whump

Ripping the arrow out of their own flesh, arrowhead and all, to string it onto their bow and fire it at the enemy as blood gushes down their arm.

I heart prey animal rage I love when characters are fucking insane with terror

When they're not dangerous like a hunter but dangerous like a spooked horse kicking your skull in

Let's hear it for prey animal rage let's hear it for killing everyone else in the world before you'll let them catch you

Whumper acting like Whumpee should be appreciating the starvation period because food supposedly tastes so much better after you've gone too long without eating

If that character is being held captive and ISNT being tortured/abused you are doing it WRONG

the hottest thing a guy can be is barely conscious on the floor while someone lifts his head up by the hair so that you can see his glazed out eyes and the blood running down his face

Passing an injured or ill character from one companion to another- the first companion has the character resting in their lap or leaning against their side or propped against their chest and they carefully shift them to transition them to the other companion, who slides into place and settles the ill or injured character back into the same position in their own hold, being careful to move the character as little as possible in the process.

hey don't cry. blorbo coughing up blood

whump is fun because you see a character and are like “i love you so much that i want to see you sobbing and covered in blood. i need you dying in a hospital bed. i need you cold, wet, and miserable. i love you and want you to suffer unimaginable horrors. then you can have a kiss on the head as a treat”

when an already injured character gets tossed like a ragdoll into their buddy by some violent force/explosion/magic/collision (pick your poison) and they both go down hard. the shredded and bruised elbows and knees don’t matter, nothing else matters because they have their friend back… except their friend hasn’t moved or talked or made a sound, limp in their arms. so they roll them over in their lap and sure enough they’re passed the fuck out. hey. no, no, no, no. the pleading spills out of them as their hands scurry over the slack planes of their friend’s face, but no matter how much they shake them, or call their name, they remain ashen and bloody, their breathing shaky and stuttering, there but barely, dead to the world for now. stay with me. they pull them close. please stay with me.