whumpy-galaxy - Tumblr blog

[whumpy-galaxy]

Let your whumpee beg, let them learn how.

After all... They've been such a defiant one. They had always fought back against it all. The torture, the chains and ropes, the insults and taunts. They've tried to be brave and confident and strong... but had failed. They've always have felt it was so humiliating to beg, but... it was the one thing that could make the pain go away or stop it from happening at all.

They've learned through trial and error how to have that perfect combination of pathetic whining, self degradation and stammering their words with that sweet fearful tremble in their voice. They've learned how to sink to their knees, how to keep their head low, how to avoid eye contact and when to make eye contact. They learned when to flinch away and when to keep still. They've learned it all so well. And now, with a body covered with marks of the times of lessons and learning, it didn't matter how pathetic they seemed, how humiliating it was. It was a small chance to avoid pain and they'd take it as they couldn't take much more. Broken at last.

[whumpy-galaxy]

i like my whumpees STRONG. some notable ones as follows:

leader whumpees. constantly thinking, constantly moving. they've a team to organize. they're relied on constantly, and with a head and shoulders strong enough to handle the pressure. but the shame when they're hurt. the agony knowing their image as undaunted is tarnished. and love returned tenfold as their team holds them up as long as they need to--"You're not alone, Boss. we got you. let us help."

protector whumpees. reckless thoughts to throw themselves in front of danger because they can take the hit, but no one else can. scars and muscles and training and taking it upon themselves to wear each broken piece with pride because it's another person they saved. until one day, they nearly do die. and it takes the whole team to remember they're not a meatshield. they're a person.

medic whumpees. they know how to hold a suture needle better than anyone; they know the dose of morphine to take after a bone is set; they know what angle to press a hand in while checking for broken ribs. no one else does, though. so when they're finally beat into submission, it doesn't matter how much pain they're in, because they have to stay awake, stay calm, and keep their inexperienced caretaker steady, while they talk through each movement done on their own body.

[whumpy-galaxy]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[whumpy-galaxy]

the dizzy, begging-for-death whine of someone whose body has been pushed beyond its limit to process pain. as they are lowered from a stress position, or released from restraints, or their wounds are tended, this pitiful sound chills the caretaker more than a scream would.

[whumpy-galaxy]

There's something I love but I don't see enough of it like it's just mentioned but...

Whumpees who are fucking pretty, and whumper has them just to show them to everyone. Whumpee is forced to meet every toxic beauty standard like... They have to be skinny, they have to be pale, they have to look delicate and precious.

What comes with this? Whumper starves them to meet the skinny part. Whumper has them captive without sun and with a lot of skin care routines so their skin is pale and smooth. Whumper forces them to wear pretty and revealing clothes and they look like an angel.

Whumpee is drugged to be always a mindless doll following whumper around during events and stuff like that.

Imagine the aftermath.

Whumpee has a disordered eating because they were just so used to not eating and now that they do it feels wrong.

Whumpee is obsessed with their skin looking perfect and doing the skin care in a religious way.

Whumpee feels either uncomfortable with people seeing their body and hiding it or they like people to look, because 'people have to look at how pretty you are'.

And a caretaker who has 0 experience in beauty and doesn't understand whumpee.

[whumpy-galaxy]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 10000 likes!

[whumpy-galaxy]

It’s May!! You know what that means!!!

I get to unapologetically post mermaid shit!!!

Is there like an official MerMay prompt list? I can’t find it if there is ;-;

[whumpy-galaxy]

Whumpees who won't open their eyes

Whumpees who can't open their eyes

Whumpees whose eyes have been glued or sewn shut

Whumpees who are so used to being in the dark or in a blindfold that hospital lights, let alone sunlight, are too painful

Whumpees who close their eyes during a flash back

Whumpees who have missing or mutilated eyes

Whumpees who are blind or who have been blinded, and having to navigate freedom without being able to ground themselves visually

Whumpees who can no longer engage in their favorite hobbies because they required sight

Whumpees with night vision who can't see in broad daylight

Monster Whumpees with several eyes that are slowly being picked off by Whumper as if they were treating themselves to dessert

Whumpees with infected or swollen eyes or cataracts

Whumpees with chemical burns and scars over their eyes

Whumpees who have lost the ability to see.

[whumpy-galaxy]

Caretaker dealing with a more angry, combative whumpee. One that has destructive outbursts full of screaming and hyperventilating. All they can see is red. Angry at what whumper did to them. To the point Caretaker has to learn how to physically restrain them from further hurting themselves. Especially when whumpee turn their rage towards caretaker. They let a few swings hit but ultimately have to stop them. Holding their arms away from their body. Repeatedly apologizing as they do so.

Later cradling whumpee in their lap when they've finally exhausted themselves. Head tucked in caretaker's shoulder, hands clutching at their shirt. Begging caretaker to not leave them. 'I'll never leave you, just don't want you hurting yourself or me,' holding them just as tightly. 'You have every right to be angry at them. Whumper should've never laid a hand on you. You didn't deserve any of it.' Their voice was barely higher than a whisper.

[whumpy-galaxy]

Idea I've been rotating in my brain nonstop lately is a living weapon and their handler having like a weirdly loving relationship.

Affectionately cuddling but never losing sight of the understanding that orders matter more than wants. Gently tending to their wounds and cleaning them after a battle/mission/etc. but never acknowledging that they might be a person. It's obvious they both care about each other a lot but the handler still calls the weapon "it" and the weapon still calls the handler "sir." Do you see my vision

[whumpy-galaxy]

I haven’t been able to write anything for whumpril, but I’m HOPEFULLY gonna have something planned for MerMay!!!

Give me ideas if you want, it would be helpful!

[whumpy-galaxy]

Whumpee awakens curled in the backseat in someone's arms.

They look down, their entire torso is drenched with blood.

They start to panic, but someone holds them tightly. "Shhh, shh sh, it's okay, go back to sleep. Close your eyes." Someone grabs a blanket and covers their chest with it.

"You're going to be fine, I got you. Go back to sleep... Please."

A hand brushes over their face and closes their eyes. Whumpee finds themselves doing what the voice tells them to.

[whumpy-galaxy]

Someone who hates wearing clothes with shirt collars too close to their neck or throat

Someone who is kidnapped by whumper and had to wear a collar

Someone who constantly feels like they have to pull it away but it’s locked on, or they get hurt when they try to pull at it

Someone who feels like they are choking from the collar because they think it is too close to their throat

Someone who is chained to the wall by their collar and can’t move more than a few feet without choking themselves (or having it so close to the wall and high that they can’t sit down without choking themselves, or so low that they have to crawl around and aren’t able to stand up)

I hate close collars on my shirt and am constantly pulling them away so I just think that is something interesting to think about

[whumpy-galaxy]

Reblog if I can go on your page and write stupid things in your ask box whenever I'd like to.

[whumpy-galaxy]

I’ve had a couple friends ask me for pictures of my OCs to draw to get them out of an art slump lately. If anyone needs characters to draw let me know!! I can’t draw for the life of me so I always just use picrews (or sometimes other peoples art but I don’t post those ones I just keep them as inspiration)

[whumpy-galaxy]

a whumpee made to suffer but persist---maybe they're a bloodbag, or something adjacent, kept in the service of a formidable warrior. maybe the pay is just really good or they're enslaved or they have no other choice; every time, before a match, they're taken and wounded within an inch of their life. it's necessary, or otherwise the warrior could never be so brutally efficient. whumpee is given so little time to recover before their services are needed again.

[whumpy-galaxy]

Cauterizing wounds. A fervent “bite this,” before a bit is shoved between Whumpee’s teeth; shallow breaths and white knuckles; tear tracks and sweat-soaked hair; red-hot metal and burning flesh, Whumpee’s body tensing as they scream.