(image description note: there are 31 numbered prompts, on each odd number the text color is black and on even numbers the text color is white)

Whumpuary 2026

a whump-themed multi media creation event for january

create for at least one prompt from each odd/black number to complete the challenge community prompts (even/white) numbers are voluntary

main prompts

memory loss | tied up | winter

do you prefer fandom or oc whump?

can't speak | caught | broken glass

have you done other whump events?

ransom | burns | not good enough

share your favorite whump media (tv, game, book, …)

drowning | "something isn't right" | hunted

send an ask to someone in the whump community

cornered | shaky hands | phone call

have you always liked whump?

trapped | sleep deprivation | "please"

share any music/videos/etc you listen to while creating

"hold still" | possession | impaled

any favorite things you'd like to see more of in whump?

breaking point | came back wrong | breathe

halfway through! rest & take a break

blood trail | "is this real?" | storm

take 5-10 minutes to work on a wip

seeing double | shivering | restrained

who's your current favorite character to whump?

attacked from behind | poison | red

comment on someones work in the #whumpuary tag

interrogation | numb | wrist grabbing

draw/doodle something whumpy

limping | fatigue | "i don't believe you"

what are your top 5 favorite whump tropes?

"i tried" | pinned against the wall | haunted

create in a new/less familiar medium

touch starved | "i need help" | secret reveal

share your favorite whump creation you’ve made

share your favorite whump creation someone else made

alt prompts

failed escape gagged old injuries exhaustion blood loss "don't" nowhere to go flashbacks

rules & info

-any medium is allowed (art, writing, gifs, edits, ...) -prompts are open for interpretation (but the context should be whumpy) -create for at least one of three prompts on creation prompt days (black/odd numbers) to complete the challenge -if you're not aiming for completionist you can do however many prompts you want any way you want -community prompts (white/even numbers) are voluntary and don't count for completionist (but can be combined with creation prompts if applicable) -use alt prompts to replace main prompts you don't like

Tag List: @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion @scaewolf

“Please, don’t,” Kyle says, his words clearer than usual as you dip your hand into the bath water, swirling the wash rag around the bubbles.

You slow and look up at him. “Don’t what, bud?”

Kyle, sitting placidly in the tub, his chest flushed with heat from the steam and eyes downcast in what you can only assume is embarrassment, takes his hand off the edge of the claw foot bathtub and gently wraps his fingers around your wrist, removing your hand from the water and where it had been resting on his thigh. “D-don’t… touch,” he clarifies slowly.

You balk, blinking a few times before burning with shame. Shit. Did you do something wrong?

“I’m sorry, Kyle, did I make you uncomfortable?” you ask quickly, sitting back from the tub and holding the rag out for him as he nods. “Here, you can wash yourself— I didn’t mean to disrespect your boundaries.”

You mean it, too— you'd been essentially taking care of Kyle since he came back to life and Zoe realized he was more hassle than he was apparently worth to her— and you loved him with every fiber of your being. In the early days, Kyle would just scream and throw a fit if you did something he didn’t like— especially trying to bathe him. He abhorred being naked around you, but you insisted on helping him bathe until he was comfortable taking them himself. You’d let him shower on his own once, but he got soap in his eye and threw all the bottles of hair products out onto the floor before yanking the shower curtain down in a panic and you decided not to try it again.

But lately Kyle had been working hard to be more vocal; telling you what he needed and when, slowing himself to try and communicate before resorting to screaming and hitting you.

You were honestly proud that he was doing it now. You lean back, still on your knees at the side of the tub while Kyle takes the rag determinedly and starts running it over his arms, eyes narrowed in focus. You grant him privacy, turning away while he cleans himself, and smile when you hear him experimentally humming, choppy notes that don’t make sense but sound vaguely like a song from some faraway time.

He splashes in the water for a few minutes while you sit, facing away, and finally turn back when Kyle lays a hand over yours on the edge of the tub. He lifts yours up, setting it on top of his head and letting your fingers thread through his shaggy blond mop while he smiles at you. “Hair,” he says loudly.

“You want me to do your hair?” you ask, smiling back at him. He nods, patting your hand on his head and then setting both hands back in the warm water, sitting patiently to wait for you to scrub his locks clean.

You oblige, squirting shampoo into your palm before massaging it into Kyle’s scalp. He purrs, a rumbly sound as his eyes flutter shut and his shoulders relax, his breathing slowing as he lets you scrub his head clean and then fetch the bath cup to rinse it out.

“Lean your head back,” you direct, and Kyle screws his eyes shut, obeying and nervously wiggling as you dump a few cupfuls of water over his hair and letting it wash out and run back into the water below. When you’re certain all the soap is gone, you tell him to sit back up and Kyle shakes his head hard, dousing you in wet drops like a dog coming in from the rain.

You cover your face and laugh, wiping off the spray and standing up to get his towel. “You can dry off alone,” you offer, holding it out to him as he stands up, trying to cover himself but losing his balance trying to step out of the tub. You hold the towel up against his chest and order, “Use your hands to balance and step out, I won’t look.” He hesitates before deciding to trust you and does so, stepping out onto the bath mat and shivering as you throw the towel around his shoulders.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you in the bedroom,” you offer, making sure he’s stable before backing up and stepping out to give him privacy. You wait, echoing the tune he was humming in your own range and looking up from the bed as he returns, drying his hair roughly with the towel, catching your eye and blushing before he lowers it to cover himself.

“I got your clothes all ready,” you say, only a little sad that he’s suddenly embracing his independence. Proud of course, but sad. “Can you do it yourself?”

He nods, pulling the stack of folded clothes apart and you start toward the door. He notices you leaving, a small grunt leaving his throat: a query.

“Oh,” you say, “I thought I would give you privacy.” He shifts, shrugging. “Do you want me to go?”

He shakes his head no, pressing a hand against his chest. “Can do it. Stay,” he says, working hard around the consonants.

You yield, nodding and settling back down on the bed while he dresses himself. He struggles with his shirt, wincing at the incessant ache in his limbs, in his mismatched joints and muscles. Kyle breathes hard as he tugs the collar over his head and finally fits his arms through the sleeves, smiling proudly at you when he’s finished.

“Done,” he beams, holding his arms out slightly to show off his handiwork. You grin, praising him, “Good job, Kyle, I’m so proud of you.” You point down and add, “Gotta zip up.”

He glances down and giggles. “Oh,” he says, fumbling with the zipper. His fingers struggle, a clumsiness in his movements he never had to deal with before his resurrection.

He growls in frustration as he tugs fruitlessly at the metal clasp and finally gives up, annoyedly covering his face with his hands, fingers curling into claws at the edge of his hairline.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you ease, coming over to touch his hand softly and he huffs through his nose, frowning sadly at you as you reach down and tug the zipper up, making sure your hands don’t linger and Kyle sighs in relief at your caution.

“All done,” you say.

“Done,” Kyle repeats, shyly smiling at you while you cup the side of his face carefully. He leans into it, his brow furrowing slightly as he shuts his eyes, and you wish that you could scrub away whatever’s hurt him enough to leave him like this, wondering if it was something from before the crash, or just his traumatic resurrection that made intimacy a fearful thing.

You had your guesses, though.

***

“Please— don’t.” You swear you heard it, a muffled sound through the wall as you ascend the stairs of the school. Your footsteps falter momentarily as you strain to hear anything else, and of course it’s followed by Madison’s telltale squawking.

“Come on, Kyle, don’t be like that,” you make out, hurrying up the rest of the stairs and down the hall to Kyle’s bedroom, the small spare that you cleaned out so he could sleep in private. “I see what you want, and I know she doesn’t give it to you.”

“N-no,” Kyle’s voice rings out, slow and quiet.

“Exactly. I know how to make you feel good, and we can help each other,” Madison hisses seductively as you approach the door and push it open, your ache to protect Kyle stronger than your fear of consequences from that bitch.

Madison whips around to face you as you step inside, leaning over Kyle on the edge of the bed, her hand down his pants while he leans back with his eyes closed and chest heaving. She glares at you. “Do you mind?”

“Get off of him, he said no,” you snap, horrified and angry all at once.

Madison rolls her eyes, “Whatever. He likes it, look at him.” She smiles at him, refusing to open his eyes, fists balled up in the sheets as he stays sitting upright, and taunts, “Don’t you like it, Kyle?”

His lip wobbles and you burn, that sight being the last straw and piece of evidence to convince you he did not ask for this.

“I said, get the fuck off of him,” you snarl, stomping forward and grabbing Madison’s free arm, yanking her to her feet. She pulls her hand from Kyle’s jeans and he lets out a sharp breath as his waistband snaps against his stomach, his brow furrowed now as he drops his head and tries to regulate his breathing.

“You bitch—” Madison curls her lip and flicks her hand to send you slamming hard into the wall behind you, head cracking against it and you gasp as pain rockets through your spine.

Kyle’s eyes fly open at the sound, falling first to you and then to Madison, anger bubbling up inside them. You pant and watch as he stands up from the bed and grabs a handful of Madison’s hair, dragging her to the door and shoving her outside before slamming it. You can hear her indignant shrieking from behind the wood but she doesn’t try to get back in, and you sit up with a groan, looking toward Kyle worriedly.

“Kyle,” you say, and he stares at you, still heaving, his eyes roiling with anger, pain, and fear.

He crosses to reach you and grunts, lifting his brows in a way you know he’s asking if you’re hurt.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, smiling smally as he lays one hand on your cheek and the other pulls your arm so you’re not against the wall, and then tries to lift you to your feet. You away a little but find your balance and lock eyes with Kyle as he pats your head, stroking your hair with a muted, “Mm, yeah. Yeah.” You chuckle softly at his attempt to sooth you; the tiny word that comes easier to him lately.

“Kyle, are you okay?” You can feel his hand shaking against your skin as he comforts you, and it stills entirely when you speak.

You pull back and stare at his face, taking in his glassy eyes, wobbly lip, and hard breaths. He nods, but you don’t believe him.

“Hey,” you say seriously. “Nobody should be touching you if you say ‘don’t’, okay?”

Kyle’s eyes start to water and his hand drops from your head as he swallows hard, throat bobbing. “Hurt… me,” he manages.

Your throat tightens and it takes everything not to break down on his behalf.

“I know, baby, I know,” you reply, nodding slowly. “It’s not your fault…”

Kyle screws his eyes shut again and a fat tear drops from each one, rolling down his red cheeks before he opens them back up. “Say no,” he mutters, sniffling. “S-say… no.”

“You said no, I know, Kyle,” you repeat for him, nodding, knowing what he means now even as he struggles to stay composed. “No means no. You tell me if anyone does that again— promise me.”

Kyle blinks slowly, his cheeks going red, a mask threatening to fall over his features as he looks away.

“Kyle,” you plead. “I will never hurt you. I know you feel embarrassed but you have to trust me enough to tell me when it happens. Please.” You don’t touch him, but you hold your palms up and outward for him to take if he wants. “I promise I will never hurt you.”

His lip bounces again and Kyle’s dark eyes full with tears, looking back at you and nodding once. “Yeah,” he agrees in a soft tone.

He leans in and pushes his forehead to yours, nothing else touching, just his head against your own, and he lets out a shaky sigh.

You want nothing more than to break down and wrap him in a tight hug— but you made a promise you intend to keep. And you keep your hands to yourself.

***

Kyle didn't want you to leave after that. He fumbled with his tablet to try and put a movie on for the two of you and you ended up sitting on his bed, a foot apart, watching movies and giggling until the sun went down.

You don’t know how or when it happened but you must have fallen asleep, blinking to find the room dark and quiet besides Kyle’s special night light you got him to feel comfortable, and the gentle snoring of the boy behind you. You sit up, glancing behind you to see him resting peacefully, his eyes closed and brow unfurrowed as it so rarely is.

You sigh in relief to know he felt safe enough to sleep with you in his bed, but you’re certain he wouldn’t be so keen if you stayed and God forbid accidentally cuddled up to him like you were tempted to now. So you scoot to the edge of the bed and just before you can swing your legs down, you feel a warm hand grab at your hip.

“Please don’t.” Kyle’s voice is a raspy whisper in the dim, and you turn to look at him in surprise. Did he… want you to stay?

You force a swallow around the lump in your throat. “I’m going Kyle,” you tell him, voice shaky with unease at his request. Maybe he meant don’t be so loud while trying to make your getaway. He shakes his head slightly, eyes thick with sleep but still glittery with life, despite everything.

“No,” he grunts softly, his fingers curling tighter into the flesh of your hip and pulling toward himself. “Don’t.”

You still under his touch and stare deep into his burning gaze, seeking the truth. “You want me to stay?” you whisper, heart throbbing painfully as he nods slow.

“Yeah,” he whispers. You feel your eyes well with tears and you try to blink them away, several falling to stain the sheets. Kyle reaches up to brush one away before returning his hand to your hip and pushing you to lay down. You oblige, facing away as he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer, your back flush with his chest, his knees brushing the backs of yours.

Kyle takes a deep breath at the same time you do, and you listen to him exhale weakly. “Don’t hurt me,” he says quietly, a question mark on the end of it…

You have to keep from sobbing, your own hand falling over his on your stomach as he holds you there against him and swear, “Never.”

He grunts. “Won’t,” he corrects himself firmly. “Won’t hurt me.”

“That’s right…” You sniffle and Kyle’s hand twitches against your belly.

“Love me. Love Kyle…” he asks, leaning forward so you feel his breath in your hair, shivering at the heat.

“I do.”

A long pause, and then, “You… leave Kyle?”

“No,” you say, louder than you intend to, heart pounding. “I won’t leave you, Kyle. I’ll stay with you forever, keep you safe. Love you. I won’t leave.”

You feel the soft sobs of Kyle rack the bed before he buries his nose into your neck and the tears soak your skin. He’s a silent crier, and your heart aches realizing he must have lots of practice sobbing in silence.