this account will mostly be reblogs of whump stuff. I might put my own prompts here but that will likely be rare. My main account is @starmars-jacam and I currently mainly reblog Minecraft yt stuff there
(pfp is a picture of a butterfly I took myself, felt like it fit cause the butterfly was all flakey and missing part of its wing)
Edit 5/12/26: adding a tag for my original story started on my main. #Starâs Royal Siblings whump (you can find the general stuff under the same tag minus the whump part)
Pregnant recovering whumpeeâ maybe they've been recovering for years, now, and they're pregnant for the first time.
They start having cravings. Sure, most of them are normal. Then they have some they can't place. And they try it. Surely it's something inconspicuous, like an orange and pickle combo or a type of pizza they haven't had in years.
They don't remember it before, but they take a few bites and it brings back memories. Memories they've blocked out or just refuse to think aboutâ maybe because the thing they ate was the only food they could get a hold on back then. Maybe a food they were force fed. Maybe something gross but the only thing around.
And whumpee breaks down. Sick to their stomach, far too ill to eat, nauseous even. Shaking and cold. And then caretaker or their partner comes, running fingers through their hair. Helping them up and cleaning them off, throwing away that food.
Since I wan to start being more consistent with my account and giving you guys whump tropes, I thought that it would be fun if we played a game ^^
The House Of Whump Number Game ŕ´Śŕľŕ´Śŕ´ż(áľááľ)
How the game goes is, you will pick a number between 1-50, an I'll give you a whump prompt!!!
You can send this either send in your number in the comment below but I would prefer it to be through my inbox so I can post your number and my answer ^^
Interactions are appreciated, reblogs are loved, and my inbox is always open. Thank you guys so much for your support ^^!!
whumpee who is tortured for information. the process is long and tedious and horrible - whumper is using all kinds of methods to make them talk. eventually, whumpee can't handle it anymore and with great shame gives up.
they tell whumper all the information they had wanted, just for whumper to reveal that he had gotten the information long ago, perhaps from another source or victim. he just wanted to see how much it took to break whumpee, to get them to 'betray' their friends
(and whumpee is forever left with the question, why? why go to such extents to hurt them for practically no reason at all? maybe they blame themselves for not realising the truth sooner, or for spilling the intel in the end, or maybe all they are left with is the trauma, inflicted for no reason at all other than to humour whumper)
The Horizon Guard Masterlist - August 21st, Year 1
Contains: aftermath of whump/torture, previous lab whump, hospitals.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ.âŚâŚâŚâŚ
Jasper doesnât find it strange that he has woken up from certain death, surrounded by superheroes. He left normalcy behind at least six months ago. Being rescued from one genre-fiction to another is easy to accept. Seeing his aunt there is harder.
Jasper is monstrous and his powers are out of control. Even if theyâre right, and heâs not a killer, superheroes are the only ones strong enough to keep him in check. His aunt should have washed her hands of him back in May, like the rest of his family. Instead, she holds out her phone. Itâs already ringing. The screen reads âElizabeth Sparston (Lizzie)â.
His sister smiles from her profile picture. The last time Zachary saw her was at a normal breakfast, but he canât remember how it went. He does remember how, two nights before, heâd been rasping in an alien language with his eyes black and Darkness in his throat. She was afraid. Sheâd reached for the necklace their mother made her to protect from monsters.
Today, heâd call that reaction fair, but he wasnât a monster yet. He was still just her big brother. He was supposed to keep her safe. Isnât that how this whole mess started? He was eleven and she was six, out by the spring on the day the rocks started floating? He prayed for three months that Lizzie wouldnât be dragged underground after him.
The phone doesnât sit quite right against the brand on his palm. Itâs flowery purple plastic comes from a different world than where he spent the summer. She accepts the call. She sounds afraid, and one screen by his bed helpfully informs the room that his heart rate indicates panic.
âCathy, is heâŚâ
Jasper realizes that he is calling from their auntâs phone. His aunt who is the healer, who spent a whole day trying and failing to wake him up.
âIâm not dead, Zeeâ
Zee. Lizzie and Zach. They donât share much but the nickname. Sheâs only thirteen, and wrapped up in their motherâs witchcraft. Their family hasnât decided sheâs a sinner and sold her to the government. That would be insane and wrong.
Zachary has to pull the phone away from his elfish ears. Her voice is too high-pitched, too excited. He replies as if through a wall of prison glass. This is good news. Sheâs okay. He remembers electricity and a scalpel cutting open his chest. He doesnât say much.
âOh my gosh. Iâve been so worried! No oneâs really talked about you since the reunion, but Dadâs been a wreck, and then all of a sudden they wanted me to go stay with Aunt Cathy in the city. I thought you were dead!â
âThey talked about me at the reunion?â
The whole Sparston clan, well, the closest few generations, gather together each June on the summer solstice. Heâd been imprisoned for a month by then. With a chill as though it were happening again, Jasper remembers that the summer solstice was the last date when he was waterboarded. It was his final exam, and his handler just kept going. Where is Bridges, anyway? Shouldnât he be here?
His sister fills the silence. The reunion was crazy! Their dad, as stated, was a wreck, because he kept getting visions! He was sure you were being hurt and and he got up in front of the family and said he didnât deserve to be the heir anymore because the purpose of a leader is to protect his family and home and he already failed at that. So now their uncle is. But theyâre not swapping houses, donât worry.
Eventually, she refocuses. âWas Dad right? You didnât write, you didnât callâ.
âIâm not sure whatâŚâ
âDid they hurt you? The Department of Supernatural Resources? Because they made me register too - did you tell them about my powers? Like, if it wasnât a big deal anymore, I wanted to break the news. I had ideas - but they were really freaky. Like, Iâm fine with guns. Iâve seen all the guys go hunting-â
He detects a bit of discontent. The men hunt and protect, the women cast magic. Thatâs the way things have always been for Sparstons.
âBut these agents were different. They didnât even take their boots offâ.
He supposes he mustâve tattled at some point. There were points where he wouldâve said anything to make it stop. Hell, if Bridges read his journals, heâd have figured it out all on his own.
But worrying about the family learning that his sister had powers feels like a problem from the first episode of a tv show, when heâs building to the finale. Who cares if Lizzie has the faintest echo of Darkness at her fingertips? Sheâs learning the right spells, and crushes on the right people, and looks like Sparston should. Not like Zach, pale as a vampire with sharp teeth and his hair bleached white. Their family would never, ever, betray her. The DSR might come anyway.
âThey took my journals, didnât they?â
âYup. And some other stuff. Missed your IPad though, because I took it and Iâd already changed the backdropâ.
He blinks. Heâd bet that iPad that her motivation was not altruism.
âThey did.â
âHm?â
âYou asked what the Department of Supernatural Resources didâ.
He sits there on the medical bed, IVs in his arms and magical brand pulsing on his palm, and opens his mouth to narrate into the speaker phone something that will make all of them understand. He was tortured, Zee. They put a shock collar around his neck like the neighbors dog and drowned him in cold water. They kept him awake for days and had him beaten with police batons and boots and other prisonerâs fists. They cut his chest open so he could see his own heart. They hurt him. They hurt him every day for three months and the Department was stomping around his house so Jasper canât help but imagine a world where and they hurt her too.
Instead, all he says is: âDad was rightâ.
What did he dream of? His chest cut open and his lungs exposed to the air? Him beating a girl half to death?
âOh. Sorry. You donât need to talk about it. Iâm glad youâre okayâ.
Heâs not. The need to talk about it consumes him like the Darkness when he canât use those powers. But sheâs his little sister. Hell, the Darkness only took up residence in his body because he pulled itâs tendrils away from her, in that cave, all those years ago.
It still left a mark on her. Her spellcasting has built around it like a tree grows around a fence post, but itâs nothing compared to Zach, whoâs ancestral magic never grew in at all. He was marked by something ancient and alien, and this March it sought him out as a host. He got shapeshifting ooze and healing that destroys, not the prophecy his family was built around. Except he did see those two visions of a supervillain. About six years late.
âSo you live with our aunt now?â
âYeah! I moved about a week ago. I donât think itâs permanent, but Iâm starting eighth grade in a week! Like you did! I kinda hope Iâm here for the semester. Should be. Itâs a safety thingâ.
Safety thing? Surely she wouldnât hide from the DSR in the city where they have a headquarters.
ââŚIs the portal bad again?â
âYeah. Dad says itâs worse than when his brother got mauledâ.
His aunt signals something. Wrap the conversation up? Move away from Arcane Sparston Traditions? Heâs fine with that. Jasper is just happy to have had a phone call.
âOk, Lizzie, I need to end the call. Stay safe, and do what the DSR tells you. And I want my tablet backâ.
He hangs up and hands the phone back to his aunt. Silence in the room. He registers for the first time that his stomach hurts. He thinks heâll pass out the second he lies down.
âAre you feeling alright?â His aunt asks. âThat was sudden".
He picks at the brand. âIâm tired. I just wanted to know she was⌠okay".
Jasper turns to the rest of the room, the heroes. "Is she part of this? I behave and join up with your superhero team, or else the DSR swoops in and tries to turn my sister into a weapon?â
The worst part is that they might even have success. Of the two of them, Lizzie is the stronger-willed. Sheâs always loved the louder, messier, things. He thinks back, for the thousandth time, to try and tell whether anyone as young as thirteen was imprisoned alongside him. There were fifteen year olds, heâs sure.
âWe are not going to let that happen,â a different hero replies. The cyborg called Skystriker, who carried him like an angel off the battlefield. âLizzie has a danger index of 232. Her power is a party trick. If the DSR touches her, the media will riot. Weâll make sure of itâ.
âWhat does the media have to do with any of this?â Jasper asks. Cyrene had mentioned something of that sort, but he doesnât really believe it. He wasnât freed, he was rescued from a normal mission.
He is so tired that they let him stay in that ignorance. He has all the time in the world, now, or at least he deserves to believe that.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ
âIâm starting 8th grade, like you did!â would be a weird thing to say, if not for how Sparstons typically homeschool their children (partially in magic) until high school (9th grade). Zach, being a cursed outcast from age 11, was sent to normal school early.
Obsessed with the idea of an already wounded/exhausted character going "I... can take it." Like no bish you can't, but love enthusiasm and the horrified looks of your team.
I feels like the concept of tail / ear docking has such whump potential for hybrid whumpees.
My thought process is basically :
Maybe whumpee used to hate their floppy ears or their big, bushy tail. Or maybe whumpee loved those features about themself. However, when whumper gets their hands on whumpee, whumper ends up forcing whumpee in one way or another to get those features docked. Maybe whumper manipulates whumpee, tells whumpee that they'd be happier - or that they look ugly with their current ears / tail. Maybe whumper threatens whumpee and sees it as an act of revenge. Maybe it's something else. Either way, whumpee can't recognize themself in the mirror afterward.
( I've been thinking about this for WEEKS but I don't know how to word it so I hope you get what I mean. )
whumpee who's supposed to be better. they took their pills. they did their therapy. they went to rehab. by all accounts, they've walked the steps and now they should be sitting back, enjoying the rewards.
except they're not better. and everyone around them is getting tired of it.
A sick whumpee goes to bed, thinking they just need some sleep, only they wake up in the middle of the night much, much worse. Raging fever. Drenched in sweat. Searing pain. Overwhelming nausea. Struggling to breathe. Just something intense that pulls them from slumber.
And its 3am; everyone else is asleep, leaving whumpee in the dark, alone, scared and overpowered by their symptoms.
Oh you're killing me with this one. When they think it's something they can just sleep off, but when they wake up it's so so so much worse. And as soon as whoever's with them wakes up and wonders why whumpee isn't up and around yet, it's too late and they're just in their room shivering and coughing and only half-conscious.. cue caretaker guilt and a day of Freaking the Fuck Out over whumpee
Whumper stripping whumpee and tying them up by their hands, exposing their full body, before giving it little, gentle kisses. Nothing else, just adoring how cute it is and how scared whumpee looks.
Whumpee continued to sob openly. They didn't care anymore. They just wanted the pain to stop. They just wanted to be released from their suffering.
But Whumper did not yet return.
Whumpee had no idea how long they were unconscious for, nor how long it had been since they had woken. But Whumper had been gone for a very, very long time.
When they come back they're going to kill me. Why do I want them to return faster? Because then I will be released from this suffering. From this pain. From this terror.
The door swung open with a bang and Whumpee flinched. They expected Whumper to begin to gloat about breaking them. To chuckle and make fun of them. And to promise a slow and painful end.
Instead, Whumpee heard, "They're in here. They're still alive! Hurry. Get EMS!"
Whumpee strained to try and see the door, crying out in pain as their various wounds pulled tight, scabs reopening and blood flowing once more. "Help," they said weakly.
"Hold on. Hold on. Help is on the way. We're going to get you out of here. We're going to get you help." A kind face appeared in Whumpee's field of vision. "I'm Caretaker. My team and I are here to rescue you. What's your name?"
I'm saved? "Whumpee," they whispered.
"Nice to meet you, Whumpee. Let's see if we can get these coils of rope off you." They walked over and stopped.
Caretaker flinched when they saw Whumpee's chest. I would flinch, too. It's awful. "Where's Whumper?"
"Being taken care of. You don't have to worry about them any longer, Whumpee."
They're taken care of? They can't hurt me? I'm really free. "Thank you," Whumpee said as they squeezed their eyes shut as tears began to flow freely once more.
"You are welcome. Just hold on. EMS is on their way. But let's get you at least out of these ropes."
"Thank you."
"How bad's your pain?"
It's beyond pain. I can't even begin to explain. And I'm so weak. "Bad."
"Ok, just hold on. We're going to get you out of here. It's going to be ok."
Whumpee nodded. They were saved. They were being rescued. Caretaker carefully uncoiled the rope, careful not to brush their wounds. Caretaker continued to murmur reassurances to Whumpee as they worked. Whumpee let themself drift off into the darkness as Caretaker worked. They could rest. They were safe. They were rescued. Whumper couldn't hurt them anymore.
Oddly specific but could you write something with a whumper carving whumpees prisoner number into them (you choose the spot). To add more spice whumpee tries to be defiant and not cry out, but the second whumper leaves, they break down as they realize theyâre not in control anymore >:)
I can absolutely write this! This is a wonderful idea. Poor Whumpee doesn't know what's coming. (please feel free to always ask)
"Fuck you," Whumpee hissed as they struggled in Whumper's grasp. Between the ropes binding them to the table and Whumper's strong grip, Whumpee could barely move. But that didn't mean they weren't going to try to escape.
"Such a mouth on you, my sweet. I do so love that about you," Whumper chuckled as they fingered the large utility knife on their belt. "You are by far the most spirited I have taken. I'll give you that."
Whumpee didn't freeze despite learning that Whumper had been at this a while. And it seemed like no one knew. "Well, then you know this won't be easy! Get your fucking hands OFF ME!" Whumpee gave a fruitless almighty shove but only succeeded in banging their head on the table.
"I enjoy a challenge. Now hold still." Whumper pulled the knife swiftly. "I would hate to end our time together too soon."
"What are you doing! Get off me!" Whumpee growled as Whumper cut away their shirt.
"I'm marking you. That way no matter what happens you'll always know you were mine, Number Twenty-Three. If you escape, you'll always know you were mine. And well, if you end up like the others, if they ever find your corpse, they'll know you were mine."
Whumpee swallowed. Number Twenty-Three? There were twenty-two others. Twenty-two lives lost. I can't be like the others. I have to escape. "Do your worst then."
Whumper stopped, knife poised over Whumpee's heart. "It will hurt, but it won't be deep enough to kill you. I've practiced."
Before Whumpee could reply, Whumper began to carve the letters into Whumpee's chest. Began to carve the words that Whumpee would bear on their flesh until the day the died. Began to carve the words that permanently marked Whumpee as theirs.
And Whumpee didn't cry out. Didn't cry out as they felt their blood run over their skin. Didn't cry out as Whumper dug the knife in. Didn't cry out as Whumper dragged the knife up and down. Didn't so much as make a noise as Whumper worked. Because that was what Whumper wanted. And Whumpee couldn't give Whumper that satisfaction.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Whumper purred as they finally stood up.
Whumpee was shaking. Between the pain, blood loss, and rage, Whumpee's whole body trembled. They couldn't react. "I've had worse."
Whumper beamed. "Excellent. We'll see just how much worse. But first," Whumper began to walk to the door, "let me change into something more appropriate."
Whumpee heard the door close and Whumper's heavy footsteps retreat from the room. As Whumper's steps faded, the first tear slid down Whumpee's cheek. Followed by another. And another.
As Whumpee cried silently, they could feel the flames of hope that had been burning in their chest from the moment Whumper grabbed them begin to flicker and fade. Could feel the pain of the open wounds on their chest. Could feel despair begin to set in. Because Whumper had complete control over them. And there was nothing Whumpee could do to stop it.
Whumper who feels inferior to whumpee and never stops being afraid of them. They know that capturing whumpee was pure luck and they truly fear the moment that their luck runs out. Perhaps hurting whumpee wasnât their initial intention, perhaps they needed them for something else. But now all their fear turns into resentment and they need desperately to take it out on the person who is tormenting them by simply being there.
So they go to whumpee, still unsure. Whumpee is tied up, maybe slightly injured, but terrifyingly calm. When whumper approaches whumpee looks at them with a dark glow in their eyes that is both menacing and amused. Startled by that look, whumper steps back and pulls out their sword sharply. Whumpee notices their fear and smiles quietly, more to themselves than at whumper. But this is the final straw. Now that whumpee has seen whumperâs fear, they will have to pay.
