#sleepy whumpee

[whumpbug]

i have so many thoughts on the word “drowsy”. GOD i can’t get enough of it. i LOVE the implications of it bc it can be related to so many different scenarios with similar vibes

maybe whumpee has had an extremely exhausting day. i’m talking manual labor— working for hours to get something done and they’re finally home and they are BONE tired. maybe caretaker brings them some food and runs them a hot bath, and once they’re warm and their belly is full they find it physically impossible to stay awake. their head keeps bobbing up and down with threats of nodding off, their eyes have that glassy, drowsy, far away look to them, and they’re barely coherent anymore, just focused on keeping their eyes open, but it’s a losing battle. eventually caretaker sidles up to them and guides their head to lay on the space between caretaker’s chin and shoulder and sleep finally takes them

or maybe whumpee has been in a fight or is severely injured or something of the sort, and they’ve been patched up and pumped full of pain meds and are lying in a hospital bed. caretaker is beside them, gently carding their fingers through their hair with a quiet conversation and the gesture as well as the copious amounts of drugs in whumpee’s system is making their eyelids droop. they feel the pleasant buzz of the pain relief and they finally get to rest after whatever unfortunate circumstance landed them in the hospital in the first place and caretaker notices them losing the battle with sleep because their conversation becomes more of a drowsy mumble and then whumpee’s breathing evens out and they’re out

i just love a sleepy whumpee i wanna hold them and let them get the sleep they deserve (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

[marvel-ous-whump]

Magical Mind Control that completely shuts down a Whumpee's mind. leaving them a obedient shell when "Activated" by Whumper. and in a deep, magical sleep when "Deactivated." When Caretaker finds them and rescues them, it takes days for Whumpee to come out from under Whumper's magical influence.

Post Rescue timeline: Days 1-4; Whumpee just floats in darkness. It's quiet, heavy and blissful. Day 5: Whumpee becomes distantly aware of a voice talking to them. it's not Whumper, but comforting none the less. Day 8: Whumpee manages to open their eyes a little. but everything is blurry. Someone's holding them, a hand is in their hair, Whumpee doesn't quite know who it is, but they know they trust this person more than anyone else in the world. Day 12: A light goes off in Whumpee's brain like a lighthouse in pea soup fog. Caretaker! It's Caretaker who's with them. they wish they could speak Caretaker's name, but they're just so Sleepy, they don't have the energy.

Day 13: Whumpee comes to breifly when Caretaker's gently spoon-feeding them some soup. giving Caretaker a feeble smile. Day 15: Whumpee finally wakes up clear-headed and lucid to a teary-eyed Caretaker, hoarsely whispering "Hey."

[whump-or-whatever]

I’ve got a soft spot for Whumpees who essentially nest. Like they find a little corner or even just on a bed, and they pile up blankets and pillows around them like protective barriers to make a little comfy cove for them to sleep in. Could be during captivity if they have those things available, but definitely post-rescue/during recovery. Just a nice comfortable safe space that they can return to might help them sleep better and give them something to look forward to throughout the day.

[biggiesnails]

Stupid little design notes for myself but I’m sharing it anyways

Also irrelevant sketches below the cut

Returning to my roots to get back into art by drawing eyes. Also street artist y/n and an old oc I forgot about

[whumperly]

Thinking about whumpers and whumpees and the intimacy of stabbing. The inherent intimacy of the act.

Whumpers who lean into whumpees as they drive the knife in... The slight resistance then give somewhere soft and vulnerable... Does the whumper whisper something into whumpee's ear? Are they silent? Do they take note of the way whumpee's breath hitches, or the warmth of their body heat radiating from where the hilt of the knife kisses the skin? Do they savor the blood leaking out onto their knuckles and between their fingers, or does it disgust them?

Do they hold whumpee close in mock comfort as they wait for them to pass out from pain/shock/blood loss? Do they hold them, hand fisted in their hair, for the express purpose of keeping them upright only to drop them, let them collapse at their feet?

Do they yank the knife out? Tighten their grip and hold it there to savor the feeling? Do they twist the blade? Bring the knife up and stab them again?

Whumpee trembling as they try to process what just happened, their brain not able to make sense of the pain just yet. Doubling over with a low gut-punched groan or barely there whimper when they do.

[scrimblobimblowhump]

whumpee being wheeled into the hospital with that sweet sweet combo of oxygen mask + swaddled in blankets + strapped down to the gurney + all sleepy and delirious >>> 🥺🥺

[whumpasaurus101]

“I wouldn’t, if i were you.”

Whumpee froze, eyes widening as they bit back a whimper. Their hand quickly shut the book of files they had been reading from Whumper’s desk. They didn’t dare move after that.

“But then again,” Whumper hums, striding up behind Whumpee and gently traced their knife along the other’s cheekbone;

“You never seem to listen, do you?”

[whumpwillow]

Abused royal Whumpee? Whumpee who is heir to the throne, but his parent passed away and kingdom is under a rule of regent until Whumpee is of age. But regent does not want to give away power and abuse Whumpee so he won't dare to go against them in the future. And fun part would be if Whumpee for example was starved and forced to sleep on the floor and beaten, but then all of the signs of abuse got covered up with pretty clothes and no one knows what Prince is going through. Bonus points if Whumpee is seen as spoiled. Whumpee is exhausted from spending night in cold cell and is taking breaks often and people see him as lazy. Or people see pretty clothes and say "you live in such luxury I bet you eat meat every day" and Whumpee does not even eat every day

op i want you to know that you are SO valid for this, this is delicious. I love it and I want it in everything

[sleepyiswhumping]

New Medicine

They flooded the room, their flashy, flawless, bedazzled outfits glimmering in the countless, blinding lights. Avery wanted to scream, tear out his eyes, curl up, wrap his wings around him, something, anything, to block out the lights. His head felt like it was being ripped in two, streaks and spots of light flashing in his vision as daggers stabbed themselves through his skull, slicing his mind to ribbons. Yet he didn’t die. Somehow, he didn’t die. No matter how much he wished he was, it seemed impossible. Incomprehensible agony as—no, no, no, don’t TOUCH ME DON’T PLEASE STAY AWAY— 

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Battleship

(Masterlist)

(Content: physical violence)

================

Delta sat cross-legged in the command center. He took deep, slow breaths to recenter himself. He’d been given permission to. He still had not made up his mind, but the better answer loomed dangerous and sharp.

It was time soon enough. Delta’s eyes flickered around through the window. Even on a good day, when he was most willing, it would’ve been difficult. Their mothership was drifting slowly, but drifting nonetheless. The target - the battleship - trudged forward like an old and wounded animal. Its guns had been tucked safely away, giving it the impression of something tame and docile.

Simon helped him up the stairs to the main control panel. The platform for the pilot and co-pilots was elevated slightly; it allowed for the best view of their surroundings. The rest of the room was lowered. There the engineers handled the internals of the ship, communications, and rear surveillance from their monitors. The engineers were in the room now, but they were forced to weave in between the number of advisors and admirals who had come to watch the light show. Galatea had been running circles around them recently. They wanted their pound of flesh. Paris was hanging around them, jittery, amped. 

The rebel ship was the target. It belonged to Galatea. It had no emblem. It was painted black, almost invisible against the dark void of space it floated in. But it was a Galatea ship. 

Simon nudged him forward again, a bit closer to the window. Delta made his choice then. It did not bring him much relief. The collar clicked off.

Delta wondered if he could make himself faint on purpose. He’d never tried it. At full power, it didn’t seem like a very safe thing to attempt. He closed his eyes, really pretending to think about it. If he focused in, he was sure he would somewhat grasp the shape of the two bodies and be able to work with them. It did not come automatically to him. He didn’t try.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Simon, “I can’t see it.”

“What?” Simon said. He’d heard him fine.

“I can’t see it,” Delta repeated. He cringed, just a little bit. He was sorry to put Simon in this position. He even felt sorry for Paris. If there were less people around, it would’ve been easier. But he’d already committed to it. He wouldn’t down a Galatea ship. 

Simon looked at him with absolute scorn. “Try harder.”

Delta shook his head. The collar clicked off. He heard Paris approaching from behind him, the light jangles of his jewelry filling up the air.

“What’s up?” There was a small note of irritation to his voice.

“Says he can’t do it,” Simon didn’t hide his frustration.

“What?” Paris said. Delta swore he could just hear him freeze over sometimes. He realized with alarm that the question had been directed at him. Paris moved to his side, only on the periphery of his vision. He forced himself to keep looking forward into space.

“I can’t,” Delta said. He didn’t elaborate any further. He knew if he gave a more clear answer, they’d try to work around it, prolonging the whole thing. 

Paris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Delta looked down, bowing his head in apology. The punch caught him completely off guard. 

Ouch. He knocked into Simon by accident, but not for long. Paris gripped his shirt, throwing him to the ground. He landed on the stairs, their corners cutting roughly into his forearms before he fell the rest of the way down. He reeled in shock. He thought he’d at least have a few hours to prepare himself. He thought Paris would at least wait until they were alone. A sharp kick to his stomach cut off his own thoughts, bringing him back to the present. 

Paris’s anger was explosive. He was not ranting the way he often did in private, but the beating was just as violent. Actually, Delta was pretty sure it was worse. Paris delivered a kick to his shins, then did it repeatedly. He had to put a hand to his mouth to keep from making noise, which he did not usually resort to. He caught a glimpse of Simon, whose expression was unsympathetic. He did not look at the other people gathered there, not if he didn’t have to. Another kick, this time to the ribs. He was getting a little alarmed at how long this was going on.

 He tried to sit up. Paris gripped his hair, slamming his head back onto the ground. He was directly on top of him now. Another punch in the mouth. His sharp teeth cut against his own skin, drawing blood. All the violence was starting to blend together. It just kept going. 

He felt the coolness of the rings just before the grip around his neck tightened.

“Alright, Your Highness, that’s enough,” an unknown voice called faintly. The grip did not loosen even a little bit. Delta had been so focused on his own pain. He’d tried not to look at Paris directly. From the position they were in now, he had little choice. There was such cold fury in his eyes. The pupils were too dilated. 

“That’s enough.” The voice repeated. Delta’s vision was beginning to black out. His body jerked involuntarily, trying to get air.

“Enough.” 

Finally, one of the admirals stepped forward, yanking the prince upward by the scruff. Simon joined a second later, both of them fighting to restrain him. Paris had to be lifted off the ground before he could be dragged away. 

Delta rolled over, gasping and coughing. He spit blood out onto the floor, too delirious to even worry about the mess. His chest heaved up and down, taking in as much oxygen as it possibly could. 

Simon reappeared at his side, rubbing circles into his back. Delta got a few concerned looks from the advisors there, which is how he knew it’d been bad. He wheezed. They tried to remove him from the room quickly, but there was a lot of difficulty in getting him to walk afterwards. He had to lean heavily on Simon for support.

Dr.Martino put ice on his face straight away. He was concerned about the bleeding. He always got so mad whenever Paris hit Delta in the head. Everything else was more or less fair game. While Martino was there, Simon couldn’t baby Delta as much as he wanted to. The shock of the beating seemed to have evaporated whatever anger he might’ve had.

There wasn’t much else to do for him. Paris was always careful not to break bones, usually careful enough not to break the skin. It was all just blunt trauma, only designed to cause pain. Dr.Martino wasn’t going to give him anything to numb it. That would defeat the point. They let him rest though, which he was grateful enough for. 

Simon lingered in the room after the others had left. He dimmed the light, mostly obscuring his expression. Delta could have sworn it was guilt. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Simon asked.

“No, sir.” Delta managed to talk around the blood. His head ached. 

“Okay. Get some rest, honey.”

“Yes, sir.” He closed his eyes. 

Thousands of miles away, the battleship floated on without any knowledge of the fate they’d just been spared.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit@indigoviolet311@snakebites-and-ink@vivulapom@defire @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckcapitalismasshole

[dont-be-gentle-please]

Whumpee being scared of loud noises. Fireworks. Honking. A pan being dropped accidentally. Gunshots.

Whumper could take advantage of it, punishing their sweet dumb pet in the most harmless and amusing way possible. Entertaining their guest with a shaking and pale whumpee covering their ears.

[saffitaffi]

Gentle comfort ugh my beloved <3

[villainsandheroes]

Overworked Heroes

I love a good overworked hero. So tired but still trying to keep that public eye image of themselves strong.

But, I don’t mean just tired.

I mean staying up till 4 AM only to wake up at 5 to start more paperwork or commute to their day job. Or setting that alarm for 30 minutes, just in desperate need of a nap, because they didn’t sleep at all, there just isn’t the time with all of the hero work they keep getting.

Heroes who are just living off of coffee and energy drinks and yet it ceases to help. Thief hands are constantly jittering from the boosts of caffeine and yet they’re still so tired.

Heroes that can’t even go to bed, only making it as far as the couch. Better yet, falling asleep at their desk or after driving home about to get out of the car and just passing out until they’re waking up to phone notifications from the hero agency.

Heroes who desperately need sleep. And it’s not even one particular villain’s fault. If anything it’s the government and their poor treatment of heroes.

[mj-iza-writer]

I'm not saying this as a means to gain sympathy. Every artist has days like this, I have to remind myself of that often. I was supposed to post a story tonight, but everything I'm writing sounds like trash. Editing is also going nowhere for my old stories. I would like to post, but I feel like I'm forcing it, and none of you deserve a half done job. I think I'm dealing with allergies, so I'm a little drained. Also, I haven't forgotten all of your requests. Those are a work on progress. Hopefully tomorrow I'll get something out. I'm sorry for tonight.

Now I'm going to go watch Star Wars.

[tired-of-being-nice]

weapon

febuwhump day... whichever. went with one of the alt prompts for this! human weapon time babyee >:)

cw: referenced violence & injury, blood, human weapon (i mean. obviously), conditioning

Coren is a weapon. And they're good at it. They are sharp, and fast, and quick, and ruthless. Relentless, even. They are pointed in a direction and told go and they go. They attack. They don't think twice, they don't think about who it is they've been told to take out this time, they just go.

And they're good at it. They like it. It's fun, really! They have a fun time! It's so good at being a weapon.

Which is why it's strange that this time, it just felt...off.

They did an excellent job, of course, like they always do. And honestly, they didn't even hurt her that badly. She was being very silly, trying to escape from the Company that Coren loves so dearly, and they simply explained to her the flaws in her reasoning. Loudly. And while wielding a knife. 

And she'd been so rude as to bite them, and attack them, and she'd said–

She'd said–

What had she said? Something, surely. Something strange, to make them feel like this.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Coren? You used to be my friend!"

Coren shudders at the memory and then frowns at themself for it. What's so upsetting about that? They are friends. They're still friends! It's just that sometimes friends are wrong, and then their other friends have to help them not be wrong.

...Why does that make them feel weird?

It glares at its friend, who is currently lying unconscious on the ground. "This is your fault," it tells her. She doesn't respond, of course, but it makes them feel a little better.

With a sigh, they lift her up and start carrying her back to where she belongs. 

---

Once it's handed her off to the people who can patch her up in time to get her ready for work tomorrow, it leaves again. Normally it'd stick around and wait to be assigned its next job, but...it still feels weird. And hey, the best weapon in the whole company should be allowed to take a walk if it wants to, right?

...They're still covered in blood. Some of it is theirs. Some of it's probably hers. 

They're often covered in blood, theirs and other people's. They don't understand why it's bothering them this time.

They could go back, and tell someone. They're sure someone could do something, tell them something or give them something that could make this bad feeling go away.

They don't go back. They walk, and walk, wandering until they're not even sure where they are. At some point it starts to rain.

Coren sits down on a bench and huddles into themself, staring dully at their hands. There's still blood on them. Maybe if they wait long enough, the rain will wash it off.

taglist (!!):

@whumpsoda

[scrimblobimblowhump]

a hurt/comfort tidbit I’m CRAZY about is when an adult character gets wrapped up in blankets and it’s described as them being “swaddled”. like fuck yeah, we need to swaddle grown up blorbos more often, i think. especially when they indeed do get all rolled up and tucked in and compressed in it tight and nice

and goddd how i love the sheer image of a grown up, Long human wrapped like a baby. and they’re all eepy and warm in there.