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Siren. If you find this account I commend you.

Good luck tho ;-)

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Honestly I have no idea what to do with this account. Lol.

It literally has 6 followers.

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there's this blog called hurt, no comfort (the url is whumpsorbetism) and I love their blog. you could probably get inspo from them

Awww, thanks Anon. I really appreciate you. I will definitely be checking them out.

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PSA on Deaf/deaf characters

Y’all. If you have a Deaf character please, please, please, do not call them mute, unless it is /intended/ to be rude. *It’s a slur.*

Mute is a derogatory term for nonverbal Deaf people because of the implications. Nonverbal is the current term (and it may change)

Unless you’re writing a historically accurate story, pretty please, I’m begging you, do not use mute.

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🧝 + 🦂 + 🛏 *drops emojis and runs away* byeee

Elf + Poisoned + Recovery

Fun fact: I love elf whump! When I posted the ask meme, I didn’t even realize “elf” was an option, so I was over the moon when I got this ask! This was a treat! Thank you so much! 💕

Apothecary hadn’t slept all night, but they got a second wind a little while before sunrise. Satisfied that their ministrations had brought Whumpee out of danger, they spared some time to clean the mess from the night before and freshen the water in the basin, all while keeping an eye on their sleeping friend. They made themself some tea, then waited and watched as they thought back on the previous night.  

---

“Help,” Whumpee said. It was a simple declaration of need that lacked any inflection of expectation.

Apothecary had just enough time to recognize the lean, hooded figure leaning against the doorframe before Whumpee’s knees gave out. Apothecary caught them by the chest then worked their way under Whumpee’s shoulder to support them. They hadn’t seen Whumpee in several years. The parting hadn’t been amicable, but that didn’t mean Apothecary wished Whumpee ill. In truth, they cared for Whumpee and would never have considered turning them away.

“C’mon,” Apothecary said as they made the journey to a back room. Whumpee leaned heavily against them as they went. This set Apothecary on edge; Whumpee had never been one, literally or metaphorically, to ask anyone to bear their weight.

Apothecary helped Whumpee into a seated position on the bed, then worked to unfasten their cloak. They folded the hood back and drew the garment away. Apothecary frowned when they got their first real look at Whumpee’s condition. Whumpee’s long hair was mussed and drenched with sweat. Their gaze was distant, but they blinked owlishly when Apothecary put a hand on either side of their face and looked in their eyes. Their pupils were too smalll; Apothecary compartmentalized that information. They pressed the back of their hand to Whumpee’s forehead, though they could already feel the heat rolling off of Whumpee.

“What happened, Whumpee?”

“Blade was poisoned,” they murmured.

Their chin dipped toward their torso and drew Apothecary’s attention to the blood staining the dark fabric over their belly. Rather than curse aloud, Apothecary nodded and went to work removing Whumpee’s shirt and laying them back on the mattress. They asked questions, trying to narrow down what kind of poison had been used; Whumpee would answer with quiet words when they had to, and nodded or shrugged when they didn’t. Apothecary cleaned blood away from the wound and examined the raised, red flesh around it.

It was bad, they decided. But it could have been much worse. Whatever poison had been used was slow-acting.

Apothecary began to stand, but Whumpee grasped their forearm.

“No one followed me,” Whumpee panted as their eyes searched Apothecary’s face as though they desperately needed for Apothecary to understand. “No one.”

“It’s okay, Whumpee,” Apothecary said as they gently took Whumpee’s hand in theirs and set it down at Whumpee’s side. Apothecary pushed away memories of the events that caused their group to disband. “I know.”

---

The rise and fall of Whumpee’s chest was smooth and even. That changed an hour or so later, though. Whumpee’s breathing quickened, and Apothecary crossed the small distance from chair to bed in a heartbeat. They hoped Whumpee was dreaming and not having another seizure.

“Hey, Whumpee,” they said as they put a hand on their shoulder. “Hey.”

Whumpee let out a tiny gasp and tried to push themself up on their elbows as their eyes shot around the room.

“You’re safe,” Apothecary said. They stepped back to allow Whumpee to collect themself. Sweat sprang up on Whumpee’s forehead when they strained to keep themself up. They breathed heavily with the exertion and whatever terror was dogging their mind. Whumpee’s eyes settled on Apothecary. The disorientation faded and they leaned back on the pillow, took a deep breath and let it out.

“You with me, Whumpee?”

---

“No, no, no,” Apothecary said as they turned Whumpee’s face toward them with one hand and held the potion they’d prepared in the other. “Stay awake for me, Whumpee. Just a little longer.”

Whumpee’s eyes slid open again, though Apothecary saw no awareness in them. The absence of the keen glint in Whumpee’s eyes made Apothecary steel their nerves and focus even more intently.

“I need you to drink this down,” they said as they shifted their position and put a hand under Whumpee’s head. They were careful not to snag their fingers in Whumpee’s long, unkempt hair. They lifted Whumpee’s head and put the cup to their lips. Whumpee’s eyes were half-lidded and their breaths were growing shallower.

“That’s it,” Apothecary encouraged as they tipped the cup and Whumpee began to drink. Whumpee sputtered and Apothecary hushed them and waited for the coughing fit to pass before trying again. Whumpee slowly drained the rest on their second attempt and Apothecary eased their head back onto the pillow. They dabbed the liquid away from Whumpee’s chin and neck.

“That’s okay,” Apothecary said. They brushed Whumpee’s hair behind the points of their ears as Whumpee’s eyes slipped shut. The planes of their face became smooth and untroubled, and Apothecary was relieved when Whumpee’s breathing became deep and even. All the kindness, warmth and certitude faded from Apothecary’s face; their jaw was set and their brow was furrowed. While Whumpee slept, they worked. They knew they were in for a long night. They did all they knew how to do and hoped it would be enough.

---

Whumpee made a small, involuntary noise when Apothecary made to look at the laceration on their stomach. They reached to cover the wound, but Apothecary took Whumpee’s arm in their gentle grip and pressed it back down by their side.

“I need to see,” they told Whumpee. Apothecary heard the way exhaustion had added an edge to their voice. They regretted it, but Whumpee frowned, and nodded, giving Apothecary permission to touch them.

Whumpee shifted and winced as Apothecary lifted away the poultices and bandages.

“Sorry,” Apothecary said. They paused and looked Whumpee.

“It’s fine,” they said as they huffed out a breath. They stilled themself and looked up at the ceiling.

“Looks a lot better,” Apothecary said. And it did. The swelling and redness had continued to diminish. Inwardly, Apothecary allowed themself a modicum of cheer, but Whumpee’s eyes were glassy and sweat still dappled their skin.

That didn’t stop them from trying to get up once Apothecary was done with their bandages. The effort drained Whumpee in barely any time at all and Apothecary had no difficulty pressing their shoulders back down on the bed. Whumpee looked up at Apothecary with frustrated, questioning eyes.

“You’re going to feel weak for a little while, and your fever seems to be stubborn,” Apothecary told them. “Don’t push yourself.”

Apothecary expected an argument, but there was none. Whumpee nodded and sighed. Apothecary gave them a sympathetic half smile, then straightened and turned toward the basin. They dampened a fresh cloth and wrung it out.

“Just going to clean you up, yeah?” Apothecary asked.

Whumpee made a noncommittal sound and chewed their lip. Apothecary was surprised when Whumpee didn’t balk at the contact. They tolerated the cloth on their face, throat and exposed middle. They looked away when Apothecary softly traced over the scars Whumpee had gained since their parting and Apothecary wondered how long it had been since Whumpee had had anything resembling proper care.

Silence that might once have been companionable settled between them. Apothecary let Whumpee drift with the tide of their own thoughts as they finished bathing them. A question stranded itself on their tongue, but instead of asking it, Apothecary wrung out the cloth, then turned their attention to mixing another draught for Whumpee.

“Here,” they said as they offered the cup to Whumpee.

Whumpee propped themself up against the headboard -they declined Caretaker’s help -and accepted the cup with both hands. They sniffed the concoction.

“That’s revolting,” Whumpee said as they closed their eyes and crinkled their nose.

Apothecary was glad to see the corners of Whumpee’s mouth tip upward despite their disgust.

“It’ll help,” Apothecary said as they returned Whumpee’s smile.

Whumpee drank the mixture with minimal complaint, then scrutinized the empty cup as they settled back down on the pillow.  

“Get some rest, Whumpee,” Apothecary said as they took the cup. They pulled the blankets back over Whumpee, who nodded. Their eyes were already growing heavy.

“Apothecary?” they heard as they walked toward the door.

They turned back to look at Whumpee, whose expression harbored the same earnestness it had the night before when they told them they hadn’t been followed.

“Thank you.”

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i am begging the general writing community for that one trope where Character A is seriously injured after pushing themselves through rough fights again and again. a big battle is coming up and they’re dead on their feet and swaying but determined to participate because they have to, it’s their duty, they have to save everyone.

at the door, they’re meet with their team. “time to-,” A breaks off with a cough, rubbing their chest before turning it into a blinding smile. “time to go!”

there’s no response from A’s normally expressive team, who stand in front of the door with their arms crossed.

“we can’t let you do this,” Character C says. “i’m sorry, A, but you’re in no shape to be fighting right now.”

“i’m fine,” A protests.

“you can’t go out there,” C argues.

“i have to!” A snaps. “I need to save people!”

“you’ll die!” the scream tears itself from C’s throat, ragged and hoarse. “don’t you understand that, going out like this is a death sentence!”

“i don’t care!”

“we do,” another character pipes up. “i would say sorry for this, but we’re really not.”

“wha-,” a prick in their neck cut A off, and they whirl to find B standing with an empty syringe.

a hand slaps to their neck, but the drugs combined with the horrible state of their body makes the room tilt. “what did you do?” A managed to slur to their most trusted general as they stumble. “why?”

B catches them as they slump forward, one hand carding softly through matted hair. “because you want to save everyone.” the last thing A sees is the face of their team as they are ever-so-gently placed on the ground.

“everyone includes you”

basically drugging stubborn characters for their own good to stop them from killing themselves fighting. the stumbling and slurring, the shock and betrayal. waking up alone in a locked room and hearing the battle raging on outside, screaming themselves hoarse in an attempt to be let out, to save their friends.

g i v e m e

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Honestly. Not feelin the intro post. Feel like it’s too much. Too self centered.

Why am I like this?

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Lego DC Comics Super Heroes: Justice League: Gotham City Breakout

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A little bit of blog maintenance!

So, uh, I have a small confession. I am really bad at staying on top of my blog. I love popping into tumblr and seeing what everyone's up to, and I adore it when people interact with my content, but I'm really, really bad at reblogging things.

Pretty regularly, a thing that happens to me is:

I see a post I like.

I think, "Let's reblog that post!"

I want to make sure I tag it carefully, because I want to keep people safe.

My brain turns off when I try to remember everything that needs to be tagged. (Thanks, ADHD goblin brain.)

I say, "That's okay! I'll save it as a draft amd reblog it later!"

and uhhh....

(In case the alt-test doesn't work, this is a screenshot of my drafts, queue, and inbox showing 40 inbox messages, 0 items queued, and 699 drafts. That's not a typo.)

Executive function? I don't know her.

(A really similar thing happens with asks. I'm like, "I want to save this message for when I can give it the attention it deserves!" Gentle reader, I have asks that I love and appreciate and have been sitting on since AUGUST.)

Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say that I think I don't always interact with other blogs as much as I mean to? I hope to learn a better way to handle this, but the fact is my workday often eats up what little executive energy I have, so sometimes I'm a bit distractable and squiggly when I'm online. :p

I just wanted to issue sort of a blanket statement that, like, I know reblogs are better than likes, especially for art and writing - if I have liked a piece of yours I really dig it, and I probably have a plan to reblog it, uh, someday. :p Also, if you have ever sent me an ask I didn't answer, I loved it and I love you and I promise I am just trying to think of something good. <3

Anyway, that's that on that. I just feel like I haven't been very interact-y lately and I wanted to explain that it was brain-breakdown, not, like, apathy or snobbery. That is all!

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I also does agree. Yes yes.

Your whump word(s) of the day

“I’ll be fine for five minutes, go get help.”

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Batman Begins (2005) dir. Christopher Nolan

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Hey, so I’ve moved! I made the decision to switch my main blog with this blog, because I’m more active on this one anyway. The content on this blog is more my style than my previous main account.

Now follows and responses will be from the same account and it will be less confusing for me and possibly other people.

I am leaving this blog up as an extra, whether that be extra content or just because.

I do know that many people have whump blogs as their side blogs, and they have no problems. I just decided that I wanted to have a “cohesive” whump account as my main instead. Which just means I reblogged everything on this account with the other one because I am lazy, follows and comment responses will be from @whoopsalittlewhumpy, which was the original name of this blog.

Thanks y’all. -Elle

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Prompt #2559

“Don’t touch me, please don’t touch me. I can’t take it if you do it too. I know you don’t owe me a single thing, but I’ve never asked you for anything before a-and I’m asking you, [hero] I’m begging you–please don’t hurt me too.”

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Absolutely me if you make one. I LOVE your capsian series.

(Sorry for rebloging, this is my side blog)

Hey so I’m slowly trying to get back into writing, sorry for the hiatus.  I had a request to be on a tag list for writing about Caspian, would anyone else be interested in being tagged when I update? 

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Reblog this post if you ARE asexual, SUPPORT asexuals, or you just REALLY LIKE WHUMP!

Bonus 💜🖤💜s for all 3!

Happy Asexual Awareness Week!!!

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The spy chasing me throws a tracking device at my car. The throw is perfectly timed and the small, round device hits the bumper perfectly flush. However, since the tracker is magnetic and my shitty car is plastic, it bounces off