#whump comunity

[whumpschild]

[fortunately-cool-penguin]

I love it when whumpee makes a stop hand signal when someone is talking to them to make them pause for a moment because whumpee is in pain or dizzy or overwhelmed. And even better if the whumpee is leaning on something like a table or a wall.

[whump-a-la-mode]

It’s blue again with a prompt for u: villain gets captured and tortured by hero and escapes, extremely drugged, and shows up on the doorstep of supervillain (who they are absolutely terrified of) because they have nowhere else to go

🥺🥺🥺 This is such a cute prompt. I hope I did it justice! Thank you fren blue!

CW//Injuries, implied past strangulation, hypothermia, drugging

When one is busy, it is terribly easy to forget, and calling Supervillain anything but busy would be either an understatement, or, perhaps, an insult.

Such was the case when one was the most powerful villain in Metropolis after all. They'd long since given up any semblance of free time. And, yet, as of recent, they had managed to have their schedule even more full than usual.

If there was one thing Supervillain didn't like, it was prison. If there was another, it was the fact that the city's heroes had spent the last few weeks carrying out an all-out war against those who opposed them. Their goal was ludicrous, and yet, at the same time, very, very clear.

Their target? Every villain in the city. Each and every one, taken into captivity. Within the past few weeks, nearly everyone that they kept contact with had scattered like rats into the city floorboards.

But Supervillain was not so cowardly. Not so quick to break and flee. No, that was what kept them at the top of the pecking order. The situation didn't matter-- they weren't leaving their lair. And, so far, they'd fended off the many attacks that had pounded against their walls.

So far.

Regardless of method, unlike their opponents, the city's villains were smart. They knew how to disappear when they had to.

When they had enough warning.

With just how chaotic the last few weeks had been, they had nearly forgotten just how the whole situation had began. The only warning sign that any of them had had-- The fall of a friend.

Well, maybe not a friend. But an ally, surely.

Villain. They had all been too busy. They'd forgotten young Villain, plucked from their home in a siege, broadcasted for all the world to see. It was a tragedy, but sometimes, people died. That was how the world worked.

People died.

They didn't show up on the doorsteps of the most powerful villain in the city, curled into the fetal position, moving only to inhale the tiniest, the shallowest of breaths. They weren't supposed to do that, at the very least.

And, yet, here Villain lay. Against the odds.

When Supervillain had heard the knocking, the weak, almost whimpering of flesh on wood, they had assumed the worst. The next attack. The next attempt to break into their lair. And, yet, their surveillance systems had reported nothing of the like, and a quick sweep by their henchmen had confirmed that there were no heroes laying in wait nearby.

It wasn't a trap. At the very least, if it was a trap, it wasn't obvious.

If it had been a trap, they could have at least cleaned up their bait a little better. That was their first thought when they at last felt confident enough to open the door. What in the world was one supposed to do in this situation? At the moment, their reaction was, more or less, 'staring in shock.' While perhaps not being the most helpful, to them, it seemed the most natural.

Closing the door wasn't an option. They knew that.

Supervillain didn't take pity, not on anyone. There was a reason they were feared-- they weren't known for their mercy. But, leaving a fellow villain like this... It was something that was just wrong. Evil as they were, villains still had morals. They took good care of their hostages. They released children, the elderly and the sick. They kept their own henchmen in good health and spirits.

And...

And they didn't leave fellow villains on their doorsteps, half dead.

Biting the inside of their cheek out of nerves alone, they leaned down, picking up the shivering burden. The cold struck them in an instant-- a terrible, shivering cold. The kind that was reserved only for those with powers that related to ice and snow.

But Villain- No, Villain was a pyrokinetic. A firebender. And they always ran hot.

Not frigid. With a hiss, Supervillain spoke a few words into their earpiece, before disconnecting it. Ordering their henchmen to keep watch, while they dealt with something very, very important.

They laid the pyrokinetic upon a couch-- having holed up in their living area-- and examined them in the better light.

Their eyes were closed, as was their mouth, except for the slightest parting of blue-hued lips to inhale the tiniest of gasps.

Moving downwards, their neck, skin pulled taut and pale to the point of nigh-translucence, was marked pointedly with a series of angry, red lines. They seemed to wrap all the way around. Some were broader, while some were fine, delicate, nearly sharp enough to draw blood.

Strangulation marks.

If their body showed anything, it was that either whoever had kept them captive had had no intent for them to escape, or had simply not cared in what condition their bait was found. They were draped in a cotton top and trousers that were only thick enough to maintain their modesty, but not nearly enough to maintain the slightest fiber of warmth. Sprouting from sleeves and neckholes, bruises of both a deep blue and a sickly purple bloomed, formed into shapes did not so much as attempt to hide that they had been sourced from hands or bats.

It was only when Supervillain's scan reached their feet that they found definitive proof of escape. A single foot, the left, had been torn nearly to shreds, as though it had been chewed by a wild beast. The biting circle of a metal restraint could be seen marked into mangled skin, from where it had once sat upon the ankles, to where it had been slid all the way down, without care for bodily destruction.

Villain had escaped. Villain had escaped, and they had come to see... Supervillain? It didn't make sense.

But, with all the others in hiding...

They were their last hope.

It was with an almost superhuman speed that the supervillain contacted their medical staff, stating to arrive as soon as possible, that any traffic tickets would be paid off.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes to their arrival. Could Villain make it that long? They were so, so cold.

Supervillain was just about the furthest thing on the planet from a doctor, but they were also rather far from being an idiot. No human was meant to be this cold, especially one whose body was designed for the production of flame.

They took a decorative fleece, draped over a nearly ottoman, and held it nervously before their chest. What were they supposed to do?

Villain was too cold. Supervillain wasn't going to let them die!

They pulled the blanket about their back, wrapping it around their front, covering as much skin as they could manage. They expected a reaction, a shout, or- Or something.

But, their newfound, injured ward did little but blearily open their eyes. Behind them, there was nothing.

"Are you okay?" Supervillain spoke to a brick wall. "What happened? What did they do to you?"

A heavy blink, and their eyelids drifted back closed. What was wrong with them?

"Villain!" They snapped, raising their voice loud enough to scare away any wildlife in a one mile radius. "Look at me! Wake up!"

Their tone took on that of what they used during interrogations. Anything to wake their ice-cold ally up.

Their eyes once more opened, focusing ever so slightly. They opened their mouth, gaping momentarily like a fish, before once more closing their jaw.

This wasn't exhaustion, Supervillain realized with a start. This was drugs. Heavy sedation. Nigh-paralysis. That was all that could be seen in their gaze- exhaustion and fear.

What were they afraid of?

"My henchmen have cleared the perimeter." They spoke as though someone in such a state could understand words of such a length. "You're safe."

It did nothing. With a shaking hand, Supervillain reached a hand forward, placing it upon their shoulder.

That elicited a reaction. A whimper.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay."

In their eyes, something shifted.

"Whoever did this to you..." Public enemy number one, the most dangerous person at Metropolis, the terror of every child growled. "I'm going to make them suffer."

When Supervillain's medical staff arrived, it was to the sight of their terrifying boss, coaxing soup through the lips of someone who was identified as a threat to national security.

[intrestingatparties]

Day Two: “Beg To Differ”

Denial | Confined | Eye Contact

@themerrywhumpofmay 

School events suck btw. This is really short because of said school events.

Characters: Whumper, Whumpee

TW/CW: Knife, death mention, manipulation, non-con touch (non-sexual), restraints

“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t heard,” Whumper says, tilting Whumpee’s head back with a rusty and serrated knife. “Caretaker died a few months ago.” Whumpee scoffed.

“No, they didn’t. You’re lying.” They inhaled sharply as Whumper drew a thin line across their victim’s neck, wiping at beads of blood with their gloved hand.

“I’m not.” They sheathed their knife, running their index finger along Whumpee’s jaw. “You should have seen how they screamed, Whumpee. They asked for you, you know. Blamed you for their death-” Whumpee surged forward, their wrists straining against the zip ties binding them together.

“Sut up!” They screamed. “You’re lying!” Whumper’s grin was hidden behind their cloth face mask as they grabbed Whumpee’s face.

“Look at me- no, don’t turn away. I want your eyes on me. Caretaker is dead-”

“Lia-”

“Shut up!” Whumper screamed at them, squeezing painfully.

“Caretaker is dead. I’m all you have left. Just like it should be.”

[whumping-every-day]

This is the person who sent the tiny whumpee stuck in a box ask, I just thought of another variation of that: The tiny whumpee gets stuck because the caretaker closed the box, forgetting or not noticing that the whumpee was inside. So the tiny whumpee thinks they’re being punished or the caretaker doesn’t want them anymore. And the caretaker feels so guilty when they find the tiny whumpee, who’s sobbing and mumbling apologizes and wincing when they’re picked up because their body is sore.

Oh no, poor baby! Maybe the box got left open because Caretaker is cleaning, or perhaps they’re going to a party and had to get our their jewelry/their nice, expensive watch. Tiny Whumpee comes around, and the box looks just their size, and it seems plush and cozy and safe, so they climb in. Then the lid gets closed somehow - I wonder how long they spend stuck inside. O.o 

[voidwhump]

Question

Do you experience all of your emotions as a physical sensation to some extent? Do you experience just a few like that, or none at all? I want to know because I physically feel all of my emotions to varying extents and I’m not sure if it’s a universal thing or not. If it is, fantastic, I can be relatable. If not, it’s something I should think about when making characters. 

[vintagewhump]

Taking Requests

I’ve got some ideas for more oldies whumpy gifsets I’d like to do in the near future, but I would love any more ideas that you guys have to throw at me! Are there any particular vintage movies, shows, actors, etc that you want to see pics or gifs of? Or even any retro whump fanfic requests? I’d love to take your comments/requests!

[whumpschild]

Just leaving this here