her calves one at a time, just above the wounds where the cuffs have cut her, and guides them out of the chains. His hand is warm against her freezing skin. Her knees are on the verge of buckling.
'Can you stand?’ he asks in a low whisper.
'Yes’ she manages to croak out.
He stands, moving to pick the locks for her wrist cuffs. B looks up at the lock that holds A’s hands above her head. She stares at his chest, his broad shoulders, his neck, his adam’s apple..
'Done’ he says, lock springing free.
A sighs deeply as she lowers her aching arms and bloody wrists. She can’t see how badly they’re torn up but they sting like hell.
'Come on’ B says, walking over to the cell door.
He exits and holds it open for her to step out. She follows B’s lead as he walks quickly out of the basement. Darkness bites the edges of her vision as she moves, limbs burning.
B turns a corner, telling her to wait behind. He’s spotted two men and goes to distract them. She watches and waits for his signal but is suddenly pulled backward. Another man holds her against him, her throat in his elbow.
Instinctually, A manoeuvres out of it. For a brief moment, she feels powerful, kicking the man down. But very quickly the adrenaline fades..
Pain shoots up her limbs and dizziness overwhelms her. B runs back in time to see A kick the man away and immediately collapse onto the ground, eyes closing.
'No, A!’ he shouts.
More gang members rush to them. B runs toward her and loops his arm around her back.
'A, wake up! Come on!’
A stirs enough to move her legs weakly. B runs, half carrying, half pushing A till they are out of the den and in the clear, narrowly missing the gang members at their heels.
Out in the open, the mid afternoon sun hits them straight in the eyes. B radios urgent pickup from the crew on standby. A’s knees buckle from the pain and she collapses.
'Woah!’ B bends with her and moves his other arm behind her knees. He sits on the ground, cradling her weak form in his lap. A looks up and his brown eyes, now brilliant in the sun, meet hers.
'Why are you here?’ she asks
'You’re one of the best. There’s no way..’
'No, why are you here?’ A’s eyelids are daring to close, her limbs feel heavy.
B stills at the question and looks up. In his lap, A’s breathing slows and he realises he needs to keep talking to keep her awake.
'Because I had to find you’
A huffs. Her eyes slightly open as she mumbles,
'You don’t care where I am. Eight years we’ve been.. been in this job and you.. you never cared.. what I was up to’
'You couldn’t be more wrong.. A, I worship you’
His own confession has his heart hammering in his chest. B hears the distant sound of a helicopter and looks down at A’s face, unconscious on his elbow.
He bends over to kiss her forehead, almost sorry that he chose the worst time to confess. Then he lifts her, cradling her close and walks toward the landing helicopter.
Why do you always insist you’ve got it covered when you so clearly don’t?
Get your head out of your ass. You’re not strong enough to save us all on your own
And where did that get you?
I was going to have you punished for disobeying me but looks like they got to you first
You were stupid enough to get hurt in the first place so you’re damn well not allowed to pass out now
Quit your whining or I’ll shove the blade in further
(yelling) Afraid I’d yell at you? Your punk-ass would rather die than get yelled at?
Hey actually I do want your opinion on one thing- does it hurt more getting the blade shoved in (pulls blade out much to the painful surprise of whumpee) or out?
(Upon seeing whumpee’s bandages drenched in blood) *Sighs. This wound is almost as stubborn as you are.
A character’s POV where a teammate offers a hand to help them up and they take it, grimacing and grumbling but relieved that everything is over. Yet when they are upright, the world tilts dramatically onto a sharp downward plane. They don’t feel themselves falling, but the teammate’s shocked face is moving further away. The sudden impact of the ground jolts their bones in their weakened body. Dizziness consumes them, the world spinning on a different plane to them. And pain creeps in - biting their brain, pinching their nerves, seizing their body to move awkwardly and pull at torn muscles.
There are snatches of voices - their name, reassurances, and they wish they could speak and tell them not to worry. But they are no longer in control. There is only dizziness and pain and soon, nothing.
Yo crafty whump community, this is a weird ask, but is anyone into doll modding? I may have acquired a Ken doll that looks a bit like Edward Teach from Our Flag Means Death, and I may have some silly aspirations - but I don’t know where to start! If anyone has any good doll modifying resources (prefer text to video but youtube recs are also fine), I would love to hear them.
Bit anxious to jump in and make this post, but going to do it anyway. You can call me Mickey (they/any/not sure.) I’ve been lurking around the whump community for quite a while now, and have been wanting to dip my toes into whump writing but am not entirely sure where or how to start. I have a lot of ideas floating around in my head though, and figure I can start storing them here for my potential future use (and for anyone else who might be inspired.)
Also am hoping to interact with the community on here and share the things I like with others. It was pretty shocking for me to discover that whump is A Thing, and that I’m not alone in my lifelong enjoyment of it. The community seems so friendly, and I’m excited to try to carve out a space for myself here.
My taste can be finicky and hard to pin down, but things I like tend to include:
Torture in general (whippings, broken bones, stress positions, burns, shocks… so many fun options.)
Long term captivity or isolation.
Emotional angst and despair.
Feelings of humiliation, whumpees forced to kneel or beg.
Morally complex whumpees, especially when they see their pain as deserved. (Also complex whumpers, or whumpers-turned-whumpees.)
Inseparably close bonds between whumpees and caretakers – particularly when the roles blur or flip, or when characters who were hurt together become caretakers for each other. Especially good when it leads to emotional pain - self sacrifice for the other’s sake, one forced to hurt the other, perceived betrayal… I am weak for this.
Characters of any gender, but without a focus on gender dynamics or gendered oppression. I especially love seeing female characters in typically masculine roles without it being treated as unusual.
Prison settings, interrogations, military or spy whump, sci-fi or fantasy settings.
I feel very awkward tagging people but I do want to give a shout out to @just-horrible-things (whose writing I may be a bit too obsessed with) who has been incredibly friendly chatting with me for a while now and helped me feel more comfortable joining in on here.
Not sure how this blog thing is going to go, but going to try it out and see what happens. Excited to share some misery on here with you all <3
I just came across this post from a crafty whumper! It got me thinking…. We have lots of community members who write and draw… but what other hobbies do you all enjoy?
Me, I like to sing, crochet, scrapbook, and take pictures (I like to consider myself an aspiring amateur photographer).
I do a little cross-stitch/embroidery, some calligraphy, and the occasional efforts at knitting and crocheting. I also dabble in scrapbooking sometimes, and occasionally try to draw. My roommate and close pal also taught me how to do Viking wire weaving a year or two ago, and that’s VERY fun! It comes out looking like this picture:
ALT
In the past, I’ve also sometimes messed around with woodburning and leatherwork. (I’d love to do some leatherwork again, but a relative across the country owns all the tools I learned on. :p)
As for other crafters around, I know @whump-it makes many lovely crafts, and @newbornwhumperfly does some cool things with miniatures! (No pressure to reply if you don’t want - just wanted to offer. ☺️) Edit: Also, @orchidscript does some gorgeous historical costuming I think!
ALT
