#d&d whump

[aspens-whump]

Whumper stole Whumpee's spell focus before tying them up and torturing them. At some point, Whumpee managed to sneak their spell focus back, and with their remaining energy, cast a teleportation spell.

Whumpee's body started to flicker, disappearing just as Whumper reached out to grab them. Exhausted and dizzy, their vision faded as they landed in the only place they were sure was safe---Caretaker's living room.

Needless to say, Caretaker wasn't thrilled to have Whumpee appear on their carpet unconscious, tied up, and in a pool of blood, but they'd have to save the questions until after Whumpee woke up.

For now, Caretaker settled for pulling Whumpee up onto the sofa and trying to bandage them as best they could. The more they worked on Whumpee, the more injuries they found. And they were bizarre injuries too, such as burns in odd shapes and cuts that seem to spell out words or runes. What already looked like a bad enough situation from the beginning revealed itself to be worse and worse, leaving Caretaker wondering who the hell would even do something like this to Whumpee in the first place.

"Shh... Yeah, I know it hurts. Poor thing." Caretaker stroked Whumpee's hair, trying to soothe them as they cried out incoherently with each sting of antiseptic.

The two of them admittedly hadn't spoken in a while, but as soon as Whumpee was lucid, Caretaker was determined to draw the whole story out of Whumpee, no matter how long it took. Someone had made a big mistake hurting Whumpee like that, and Caretaker was going to make sure they'd regret it.

[galaxywhump]

Starry-Eyed

A little something about one of my D&D characters, an owlin Circle of Stars druid named Gienah.

contents: character expecting to die, dehydration, amnesia.

~~~

He opened his eyes to the endless starry sky above him. There were sensations and stimuli - dull, pulsating pain in his head and back, gentle sloshing of water, a hard wooden surface beneath him - but he was too captivated by the sky to pay attention to any of them, his eyes following the stars, searching for paths between them to create constellations. He couldn’t help but smile, which then turned into almost tearing up from how overwhelmed he was by the beauty and grandness of the sky.

When he took a deep breath, the pain intensified, snapping him back to his senses and making him wince. Why was he in pain?

Where was he?

He sat up abruptly and immediately hissed when his head protested this sudden change in position. When his ears stopped ringing and his vision cleared, he looked around, and what he saw chilled him to the core.

He was in a small boat, alone, and all around him, as far as the eye could see, were the inky depths of the ocean.

There had to be something, though, right? Land or a ship, because he couldn’t have been in this boat for too long, considering he was still alive and felt… alright, aside from the pain. He must have ended up here somehow, but how?...

His head throbbed with agony again, but he was determined as he searched deep within his mind.

“Gienah!”

He flinched at the auditory memory, a word said in an authoritative tone that almost made it sound like he was going to be yelled at.

He? Yes, because the word was his name. Gienah. He was sure of that.

Other than that, though, there was nothing. He was trying to remember, but it felt like he was grasping at the thinnest threads that slipped out of his hands and disappeared, pages in a book that faded in front of his eyes, and there was nothing, nothing, nothing, he was lost and in pain and he was going to die. 

He looked around frantically, but there didn’t seem to be much in the boat, other than two oars. No food, no fresh water - and he did make sure, rummaging through the boat before having to accept that there really wasn’t anything that could help him survive. He had no way of getting out of here- No, he had wings. He was an…. owlin, that was the word. He spread his wings a bit just to remember the sensation, and grimaced when a spike of… something hit his mind. A bad memory, maybe? He’d take bad memories over no memories, but the spike passed, leaving behind a vaguely upsetting void. 

Regardless, he knew he didn’t have enough stamina to just fly forever, so leaving the boat when there was no land in sight would be an even more certain death sentence. He shuddered, imagining crashing into the sea, resigned and exhausted. No, he’d have to choose a direction and row, and hope he would come across some land he could fly to. And then… He didn’t know. He’d decide when he survived.

Dizziness overwhelmed him, so he lay back down, just for a moment, until he felt strong enough to start rowing. Was he even strong enough, though? It sure didn’t feel like it. 

No matter. He stared up at the night sky, at the moon and the stars, and he never wanted to go back to the horrifying reality of his current situation.

As he lay there, slipping into comforting mindlessness, he realized that one of his pockets felt heavier than the other. With a small spark of hope, he reached inside, and his fingers closed around a small object. When he held it up to examine it closely, illuminated by moonlight, he realized that it was some kind of whistle, made of gold-colored wood. He turned it this way and that, looking it over with narrowed eyes, but as much as he’d hoped that his seemingly only possession, barring the clothes on his back, would give him some answers, it ended up resulting in even more questions, especially when he realized that his beak didn’t even let him use it. Why would he have this? Was it really his? How did it end up with him if it wasn’t? He sighed and dropped the whistle back into his pocket, fixing his eyes on the sky again, only to have yet another realization.

He’d chalked the sensation up to hunger up until now, but he realized it was something different, a swirl of… energy inside him, and when he raised his hand, almost automatically, he remembered something, whispered a few words, and a few sparks appeared in his hand, only to fade away. Magic. It was magic.

His name was Gienah, he was an owlin, and he knew how to use magic. That was a start. What kind of magic was it, though? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tuning into the energy inside him, or… not really inside him, not to begin with, instead creeping closer from all around him, from the sea and the sky, from the fish and the seagulls. It came from nature, then. What was this called?

He knew the word, but couldn’t recall it, as if he’d hit a wall in his mind. Not like it mattered right now, anyway; his magic didn’t feel strong and focused enough to help him. He had to do his best on his own, then. He had to survive if he wanted to avoid dying out here and becoming food for the seagulls.

So he sat up, rolled his shoulders, picked up the oars and started rowing. He’d much rather do this during the day, but every second was precious in this race against time. Besides, he could focus on a specific star - the brightest one - and use it to stay on course. He could do this.

Just like he suspected, he wasn’t very strong, but determination pushed him forward. It didn’t matter if his arms felt like they were on fire, he had to push himself far beyond his limits if he wanted to survive, even when the pain was forcing tears out of his eyes. Only when he felt his muscles fully give out did he take a break, letting go of the oars to massage his sore arms and breathe deeply. Looking around, he still saw nothing but the open sea, but it was going to change. It had to.

Having to go back to rowing filled him with dread, his entire body screaming at him to save himself from the strain, but he had no choice. Although… He focused on his apparent magic again. Could he do anything to make this easier for himself, even though he wasn’t especially powerful? Drawing from nature… 

Frowning, he touched one of the oars. It was made of wood, not entirely smooth, though not rough enough for splinters, giving off a makeshift feel. A competent work from an amateur - and he could do something with it.

He grabbed both oars and closed his eyes. Just like with the sparks earlier, it was… an instinct, something that he had practiced so many times that even his mangled memory wasn’t an obstacle. He whispered a few words and tapped his fingers on the oars, and…

He opened his eyes slightly and gasped when he saw the oars glowing with thin veins of light that permeated the wood and climbed up. The oars felt… lighter, somehow, and when he put them in the water and pushed, there was less resistance than before. It worked. He could do this - this time the reassurance had more conviction behind it.

This continued into the next day, casting his spell, rowing, resting, searching for land or a ship, focusing only on the task at hand, because he knew that if he gave in to hopelessness, he would only doom himself. He could barely feel his arms, but he kept rowing, forcing himself into a murderous routine, tuning out everything else. His fingers were sore and stiff, and he felt like they were frozen solid every time he had to open his hands to let go of the oars. The only mercy was the weather, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds from time to time; he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle being constantly exposed to its scorching heat.

Night finally fell, and he took a moment to look up at the stars once again. There was something… soothing about them. They were constant, unchanging, always there, unswayed by what was going on in the mortal realm. Uncaring, maybe, and yet… calming in a way.

Slightly reinvigorated, he went back to rowing until he passed out from exhaustion.

When he woke up in the morning, his throat was bone-dry. He tried to clear it, but all it achieved was sending him into a coughing fit that only made matters worse. He was parched, and there was nothing he could do about it. Hunger was also making itself known, but it was a less pressing concern. Dehydration was going to kill him much faster than starvation.

It took all his willpower to fall back into the routine. Row, don’t stop rowing, ignore the pain, then the numbness, the hopelessness that squeezed his heart like a clawed hand, piercing it, tormenting it. Ignore the shallowness of his breath. Ignore the dark spots dancing before his eyes. Ignore the thirst, the thirst, the thirst. Ignore the fast approaching lonely death.

Then he started slipping. With what little strength he had almost completely gone, even supported by magic, he wasn’t even pushing at the oars hard enough for the boat to gain considerable speed, and the gentle waves, while more welcome than a storm, weren’t of much help. His hands were shaking, his shoulders were locked in agony. He let out a sob, then another, until he broke down fully, still rowing, still fighting, even though there was no point. Tears were clouding his vision until he could barely see anything, and maybe he was going in circles, there were no stars guiding him after all, it was so hopeless.

With a frustrated groan, he fell backwards, hitting the bottom of the boat hard, staring at the heavy, overwhelming clouds hanging over him, as if the sky was threatening to come down and crush him. At least it would be a quicker death.

He shuddered. Despite his hopelessness, he still… he didn’t want to give up. He could still try. At night, maybe, when he could use the stars to navigate. Right now he just needed to rest.

His sleep was fitful, he tossed and turned, unsure whether he was waking up from time to time or simply dreaming. His headache was killing him, his body felt heavy like lead, and his heart had sunk deep into the ocean.

When night came, he opened his eyes, but saw no stars. The night sky was obstructed by clouds.

Before he knew it, he was crying again, dryly, because he was too dehydrated for tears. He really was going to die here, barely remembering who he was and not remembering his life, what had led up to this, at all. Not knowing whether anyone would search for him, miss him, mourn him. Alone, heartbroken and scared, with nothing and no-one to comfort him in his final moments.

Exhausted, Gienah allowed himself to fall back asleep, not knowing if he would wake up again.

[whumperofworlds]

Saw someone do this. Thought it would be fun!

End of year important people list (whump community edition!)

Reblog and tag all of your favorite whump creators, friends in the whump community, anyone in the whump community really, and let them know how much you care about them!

[breezy-cheezy]

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive

This part really struck me, and I wanted to draw it! Luffy is just trying to protect his little family, and while the Lapins nearly got them killed, he still helps pull one out of the snow....because he recognizes they're trying to protect their family too. And I love that ;v;

BASICALLY A PANEL REDRAW here's the panel

[whump-in-the-closet]

a defiant whumpee dragged in front of whumper by henchmen. They're bleeding from their mouth and they lick the blood away before cursing whumper out.

And whumper only smiles. With a wave of their hand, one of the henchmen slaps whumpee across the face, and the other shoves them to their knees.

The message is clear.

Stay down.

They don't get the message

Whumpee tries to stand again, spitting vicious threats. Their knees are watery, threatening to give out on them.

Whumper shakes their head and whispers something to their henchmen.

Whumpee, shaking on their feet, can only watch as Caretaker is dragged-- literally dragged by their shirt collar-- and dropped beside them. Caretaker doesn't move, their breathing a ragged rise and fall. It's some semblance of life, without consciousness.

"Kneel," says Whumper.

Whumpee crashes to the ground, unable to look away from Caretaker. At their damaged hands and closed eyes, dirtied clothes, and matted hair.

Kneeling now?

Good.

"Don't cross me," murmurs Whumper and strokes the top of Whumpee's head, like one pets a stray dog just found.

Whumpee snarls but says nothing.

[defire]

Fun whumper/villain ideas

Content: beatings, gag, prisoners, torture

Gorgeous master--victim has an attraction to them when they're not actively getting hurt. And then whumper flips up their cane and whumpee snaps back to reality like "wtf was I thinking--this person is evil!"

Intellectual-- doesn't give enough fucks to be cruel or kind. They find whumpee interesting, listen intently to whumpee plead, then tell their subordinates to tie the gag back on and take them away.

Accidental Bond--whumper connects to whumpee secretly while trying to stay aloof (you're just a hostage/weapon/POW). But that would look bad. So they start protecting them from the others, but the whole time they degrading and hurt whumpee in front of the other whumpers, treat them just as badly or worse than the other whumpees... And whumpee can't be sure which side of them is fake.

Emotional Sadist--Whumper emotionally connects with victim. But then, whumper leans in, making eye contact, and instead of sympathy, they just purse their lips slightly, eyes moving down whumpee's face and trembling body. They absorb victim's pained state. They whisper calmly, "ask again, whumpee. On your knees this time."

Angry whumper--shoving and manhandling victim even if they're cooperating. Slapping them before they even finish a sentence because it's more satisfying to make them break off mid-sentence. Going into rages and just pummeling whumpee's body. Making sure victim will be there and waiting whenever whumper needs to burn off some fumes.

Tell me if you write or like whumpers like these! I love hearing about other people's ocs!

[silverskye13]

Hello! I was just wondering but what would happen if Tanguish died for the last time/was running out of time right in front of Helsnight?

Good afternoon! You seem possessed of the desire for heartbreak! This made my hands shake to write, so thank you for that! If you need me I will be pretending it's the coffee jitters!

Helsknight has seen this before. It's been awhile since he's felt it so closely, though. The fainting. The listlessness. The lost time. He's seen it all before. Dead eyed paladins wandering like sleepwalkers through their tasks. The strong made weak by the jaws of the universe as they're eaten away. The long sleep. The watch for waking. The hopeless vigil. The waiting, waiting, waiting, for inevitability. The knowledge that soon, inexorably, like the setting sun, night was falling.

The sun would never rise again, and there would be no stars.

To be swallowed whole by something that doesn't care, that doesn't notice, what it's taking.

Tanguish sleeps more than he wakes now. He looks deceptively peaceful, laying there in bed. Helsknight moved him from the couch weeks ago. He deserves comfort. He deserves peace, and warmth. He deserves... Well. He deserves better. Helsknight can't give him better. Even if he knew what to give, he couldn't bring himself to leave Tanguish's side. Not anymore.

"I would fight the Universe for you if I could," Helsknight tells him, kneeling beside the bed during one more of those long, silent, lonely vigils. He has Tanguish's hand cupped in both of his, the scarred knuckles pressed to his lips. Helsknight doesn't cry. He never cries in front of Tanguish. It feels rude. Disrespectful. This isn't about him. If anything he is just a helpless bystander. He is not to be comforted. "I would pry back the jaws of the Universe if I could reach them in a way that mattered. You know I would."

Tanguish doesn't respond. He's been asleep for a long, long time. Helsknight knows the pattern. The ebb and flow. The drowning slip. Last time it took Tanguish days to wake. He doesn't think this time there will be a waking, but he waits for it anyway. All he has left now is the hope, however fleeting, to see those eyes flutter open, the tired smile and soft voice. Tanguish saying reasonably, as though Helsknight were making a big deal about nothing, "Why are you still here? I'm alright, Helsknight. You don't have to wait for me."

They talked about it, in that rare glimmer when Tanguish was lucid. Helsknight had explained what he knew of what was happening, what he'd seen. He explained the sleep would last longer. That if Tanguish didn't get himself killed, the Universe would simply take him one day, quietly, in his sleep. Tanguish had seemed relieved. He didn't want to die painfully. This was the best possible scenerio for someone who feared hurt and wounding. To slip away, unnoticed, uncaring. It had been a soft conversation, and it had taken all of Helsknight's strength not to be angry. Not to rage in the face of fear and loss. He wanted to be kind for Tanguish. He wanted his friend to leave thinking everything would be okay. He wanted him to feel loved, and looked after, and like the world would mourn his passing but not be broken by it.

This time, there will not be a waking. Helsknight can feel it in his bones. It makes his heart sick. He feels like, if he convulsed hard enough, his soul might vomit, riot out the tangle of emotions he has long grown weary of feeling, that stick in his ribs like claws.

This time, there will not be a waking.

[Tanguish always hated being a burden.]

Helsknight was broken. He sighed a lot. There was something wrong with his stomach and chest, like if he exhaled deeply, smoke and despair would come spooling out of his lungs. He wished he could purge the empty ache buried inside him, calm the nervousness of mourning. There was a little animal inside him that wanted to run, which felt his pain and fear and said something fatal must be happening, and fight or flight should move him to self preservation.

He couldn't bring himself to leave the house. Every moment they had left felt stolen.

Besides, he could run for the rest of his life and never outrun this. He could slay every god and saint in hels and it wouldn't change a thing. Impotence was a poison in his soul.

He felt sick.

"I'm sorry I couldn't fix it," Helsknight whispered, kissing Tanguish's hand gently. "I would have tried harder. You know I would have."

Tanguish had asked him, in one of those rare, lucid moments, not to bother Tango. Just let it happen, he'd said, brushing strands of hair out of Helsknight's face. It's okay, I'm not afraid.

Helsknight didn't know what time it was. He stopped caring about things like that awhile ago.

He kissed Tanguish's knuckles again, and wished he could pour his own life through his skin. Tanguish's hand was warm in his, he'd been holding it so long. It felt stupid, but he spent a lot of time washing his hands now. His hands and his hair. He put on lotion, and honey-scented oils, because Tanguish told him once his sealing wax made him feel safe, and this was the closest smell to it that he had ready. Every time Tanguish woke, he wanted him to be held in kind, gentle hands. To card his fingers through clean, soft hair. To smell safety and comfort. Helsknight kissed Tanguish's knuckles again. It was all he could do. It was all he could do.

Time crawled by like a wounded animal. Helsknight sat very still. He kissed Tanguish's hand when it seemed necessary, the gentle brush of lips against fingers that never moved. Sometimes he would press his thumb to Tanguish's pulse just to remind himself he was still alive, only sleeping. He didn't cry. He said only kind things; whispered poetry, soft platitudes. When his helpless anger abated and left him hollow, in the ebbs and tides it lived in, he prayed. They were hopeless, stupid prayers. He didn't know what to pray for anyway. Only the repeated mantra please, please, please, begging for his Saint to listen to... Something. Please save Tanguish. Please end the waiting soon. Please don't make Helsknight suffer the waiting alone. Please, if he must suffer this, take the feelings away. Take the pain away. Make it stop. Make it stop...

Helsknight knew he fell asleep only because he woke up hours later, and when he woke, he was alone. The bed was empty, blankets barely disheveled. Still, Helsknight was filled with the half-mad thought that Tanguish had woken and crept past him, leaving him to sleep. Helsknight got to his feet, joints protesting after so long waiting in stillness.

"Tanguish?" Helsknight called into the empty room, searching every corner, as though he would be hiding. "Tanguish you shouldn't be up by yourself. Where--?"

Helsknight rubbed sore eyes and walked into the living room. He felt disoriented, not all there, like he'd woken from a bad dream. His mind dragged behind his body, thoughts tilting haphazardly through sleep and stress. He was exhausted. Had he not been sleeping lately? Gods. It was hard to remember.

Helsknight looked quietly around the living room, suddenly confused as to why he'd come in here. He was looking for something... right? Something important. His hands were shaking. He felt sick. Something very, very important. His stomach twisted in knots. His chest hurt. Was he having a panic attack? Why in hels was he having a panic attack?

"I need to lay down," Helsknight said to no one, because no one else was here. When had he gotten into the habit of talking to himself? His chest hurt. He felt sick. He wanted to cry. What the fuck was wrong with him?

[Lost something. Lost something.]

Helsknight stumbled back into his room, his mind a hazy mess. His bed was an oasis of calm in a storm. He needed to lay down. He felt raw and wounded, like someone had reached hands inside him and started pulling out entrails. It was a despair so thick he wanted to vomit. He placed his hands on the bed, steadying himself, trying to convince himself if he could just crawl in--

The bed was cold. Colder than was normal. A tear rolled down his cheek. He could cry now. He was allowed to cry now. No one was here to see.

Why would someone be here? Why would he even need to cry? Helsknight rubbed at his face, and he searched his bed, his nightstand, for anything that made sense.

A little black stone, obsidian, hard to carve and harder to break. There was a name carved there that wasn't his. Memories that had been floating away like fading dreams, fast into the jaws of the void, slammed back into him so hard he staggered. It was a blow that should have killed him. He'd felt gentler wounds from blades in the Colosseum.

Helsknight's reaction was immediate. His breath left him, half gasp, half groan. And he was sobbing, great, wracking, gasping sobs that were halfway screams. Helsknight grabbed the little stone, carved with Tanguish's name, and clasped it to his chest. He clung to it like it could somehow pull Tanguish back to him, like it could tether his soul, already gone. Then Helsknight did scream, because his chest hurt, his soul hurt, and he was powerless, powerless, powerless to do anything about it.

"I didn't mean to forget," he sobbed, his whole body bent in apology, like a sinner at an altar. "I d-didn't mean to forget. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I--"

The night was long.

The world was dark.

Somewhere, a bright, bright star dimmed and died, and no one seemed to notice.

And the Universe said, I do not love you, for I did not make you

And the Universe said, You were never meant to exist, so you do not

And the Universe said, All is right with the world.

Isn't it?

[thatsgonnaleaveamark]

Slow Horses 4x02 (p2)

[aspens-whump]

I'm so sad that nobody in my TTRPG group is into whump, because I imagine playing with other whump fans is a drastically different experience. Imagine...

GM: "Okay, your character takes 7 slashing damage, and---"

Player 1: "Ooh, ooh! Can I hide the injury from the other party members until it gets infected, forcing me to open up and be vulnerable around them?"

GM: "Oh, of course! Actually, just to make it whumpier, let's have it do 14 slash damage."

Player 1: "Yay! I clutch the wound and stifle a groan as I stumble forward, desperately gripping my sword."

Player 2: "Hehe, I really want my character to be there when yours collapses from the pain. It's gonna be so good..."

Player 3: "I'll be the tough caretaker who acts like they don't care at first but slowly reveals that they actually do! They'll be so devastated when they find out they let their friend get hurt, the guilt will eat them alive. <3"

Player 4, the only one who doesn't know what whump is: "Um, guys? I think the dragon is still, um... It's still wrecking the village. Maybe we should---"

GM: "Hold on, I wanna see where they're going with this. I need inspo for my fic."

[queenstarscream]

Fucked up idea. For like a human AU.

Orion putting the Megatronus sticker or Pin instead of a decal on D-16's jacket/shirt

Sentinal literally carving it into D's skin later on

Megatron giving himself a Tattoo of it at the end ( vs all the others getting it done somewhat pain free ).

I am not okay, no.

[whumperoni-and-wheeze]

[A] breaks a limb after a post-apocalyptic event. [B], [C], and [D] have to reset it, despite protest from [A].

[B] and [C] hold them down, [B] holds their hand over [A]'s mouth to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to their ramshackle fortress.

[D] has to disinfect their wounds, reset the bones, splint the limb, etc.

The break is severe enough to almost send [A] into shock, and [B] has to keep them focused on something else, anything else.

"Hey, hey [A], look at me, alright? That's it, just keep lookin at my eyes, you're gonna be fine."

"Breathe through your nose, [A], you can't hold your breath through this."

"HEY, no, don't look! It'll hurt worse, trust me."

"You're doing great [A], we need to stitch the wound now."

"Hey, HEY, don't start passing out on us, you're gonna be fine ok?"

[tilskkarishma]

What most people see when they watch BSD:

What I (my sick head) see when I watch BSD:

[goodwhump-temp]

Allen Walker Whump | D. Gray Man

fellas, is it gay to think all lives are precious?

Ep.01 - Knocked back Ep.02 - Sliced/weapon arm damaged, [Flashback; knocked unconscious], nerve damage, pain (repair), restrained, electrified, nerve pain Ep.03 - Guilt, knocked back into wall x2, kicked Ep.04 - Stabbed, trapped under rubble, weak Ep.05 - Punched, swallowed, body exhausted, blood, weak, crying Ep.06 - Tackled x2, disrespected, onion bombed, crying, insomnia, shot, briefly infected Ep.07 - Traumatized childhood lore, collapse Ep.08 - Captured, tranquilized, weak, emotional Ep.09 - Tinnitus, pain Ep.10 - Hit with icefire blast, unconscious, captured Ep.11 - Pain from ripping out restraints, eye stabbed, hit with icefire blast, briefly unconscious, passes out, protected Ep.12 - Eye pain, slapped, crying, wounds re-appear x2, unconscious, bleeding out, hospitalized Ep.13 - Hospital cont., scared Ep.14 - Tired, sledding crash, hit with snow blast, buried in snow, passes out Ep.15 - Carried, fever Ep.17 - Knocked down, slashed multiple times, arm paralyzed, held pulled, bodyslammed Ep.18 - Stuck in octopus, upset (its not coming off) Ep.19 - Eye shot, pain, weak, bandaged, scared Ep.20 - Freaking out, finger bit, briefly weak (gas), caught in explosion, exhausted Ep.21 - Neck bit, knocked through wall, unconscious, dizzy, trips, pinned, crushed, punched x12, very weak, thrown, unconscious Ep.22 - Thrown out window Ep.23 - Smacked by vines x2, crying Ep.25 - Crying/overwhelmed Ep.26 - Heartbroken Ep.27 - Nausea/nervous, painful childhood lore (flashbacks; sprained ankle, knocked down, depressed, heartbroken, crying) Ep.29 - Knocked down, guilt Ep.30 - Knocked down, talks about mourning Mana Ep.31 - Sneezes x2 Ep.40 - Trips Ep.41 - Starving, shot, briefly infected, scratched Ep.46 - Cold & hungry, hallucinating, knocked down, sliced (saw blades), carried, unconscious Ep.47 - Starving Ep.48 - Knocked down Ep.50 - Knocked down x6, punched Ep.52 - Arm deteriorating, SNATCHED x2 Ep.53 - Consumed, intense pain Ep.54 - Hand bit through, bleeding, arm snapped, extreme pain, tears Ep.55 - Weak, ear bit, extreme pain x100, electrocuted, arm bitten, heartbroken, crying Ep.56 - Arm deteriorating, great pain, impaled, organs threatened, arm broken, choked, arm amputated & destroyed, heart bitten, dying Ep.58 - Heavily bandaged, crying x2, weak/limping, anguish, bleeding Ep.59 - Knocked down, kicked x3, bandages sliced, collapse Ep.62 - Intense eye pain (present and flashback), collapse, Ep.64 - Sliced x6 Ep.66 - Knocked down, depressed, struggling will, punched x2, angry outburst Ep.67 - Eye pain Ep.68 - Intense eye pain x2, collapse, unconscious, nightmare, impaled Ep.69 - Impaled, intense pain, deteriorating, unconscious, carried, weak, tackled, crying, sacrifice Ep.70 - Body cracking, electrocuted Ep.75 - Crying Ep.76 - Headbutted Ep.80 - Spiteful memories, shot by blue bullet Ep.81 - Debt trauma, angry Ep.82 - Depressed, trapped x3, suffocating, thrown, electrocuted, knocked down x2 Ep.83 - Electrocuted Ep.84 - Stunned, (08:10) Ep.86 - Electrocuted, knocked unconscious, arm cracked, bleeding, trapped in vacuum, weak, passes out, impaled Ep.88 - Punched x3, gut-kicked, electrocuted unconscious, engulfed in flames Ep.89 - (09:00) pain, punched, engulfed in thorns, great pain Ep.90 - Super punched x4, very weak, held, knocked down, 6 combo punch, unconscious Ep.91 - Knocked down x3, falls, thrown, heartbroken, bleeding, Ep.92 - Bleeding, angry, weak, uneasy Ep.93 - Uneasy, emotional timcanpy reunion Ep.94 - Hospital, Mana lore Ep.95 - Betrayed/tried for Heresay Ep.96 - Investigated/mana lore Ep.98 - Head squeezed x2, kicked, punched, unconscious Ep.100 - Heartbroken, crying, revolted, scared, intense pain, unconscious, devastated, passes out Ep.101 - Kicked, beaten, weak, seriously injured, bleeding Ep.102 - Knocked down x3, weak, motionsick, uppercutted Ep.103 - Exhausted, crying, pinned, weak/immobile, carried, crying,

HALLOW

Ep.01 - Arm electrocutedly bandaged, arrested, slapped, heartbroken, comforted Ep.02 - Kicked, headbutted, bleeding, possessed; crying, infected, shot x20, unconscious, weak Ep.03 - Weak, punched, stabbed, extreme pain, bleeding, talks about Mana Ep.04 - Dream; stabbed, bandaged, punched, thrown, bleeding, kicked Ep.05 - Pinned, choked, fighting control, bleeding Ep.06 - Mental overload Ep.07 - Angry, punched-ish (19:50), pinned, infected Ep.08 - Guilt, kicked, knocked down x2, body controlled, extreme pain, leg snapped, arm sliced, fighting control, stabbed, serious bleeding, unconscious, transformed Ep.09 - Caught in explosion, bleeding, crying, restrained Ep.10 - Restrained, imprisoned, crying, depressed, fighting control, weak/difficulty breathing, extreme pain Ep.11 - Extreme pain, panic attack, comforted, head grabbed Ep.12 - Hand haywire, scared Ep.13 - [Childhood; after Mana died/unconscious, thrashing, great pain, held down, mental problems, fatherly Cross moments, crying], weak, fighting control

MANGA

Chapt. 211 - Face rubbed painfully, upset Chapt. 212 - Fighting control, weak, crying, passes out, carried Chapt. 225 - Passes out

[whump-blog]

Whump Art 9

Whumpee is safe, but terrified of his rescuers, or maybe he's still with Whumper, who is trying to be a better person, but Whumpee can't forget all the things Whumper did to him so easily.

[whumpandthings]

Poolverine hurt/comfort prompt

Writers I need you xoxo

[aspens-whump]

Mending spells are for objects, healing spells are for people. That was one of the very first things Whumpee learned from Mentor as a spellcaster. Though they weren't quite sure what caused this difference, they also weren't one to test it. Every spell Mentor taught had been passed down and refined for generations, so Whumpee trusted that they had good reason for emphasizing that such a distinction existed.

Well, at least, they never intended to test Mentor's instructions. Now that they'd tripped and fallen into a ditch full of jagged rocks while looking for spell components in the woods, they were considering it as an option.

A boulder scraped against them on the way down, leaving a thick red streak of blood along the edge of the ditch. They groaned as they lay on their side. Each frantic, shallow breath sent a wave of stabbing pain through their body, undoubtedly because of a broken rib or two. As their mind stopped spinning, they realized they were clutching at a large gash that ran across their stomach.

They pushed themself into a sitting position, still cradling their stomach. "Mmnh... Somebody. H-help! Please!" Tears ran down their cheeks, stinging the cuts that dashed across.

Moments passed, yet there was no response. Whumpee began to try to call out again, but they were taken by a coughing fit and fell onto their back. They winced, feeling blood spatter from their lips.

Whumpee cursed themself for using up their one health potion earlier in the day on a stupid scraped knee. And then foolishly separating from the rest of their party, which was surely hours down the path by now. They hadn't even properly learned how to cast a healing spell, one of the more difficult spells to learn, thinking that carrying around a potion meant they wouldn't have to.

At this point, even if a mending spell wasn't specifically meant to heal, they figured it had to be better than nothing. And they knew it well, having used it to repair things countless times. They closed their eyes in an effort to calm themself enough to focus. They took a shaky breath, rested one hand above their stomach and clutched their spell focus with the other, and whispered the spell.

A soft light shone from Whumpee's palm. It flickered for a moment before fading away. Whumpee propped themself up on their elbow to look, only to find that the wound continued to flow steadily, coating their fingers with sticky blood. Nothing had changed. They sank to the ground again, defeated, when they felt a warm tingling sensation across their skin.

A scream tore through their throat as their flesh started to warp, twisting into strips and sprawling across the wound like vines. The pain left them writhing on the ground and choking on splintered cries.

"... Ple-please... It hurts! Make it stop!" They weren't sure to who or what they were calling, but it didn't matter. Every desperate plea went unanswered in the empty forest, as the magic continued its work undisturbed. Whumpee sobbed with each surge of pain. Every movement sent a sharp, burning pain from their wound, but they couldn't hold still, not like this.

Finally, the pain slowed down to a dull, throbbing sensation. Whumpee shuddered and carefully pulled themself back onto their elbows to look. The wound didn't look much better than before, other than having some rough strands of flesh stretched across as if it had been clumsily sewn over with rope. At the very least, it seemed like the spell had pulled the wound shut by a little bit and slowed the bleeding.

Whumpee stared up at the sky. Though they'd left in the bright afternoon, the sky was now fading to a warm purple, speckled with a few faint stars. If this was the best they could heal themself, they had no better choice than to wait and hope someone found them, and soon.