dragonfireridge

[dragonfireridge]

Sounds--high-pitched wails

Right after being kicked in the ribs "f-fu-huck"

A cry that pitches up into a whistle

Getting tired of holding in cries, panicking, through the nose "hm, hm, nnn"

Pleading and they see aggressor not skip a beat taking down the whip, voice pitching up "I didn't mean to I just--please--"

Startled cry

Betrayed "what?"

Wheezing whimpers, tiny agonized whines, as they try not to move their broken clavicle by screaming

Self-debased whine of despair after their best plea went completely dismissed

Voice hoarse from screaming cracks into the upper ranges

[dragonfireridge]

[dragonfireridge]

How to Ride a Werewolf

Now remember, a lady rides sidesaddle, NOT astride. Your mother would be in hysterics at the very idea that a daughter of hers would ride a werewolf astride! Why, next you’ll be showing ankle…

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Good news: that hot chocolate is staying hot for hours.

Bad news: you’re not going to be allowed to drink it.

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The whumpee couldn’t tell how long they’d been with the whumper anymore, they just knew the four cold walls around them, and the constant of being tortured every time they were awake. The only reason they knew time passed is that the whumper loved to “give them a treat”- or a break from torture, whenever the new years came around, and it all felt like a mockery.

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In a world dominated by magic, a metallic cube lies covered in moss. Those devoid of magic are known as “Nons” and are slaves to the gifted. The hand of a Non touches the cube, and for the first time in 10,000 years, the heart of a long forgotten machine god churns once more.

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In the wake of Jimmy Carter’s death I would like to remind everyone about that time he was in a boat and got attacked by a huge rabbit that swam through to water directly at him

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a whumpy segment in a ttrpg i'm playing! (sleeping gods)

and the aftermath--navigate using the numbers as instructed

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my partner is only 40 but nestled within him is the soul of an elderly man

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[dragonfireridge]

[dragonfireridge]

i don’t want characters with healthy coping mechanisms, actually. i want them to yearn and weep and suffer and have their brutal worldviews informed and/ or altered exclusively by their unyielding love for like. one other person. sorry

[dragonfireridge]

Chosen One Whump

You're exhausted, you're not recovered from your wounds, but you have to go and fight the latest threat anyway. You're the only one who can.

You disguise yourself, making yourself seem as small and ordinary and nonthreatening as possible, so that people don't recognize you, because the hero worship feels so uncomfortable.

Your sworn companions are the only ones who treat you remotely like a human, but even so, you can see the distance and fear in their eyes when you return to them soaked in blood.

You're used to hard travel, long days walking or riding, short nights sleeping in a bedroll on cold, damp ground, taking shifts to watch for threats.

The people in the city who take you for granted, laughing about how threats will never touch them, not with you to protect them.

Worse, the people who whisper behind your back about how you're not doing enough.

The smartest and most cunning of your companions has a plan in place to defeat you if you're ever corrupted into evil. You smile and nod, knowing it wouldn't work. You would crush all of them like ants under your boot. You suspect that your companion knows it, too.

The healing magic drains you, leaving you feeling like a hollow shell, but you have no choice but to use it. Healing your wounds the normal way would leave the city vulnerable for too long. You feel as if your body is barely stitched together by magic.

You must attend meetings and balls and diplomatic events, awkward in uncomfortable formal clothes. You're there as a weapon, as a threat, and everyone knows it.

Every two-bit villain and their lackeys wants to kill you. You can't go anywhere without the threat of assassins in the dark and poison in your food and drink.

You've nearly died so many times, and each time the threat of death is more of a relief. You don't want to think about what that means. If you die, everyone else will too.

Your sleep is full of nightmares of all the things you've seen and done. Even in sleep you can't get a respite from fighting.

vaguely inspired by FFXIV

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That moment when caretaker/team finds Whumpee.

They are expecting them to be in bad shape, but when caretaker/team finally finds Whumpee, they’re so much worse than they imagined. Beaten. Broken. Left for dead. They’re bound and blindfolded and gagged and flinch as caretaker/team approaches.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Whumpee,” they say as they get closer to Whumpee and get a better look at their injuries: their arms, tied behind their back, have been broken at the forearm and lie askew. It looks like someone took a baseball bat to their face—it’s covered in deep bruises. Their breathing is shallow and quick, maybe they let out a cry of pain as caretaker/team try to pick them up to carry them—they can’t walk.

If anyone knows some whumpy scenes/tv shows/writing that has this PLEASE share I am in dire need

[dragonfireridge]

[dragonfireridge]

thinkin about a baby of my acquaintance & how when her parents are hanging out & chatting, she’ll almost fully participate in the conversation–politely watching who’s talking, saying something approx the same length & tone of what her parents are saying, occasionally using a questioning cadence & looking at someone specific for an answer, laughing when they laugh–doing everything except actually using any recognizable language

[dragonfireridge]

by lushhvisuals