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#give me the whump
blurrycow · 1 year
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8 and 9 for writing ask?
8.) How slow is a slow burn?
Hmm I don’t read slowburn all too often because im more of a oneshots kind of gal but I’d say maybe… five chapters? 10k words? 8k words? Idk
9.) Thoughts on cliffhangers.
They’re great if I have access to what happens next. If I have to wait until the next chapter or book comes out I have to distract myself with something or I want to bite everyone
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shywhumpauthor · 7 months
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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.
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1dumpsterfire1 · 4 months
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give me more Whumper turned Caretaker.
give me Whumper who sees the error of their ways and feels immense guilt for what they did to Whumpee. give me Whumper who took things too far one day and was forced to ensure that Whumpee doesn't bleed out from their wounds and stays alive. give me Whumper cradling Whumpee in their arms and just watching them sleep after closing up their wounds and cleaning them up. give me Whumper tracing Whumpee's long healed scars and feeling their stomach drop when he remembers all of it.
give me Whumper who moves Whumpee from the basement to a new room, fully furnished and comfortable while they're asleep. give me Whumpee who wakes up in this unfamiliar territory and is immediately frightened but can't move much due to their wounds. Whumper is there to make them settle down.
give me Whumper who tries to make them eat something (some nutritious dish Whumpee has never had before and probably would've been denied if they asked). give me Whumper who dresses them in new clothes, the softest material he could find to make sure that Whumpee is comfy. give me Whumper who tries to urge Whumpee to explore more of the house (or yard) but Whumpee shakes their head and says no thank you, hoping that they'll be left alone.
give me Whumper who tries to make amends but Whumpee is too afraid to think that this new behaviour isn't anything more than one twisted joke; a trick, an excuse to punish them more. give me Whumper who tries to make Whumpee feel safe, who tries to restore the light in their eyes, but to absolutely no avail.
because every kind action they do is met with quiet resistance, with fearful eyes, with flinching, with shrunken shoulders, with lowered gazes and a bowed head.
give me Whumper stuck in this vicious cycle of being drowned by guilt while Whumpee is stuck waiting for more pain, for more punishments and is only met with affection that they don't know what to do with.
is that too much to ask?🫠
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generic-whumperz · 7 months
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Can’t stop, won’t stop
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whumpprentice · 6 months
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me: I hate cliches
media: here’s a character losing control of their powers when they’re sick
me: omg a character losing control of their powers when they’re sick
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galaxywhump · 9 months
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Whumpee whispering "I want to go home".
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dinkflocculent · 2 months
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A Whump trope that’s always been with me ever since I was a child and was in most of my pieces; probably apart of my Whump awakening.
Whumpee would get rescued, but due to their poor mental state, they don’t trust anyone—even Caretaker. Leading to whumpee biting, hitting, scratching—anything to get people away from them.
This would cause them to forcefully be restrained, which would devastate Caretaker. Whumpee just doesn’t to now what’s going on; they think Whumpee is still there, or their friends that they once knew before their capture were going to hurt them.
Or another favorite trope—whumper making Whumpee a guard dog/killing machine. Brainwashing them to kill or torture whoever whumper orders them to—or their shock collar will go off.
One day, caretaker will be captured and whumpee will have to fight them. They don’t recognize them, and they are now just a mindless minion for whumper.
Then when they get rescued, they realize what they’ve done, and will never forgive themself.
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flowercrowngods · 10 months
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part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)
day 04: here come the tears
a/n: the people have requested a surprise eddie pov and i have decided to pull a eurovision and ignore the public vote, just a little bit. but you get a tiny eddie pov, as a treat 🤍
Steve is crying. It's 1:07 a.m. and Steve is crying. And there is nothing Eddie can do about it as he's lying in bed, his heart breaking further with every passing second that they lie there in silence, quiet sniffles carrying over the phone. 
Steve is crying and Eddie is breaking. Steve is not talking to him and Eddie is breaking. Steve is not okay, and neither is Eddie. They're both breaking. 
And Eddie doesn't know what to do about it, how to fix it. How to make it better. How to tell Steve that he misses him, how to ask him to talk to him, how to keep him. To stop him from slipping through his fingers further and further until all there is is silence. 
"You know," his mind wanders back to years ago, his heart cracking at the memory. "I had the biggest crush on him for the longest time. Forever, really."
He remembers the way Steve's eyebrows shot up, his eyes round with... shock? Surprise? Or maybe something bad? 
"Oh?" 
"Yeah," Eddie had chuckled, fiddling with the straw in his drink to give his hands something to do. "Remember that kiss?" Steve nodded. "Well." Another chuckle, awkward this time, and possibly too revealing. 
Steve grinned at him, a self satisfied smirk that wavers just a little. "So you're saying you did fall madly in love with me, Munson?" 
Eddie's breath had hitched a little because Steve remembered those words so perfectly that had since doomed Eddie completely. But he covered it up with a laugh so easily, he was sure Steve didn't notice. 
"Maybe," he grinned. "But eh, that's in the past." 
It wasn't a lie; not really. But wasn't the truth either. 
The truth was that Eddie had moved on. The truth was that it's the kind of crush that was never really a crush. The kind that is a Forever more than anything else. 
The kind that will always be there, a flame burning inside my chest that carries your name and keeps it alive, keeps me warm. The kind of flame that will always be ready to become a bonfire again. Just say the word, Stevie. It's written in the universe. Say the word and I'll be yours. 
"Good," Steve said after a while, and Eddie remembers frowning, remembers that he wanted to ask what that tone was, what Steve was thinking. If he was worried or disgusted or felt betrayed that Eddie's been so hopelessly and helplessly in love with him. 
But all he said was, "Yeah. Remember Chrissy? We're kinda official now." 
And Eddie had known then just as he does now, that he'll be a happy man with Chrissy. She's his best friend, a sunshine on bleak days. She's no Steve, but she makes him happy. He had to move on from Steve – to try – and allow himself his own kind of happiness. He'd never expected to find it with Chrissy, but he loves her so much. He's grown to love her in the past years – not the movie kind of love, not the all-encompassing Steve kind of love, because that flame inside his chest can still only carry one name. 
But life is not a movie. And love is not always a fire. But he's still warm, still content, still happy. And so is Chrissy. She knows about his flame, says she understands. Eddie thinks he has one of her own, but he never asked; just held her that night, creating more of that silent happiness.
…Is he happy? Lying in bed, listening to Steve's quiet breaths that are barely audible over the phone, remembering the kiss, the confession, the Forever that he tried to move on from, he wonders what he's doing. Wonders if that contentment is worthwhile if it somehow lead him to losing Steve. 
Did he miss something? Did he fuck up without realising? 
He can't ask; Steve won't talk. 
All he can do is lie there and feel that flame that still carries Steve's name after ten, eleven, twelve years scorching his insides. 
All he can do is wonder if the whispered, "Good night, Stevie. I miss you," is some kind of goodbye. All he can do is lie awake all night and wonder where they started losing each other. 
~*~
Missing Eddie is worse than loving him. Missing Eddie makes it feel like all the heartbreak songs are written for Steve and his pain that will persist.
It’s been three months since the engagement party, and the sharp, biting heartache that cut into his lungs every time Steve tried to take a deep breath has dulled now, turned into a constant ache, an emptiness, the sorrowful traces of where an I love you turned into an I miss you. 
He’s barely talking to Eddie anymore, and with every passing day he just misses him more. 
Steve types the words I miss you over and over and over again, but never hits send. Just stares at them, wondering if Eddie knows. Wondering if he’s doing the right thing. He isn’t. There is no right thing. Nothing is right. Not without Eddie. 
He scrolls up in their chat, past Eddie’s questions if he’s okay, past his very own I miss yous, up and up and up to the strings of hearts, to the inside jokes, to the gentle teasing, to the You’re my favourite persons, to the happiness and joy and good, good times. 
He scrolls and scrolls until his phone vibrates and tells him there’s a new message in the chat. Steve frowns, his hollow heart racing as he scrolls down again to see Eddie’s new message. 
Eddie Munson: — Can I come over? 
Steve frowns. 
— why? are you okay? 
Eddie Munson: — No. — Nothing is okay. You’re gone and you’re not talking to me and I miss you and I’m losing you and I don’t know why — I dont know anything. — I just wanna know, wanna talk, wanna understand — I wanna fix this. I fucked up, I think, and I wanna make it better. — I need to talk to you — Please. Please can I come over 
Steve swallows hard, as he reads the incoming messages over and over again, watching the little bubble that says Eddie’s typing still. Watching as it disappears and reappears, reading until his eyes begin to sting and his vision is blurred with tears for the first time this week. 
Letting them fall as he types, 
— no. please dont 
Eddie doesn’t reply to that, and Steve breathes out long and hard, throwing his phone to the side, not caring where it lands on the couch as he slumps over to the other side, turning up the music even louder. 
Oh, can you tell I haven’s slept very well Since the last time that we spoke. I said, ‘Please understand I’ve been drinking again And all I do is hope.’
It consumes him, this song and the way it was written for him. The way it was written about him. Because he has no right to ask Eddie to stay. He’s the one who’s leaving. He’s the one not telling Eddie what is wrong, why he’s pulling back so suddenly. 
I’m not strong enough for the both of us. What was I supposed to do, You know I love you. Please, stay.
Please stay. Please, please, please stay. It’s about him. It’s about Eddie. About them. 
And Steve listens to it over and over again, not caring that his neighbours will know it by heart by know, will be so tired of him wallowing for weeks and months, and will come knocking soon. He doesn’t care, not when Mayday Parade are singing, All the love’s still there, I just don’t know what to do with it now. 
He types that into Eddie’s chat. Doesn’t hit send. Sends it to Robin instead, and gets a shaking hands emoji in return. It makes him smile as he re-starts the song. 
~*~
That night, he wakes around 2 a.m. to a missed call an hour ago and one new message on his mailbox. He lifts his phone to his ear with shaking hands and bated breath, a pit opening in his stomach when he hears the Judas Priest song that’s been in his Sad Eddie playlist since the beginning. 
His heart cracks open when he hears Eddie’s sniffle, a heavy sigh, and another sniffle, followed by a little, Fuck. 
“Stevie? I’m… You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to just— to just disappear. To slip through my fucking fingers, or float away like a— a dream, when you wake up, and you wanna go back to sleep because it was a good dream, and you— I don’t wan’ you to be a good dream Steve. You’re like… Fuck, man!” 
Eddie’s voice is breaking, and so is Steve’s heart as his hand begins to tremble and he sits up in bed, closing his eyes, squeezing them shut because he doesn’t want to see the world as Eddie’s rambling at him. 
“I miss you. I miss you so much, and I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t… I don’t wanna miss you. How do I get you back, Stevie? Please just… God, please just talk to me. I’d do anything for you, you know that. Just tell me, just say the word. Just… Just say the word, please.” 
There’s silence after that, only Judas Priest’s Here come the tears over and over as the song is ending. Steve is crying as he listens to Eddie’s silence. 
“Just. Just… Please, Stevie.” 
The call ends then, the line cutting to the staticky voice instructing him to save or delete the message. Steve saves it. He doesn’t know why. 
He also doesn’t know why he’s scrolling through his contacts with trembling hands and hits Call when he reaches Eddie. 
The call doesn’t even get to the second ring before it’s picked up already. 
“Stevie?” Eddie sounds breathless, wild, and just a little hoarse. Like he was still crying. 
“Hi,” he says lamely, still shaking, a little breathless himself, and with absolutely no idea what he should say. 
“I’m… Hi.” 
Silence falls, and Steve wipes at his eyes. He’s still in bed, just sitting there with his phone pressed to his ear, and the ball that’s coiled inside him is growing larger and larger with each passing second that he doesn’t say Sorry, that he doesn’t say I miss you, too. That he doesn’t say I love you. 
“Can I come in?” 
He blinks, the question throwing him off his thought spiral. “Huh?” 
“I’m sort of… outside your building right now.” 
Why, he wants to ask. No, he wants to say. You’re gonna see, you’re gonna know, you’re gonna hate me forever. 
“Okay,” he breathes and climbs out of bed, blanket around his shoulders despite the summer heat, because suddenly he’s freezing. He buzzes Eddie in, listens to him on the phone as he walks up the stairs, neither of them thinking of hanging up, and opens his doors with shaking, trembling hands. 
tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @imzadidragonfly @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript (sorry if i missed anyone just give me a shout if i did <3)and thanks to everyone who said nice things about this 🤍🌷
come back tomorrow/later for [redacted] | read here
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whump-thoughts · 3 months
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Ya know. There should be more all powerful whumpees.
Like, Angel's being forcefully tied down to the mortal world for whatever reason. To either torture or vivisect.
An eldritch deity being trapped inside a human vessel. Them being so vast and nearly infinite being filtered down and changed by a vessel that's actively rejecting them. Possibly by their own cultists.
man just. Really powerful whumpee's being brought down and being in constant pain. I dunno, tho I do know that human caretaker would taste divine with either of the above ideas
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errantnight · 7 months
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stealingyourbones · 2 years
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Jason’s body isn’t meant to exist in the mortal plane. His existence is an affront to reality. It started a year or so after being revived. Jason’s body is wracked with pain as his body flickers with unearthly static, his soul rebelling against being in the wrong plane of existence. The first episode lasted only a second or two but it felt like hours. After that night, the episodes of glitching back in and out of reality became more and more frequent. Jason tried his best to prevent any and all confrontations with his family. He didn't want to worry them that he was slowly dying. His spirit forcibly trying to go back to the afterlife when all he wanted to do was stay alive.
The episodes happen every week now and last a minute or more. Each one saps Jason of all of his energy and strength. Jason spends many days just staring, eyes unfocused towards the ceiling, and just wishing for hours on end for the pain to stop.
Danny first saw the boy around three years ago. A teenager with a white streak in his hair kneeling on a nonexistent surface and clutching his head. His mouth was open to yell but Danny couldn't hear his scream. The figure flickered in and out of existence like jarbled tv static for only a moment before he vanished.
Danny tried to figure out ways to locate the man but came up with nothing. He put the issue behind him as his new title of Ghost King required almost all of his available free time. For two years he has spotted the screaming man flickering in and out in the Ghost Zone. The man has been appearing more frequently now. He wears different clothes each time, sometimes wearing a strange red helmet, but his position is still the exact same: Curled in a ball, hands clutching his head, and mouth open in a silent scream. Each time he would flicker in and out of existence before vanishing back to where he originally came from. 
Danny didn’t know what to do, he never saw anything like this before and felt helpless. He contacted Frostbite who couldn't find any previous examples of this happening in the Ghost Zone. Contacting Clockwork the man just smiled and told Danny that everything is happening exactly the way it should.
One episode of the screaming man changed everything. He appeared directly next to Danny. The man was without his helmet, he was dripping sweat and his eyes were glazed over in pain. Danny acted on impulse and knelt down to the man to rest a hand on his shoulder to ground him. 
The second Danny touched the man’s shoulder he cried out in agony as he felt the mans pain as if it was his own. God, he’s seen this person for the past three years and did nothing as this man suffered to this extent? Through the pain, Danny promised himself that he would do everything in his power to help this man. Focusing on the man's spirit, He could feel the man’s soul pulling him back towards the mortal realm. Danny latched onto the man's soul and let it carry him to the man's physical form.
Jason was fully dissociating from the pure agony his body was consumed with. His skin flickering and distorting and twisting out of place, his vision filled with nauseating swirls of greens and purples. It was always the same colors, why was it always the same damn colors?!
Suddenly, the pain became a background hum. It was still excruciating but Jason had gained a frighteningly high pain tolerance over the last three years. 
Jason felt something on his shoulder and noticed a figure in his house moments before the wave of exhaustion from dealing with the episode hit him like a brick: A man in extremely detailed battle armor with a long flowing cape behind him stood hunched over him, grasping his shoulder in a vice grip. Iridescent white hair flowing in a nonexistent wind and face contorted in agony as he flickered in and out of existence. The man had taken his burden. 
The last thing Jason saw before his eyes closed was a glowing crown of dark energy glowing an eerie green light atop his head. Something about it radiated a sense of safety and protection. 
He didn't know who this figure was but he knew that for the first time in two years, he had hope.
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whump-queen · 1 year
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give me a whumpee who reveals insecurities or past trauma in a moment of vulnerability,
give me a whumper who leans in with the most genuine look of concern, their eyes warm and compassionate, their palm gently cupping whumpee’s cheek, a bright smile blooming onto their face—
“oh sweetheart,
I’m going to exploit that.”
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Crosshair getting a break this week means they're absolutely ROYALLY fucked next week. Jennifer does not Give Breaks. They're gonna break that man like he's their toothpick.
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druidshollow · 3 months
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funky-little-torturer · 4 months
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Imagine how difficult it'd be for a winged whumpee to fly with their hands tied behind their back.
With wings between the arms the delicate feathers and bones could be injured from the constant compression, not to mention the strain flight would put on them. Arms between the wings would be a different matter, it could be easier to handle, but let's be real, what whumper would willingly make it easy on their wumpee?
Either way, I don't think they'd get very far.
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