some of the kindest people you’ll ever meet are blogging about blood and guts at 10 in the morning
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@withywhump
some of the kindest people you’ll ever meet are blogging about blood and guts at 10 in the morning
When the story has a sequence where the characters each get personally tortured with their exact personalized greatest fears and traumas
stab scene intimacy coordinator
When a character doesn’t realize they’ve been, like, shot or whatever and they hand brushes against their side and comes away wet with blood, and they’re just staring at it like wtf is this and then their knees just totally give out on them and they sink down, maybe gasping a little as the reality finally hits them. That’s good stuff.
I see that, and raise you a character who knows they’ve been shot, but waits until the rest of their crew is out of sight to put their hand against the slowly spreading stain of blood on their shirt, then trying to steady their breathing so they can follow without letting on how injured they are.
Okay but like the character who doesn’t realize they’ve been hurt trying to see if everyone else is okay only to slowly realize that everyone is looking at them with mounting horror. Then they touch their side to find it’s wet and oh no
the hottest thing a guy can be is barely conscious on the floor while someone lifts his head up by the hair so that you can see his glazed out eyes and the blood running down his face
whump is fun because you see a character and are like “i love you so much that i want to see you sobbing and covered in blood. i need you dying in a hospital bed. i need you cold, wet, and miserable. i love you and want you to suffer unimaginable horrors. then you can have a kiss on the head as a treat”
I can tell my evil advisor has been feeling down lately so I've been pretending to take big sips from his cursed chalice and then roaming the palace grounds groaning and clutching my abdomen. Lowkey I know it's deceptive but I can tell it's really cheering him up. I heard him evilly cackle for the first time in weeks. WIBTA if I keep doing this
hey don't cry. blorbo coughing up blood
blorbo writhing in agony ok? don't cry
blorbo screaming so much their voice becomes hoarse and weak and the pain still won't stop
blorbo unable to close their eyes and avoid the visceral sight of their own body
blorbo suffering unimaginable pain and being powerless to stop it ok? ok
I say YES
been building a collection of posts from like minded individuals
Dylan O'Brien (Thomas) + suffering [The Death Cure]
I block ppl who use AI to write fics. If I see “AI helps me write” or “AI assisted writing” or whatever I will block you.
And tbh I hate the idea that I may be reading fics that are partially or fully AI written, but it’s not disclosed.
Just trying to see something.
Who do you relate to more in terms of Whump roles?
Whumpee
Whumper
Caretaker
None of them
Other/just wanna see the answers
Whumpee, as they’ve slowly started to heal and get settled, finds themselves, inexplicably, trying to push all of Caretakers buttons.
Little pranks, pokes and annoyances, just generally being a nuisance. They don’t know why they’re doing it, they’re even annoying themselves, and every time Caretaker doesn’t immediately respond, they’re terrified they really did push them too far.
But Caretaker has done their research. It wasn’t Whumpee being mean, or even trying to get attention, it was what they’d started to think of as “testing the waters”. Seeing if Caretaker would snap, would lose their temper or push them away or whatever awful reaction they truly feared.
Every push was just the quiet question of “love me anyway?”
They knew it wouldn’t last forever, that once they felt safer, things would mellow out, but this was one of the things it would take for them to get there. And Caretaker would take all the salt in their tea it would take for Whumpee to be sure they were safe.
omggg can i break into the top secret lab where you’re being held and sneak into your test chamber and unhook you from the machines and carefully pull the needles from your body and carry you out and try not to think about how much weight you’ve lost even though you’re sooo light in my arms. can i smuggle you into a crappy pay-by-month motel room with the last bit of cash i can track down and wash you up in the chipped shower stall and tuck you into the cheap motel blankets as your body starts to flush with fever. can i stay with you as your body burns off the last of what they did to you. can i steal from vending machines and the continental breakfast and bring food home to you and coax you just to eat a little, a little more. watered down tea kept warm at the kitchenette. can i sleep next to you every night to keep you from going cold again, wait breathlessly for your eyes to open again. can i be there when they do
TAT: Desperate carer trying to keep the whumpee quiet so that the bad guys in pursuit don't find them, one hand putting pressure on the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, the other tangled in the whumpee's hair to offer what little comfort they can, their foreheads touching as carer frantically whispers, "Ssh. I know, I know. I'm sorry. I know it hurts but you have to keep quiet for me."
You had me at desperately.
the sluttiest thing a man could do is be covered in blood and grip his wounded side in agony