i'm always looking for new prompts to fill! i'm in the market for
recovery stuff
living weapon whump
platonic whumpee x caretaker
addiction whump
bad caretaker
lady whump
hero villain whump
please no pet whump atm!
i don't do nsfw!
no plushie whump!
you can always send me others' prompts! if you'd like me to continue a drabble, the best way to let me know is not through a comment but through an ask, or @ me!
my queue is very long if you send me stuff and i don't answer right away i am not ignoring you! (inbox: 19)
i'm gonna run a (hopefully annual?) lady whump event over at @ladywhumpdiaries, check that out if you want to know more!
send me a five sentence fic starter!
my five sentence fics aren't tagged or trigger warned, so if you don't want to see them, block #five sentence fics
Silence (my book!!!) (SSBA nominee)
Rayan has always wanted a pet. Not the fluffy kind, but the kind that looks deceptively human. When the creature he’s been feeding out behind the dumpster turns out to be a pet, he can’t stop himself from taking it in. But Sil is a runaway for a reason. As secrets come to life and the Pet Protection Agency closes in, Rayan will be forced to question everything he thought he knew.
Masterpost
Drabbles
Prompts
oneshots/short series taglist: @whumpsday @jumpywhumpywriter
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Whumpee was lying in their bed. The blinds were half-closed, letting in the last rays of the setting sun. Their head was turned so they could see out the window, gazing upon the mountain ridge in the distance. Their dogs were barking down in the yard.
Everything was... peaceful.
Artificially so.
They had shot up.
They didn't mean to.
Well, that was a stupid thing to even think. What did they even mean by that? Well, maybe that they had never meant to blow their life up again. Caretaker was bound to find out when they came over in the morning, Whumpee would be shipped off to rehab again, and everything would go all wrong.
Unless...
Whumpee turned their head to look at the half-empty bag of drugs.
Unless they shot up to the point of no return. Their heart unable to slow down any further, stopping in the process. They wouldn't be able to write a suicide note in this state. Did it matter? Nobody would miss them. If anything, Caretaker would probably be relieved.
They reached over.
They prepared another shot.
They struggled to find a vein.
Eventually, they managed.
They lay back down. The sun had set. The dogs had settled down. The silence was only ever broken by the lone car passing under their window.
whumpee is sexually assaulted by whumper but whumper is incredibly desirable and everyone lusts after them so whumpee is left to feel like they were "lucky" whumper chose them
Whumpee is taking a shower, but then Whumper comes out of the drain. Whumper charges them and tries to knife them, but they slip on the slippery, watery tub surface.
This gives Whumpee a chance to put on their bathrobe and run out of the bathroom. They call for Caretaker to help but they have water on their feet so they slip and fall on the hard wood floors.
Whumper comes running out of the bathroom and launches themselves at Whumpee. Whumper goes to knife Whumpee but they realize they forgot the knife at the same time. Whumper stares in shock and Whumpee takes opportunity to punch them.
They're tussling on the floor by the time Caretaker comes in because of the tussling noises. Caretaker screams, "get off them!" And they run to join the fight and help whumpee.
Whumpes says, " no! Go get the knife in the bathtub and get them!"
Whumper reaches for caretaker as they run past and they grab caretakers ankle. With the mix of the force fron whumper and the water on the floor Caretaker falls. Whumpee screams, no!"
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"I don't know why it's so hard for me to hate you, even after everything you do to me..."
"Your body knows you belong to me. Your body and subconscious mind knows who owns you, I'm just waiting for the rest of you to realize it."
"I don't know why it's so hard for me to hate you, even after everything you do to me..."
"Your body knows you belong to me. Your body and subconscious mind knows who owns you, I'm just waiting for the rest of you to realize it."
Whumpee didn't want to believe it. But it was true; they found it borderline impossible to be mad at Whumper, let alone leave them. So what if Whumper was right? What if all they needed to get out of this predicament mentally was to convince their conscious mind that they belonged to Whumper?
"How do I stop it?"
Whumper raised an eyebrow. "Stop what?"
"The thoughts. The thoughts that urge me to run."
Whumper smiled. "Oh, Whumpee. That's why I'm here. I'll do that for you."
Caretaker looked away. Whumpee looked so broken, their voice sounded broken, they just seemed absolutely shattered. But they had to leave. This wasn't healthy for anyone involved.
"I'm sorry," they ended up saying.
Whumpee didn't say another word. They just watched as Caretaker slung the backback over their shoulder and exited the apartment.
"I'm going to find you, and when I do, I will kill you," they promised before hanging up.
"I'm going to find you, and when I do, I will kill you," they promised before hanging up.
Whumper swallowed. They knew that voice on the other side of the phone — Caretaker. They had no doubt in their mind that Caretaker would stop at nothing to fulfil their promise.
By the time you read this letter, I will be gone. That is okay, you hear me? I wanted to be gone. I wanted this.
Well, that's not entirely true. I didn't want this. I thought there would be another way, another ending to this story, but it seems the things we want don't always come true. I'm sorry for leeching off you as long as I have. You didn't deserve that.
And I'm sorry that at the first sign of you trying to place some responsibility on my shoulders, I completely lost it and caved to the little devil on my shoulder. You didn't ask for much, really. You just asked me to go back to school.
But it was much.
You saw how school ended for me the last time I dropped out. And I realise that not having my degree made me... unemployable and useless. In your eyes, in everyone else's eyes. I realise you most likely didn't want to support a deadbeat friend forever.
But that's why I did this. This way, you get your wish (not to have to care for me), and I get mine (not to go back to university). Does this seem ridiculous to you? That I'd cave under such little pressure? Your demands were reasonable. I wasn't.
I'm just writing this note to thank you one last time. I wish I could do it in person. But that's not how these things go. Thank you for taking care of me for years when I couldn't even leave the house. Thank you for always looking out for me. I'm sorry I couldn't meet your expectations. Thank you for seeing the best in me.
Well, this is goodbye, then. I don't really know how to end this. I guess I just wish for you to find peace in my decision as I have. Because I have. Believe me. I reckon I'll be the most peaceful I've ever been on this many sedatives.
Sorry, that was a bit morbid.
I love you. Even when I yelled at you, or when I dodged your hugs, I loved you. And I will love you, wherever I go. I'm truly sorry for worrying you so much. Now you'll never have to worry again. This is the best for both of us.
My time is up. Your life is only just beginning, free of the burden that was me. Live well. Laugh a lot. Don't mourn me; I am free as well.
"Oh, Whumpee..." Whumper stepped closer, and before Whumpee could back away, they had two arms around their waist, pulling them closer, leaning in for a kiss. Whumpee at least managed to turn their head so it became a kiss on the cheek instead of the lips. "Don't play hard to get."
"I'm not playing. We're married, for one— But not for long."
"Try it," Whumper murmured. "Try divorcing me. See what happens."
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"Good morning whumpee, ready to scream until-- where did you get a sword from."
"Good morning whumpee, ready to scream until— where did you get a sword from."
Whumpee stood on shaky legs, gripping the handle of their instrument tightly. "Let me go. Unlock the chains. Now."
"Now, now..." Whumper seemed to have already put their surprise behind them. They smiled. "If that sword is all you have, you'd have to get close enough to use it."
"You have to get close to me if you want to hurt me."
"Oh, nonsense. Have you ever felt thirsty, Whumpee? Maybe a day of dehydration will convince you to give me that sword peacefully."
"I want to be the one to have heard your last words. The one who touched you last. I want my expression to be frozen in the mirror of your lifeless eyes."
They had looked through every drawer, every shelf, every crevice, every nook. It was nowhere. The pendant they had gotten from Whumper, it was nowhere.
"Whumpee?" came a gentle voice from the other side of the door.
"Not now."
"What is it? I keep hearing, like... furniture being moved around. Do you need help?"
"I don't need your stupid help!" they snapped, but really, they were mad at themself. How could they be so careless so as to misplace something so important?
Caretaker opened their bedroom door anyway. "Are you looking for something?"
"It's none of your business!"
"I cleaned up your room a bit. Maybe I—"
"You did what?" Whumpee's frantic eyes snapped to them. "You went through my stuff?"
"I was cleaning! You never clean your room, so I thought—"
"Where did you put it?" Whumpee marched over to them, grabbing them with both hands by the collar of their shirt. They slammed Caretaker against the wall across from their bedroom door, then shook them a little for good measure. "Where is it?"
"Where's what?" Caretaker squeaked.
"You know full well what I'm looking for, don't you?"
Caretaker pursed their lips. Whumpee shook them again.
"Tell me! Tell me where it is!"
"I threw it away," Caretaker mumbled.
"You what?"
"If it's about the pendant, I threw it away. It'd just keep reminding you of them."
"You had no right!" Whumpee reeled their hand back, and Caretaker turned away, squeezing their eyes shut. After a few moments passed and Whumpee hadn't hit them, they cracked one eye open.
"I just want you to move on," they said, still scared.
Whumpee was shaking with rage. They couldn't bring themself to lower their hand, nor could they bring themself to hit Caretaker. They pushed themself away from the wall and went to the front door. "I'm getting it back. Even if I have to go through everyone's damn trash."
"Whumpee—"
"And you're barred from ever entering my room again."
"I gave you money. I gave you status. I gave you everything you'd ever need to pull this off. Tell me then, why is Whumpee out there, free, ratting you out and endangering this entire enterprise?"
Whumper bit the inside of their cheek. They'd messed up. "I'll fix it."
"You better. Or else I'll take back my investment."
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content: bad caretaker, mentally ill whumpee, self-deprecation, past trauma, aftermath of whump, hallucinations, invasion of privacy, suicidal whumpee, attempted suicide whump, self-harm, substance abuse whump (pills)
Whumpee sat on its bed. It felt a little... dizzy. Like a headache was coming on as well. It sat and stared into the darkness. Blinds closed. Curtains closed. Door closed. Locked — from the inside, for a change.
It wasn't enough. Whumpee still didn't feel safe. Shadows danced across the edge of its vision, and it kept flinching, trying to make out shapes and colours.
It held its teddy bear closer.
"Whumpee?"
Caretaker. Just outside their door.
"Friend is here. Can I let them in? They want to talk to you."
"Send them away," Whumpee said, in that skittish voice it said everything in anymore. It could practically see Caretaker furrow their brows.
"Are you sure?" they asked. "You've been... telling me you wanted to talk to Friend. That it's been so long—"
"Send them away!" Whumpee said, a little more forceful. It was scared. What was it scared of? It didn't know. But it was very, very scared.
"Okay," Caretaker said quietly, then walked off. Whumpee jumped out of bed and ran to the door, ear against the wood. "Hey, uh... Whumpee doesn't really... want to talk right now."
"Oh," Friend's voice came soft and disappointed. "I see."
"I don't know what's gotten into it. It's been talking about nothing but wanting to talk to you. And now that you're here—"
"It's okay. I'll come back another time."
"Thank you for understanding."
The front door was closed. Whumpee hurried back into bed.
It was a failure. Always had been, but it was even more pronounced at times like this. The only reason it made Caretaker send Friend away was because it was a failure.
See, Whumpee had no idea what it would tell Friend. Friend would ask what was up with it. And Whumpee? It was spending its days just like half a year ago, when Friend last reached out. Alone. In the dark. Popping prescription sedatives to keep sane. Not working. Not studying. Not getting better.
It was a failure.
It had always been a failure.
It would always be a failure.
It held its teddy bear tighter. It didn't want to be a failure.
Tears slipped down its cheeks. Why? Why why why why why why why?
It hit its own thigh as hard as it could. Then hit it again. The sound was a muffled thud, but it wasn't muffled enough, because Caretaker came to its door yet again.
"Whumpee? Everything okay in there?"
No.
"Yes."
"What's this sound?"
"I don't hear anything."
"Well, I don't either... Right now... But just a second ago..."
Whumpee hit its thigh again.
"There it is! What's this noise?"
"I don't hear anything."
It hit its thigh again.
"Oh," Caretaker said. "I might be... hearing it from another room. I'll check."
Footsteps receding. Whumpee hit itself again and again and again, and then when its thigh wasn't enough, it started hitting its head, and when its hands weren't enough, it grabbed the heaviest book it could find and banged its head against it.
"Whumpee, it's definitely coming from your room." Caretaker rattled the doorknob. "Whumpee, what are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you."
They didn't have to. They'd said the bedroom was Whumpee's private space, a space they'd never intrude upon. It was safe, so long as the door was locked.
But then it heard the sound of a key being inserted, and then a lock clicking. Suddenly, there they were. Caretaker. Backlit. Squinting in the dark. Eyes landing upon Whumpee and the book.
"What are you doing?" they asked, horrified.
"Nothing."
"Are you... hitting yourself?"
"No. Why do you have a key to my door? Why was any of this necessary, then? The charade about privacy? Giving me a key?"
"It wasn't a charade, I didn't think I'd ever have to use the key, I just—"
"Get out."
"You're hurting yourself!"
"Get out!" Whumpee snapped. Caretaker looked taken aback.
"Whumpee..."
"Out, out out out out!"
"I just—"
"Out!"
Caretaker threw their hands in the air. They retreated, closing the door behind themself.
Whumpee jumped up from its bed and ran to its desk. It pulled out the medicine drawer. More sedatives. More pills. More to drown out the feeling that it was a failure.
It stumbled back to the door and locked it, even though now it new that had little function. Its vision was swimming.
Did it take more pills than it meant to?
It dragged itself back to bed. It hugged its teddy bear.
With any luck, it would slip away into a peaceful sleep and never wake up again.
