A whumper who chooses whumpees purely by the sounds they make. They go to the store and bump people’s ankles with their cart “on accident,” or “slip” and trip someone on the sidewalk. Just to hear them.
Do they yelp? Scream? Whimper? Groan? Cuss?
Most of the time, (behind the fake apologies) they think, Nah, not good enough.
(If these prompts inspire you to create your own content, please tag @whumpster-dumpster, link to this original post, or put it under the tag “whumpster prompts”)
i love the tenderness of person A taking person B’s temperature by pressing their lips on their forehead. it’s such a sweet and intimate gesture and there are so many ways that person B can react to it. do they lean into the comfort? are they confused as to what A is doing? are they too sick to question it? do they worry about person A getting sick? do they flinch back, wondering why A of all people would do that? so many possibilities
Quite possibly my favourite trope ever, always made better with:
The whumpees vision going blurry/dark around the edges.
The friends rushing to catch them.
The inevitable injuries sustained from the fall.
The shock of finding the whumpee’s sprawled on the floor from a mystery injury/illness.
The repercussions from leaving their injury to fester for too long.
The doctors anxiously running tests to figure out what caused them to black out.
The friends sat in shock when they realise just how badly they let the whumpee become: especially if they hadn’t been particularly good friends leading up to the incident.
The whumpees confusion as to why they’ve woken up on the floor with people fretting over them.
The whumpee passing out during an important event.
The whumpee passing out mid-battle.
The whumpee waking up in confusion.
The stoic whumpee becoming embarrassed when they have to be carried to safety/medical.
Tucking a soft blanket around the whumpee's feet if they're cold
On that note, warming someone's hands and feet while keeping something cool on their head can help with a bad headache
Feeding the whumpee some herbal remedy, even in a modern setting, if it's a family recipe that *always works*, some syrupy concoction mixed with honey to sweeten it carefully spooned into the sick person's mouth
Boiling a pot of water on the stove or steaming up the bathroom and having a whumpee with bad chest congestion breathe in the steam to help loosen their chest
Giving plain toast or crackers to someone who's had an upset stomach or been captured and without food for a long time
Laying cold cloths over a feverish whumpee's forehead, neck, wrists, and chest, and later tucking them into a warm bed when the cooling treatment is over
Gently encouraging a vulnerable and embarrassed whumpee to take their shirt off in order to check wounds/bruises/a rash/listen to their chest
Tucking another cover around someone who's very sick or very cold, something that isn't even a blanket, maybe an old robe or even their own coat, anything to keep them warm and comfortable
Sitting with someone with a bad headache and holding their head in their lap, gently massaging their scalp
Singing softly to a whumpee who's too anxious to sleep while stroking their hair
Hi Hi Hi (Again)! Do u have any ideas like, quotes or scene ideas or whatever for crying whumpees? Thanks and here's one I came up with half asleep (The best time to make whump imo) If whumper had their memories erased and explained the situation to whumpee... they both look down. When whumper asks what they did, wait, and don't get a reply, they look up to find whumpee shaking and crying.(Shaking & Crying combo always gets me 😍😍😍)
Hiya, glad to see you again!! Ooh, I can for sure make a post listing some lovely prompts around crying whumpees - some off the top of my head include:
- Whumpee breaking down into sobs at the realization that it's over, they're finally safe and out of danger, but there's just so much to process it's utterly overwhelming
- Whumper: "Oh what, tears again? D'you know how completely pathetic you look right now, crying like that over a little pain?"
- Silent tears that leave Whumpee's face damp and cold as they try to move on with their day, unwilling to admit to anyone the extent of what they're still going through
Oh oh and also! I loved the one you came up with, so I used it for a lil drabble!! Hope it does your idea justice! :D
CW: crying, memory loss
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Whumper looked up from the spot on the floor he’d been studying for the past hour. A man and a woman stood some ways away from where he sat in one of the waiting room chairs, both watching him with the same expression of chilled hatred he’d seen on the face of every person he’d talked to since he’d woken from his operation.
The woman spoke again to the man in what she must’ve thought was a hush, “I mean, what good would it do at this point? You’re not going to get an apology from him, especially not now.”
“I just...I have to do this,” Whumpee muttered back. He gave her a brief, meaningful glance before meeting Whumper’s curious gaze again and stepping towards him.
Whumper rose to his feet slowly, keeping his hands within sight, hyper aware of all the measures that’d been taken to ensure him instantly immobilized should he make a single wrong move - the reasons behind such measures he could reasonably guess.
It didn’t take a lifetime of stolen memories to realize he was a dangerous, despised criminal.
Whumper pursed his lips as he stood face to face with the man who seemed intent on setting him alight with the hate-fueled fire in his eyes. When it didn’t seem like he would be saying anything soon, Whumper cleared his throat and spoke instead.
“So...I guess it’s safe to assume we weren’t friends or anything like that, before…” he trailed, the weak note of humor dying along with his voice.
“You really don’t remember anything?” Whumpee then asked softly, narrowing his eyes in what appeared to be disbelief.
Whumper shook his head. “No, I - I’m sorry. I really don’t. They were, um...pretty thorough. About the whole thing. So, no.”
Whumpee took a deep, unsteady breath, running a hand over his mouth as he did so. His gaze finally released Whumper from its piercing hold, drifting downwards instead.
“And when you...saw me…” he all but whispered in a voice that wavered perilously, “...you still didn’t - I mean you really don’t…?”
Whumper lowered his eyes, compelled by a faint sensation of phantom guilt as he murmured, “I really don’t. I do get the feeling, though, that I’ve done...something...to you. Something I should...should apologize for.” He swallowed. “...Could you - please tell me what it is I did to you? So that my apology is...genuine?”
Whumper kept his eyes down, feeling thoroughly humbled as he waited to hear exactly what kind of horrors he’d put this man through, and any other verbal abuse that he was sure he more than deserved.
Long seconds of silence passed. Confusion mounting, Whumper finally braced himself and looked up at the man before him.
Whumpee was holding onto himself tightly, white-knuckled grips on his arms in an attempt to clamp down on the tremors that shook through him badly. Tears trailed down his cheeks from eyes that were reddened and haunted, and a sob escaped him before he could cover his mouth with a shaky hand.
He was crying.
As the woman from before hurried to usher Whumpee out of the room with soft, sad murmurings (and a murderous glare over her shoulder), Whumper sunk back down to his chair, in shock.
“Why does it scare you?” their therapist asked, unfazed. “Surely, most villains would not be scared by that. Excited, thrilled, anxious maybe- but not scared.”
“I’m not sure,” the villain laughed wetly, trying to stop the tears threatening to spill from their eyes. “I don’t really hate you, I guess. I hate that you are persistent in asking the difficult questions. I hate that you think I can be fixed.”
“No,” their therapist interjected. “You’re right- you can’t be fixed.”
The villain’s heart stopped, and they looked up at their therapist. Their therapist, the one person that had ever had faith in them. The one person that saw through them- saw them.
“You can’t be fixed, because you’re not broken,” their therapist said.
The villain’s breath hitched.
“Why do you keep denying yourself happiness?” their therapist continued, digging the metaphorical knife in further. “You make it harder for yourself, you understand that, right?”
“Yes,” the villain replied numbly. “I can’t help it. This is all I’ve ever known. Why would I ever have faith in myself, if it has always backfired?” they readjusted in their chair, folding their hands in their lap. “It just seems foolish to even try.”
“But that’s the key,” their therapist looked at them, eyes searching their face. “Trying, even when it seems to be useless.”
“It doesn’t matter,” the villain argued adamantly, trying their best not to lose their composure. “At the end of the day, I’m still a bad person. I always will be.”
“You’re not a bad person,” their therapist whispered, a sad smile on their face. “You’re a good person, who bad things have happened to.”
The villain allowed themselves to fall apart after that.
a lovely nonnie requested some prompts that a hero might say to a villain who’s either becoming or showing the potential to become a good person, and additionally things that a villain might say to a hero who’s either becoming or showing the potential to become a villain! spicy stuff, nonnie! i hope these are close to what you were looking for!
hero speaking to villain
“ if only you could see what i see… “
“ you could be so much more, you know. “
“ don’t be what they made you… “
“ can’t you see that you’re better than this?! “
“ there’s goodness in you. i can see it… “
“ you don’t have to do this! “
“ you could be anything you wanted… is this truly what you want to be? “
“ when i look at you, i don’t see someone who’s evil, cruel, bad… i see someone who’s lost. who feels alone. but you’re not alone. you have me. “
“ i won’t hurt you. i don’t care what happens. you can do whatever you want. but i will not hurt you. “
“ everyone thinks i should kill you. but they’re wrong. you’re a good person. i don’t care what they say. you’re a good person in a bad situation. you don’t deserve to die for that. “
“ please! don’t do this! let me help you! “
“ why do you do these terrible things? “
“ bad people don’t feel bad after hurting others. “
“ you’re not a monster. “
“ don’t let them control you. you can do great things! “
“ fine! don’t be their hero! be a hero to one person! just one person! “
“ fine. don’t be their hero. be MY hero. “
“ i believe in you. even if they don’t. “
“ you’ll do the right thing. i know you will. “
villain speaking to hero
“ well, that wasn’t very heroic of you… “
“ i can’t believe i’m about to say this, but… you really need to calm down and stop destroying things. “
“ what is this? mid-life crisis? personal stuff? mind control? it sure as hell isn’t you, that’s for sure. “
“ i can’t be a bad guy with no hero to stop me, bud. that’s your job. remember? “
“ what the hell’s the matter with you!? “
“ you realize i just saved a civilian… from you? “
“ is this some weird, murderous reverse psychology trick to make me the hero? “
“ okay, this was cute at first, but enough’s enough. i’m the bad guy. you’re the goodie two shoes. got it? “
“ so, the mayor just called me - ME! - to ask me to stop you. just… let’s just take a minute to process that… “
“ get a grip, pal. seriously. you don’t even LOOK evil! “
“ i have to stop you before you start stealing candy from babies. “
“ as your arch nemesis, i feel it’s only right to worry when you start doing my job for me. “
“ doesn’t this go against your strong and boring moral code? “
“ you need therapy. i say this because you’re actually making all the folks in my villain club look like teddy bears. “
“ hey! use your words, buddy, not your fists! “
“ who’s messing with your head? you wear the cape and sign autographs one minute, the next you’re blowing up buildings? what gives?! “
Member A of the team has been out of it for a while - they've had a lot going on, traumatizing things happened and old trauma came back up. Their mental health is not great. But they push through as best as they can, working hard to appear normal whenever they're called out for duty or around the team in general. This leads to them breaking down in private more than once, but no one catches on. That is, until A messes up in the field - they mess up big time and they are ashamed and fearful of what might come after. They don't have the strength to deal with this.
When the leader confronts them, they take it without a hint of emotion - they shut down completely and disassociate.
Only B, who has no idea what has happened but noticed the tiny changes, puts themselves in between the two and snaps at the leader to open their fucking eyes and take a look at A, something is clesrly wrong because neither the messup nor the shut down, wordless response is anything like their usual behavior.
B leads A away, swearing under their breath about the leader as they bring A to a safe and soft place to rest. They can talk later.
About the whumper tilting the whumpees head up to look at them.
May it be with a knife, a book, a single finger, or their whole hand, wrapped around the whumpees jaw.
Maybe even doing it by pulling their hair back. Perhaps with a boot as the whumpee lay on the ground.
To exemplify their control. To observe their handywork. To take in the emotions of their captive. To punctuate a statement. Or purely for intimidation.
The defiant glare from the whumpee. Perhaps fear. A groan of pain. The lack of reaction because they are too exhausted or unconscious entirely.
Seriously injured by a third party villain comes to hero's house because there's no-one closer for them, no-one who would help them?
Villain smirks when Hero opens the door. It is slight and frail, and their enemy probably doesn’t even see it through the shadow Villain is hidden in, but it’s there, and it feels like a win, however small it is. The only one of the day.
“Hi,” they croak, fighting to keep their eyelids from closing. Just a little longer, Villain tells themself, pressing their hand against the wall and breathing deep to keep from falling to the side.
“Villain?” Hero says, and even through the haze of pain, they can see the surprise Hero tries so hard to hide as clear as the day, creasing their forehead and parting their lips. “What are you doing here?”
“Would you believe me if I said I needed you?”
Hero only raises their eyebrows, utterly unimpressed. “What could you need me for?”
“Do you remember when I asked you why you keep doing this?” Villain whispers, shivering when they notice how small their voice sounds. How feeble.
Hero sighs, eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side.
“Did you come here in the middle of the night to mock me again?”
“You said that… that heroes help people,” Villain continues.
“Yeah, I did. And you said most people aren’t worth it.”
Villain bites on their bottom lip, leaning harder against Hero’s wall when the world starts to blur.
“Did you believe me?”
“Of course not,” Hero snorts. “My convictions aren’t that weak, Villain. But when have you ever needed help?” they say rolling their eyes and taking a step back into the house. “I might be all about helping people but that doesn’t include getting your ass out of whatever trouble you got yourself into this time.”
Fear, true fear like they haven’t felt in so long, seeps into Villain’s veins when Hero starts closing the door.
“Hero,” they call, and when their enemy turns annoyed eyes to Villain’s hunched shoulders, they take a step forward, into the dim light cast from the open door, squeezing their eyes shut when pain flares in their abdomen. “Please.”
“Oh, fuck,” Hero says under their breath as soon as light hits Villain’s clothes, stained red and sticky with blood that hasn’t stopped oozing out since the knife went in and out of their gut.
“Sorry,” Villain whispers, swaying on their feet. Hero looks up from the blood, meeting Villain’s half-lidded gaze with wide, weirdly scared eyes. Blinking down at their blood-soaked hands, Villain takes them away from the wound, staring dazedly at the crimson coating their palms and dripping down their clothes. “I… didn’t know where else to go,” they say softly, right before their knees give way.
Hero gets to them before the floor does. They catch Villain in strong arms and scoop them up in one swift movement that sends pain rippling through Villain’s body and a silent cry climbing up their throat.
Will you help? Villain wants to ask. But their voice fails when they open their mouth, and only a whimper comes out as something clicks behind them. Is Hero taking them inside?
In the end, they don’t need to ask it. The murderous rage on their enemy’s voice is answer enough. “Who did this to you?”
Villain’s head lolls against Hero’s chest, and their answer is as faint as their consciousness. “Does it matter?”
“You’re hurt. You’re bleeding,” Hero snarls. “Of course it matters.”
I didn’t think you’d care.
No one’s cared before.
But before Villain can utter any more words, it finally becomes too much. The pain, the blood, the overwhelming relief of feeling safe in arms that hold them tighter when Villain starts going limp.
Everything is too much, and when the world starts to slip away, Villain lets unconsciousness take away the hurt to the tune of a voice begging them to stay awake.
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