#whumpblr

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

the way I have heard so many talented fanfic writers say they started writing because they read someone else's fanfics that are so good they inspired them into becoming writers too? just proved my point that your writing is never 'in vain', even if you dislike it and think it could've been better, it's still good enough for someone out there that it becomes their source of inspiration and perhaps happiness. you'll never know.

but don't ever, ever belittle your own works. just because you don't like them, doesn't mean other people dislike them too. again, you'll never know. there could be someone out there who reread your works every day because those fics you wrote helped them escape reality for a while, they could be reading your works as a way to help get them through a hard time in their life. you'll never know.

your writing may have saved someone's life.

your writing may have inspired someone into pursuing their career and changing their life for the better.

several best selling authors started as fanfic writers, and the majority of fanfic writers started writing because they were inspired by someone's fanfics. you do the math.

your "silly fics" have permanent impact on this world, even if you think they're not good (they actually are good, I promise you, don't let your mind lie to you).

I mean ***I*** personally started writing my first fanfic about 7 years ago, and have been writing ever since, because I was inspired by my favorite fanfic writers. I still remember all the lines I like from those fics I read 7-8 years ago, I still think about those fics I read from 7-8 years ago and still remember the stories very well in my heart. I started writing because of them.

this blog would never have been created at all, if it weren't because of those fanfic writers whose works I read 7-8 years ago.

I wouldn't have so far written about 130,000 words this year alone, if it weren't because of those fanfic writers whose works I read 7-8 years ago.

to all the fanfic writers out there; your works inspired someone, your writing made a difference to someone's life.

[whump-in-the-closet]

When caretaker puts their hand on whumpee’s back for support or comfort and whumpee flinches away, stiffening like caretaker’s touch is a blow

[cepheusgalaxy]

Talking about whump with the rest of the whumpblr just feels so funny. Like Yesss This Is Absolutely Awful. Good Job, sis. Incredible Ideas, Im sure this will cause imensurable amounts of suffering. Good work y'all.

Like we're evil witches throwing curses around. It's so fun

[the-bar-sinister]

Whumper who is physically larger than whumpee restraining whumpee with their body.

Whumper pushing whumpee against the wall and pinning them there with whumper's hand on their wrists.

Whumper grabbing whumpee from behind and holding them tightly so whumpee can't move their arms.

Whumper pushing whumpee belly down on the ground and holding them there with one foot on whumpee's back.

Whumper holding whumpee's wrists together from behind.

Whumper holding whumpee up off the ground by whumpee's wrists, or by their ankles.

Whumper pinning whumpee to the wall and pinning them their by whumpee's throat.

Whumper knocking the legs out from under whumpee and grabbing whumpee by the hair when they fall to their knees.

[bloodsweatandpotato]

I need hypoxia whump right now.

[itswhumpday]

Hey, I know I've been MIA for SEVERAL YEARS now, but I am writing a fic and I CANNOT get through my next chapter so I'm caving and asking for help.

In this fic, I have a whumper who is into games. They're making the whumpee go through trials. The whumpee nailed the fist trial and they're not happy. The whumper is also in posession of whumpee's family (of which I want two to perish in this chapter and three to survive). I'm having trouble thinking about the second trial.

I would like something intellectual: that is, the whumpee would choose to control the outcome, but it would always be terrible (Sophie's choice sort of deal). At first I thought something akin to the chess in Harry Potter in which each of the charaters represents a piece and if the piece gets captured they die. But I feel like that would be 1) hard to narrate 2) hard for readers to follow and 3) it's literally a rip off.

But I'm having trouble thinking of other ways that might happen. Does anyone have any suggestions on where I can look for inspiration?

[dresden-syndrome]

A lovely whumpee boy Simon for @whump-card ! Made for @artwhumpersanonymous OC trade event :)

Art tag: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @whumpedydump @whumpthefifth @monarchthefirst @sunshiline-writes @project-xiii

[kabie-whump]

Curse whump, anyone?

I've had this idea in my brain for years of a Whumpee who is cursed with empathy. Like, they can feel the pain of everyone around them all the time.

Ovbiously they avoid going out in public whenever they can, especially to really crowded places. All of the minor aches and pains from the people around them really build up. A trip to the grocery store has them falling to their knees and sobbing in the produce asile. Grocery delivery services are their best friend.

Hospitals are out of the question. That's a no-brainer.

However! Imagine how good of a nurse or doctor Whumpee would be with this curse. They would know exactly what hurts their patient and where. But of course it would be an unbearable job to do for too long.

Cursed Whumpee discovering that their teammate is hiding a serious injury because they can feel that bullet wound. Cursed Whumpee being the reason their friends and family always take such good care of themselves. Cursed Whumpee feeling guilty for having to leave the room when their best friend gets hurt and need emergency stitches.

And if we want to get silly with it, a cursed whumpee who is also a misogynist going on and on about how women are all dramatic and periods aren't actually that bad, and then he has to spend time in the same room as his female friend and he almost passes out.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

WRITING RESOURCES

LIST OF INJURIES SOMEONE COULD OBTAIN IF THEY WERE SEXUALLY ASSAULTED

(trigger warning is applied.)

fractured pelvis (if their body was bent against a desk, a car, or something with hard surfaces)

ligature marks around their neck

bruises on their arms, thighs, legs

abrasions on their cheek (if their face was pressed against concrete floor)

urinary tract infection

blood in stool, blood in urine

lacerations around and/or inside the genitalia

[serickswrites]

Lake Lachrymose

Warnings: captivity, bruises, restraints, torture, rescue, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, caretaker and whumpee, implied death

Caretaker took a moment to breathe. Whumper was in cuffs, their reign of terror over. It was a nightmare how long it took them to find and defeat Whumper. But Whumper would no longer be a problem.

Whumper's compound was on the edge of a remote lake. A place that Whumper had used to dispose of their victims and also torture them. A place that Caretaker was sure they would never return. They couldn't look at the lake's still surface without seeing the pictures of the victims.

Now they just had to check the compound for survivors of Whumper's torture. As Caretaker swept each room carefully, checking for any signs of life, they tried to stop themself from imagining the pain Whumper's victims endured. No more. There would be no more.

Just when Caretaker thought that they had cleared every room, they opened the last door to see someone chained to a wall and huddled in the corner. They were hunched low, shielding their face with their outstretched hands. "Please, no more!"

Caretaker took a step forward. "I'm here to help. I--" they reached out a hand to the person.

"PLEASE!" They shrieked as they flattened themself against the wall. "I DON'T! NO MORE! I CAN'T!"

Caretaker could see the bruises marring the person's pale skin. Clearly they had fought Whumper every step of the way. Caretaker stopped moving forward. They dropped to their knees to be on the person's eye level. "I'm Caretaker. I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm here to get you out of this place."

The person paused. "C-Caretaker?"

Caretaker smiled and nodded. "Let's get you out of these cuffs. We'll get you out of here and to the warm truck. I've got blankets. The medics will take a look at you too."

Caretaker waited for the person to give them a signal they could proceed. Caretaker watched as their breathing slowed until they finally nodded. As Caretaker worked to uncuff the person, they asked, "What's your name?"

"Whumpee," the person said, eyes following every move Caretaker made. "My name is Whumpee."

"Nice to meet you, Whumpee," Caretaker said as they freed one of Whumpee's wrists. "I've got you. You're safe now."

[sm-darling]

"To the Victor Go the Spoils" Whump | Dark | Hero/Villain

Note: This is a bit cheesy but I hope you enjoy a little classic hero/villain shenanigans

TW: Non-consent, suggestively nsfw

“You give up so easily it almost takes the fun out of things. There is something I want, though,” Villain said. He ran his tongue against his teeth subtly, and then grinned at Hero. “I’ll let you take a guess what it is.” Excitement, twisted, demented, excitement glinted in his eyes.

She didn’t even want to guess, not knowing what he’d done—what he still might do. 

She shook her head, and swallowed nervously, slowly backing away from him. “Y-you can’t—don’t—you’ve already won,” she stammered. “You don’t have to hurt me.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, but the way he said it wasn’t remotely comforting, as he took a step forward for each step she took back.

The backs of her knees hit the edge of her bed and she froze, looking up at him. 

“I’ll give you a hint. What do you think happens when you lose?” He asked curiously. 

“Bad things. The world is—”

He laughed softly. “I’m not talking about the greater good, I’m talking about you and I,” he said musically, as though somehow the two of them were at the center of this little story. As if she’d ever been at the center of anything. 

 He placed a hand on her chest, and her blood ran ice-cold as he leaned down into her ear. “What do you think?” 

“I don’t—” He cut her off by shoving her down onto her bed. Then he was on her, firm grip seizing her wrists as his knees boxed her in on either side.

Oh no. Oh fuck. She tried to wriggle free, but he was holding her too tight for her to escape. He couldn’t actually be—no. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. Yet even if she could fight him, she couldn't leave. He was right that he'd won, and that he had all the power in this scenario.

“What do you think I would want?” He mused.

Cold indifference turned to panic fast. “No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head. “No you can’t—please it’s not fair!” She hated the way she sounded, like a desperate child angry at the world, confused why bad things had to happen.

He almost looked surprised. “Didn’t you expect this?”

“I didn’t!” She admitted, her words shaking, her breath heavy. Her eyes stung with tears. “Please, Villain, not this,” she begged, humiliation burning red in her cheeks. “Anything but this.”

“Consider it the consequences of your own actions. You failed. You lose.” 

“Fine, yes I lost, but this has nothing to do with what I did,” she said, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “You don’t have to be this kind of monster, please.” 

“Call me a monster if you will, but the only thing that really matters is that I won, and, well, what do you think happens when you lose?” He asked, eyes narrowed just slightly, but there was a clear taunt in his words.

She found herself aggravated by his condescension. “I–what—I lose, that’s all it’s supposed to be.”

He was silent for far too long, and she felt him shift on the bed, sliding his knee up between her thighs and forcing them apart. The finality of that gesture made her wince. “To the victor go the spoils,” he purred. 

“I’m not a prize, I’m not something to be had.”

“Are you not? Something I’ve wanted. Something I’ve been denied, so,” he offered her a small smile, his lips parted just slightly, but the look was brimming with all manner of smugness and danger. “To the victor you'll go."

"But I don't want you!" she said, but she knew it was futile. There was a particular helplessness she felt in that moment, something that had her body wrought with tension and breath caught in her throat.

"Oh, I don’t care," he said, and his voice was airy, almost a laugh as if he were relieved that he didn't have to be civilized about taking what he wanted from her. “But don’t act like you haven’t thought of it before. Terrible, toe-curling, midnight thoughts—embarrassing ones.” Then he smiled wryly, “but it's terrifying when it’s real, huh?” 

She felt her face turning red because it was true. She had imagined him, right here in this very bed. This exact scenario—perhaps some nights it was a nightmare, but it was no less enticing in fiction form. 

His smile became excruciatingly smug. “And how am I in your fantasies?”  His fingers moved to her hip, sliding up under her t-shirt with a feathery gentleness. “Do I take my time with you? Kiss every inch of you and lick your cunt until you’re dripping like a faucet? Or…” he trailed off. 

She shivered, and a quiet whimper escaped her as he moved his knee to be on the other side of her thigh. Then his other hand was suddenly firm on her hip and he was flipping her over, leaning into her ear. “Or do I just flip you over and have you rough like a doe on the first day of spring?”

Always the second one. 

-------

To be continued....

[curiositysavesthecat]

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[the-bar-sinister]

When whumper drags whumpee's face right in front of their own.

By whumpee's collar.

By whumpee's chin.

By whumpee's hair.

By whumpee's bonds.

Whumpee can't escape whumper's eyes locking with theirs. Whumper's breath on their face.

[bamber344]

two whumpees who are caught having a verbal disagreement are forced to have a trial by combat to determine who's in the right, and the losing whumpee's tongue is cut out as punishment.

maybe whumper decides to make a spectacle of it, and they invite all of their friends to watch, gladiatorial combat style?

and maybe caretaker is there too, having infiltrated the organisation in order to save their whumpee; the loser. And then they can do nothing but watch as the punishment is carried out, lest they break their cover and put both themself and whumpee in an even worse position. Even though they know there was nothing they could have done to stop it, the guilt would eat at them endlessly anyway...

And maybe caretaker knows there's nothing they can do to fix the damage done to their beloved friend, but they do know there is a way to make sure that nobody else ever suffers the same fate.

maybe whumper will need to watch their back

many things to consider...

[whumpsoda]

Seeing Me in You - A Real Name

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker,

——————

“You been thinking about names?” Isaac asked, flopping down on the couch. Smiling, her hands folded over each other casually in her lap as she gazed expectantly to her pet.

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied with the softest of a nod. She had ordered him days before to come up with names for himself, a strange request. A master would want to be the one to name their pet, would they not? Weren’t those the rules?

“Got any in mind? Any you like?”

“No, ma’am.” 

Her face dropped a smidge in disappointment, churning a quease in his belly, before she jumped back to her feet. “Give me just one second.” Stepping to the short shelf pushed against the opposite wall, she studied the titles intently, before pulling one out with excitement.

“Here’s some names. A whole book of ‘em.” Isaac announced, flipping to the first page of the thick book, filled to the brim with them, “Edith uses this one all the time, and pretty much all’ve our rescues pick one from in here. I’ll read some out to you, and maybe you’ll hear one you like.”

She recited each and every one in the order they were listed in, looking to him after each name. It was almost as if she wanted his approval, such a foreign concept that 253719 didn’t understand. Though, it was usual for him not to understand her, the other masters, or any of the out of line pets around him.

“Abraham? Arthur? Atticus?” She listed, turning to him with her tender, kind smile that meant even though things were weird, he wasn’t being bad. 

“Whatever pleases you, Master.” He had merely replied after every look, the safe answer he held close to his heart. Nearly was he not even listening, mind wandering to emptiness as he kneeled on the rug beside her. But she continued still, not satisfied with it. With him. 

Until one name.

“August?” She inquired, and he perked up, the lightest of a glimmer in his eye. He recognized August. Isaac chuckled, giving him a sweet pet to the head that he leaned eagerly into. “You like that one?”

He didn’t like it necessarily, a pet didn’t like, but his master did.

Fall was his master’s favorite season, where all of the magically vibrant colored leaves would fly through the chill turning air. The month of August fell during fall, right? He could have sworn it did. 

252719 remembered his master repeating his statement of likeness every year as they sat together on the porch, 252719 kneeling beside him as he smoked. I just love fall, such a pleasant time, he would say, a rare smile strung over his lips. The foul smelling smoke would fill his pet’s nostrils, filling his lungs and tempting him to cough, but he wouldn’t. He was good enough to know not to.

And if his master so decided he wanted to utilize him for another purpose, one he wasn’t designed for but his master enjoyed, he would welcome the stinging burn of the cigarette digging a sizzling hole into his exposed flesh. He would whimper and whine pathetically with affliction, just as his master liked it.

252719 missed his master. He missed him so much it hurt, terribly so, tying suffocating knots all throughout his grief stricken body. Even the pain he inflicted the pet missed.

But they wouldn’t let him leave. Especially the one that was his new master who said she wasn’t but he knew she was. She said no running away, and so he couldn’t. 

But he wanted to.

And wanting was weird and bad. He was not supposed to want, but he did and it kept him up at night, tossing and turning over memories of his master, over anxieties of this new place where everything is confusing and strange. How it was changing him and making him so very bad.

“Yes ma’am.” 252719 - no, August - mumbled, to her glee. 

August. He had a name now. A real name. Not like the numbers his master called him by. He had a person name.

And August liked it.

…

The clothes were terribly uncomfortable. Not being used to having fabric layered over his skin he cringed, scrunching the soft lines of his plush face. 374629 was not ungrateful, never would he dare to be, he simply did not understand why his master had made him dress. He never had clothing beside a dingy pair of boxers in the facility, and was convinced he would not outside of it either. But there he was, anyway, adorned in his master’s clothing.

He was his master, right?

Me too.

374629 couldn’t help but wonder what he meant. Because of course his master couldn’t be a guard dog, let alone a boxie himself. Masters were people, not pets, and such things were not interchangeable, he knew that. 

His master didn’t even act like a pet. No crawling, no mantras - except for, well, when he repeated his pet’s, but that was different, was it not? -  no collar, no master, no pet.

His master was not a pet. He was sure that was not what he had meant, and a real pet like him should not have even been worrying about it. All he needed to worry about was keeping his master completely and absolutely safe. 

So he forced his brain back into blank and utter emptiness once again, saving himself for the danger of any possible threat. He would keep himself vigilant like he was trained to be. 

His master hummed as he cooked, with a sing-song voice creamy like butter that licked his ears with the hint of gravel. He twirled the spoon around the pot, sticky with hot mac and cheese that took over the air of the apartment. 

374629 had never had macaroni before, only the gray slop his handler had plopped into his dog bowl at least once a day. He held no hope for the chance of receiving any, knowing his place well. 

So when his master, still humming loud and clear, placed a large, human sized bowl of macaroni before him, 374629 didn’t know what to do. He knew he wasn’t supposed to eat it, that was for sure. So he waited.

His master plopped down at the table beside him with his own bowl, steaming the same as his. “That’s for you, okay? I want you to eat as much as you feel you can, if, um, that’s okay.”

Oh. 

Maybe… maybe it was for him. 

And so he ate. Warily at first, waiting for a kick to the face as he descended his mouth to the height of the food, ass up and hands on the wood. Position five. It never came.

But was his meal delicious. 

He’d never tasted anything so good in his life, so wonderful he could never believe he was deserving of it. It spread a cozy warmth of magic through his mouth, not enough to burn but enough to have him melting in a puddle on the floor. Tastebuds sparkling with excitement he plunged back in for more, scooping up pieces vigorously with his tongue and allowing them to dance through his mouth as he chewed.

“So” his master started, pulling him away from the heaven that was his dinner,  “Got any name ideas? It can be anything.”

Oh, he was so bad. Had he missed an order? Was he supposed to have been doing so?

“N- no, sir.” He didn’t even want to dare think about a name for himself. His name was for his master to decide, it was the rules. He couldn’t disobey, but was he really, when his master wanted it? 374629 swallowed another mouthful of cheese dripping noodles, mouth dribbling with sticky remains that pooled at his chin.

“That’s okay.” His master told him, although he knew he didn’t mean it. Nothing was okay when your pet was too stupid for you. “I wish… I had Edith’s book with me… I guess we’ll just have to think about it for a bit. Just let me know if anything comes to mind, um, that you like.”

He could… do that. Did he know any names? He didn’t even have one himself.

He knew… he knew His handler’s name. His first, not just his last, even if he wasn’t really supposed to. Of course he had never called him by it, only Handler Parker, but he’d heard it before.

Hey, Simon, I guess you’ve finally gotten this one under your control.

He missed his handler, he supposed. Missed the strict order and absence of confusion. With his handler he knew exactly what to do and what not, and now it felt like he was all alone with his training. Really, he was.

Handler Simon Parker.

“Simon?” He shifted up to his master, eyes falling wide, “Is that what you said?”

Had he-

He’d said that out loud-

“That’s a nice one. It fits you. I like it.” His master said, lips upturning to a grin. He looked excited, almost, and terribly pleased. “Do you like it?”

He hadn’t really-

But he did, and his master liked it. 374629 was going to be sick, stomach curling in knots as burning bile bubbled in his belly.

His lips carefully parted, quivering as his fists clenched, uncut nails burrowing into the flesh of his palm. “What- whatever pleases you, Master.” He choked out, words tinged with the rasp of shock as he turned his gaze back to the floor.

“I really like that. I think it’s settled then.” His master giggled, sweet and bubbly that failed to calm his pet’s horrified heart. “Welcome to the family, um, Simon.”

——————

Isaac is from a different connected bbu story I just posted earlier today if you want to check that out here :)

———

Masterlist

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @3-2-whump @taterswhump @fefe658 @whumped-by-glitter

@pigeonwhumps @whumpinthepot @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @tippytappytyping @ivymyers

@octopus-reactivated @loserwithsyle @snakebites-and-ink @itsawhumpsideblog @otterfrost

@parasiticwhumpee @starrysky888 @isntthisblank

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[whump-kia]

Seasonal whump, I guess?

We got 100’s of goldfish in all at once at work and I was stressing, but my friend was like “it’s pond season, it’ll be fine, people will buy them,” so maybe there would be merwhumpees for the summer, dryads for the planting season, ghosts for Halloween and such? And when it’s the off season, these whumpees are either stored in the garden shed like lawn ornaments or traded back in to the exotic whumpee distributor?

@3-2-whump

oh my goodness your mind.

your only chance of escape happens within three weeks of a year. you must be on your best behavior unless you like the stock warehouses. werewolf whumpees getting returned after the full moon, a section for the unwise fey who got themselves in a bad deal, commissions for the most interesting ones....