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Coal

@shywhumpauthor

Coal, minor, they/them.

I write whump.

Requests status: open. I love asks, feel free to send some

Anonymous asked:

Hey! I'm currently in desperate need of some inspo for magical torture whump? My whumpee is thought to have a corrupted soul and needs to be "healed", kinda exorcism vibes. Any ideas maybe? :)

Hey! I’m sorry this list is so short, I ran out of time but I wanted to give you something. I could follow up with some more ideas later if you’d like!

Anything with fire/burning. Hot iron rods, magic restraints that are always burning hot, being kept near/exposed to fire to “burn out the evil” or something
Branding / carving certain sigils into their skin, ones associated with healing / goodness, etc
Sensory deprivation with some sort of physical violence. Chain them up by their wrists, ankles chained to the floor, blindfolded, gagged, ears covered so they can’t hear. Then add something like caning, cutting, or just a general beating.
I feel like whipping in general would work to some extent, and that that is often associated with what you’re kind of going for.
On the opposite hand as earlier, freezing. Force them into a tub of ice water, shove their head under, dump buckets over them, cold is cleansing after all, right?
Poisons, harmful elixirs, stuff of that sort

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #its me coal #whump prompt #whump prompts

Golden Apprentice

~~We’re going to pretend I posted this yesterday, okay? And I know it’s terrible I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of a better title.~~

Cw: violence, restraints, manhandling, threats

A fist wound in the front of Sidekick’s uniform, slamming them back against the alleyway wall with enough force to knock the air from their lungs. Uneven edges of bricks clawed at their back, latching onto the fabric of their jacket like thorns.

Sidekick gasped, but they didn’t have a moment to draw in a breath before a fist struck their jaw, snapping their head to the side. Fire exploded along their face, radiating along their mouth and jolting up their cheek, painful enough to make their eyes water.

They brought their knee up in a barely formed defense, feeling like they were fighting a force a hundred times stronger than gravity. They met nothing but air.

The hand bunched in their uniform ripped them away from the wall before their leg could find purchase, throwing them against the ground. Gravel scraped their chin as Sidekick scrambled to catch themself, sparks of pain igniting across their palms as the rough ground embedded in their palms. Words caught in their throat, half-formed and trapped as they choked out only a strained wheeze in protest. They had barely gotten their hands beneath them, bracing to stumble to their feet when a strong pressure on their back shoved them back to the ground.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump drabble #hero whumpee #hero whump #sidekick whump #sidekick whumpee #villain whumper #supervillain whumper #hero x supervillain

You Can’t do This

Cw: kidnapping, restraints, torture, mentioned mouth/eye whump (doesn’t actually happen), non-con touching, knives, threat of asphyxiation/choking

“Wait- wait,” Villain sputtered, the words tripping over their tongue, snagging in the back of their throat. “You can’t- Hero, this is illegal- you can’t do this!”

They twisted their wrists against the restraints that bound them to the chair, flexing their fingers to try to relieve a fraction of the pressure. The movement only pushed the cables deeper into their skin, dragging a hiss from their clenched teeth.

A warm hand wrapped around their neck from behind, turning their exhale into a wheeze as their head was shoved against the back of the chair.

“Since when have you cared much about what’s legal?” Hero responded, amusement adding a drawl to their words. They circled the chair, grip on Villain’s neck adjusting so their palm lay against the villain’s wind pipe, fingers digging into the sensitive skin on the side of their neck. Just enough pressure to fear, for Villain to feel the threat of their airway being crushed, but not enough to cut off their breathing. Not yet.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #hero whumper #villain whumpee

kiratheperson asked:

I am obsessed with the villain rehab writing and the whumper turned whumpee writing you did! Would you ever write a continuation to either of them?

~~Haha let’s pretend this wasn’t from February I’m so sorry~~

I always liked this piece, I never really had any motivation to continue it. I got an ask from an anon earlier this month for a continuation of this but from a different angle. That was my intention when writing this, but it was getting to be too long so the ideas in that ask will be included in the next part

To the anon who sent the ask earlier this month, it’s coming! I pinky promise. I loved the idea so much actually. ~~Hero better hurry up~~

Villain Rehab Part Two

Continued directly from Part One

Cw: institutionalized abuse/torture, vague medical malpractice, manhandling, restraints, torture disguised as “treatment”, blood, sensory deprivation, starvation, blunt force trauma, implied broken bones, captivity setting, light suffocation/choking, vague themes of abandonment, mentions of accidental self harm/burning (villain has fire powers)

The guards were on them a moment later, barking orders, pushing and shoving them. A cold numbness that budded in their chest was quickly spreading, swallowing the voices and sensations around them. Vaguely, they registered a guard unhook the chain connecting their cuffs to the table, another grabbing them under an arm and hauling them up to stand. Villain’s feet moved along with them, steps hesitant but unresistant as they were led from the room.

The bag of food Hero had brought remained on the table, untouched. The thought of eating left a bitter taste in Villain’s mouth.

When they got to the corridor Villain knew their room resided in, a small spark of relief flickered through the fog that clouded their body. A sudden, intense longing to bury themself under the thin blanket on their bed seized their chest. Instead of pausing by the door, the guards that flanked them continued walking, leaving Villain to look back over their shoulder, faltering slightly. One of the guards’ hands found their hair, twisting their head around to face forwards.

“Don’t resist,” the guard ordered gruffly as Villain stumbled, not giving them a second to center their balance as the pair continued to pull them forwards.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #villain whump #villain whumpee #hero x villain #captivity whump #whump drabble #kidnapped whumpee #hero villain whump #medical whump

Nothing will ever amount to the use of the term “your highness” in whump contexts. Whether it’s used as Whumpee finally surrenders to a Whumper, or if it’s a snarky remark to show that they aren’t broken yet, or even a title the Whumper uses to mock Whumpee’s position, there is nothing better. Nothing even close.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt #whump prompts #its me coal #coal wrote something #royal whump

Surveillance Chapter 14

Get Away

Masterlist // prev.

Starts whenever Noah wakes up from All Alone (chap. 13)

Cw: noncon nudity (partly implied, non-specific, nonsexual), restraints, noncon drugging, build up to noncon surgery, mentions of death, noncon touching (nonsexual)

Noah came to slowly. His mind weighed with a heavy fog, it took him a while to open his eyes, and even longer to begin to gain his bearings. When he did, all he was met with was a dull, resounding ache that throbbed through every muscle, every bone, just painful enough to persuade him from moving.

He blinked heavily, willing the fog to clear from his vision, trying to make sense of his situation.

He laid on his stomach on something hard. An unrelenting surface, once cold but warmed by his body heat—he could tell as he twitched his fingers, feeling them touch something cool. Metal, he was able to discern in only a few moments. The stiffness of each joint suggested he’d been there for a long while.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #surveillance series #tag for noah #noah and declan #whump series #surgery whump #medical whump #drugging whump #torture whump

Ai-less Whumptober Day Nine

~~Scar reveal~~ / Interrogation / ~~Presumed dead~~

Yeah this sucks. Sorry.

Cw: torture, noncon touching (non sexual), manhandling, violence, mentions of vomiting/general emeto warning, vague thoughts of death (as a better alternative outcome)

“You’re wasting your time,” Sidekick coughed, their voice a breathless rasp that’s echoed around the small, cold room. Heat poured off of them in trails of crimson, dripping to the floor, little puddles of red blemishing the pristine white tile under their feet. Arms wrenched so far above their head by the chains they could barely reach the ground, left to either stand on their toes or hang and wrench their shoulders from their sockets.

It was as if Henchman didn’t even hear them. Not even a twitch betrayed their thoughts. Sidekick could only clench their jaw, and brace for a strike that came a moment later. Gloved knuckles slammed into their jaw, snapping their head to the side and knocking them back in their restraints. Their footing slipped and they fell, hissing at the strain against their shoulders as they quickly fumbled to right themself.

The taste of iron stung the inside of their mouth, burning all down their throat nearly enough to make them gag. Their vision spinning, they let their lips part and spit, more blood than saliva as it landed at the floor by the slowly growing puddle of blood. It dripped from their arms, little wounds torn in their wrists streaking blood down their arms to their bare chest. Ran down their back in small rivers, trickling from the lattice of gashes that split from their shoulders to the base of their spine.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whumptober #ai less whumptober #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptober #ailesswhumptoberday9

Ai-less Whumptober Day Two

None of it was Accidental (story pt. 1)

Overworked / ~~Insomnia~~ / Exhaustion

Cw: kidnapping, referenced murder, mentions of killing

Sydney’s back ached. A deep pain rooted in the base of their spine, twisting branches up their back and down towards their hips. It had been a long fucking day—the clinic was swamped with all of the typical early fall flu cases who didn’t know they could save both time and money getting their goddamn cough medication from a pharmacy rather than taking up a seat at their work. Usually Sydney didn’t mind, they got paid the same whether they were taking care of an allergy case or a mechanic who got his hand jammed in the engine of a car and was too stubborn to go to the hospital. They just wanted to go home, eat whatever dinner Cameron promised they’d make for their turn, and go to bed. For the last hour, all they could imagine was how nice it would feel to take a long, hot shower.

Then just as they were about to check out, as they were changing out of their scrub top and into their regular clothes, they got a text. That goddamn text that lit up their phone screen, buzzing in the pocket of their pants. The text thats words were already presented on the screen when they tapped the notification and used their thumb in place of a passcode.

That stupid text, not even a full sentence, like a pebble tossed into a silent pond. The small stone breaking the fragile surface, sending the calm water rippling out in uneven waves. Sending any idea of their slow evening shattering like a pane of glass.

Need u get home quck

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump series #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3 #ailess whumptober #whump story #none of it was accidental series #whump fic

Didn’t Mind It

Cw: isolation, starvation, restraints, dehydration, vague implications of drugging

Whumpee didn’t actually mind the first few days alone.

The first eighty-something hours were quiet. Still. Not necessarily peaceful, but almost serene, in the same sense one might strike as they are faced with an inescapable death. The foreboding of tranquility during the fall as the ground rushes closer.

Eventually the gnarling twists of hunger in their gut turned to soft, occasional aches. The throbbing behind their eyes eased into a slow pulse. There was a point where they became so used to the dryness in their throat, the metallic taste that coated their tongue like sandpaper where they stopped noticing it. At some time they had gotten so used to the cold, the damp air that they stopped shivering. Grown used to the heavy weights of cuffs shackles around each wrist, ankle, they were almost able to lift their arms.

They’d gotten used to it. To the quiet so thick the only thing they could hear was the occasional creak of a pipe in the ceiling above, the frigid air that leaked slowly from the vent in the corner, the sound of their own thoughts spiraling until eventually falling silent. They had never heard the quiet so loud. It pressed against them, a weight draped around their entire body, once that once had made their skin crawl in its confining suffocation, but now was almost comforting. In a sense.

For a while they’d begged to be let out. Maybe the first hour or two. They had longed for freedom for the first day, tugged at the shackles until their wrists were raw and bleeding. Then they had settled down, soothed into a stupor of silence by the low whispers of the vent and the faint hints of sweetness in the air. It made their thoughts heavy, lulling them until they slipped away.

They didn’t mind it so much anymore.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whump challenge #ailess whumptober #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3 #ai less whumptober #ailess whumptober day 3 #isolation #solitary confinement #implied drugging #whump scene #whumptober

Unsteady

Cw: injuries, concussion, brief moments of nausea/vomiting, blood

The room swayed as Villain stumbled past the doorway, lurching with each uneven stagger. They shook off their bag, barely hanging from one elbow, landing heavily on the floor with a thud.

They kicked the door shut clumsily with the back of their heel, a yelp almost slipping from their lips as the movement nearly sent them toppling. A pulse hammered in their head, behind their temples and by the base of their skull. Their jaw ached terribly, lips parted and a small trickle of pink tinted saliva dribbling from the corner. They didn’t have to look in the mirror just to the side of the small entryway to know a bruise was swelling from their chin, creeping up their cheek, blood pooling in a deep maroon beneath the skin.

Hero hadn’t been there to fool around.

Villain’s coordination was off, their hand slipping against the doorframe as they reached for the lock. It took them another try to get the doorknob lock done, and three more before they could slide the deadbolt properly in place.

The first step they took down the hall sent them sprawling sideways, their shoulder knocking against the mirror, dislodging it from the wall. They fell with the glass, a ragged cough tearing from their lips as the mirror shattered against the floor, pieces of their reflection scattering across the wood like shards of fallen stars. A sharp sting had them fumbling again, their vision blurring before focusing on their outstretched palm. A piece of glass had embedded itself in the heel of their palm, speckling the night sky with small eclipses of red.

As soon as their sight focused, a wave of nausea sent them lurching forwards, heaving in their effort to suppress a gag. The world tilted again, spinning around them like a solar system. Their broken reflection, unclear eyes staring at them twisted like planets, stars. Villain threw a hand against the ground, swaying with the motion that knocked them over. They barely felt the sting as glass cut into their hand, curling over to let their head fall to their knees.

Impending clouds twisted across the sky, clouding the stars until all they were left with was a churning sea of darkness.

Landline Part 7

Just a Plant

Prev. / Masterlist

Cw: kidnapping, gaslighting, creepy whumper, multiple whumpees, abuse, verge of a breakdown, emotionally overwhelmed whumpee. I didn’t even read this over, it’s been in my docs app for months. Let me know if I missed something, I probably did.

Coriander was a good thinker.

They didn’t do it often, as sheer impulsivity and impatience were typically the first to arise, but when they had time to allow the reason to settle, they were able to instill order. They could sort and file their thoughts, their emotions, pack them away and shove them into small, orderly boxes in the dark corners of their mind, only to be opened in the dead of night when sleep seemed to avoid them.

For a while they say there, on the edge of the bed, thinking. Or rather, not thinking. Pushing the thoughts away as they came, knowing that if they let one linger, it would only be a matter of time before the whole flood broke loose.

They didn’t bother trying the window. They already knew it wouldn’t open, they didn’t need to test it. Maybe they could break the glass. Some other time they would try. Not now.

At some point they laid down. Their legs hanging off the side of the bed in the same manner they had when sitting, Coriander turned their head to feel the cool of the comforter press against their cheek. They allowed the motion to soothe them, to calm the flushed heat that had built under their skin. So much had gone wrong, they knew the only thing they had right now was to take solace in the things that weren’t entirely wrong. They could focus on the truths of the situation. They could fixate on how this wasn’t their bed, how this wasn’t their house, how somewhere two floors below their feet was curled in a dark, damp basement, injured and bound. They couldn’t allow the thoughts of how they were trapped, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but this awful house and its awful owner, to flood their mind any further than they were already creeping towards the edges.

If the did, they would break down.

And Coriander wasn’t sure if they’d be able to put themself back together.

Cheap

I started writing this with the intent of it being whump, but well- read it, you’ll see. Not really whump, but I’m still tagging it as such.

Cw: violence, manhandling.

A strangled gasp clawed its way from the hero’s throat, raking against their windpipe as pain exploded from their sternum. The force of the blow knocked them back, stumbling against the wall as the breath rushed to leave their lungs. Brick snagged at the back of their uniform, uneven edges of the stone trying to twist its hold on them by the threads.

Cheap shot. That’s what it was. That’s what Villain was. That cheap, petty, good-for-nothing, disreputable asshole. They fought dirty, like the fucking rat they were. Not an ounce of self-respect to their technique, they would fight tooth and nail. Hero had the scratches, weeping blood down their cheek from where Villain’s fucking claws caught them—when was the last time they cut their goddamn nails? Not to even talk about how much grime was certainly on their hands, Hero was appalled anyone, especially the street rat criminal who practically lived to scrounge around the disgusting alleys, would dare touch anything in the city without gloves on.

Tears welled in their eyes without will, Hero rapidly blinked them back as they pushed themself forwards. Their chest burned, breath lodging in their throat as they used the wall to brace themself in the moments preparation before they lunged back at Villain.

Hands caught their shoulders, but instead of the shove backwards they were anticipating and already planning for, they were tugged forwards, their momentum used in a cruel twist as a knee was brought up to meet their stomach. Hero choked out a gasp, a shock jolting back through their body ad they were manhandled back up and slammed against the bricks. Their head hit back against the wall, without any distance to try and ready themself. Specks of white buzzed in the corners of their eyes, pain like cracking cement ripping through their skull. It dazed them, for a moment too long. Villain’s hands ripped down their arms, calloused fingers wrapping around their wrists and steeling in place like iron. Twisting their arms up and shoving them against the red stones, pinned to either side of the hero’s head.

Then they could feel Villain’s breath against their cheek, warm and intrusive and wrong, their lips so close they almost brushed the shell of Hero’s ear as they leaned in-

“Oh my little Hero,” Villain whispered, their voice so quiet left a resounding echo humming through their mind. They slowly drew back, leaving a numb prickling spreading across their skin as a sudden cold replaced the unwanted heat. They stopped, eyes level with Hero’s. “When will you ever learn? You can’t win against me.”

On any other day, Hero would’ve fought back. They would’ve stomped down on Villain’s foot and returned the blows with the same graceless disorder Villain fought with. But they were tired. Their body hurt and their head buzzed with exhausted anger and what was certainly the forming of one hell of a headache.

But instead they just stood there, letting their head fall back an inch to rest against the brick. Let the criminal take on their weight as they pressed their body against theirs. If Villain was to step back, they’d crumple.

Then slowly, with a certain care to contrast the brutality of the blows they had dealt, Villain shifted Hero’s wrists to one hand, pinning them to the wall above their head while their free hand dipped down to brush along Hero’s jaw, the back of their finger tracing a swelling bruise on their jaw.

“I told you,” Hero murmured, their exhaustion seeping into their tone as Villain’s hand follow the outline of the scratches across their cheek, a nail brushing just outside the bleeding edge. A warmth of touch to battle the chill air. “Not- not the face,”

Villain’s fingers curled beneath their chin, a thumb smoothing softly over a spot on Hero’s wrist.

“Oh love, I’m sorry,” Villain’s eyes softened, tilting the hero’s head to the side as their eyes flicked over the shallow wounds. They leaned in, pressing their lips to Hero’s jaw carefully over the forming bruise. “But when have I ever listened to anything you’ve had to say?” A whisper of the taunt returned to their voice, visible in the spark behind their adoring gaze.

Hero only sighed, the night cold fading into a soothing warmth that bled across their skin as Villain’s hand slipped down to cup their neck, their eyes fluttering closed as the villain guided them in and brought their lips together.

Tomorrow, they’d fight back. Tomorrow they’d repay Villain everything they’d dealt and more.

But tonight- tonight Villain won.

And Hero was alright with that.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villain and hero #hero and villain #villains and heroes #hero/villain #hero whump

shywhumpauthor reblogged

I had the whumpiest dream Omfg someone remind me to post about it I don’t have time rn

Quick cw: brief mention of gore, murder, kidnapping, violence

OKAY SO

There was this group of people, I don’t remember specifically what they were doing but they were your standard villains plotting to overthrow the city. They were also like a family, mostly biological but some of the older ones were just really close friends, partners, whatever. There was this guy, and his parents were the ones in charge of the whole operation. In the dream I know I wanted to think that he was a good guy, and that he was just part of their plan because he didn’t have any other choice, but I’m pretty sure he had a choice and chose to carry on the family legacy.

I was a part of some agency, currently in the team that was working to take down the villains. We were able to track down a part of their operation, the smaller financial branch (they were very organized and planned out, it was very difficult) and it was this little coffee shop cafe place, like the ones you would expect in a small town. Friendly staff, warm lighting, reading nooks, smells like pumpkin spice in the fall (it was late fall, turning to winter, cold outside. Important detail for later). Generally just completely inconspicuous, except their deposits didn’t match their income, and when you tracked the bank records there’s all these little details that you would t notice unless you were looking that just don’t add up. So we have someone stake it out for a while from a distance, we aren’t able to prove anything so then we plan to send someone in. Of course I’m chosen, because what kind of dream would it be if I wasn’t the main character, so we plan for all that and I go.

I get dropped off like a mile and a half away because we can’t have them track us. I walk around the city for a while, maybe an hour or so, before finally going into the shop. Remember how I said it was late fall? It was cold as hell out, and I was cold even though I had a jacket (to hide the wire and the mic I had). It’s almost evening, about an hour from close and the shop is pretty dead. There’s an old man at the counter talking quietly to one of the waitresses. I seat myself at the booth closest to the fire (one of those fake fires encased in glass that’s also a heater so it feels like a fire—you know)

About a minute later, the guy from before that I talked about, the son, comes over (he also works there, I recognize him) and he’s like literally the sweetest guy ever. He brings a mocha and explains that it’s on the house cause I looked cold and I’m immediately suspicious but he seems pretty genuine and from all the research I’ve done he doesn’t seem to be too deeply involved with all of the murder and robberies his family is accounted for. There’s no way he could know who I am, I’m not anyone. I’m not a public figure of the agency, I worked from a second location, I’m literally a nobody. I obviously see the opportunity to take advantage of this (and let’s be honest, that’s not all) and we talk for a little bit, he takes my order and goes back. And the mocha is fucking amazing.

He comes back with my food, we talk a bit more and it’s going great. Not important chatter but u can kinda tell something is forming. I’m also paying attention to the old man and the waitress who are a bit deeper in conversation, it seems to be getting tense. I pay for my food and then leave after a while, when other people come in like ten minutes before close and he goes to help them.

Blah blah time passes, I give my report, they analyze the audio files and review everything, all the fun stuff. I tell them about the guy and the waitress and how I thought that was kind of suspicious. One of my teammates (of course he was about the same age as the guy at the cafe—what dream wouldn’t be complete without a love triangle) kinda teases me about the other guy. Literally just a YA novel—just wait, it gets better I promise stick with me.

Two days later, some random fisherman finds a severed and burned leg in a lake. After more searching, police discover the rest of the body, scattered through the lake and the rivers that flow into it. Each part is completely mutilated and tied in separate trash bags. After investigation, it’s discovered to be the man from the diner.

I’m going to skim over the rest cause I’m getting tired of typing. I go back to the diner a couple more times over the next few weeks, the guy is still really friendly. After the third or fourth time, he writes his number on the back of the receipt. After a bit of discussion with the team, and a bit of personal incentive, I text him and we get to talking even more. Time passes, I investigate, every time I go to the diner I gather a bit more info. It’s never enough, never much, but every little piece helps. With his number, we can track the ip address, his location, calls and all that crap. He doesn’t go to the main base, that much is clear because he’s always within ten or fifteen miles in the city, so he goes to an apartment (we also investigate that. Seems all normal and stuff)

I’m not sure exactly how or when it happens, but one time I go to the diner and he’s not there. The waitress is though (she’s not in uniform, but she’s behind the counter), and two different guys at a booth that I don’t recognize. It’s only four in the afternoon but the diner looks closed, only the lights on but no coffee machine running, the heater is off. I can only remember a little bit from here out but I know the woman had a gun. I’m so pissed off I don’t remember the kidnapping because it had so. Much. Potential. And I know there was one, but next thing I can remember is their house. It’s a big house, not a mansion but big. Its in a very rural, wooded area (because thats where all the best kidnapping houses are) It’s lived in but pretty empty.

The room I’m taken into is completely empty, it looks like maybe a den or something but it doesn’t have any furniture. Beige walls, fairly high ceiling, hardwood floors with a dark tarp centered in the room. I’m tied to a chair, there’s people all around me. I know most of the faces from all of the files I’ve investigated, but there’s some I don’t. I remember seeing the guy in the back, standing by the open doorway. He looks confused and almost nervous, watching the woman as she monologues in front of me. Not sure what she was saying, but it was probably something along the lines of how stupid I was to think I could spy on them, how any information I’ve gathered has been information they’ve planted to throw us off track, blah blah. It ends with her ripping the mic off from where I had it hidden and saying “I hope their life was worth it” to my team before dropping it and crushing it beneath her boot.

I remember seeing a knife, but then I woke up and I have never been so pissed to hear an alarm. There was so much fucking potential, I’m so sad I can’t remember more.

I’m going to count this as a prompt, so if anyone would ever be interested in maybe writing something based off it (hint hint nudge nudge, or I might write it one day maybe) just credit me and go right ahead!!

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.

A Whumpee who is so overworked, physically and mentally, that everything hurts. It hurts to walk, it hurts to move, it hurts to think. They are so damn tired they feel like they could drop. They’re working physically over fourteen hours a day, spending at least another five dealing with logistics like paperwork and conferences. It feels they are going to die if they have to take another goddamn step.

And then give them so much shit they have to do, completely unavoidable they genuinely can’t not do it, so the few moments of rest they actually have are completely consumed with thinking about how they only have twenty more minutes before they need to get back to work, they can’t sleep now because that’ll only make things so much worse when they have to wake up in fifteen minutes, they really should be laying down with their last ten minutes of break but hell they should also put together something to eat, and crap there’s not even five minutes left why bother to lie down they just have to get up.

Bonus points if it’s some kind of hero Whumpee and they know that they have to do this all day every day and their only reprieve will be their scheduled weekend off in a month and a half.

#bonus bonus points if they get kidnapped and just start crying #not cause they’re sad or scared but cause they finally get a break #yeah the whole “getting tortured” part sucks but that’s barely four hours out of a day every other day #the rest of the time they’re just left alone in their quiet cell #there’s even a little mat in the corner and a blanket. they actually get to sleep and rest #they don’t make any efforts to escape. for a while they hope they won’t get rescued #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump tropes #whump trope #whump ideas #whump idea #hero whump #hero whumpee #writing prompt #writing prompts #exhaustion whump #overworked whumpee #aha this is what band camp feels like #I don’t think I’m gonna make it to Friday /srs #i feel so awful #but it’s mandatory I can’t miss it

Nothing better than a Whumper who wears thick, heavy rings backhanding a Whumpee across the face, the rubies that decorate their fingers splitting a gash across Whumpee’s cheek

And the little gasp that follows the impact

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