#give me the WHUMP

[pixiatn]

"Peter gets snapped to the DC universe" "Peter gets isekai'd to the DC universe" blah blah blah BORING, give me freshly revived Jason Todd isekai'd to the marvel universe (not specifically the MCU). This poor, traumatized, paranoid boy accidentally terrorizing criminals and scaring the general public. His mind is fractured, caught between his passion of what was once being Robin and helping people and the overwhelming anger and trauma of dying then being brought back to life.

His nightly appearances have other New York vigilantes like worried about a young man beating the shit out of common criminals (Classic batfamily move: Brain Damage and outrageous hospital bills) (punisher finds this hilarious, he'd never admit it though). There's a lot of rumors and theories about this aggressive nighttime ass beater, about whether or not it's a mutant, or a new vigilante, a possible antihero, JJJ post an article about how he thinks it's just spider-man

One night Peters talking to Miles about it and how they need to find this guy before it turns from maiming criminals to hurting civilians, and Miles recognizes the guy from the vague description and he's just like "Oh you mean Jason" and Peter's like "Who???" Then Miles just lore dumps on Peter how he regularly finds Jason on random parts of the city while he's patrolling and sometimes buys bro a sandwich and a drink. They're pretty friendly even when Jason doesn't talk much, Miles tries to redirect Jason towards shelters or F.E.A.S.T but knows that sometimes bro won't listen and go out to beat ass. So Miles just kinda supervises his ass beatings to make sure he doesn't go to far

They are besties🫶🏽

[smthnsmthn-whumpblog]

i would like to see more permanent brain damage in whump please and thank you.

and not just traumatic head injuries, though they are fun, but also shit like hypoxia. you know how much fun you can have with that? like, maybe your whumpee drowns and is fully dead for a hot second, and there’s just. no air inside them for a while. they come to after someone saves their life and they’re just hacking and coughing and spluttering and desperately trying to suck down air, you know the drill. or maybe they get shot, in the liver or something, and they just won’t stop bleeding. when they eventually do, they’ve lost so much blood that they’re on death’s door, and there’s a race to get them a blood transfusion before it’s too late. the team manages, but only just, and whumpee’s brain has been deprived of oxygen for so long that when they eventually wake up, they’re so confused, and weak, and scared. fun stuff, right?

and then you have the brain damage. there is so much fucking potential here for whumpy recovery shit. maybe they can’t talk anymore, maybe they can’t understand people anymore, maybe they can’t move properly anymore, maybe they become a different person entirely, a la phineas gage. and they don’t know what to do. their entire life has just been permanently altered, their fucking brain is different now. they lash out more, they wished they didn’t but they can’t help it. or maybe they just become apathetic, and they can’t feel any emotions strongly so they’re just left with this dull, droning sense of guilt for being such a dick. maybe they start crying every now and then, and they don’t really know why, they just feel so fucking sad. maybe they get consumed by this dreadful feeling of isolation, unable to communicate with their friends like they used to.

and then the team has to try and rehabilitate them.

[suspensefulpen]

Darling is such a powerful word to me

Imo you use that word for someone you are truly, deeply in love with. This person is your world, your everything, you can’t live without them.

On the other hand, you use that word for someone you’re extremely possessive of. You call someone that and they’re yours for all of eternity, whether they like it or not. No one else can have them because they’re yours if they know or not is completely irrelevant.

Now, imagine Whumpee being called that by both Caretaker and Whumper…

[guys-in-distress-database]

[swallowedburningcoals]

whumpee surrendering themselves to something they don't want to do, something they know will hurt them, because there is no other alternative. perhaps it's their only way out of a sticky situation. perhaps the threat of whumper punishing them is more than enough to make them comply. either way, they have to fight against their own instincts, their own desires, their own dignity, in order to give themselves up to the torment. it's like a swine walking into a slaughterhouse; a death march.

bonus if whumpee is usually very defiant and self-assured, even if the face of danger. what possibly could've broken their spirit bad enough to make them behave like this?

[hayaku14]

kuroba 'im traumatized by fire taking my loved ones away im never letting you near one' kaito vs kudou 'i let someone die in a fire and it haunts me to this day i'll never let that happen again' shinichi

[oshaskell]

personally i think the dislocated shoulder and the curse and the boils werent enough. i want to see that blond blue eyed man writhing on the floor covered in blood. maybe he falls off a cliff. maybe he gets caught in a Saw trap. i love buck very much and i think these would be very entertaining and erotic and frankly excellent mediocre television. to me <3

[aceofwhump]

Outlander 7x12 "Carnal Knowledge"

Jamie pretending to kidnap Lord John Grey, realizing the man is freezing without a coat, and giving him his own

[shywhumpauthor]

A Whumper with fire powers branding their Whumpee not just with their name or initials, but their handprints.

Two palms scarred against either side of Whumpee’s neck, fingers wrapping around their throat in a collar that can never be removed. Hands on their sides, just below their broken ribs, a touch that will never relent. Fingers wrapped around their wrists in shackles that won’t be unlocked. A handprint against their face, cupping their cheek that had already suffered so many punches. The small of their back. A single hand just between their shoulder blades. Dragging down their thighs.

Just. Branded handprints.

[mischefous]

I had seen your "I have no mouth and I must scream" comic and thought it was fantastic. And then someone reblogged one of your recent whump requests, and it was amazing. And then I just started scrolling through your blog, and I love it.

If you're still taking requests, I would love some Legend whump! Magical exhaustion maybe, or if you're feeling it, stuck halfway in and out of his painting transformation

awwweee thank you @pokegeek151!

I went with Magical exhaustion hehe. I had the idea to give him a lil bit of a nosebleed. just like what happens to Eleven in 'Stranger Things'

and ohmahgosh that 'stuck halfway in/out of his painting form' is SUCH a good idea!!! unfortunately i have no idea how I would have drawn that XD. was almost imagining like- his top half is just hanging there stuck in the wall and the poor guy just fell asleep XD

anywaysss, i hope you enjoy!💙

CW! nosebleed

also yes I'm aware his bracelet isn't there. I tried to draw it on there but it just looked awkward

[whumptydaisy]

Ruined Safety

Gods, you know a whump trope I'd love to see?

Whumpee joining a group or making friends after they’ve escaped or started healing from their trauma with whumper on their own.

Their friends have only ever known them as this happy-go-lucky, sarcastic jokester. Someone who always has a ridiculous quip or joke ready to break the tension. Whose someone people can rely on and open up with to talk about their issues without judgement. Except when they think on it, they don’t really know Whumpee that well. They know they’re nice, and that they can be a joker, but they don’t know anything about their past. Whumpee refuses to talk about it, deflecting with quips and sarcasm and jokes until the topic changes without anyone realizing the questions were never answered.

Whumpee has rebuilt themself from their trauma, they’ve already took the broken pieces of themself that were left after they escaped Whumper and put themself back together as someone new. It’s been years since they were with Whumper and they have no desire to even think about that part of their life again.

...until Whumper shows back up without warning to rip the safety and the life they’ve built for themself out from under them. Reminding them that Whumpee is still just their pet, their plaything in front of everybody they’ve come to care about and and shattering the fragile sense of safety they’d finally come to have. :)

It's even better if Whumpee was actually starting to get close to someone in the group more intimately, finally starting to feel safe enough to maybe let their walls down and be honest with them, just to have the agency of sharing their past and everything that happened to them ripped away by Whumper in one fell swoop as they're dragged away kicking and screaming in chains :) :) :)

[defire]

So I'm having a million of anxiety today and here's the result (it's always guns 🤦)

Guns

Content: gun threats, killing

Gun to whumpee's throat just close enough that their trachea presses against it when they swallow

Gun to skin but the metal is warm. Whumper had it in their waistband and now having it up to their skin, it feels almost intimate. Embarrassing.

Gun to lips. Aggressor: "Open." Victim tightens their lips shut. Aggressor: "do you want it clean, or do you want your teeth blown away too?"

Whumpee's team going down until it's just them, falling to their knees in an overwhelm of grief. Enemy leader walking toward them with a gun casually ready, and whumpee thinks they're next.

Victim already captured, walking in front of aggressor, who isn't sure they'll "behave". A gun is pressed in through victim's coat until finally victim finally feels it. They gulp and try not to look suspicious by glancing back at whumper.

Aggressor having a valuable whumpee lined up with other expendable prisoners. Walking down the line and shooting them for made-up reasons. When they get to whumpee, whumpee is trembling, trying to be "perfect", so they aren't next.

[whump-side]

Now that I think of it, my blog being "whump-side" is a funny coincidence.

[necrotic-nephilim]

au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning

(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)

i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3

Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.

Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.

Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.

The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.

And found himself staring at another figure.

With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.

He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.

The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.

"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.

Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.

"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.

Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.

"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.

Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.

He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.

"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.

Too neutral, for Tim.

"At two am?"

"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.

He was shirtless, Dick just realized.

Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.

"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"

"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."

The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.

"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"

"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."

If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.

"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.

"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."

Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.

"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.

Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."

"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"

Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.

"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."

Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.

But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.

Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.

Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.

Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.

When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.

All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."

"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.

Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?

Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.

Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.

The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."

Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."

"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.

"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"

Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.

Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.

Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

So much for his breakfast.

[whumpprentice]

me: I hate cliches

media: here’s a character losing control of their powers when they’re sick

me: omg a character losing control of their powers when they’re sick

[colibrie]

Can. Can you please do #11 with the Fang AU?

11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great." (Minor warning for blood and injury).

Hamato Leonardo knew himself to be a turtle of many enviable talents. Out-of-this-world charisma, rugged good looks, hilarious, a tactical mind, and a resourceful field medic. The whole package. Except, he was not a scientist. He'd never had the patience or the attention span for fiddly formulas, obsessive note-taking, and tedious repetition needed for an experiment to be successful. As the team’s leader and face man, Leo thrived in the gray, mixing information and spontaneity, tweaking and twisting to ensure the outcome he wanted came to pass. Science was Donnie's world. His egg-headed twin thrived in black and white; relying on repetition, craved clearly defined variables, delighting in percentiles and predictability. That was what balanced them in the end, what made them tick as twins. Brainiac and face man, street smarts and book smarts, innovation and invention.

And maybe that was why he was struggling now, sitting hunched over his secret pile of medical books, scowling as he compared them to the ones April had brought from the library. Squinting at tiny, cramped print as his head pounded, forcing eyes crusted from lack of sleep to open to absorb the paragraphs detailing anatomy, herpetology, and epidemiology, alongside pictures that were various degrees of uselessness. This was Donnie’s world, and maybe he would have enjoyed this torment. Maybe, his twin could make sense of these "viral counts" and "impact percentiles ". Maybe, if his twin weren't strapped to the bed behind him, delirious and writhing in pain, they could have already fixed whatever this thing was.

"Shell," Leo groaned, throwing down his pencil as one hand rose to rub his tired eyes.

He was going to get crow's feet and fine lines from glaring at these useless books, things he could (loudly) tolerate if they were to result in a solution to whatever plaguing their purple brother. But they hadn’t so far. Days of effort, nights of burning well past the midnight oil, and all he had to show for his efforts was a splitting headache and a massive collection of unwashed tea mugs. None of Donnie's symptoms matched with anything detailed in the textbooks, or CDC and WHO websites. Given the creepy level of the lab they'd wreaked, it wasn’t truly that surprising, even if it was frustrating. There was, shockingly, not a lot of published research on mutants, let alone their illnesses or immune systems. But, illnesses didn't just come out of nowhere! He didn't need a fancy piece of paper or a Donnie-level IQ to know that. Whatever was ailing Donnie had to be documented somewhere. But he was a field medic for pizza's sake! He knew how to set bones, sew up cuts, and head off infections. Not cellular biology!

Throwing his hands up in defeat, he slouched back into his desk chair. Maybe Mikey was right. Maybe it was time to call in Draxum, much as Leo would rather eat a bucket of nails or light fire to all his limited-edition JJ comics than say it out loud. Mad scientist psycho or not, the Yokai understood a lot more than Leo did, in this one area anyway. And while they were at it, maybe they’d been looking at things all wrong. If a science-based solution wasn’t available, maybe a mystic solution could help? It would be the most delicious kind of irony, given Donnie’s historic skepticism of anything mystical or magical. Maybe their father could take a trip to the mystic library, or they could send one of the Casey’s to Witch Town. So long as they didn't drop Donnie's name in any conversations it would probably be...

A pained snarl cut through his thoughts, and he whirled the chair around to find Donnie bucking against his restraints, head thrown back in a terrible arc as he gasped for air.

"Whoa! Easy D!" Leo exclaimed, jumping out of his seat to reach for the oxygen mask and tank that April and Casey Jr had kindly "liberated" from April's school following the Krang invasion. "Just keep breathing Dontron, in and out."

His twin hissed in response, pants deepening to a guttural growl as Leo approached and attempted to press the mask over Donnie's nose and mouth.

"Come on man, you're doing great. This is going to help you do even better, so chill out a little and I'll-"

Faster than lightning Donnie struck, neck muscles stretched and strained as he ducked around the mask and sunk his teeth deep into the flesh of Leo's forearm.

"OW!" Leo yelled, the oxygen mask slipping from his fingers as they spasmed open in shock. "Dee, let go!"

Donatello snarled in reply, sharp teeth sinking and shredding as his jaws clamped down on Leo's limb.

"Get OFF!" Leo bellowed, jamming the thumb of his free hand into the pressure point just behind the soft shell’s jaw. It took way longer than it should have for Donatello’s teeth to release him, too many long, painful seconds before Leo could pull his arm away and stumble back a step from the bed, cradling his injured limb close. Torn flesh burned against the open air, pain licking out from fingertip to elbow while small crimson streams braided into rivers as they raced across his skin to follow gravity to the floor.

“What the shell?!” Leo snapped, free hand clamping down over the injury as he stumbled towards the cabinet that held their stock of bandages.

Donnie hissed again in reply, and Leo had to fight the urge to cringe away from the way his blood smeared across his brothers lips and chin, the way it painted his sharp teeth when said lips peeled back in a snarl. Dark eyes followed every jerky move as he fumbled with trying to disinfect and wrap the wound with one hand, breaths hitching as the pain in his arm built, creeping like the most agonizing ivy towards his shoulder. Slitted predator pupils zeroed in one the…wait…Donnie didn’t have slitted pupils. None of them did. Their eyes had always been human…

“What the…”

He didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence. Between one breath and the next the pain exploded, lancing up his neck and spearing deep into his chest. His jaw snapped shut around a cry as every nerve in his body seemed to simultaneously go up in flames, numb and useless legs folding like a house of cards as he hit the concrete floor of the med bay. He tried to break his fall, but his body failed to respond to any desperate command his brain tried to send. He tried to call for help, or maybe just scream, but his lungs couldn’t pull in the air he needed. He was trapped, a silently writhing vessel slowly filling up with pain.