#whumpuary2024

[whumpuary]

Welcome to Whumpuary 2024!

Whumpuary is a whump themed mixed-media creation event/challenge taking place in January.

This year the prompts came together through a community submission form and then a poll, where I picked the 53 most voted prompts! There are 15 numbers with 3 prompts each, plus 8 alt prompts. The dates are just meant to be a general guideline for those who want/need some structure in a challenge (e.g post every other day), but you don't actually have to create/post on those dates. You can combine prompts any way you want or just pick one of each number, do every single one or even all of them combined into one big creation (or just use one single prompt. That's already an achievement!) If you don't like any prompts of a number you can also replace or combine them with an alt prompt. The main or alt prompts don't have to be done in order.

Go here for more information, rules and the tagging system Go here for FAQs

The inbox is open for any questions!

Text version of all the prompts is under the cut

Whumpuary 2024 Main Prompts 1. (Jan 01-02) Captivity / Snow / Secret Revealed 2. (Jan 03-04) "Get away from me" / Collapse / Choking 3. (Jan 05-06) Used as bait / Stumbling / "This is gonna hurt" 4. (Jan 07-08) "Help me" / Lightheaded / Kneeling 5. (Jan 09-10) Can't move / "Stay. Please" / Kidnapped 6. (Jan 11-12) Exhaustion / Blindfolded / Old Injuries 7. (Jan 13-14) "I didn't know where else to go" / Bruises / Drugged 8. (Jan 15-16) Muffled Screams / Hostage / "You look awful" 9. (Jan 17-18) "Make it stop" / Restraints / Hair Grabbing 10. (Jan 19-20) Desperation / Gunpoint / Can't stay awake 11. (Jan 21-22) Blood / "Just get is over with" / Memories 12. (Jan 23-24) "You're awake" / Rescue / Unfair Fight 13. (Jan 25-26) Left to die / Barely Conscious / "I'm Fine" 14. (Jan 27-28) Flinching / Breakdown / Sleep Deprivation 15. (Jan 29-31) You're safe / Aftermath / Touch starved

Alt Prompts 1. Stabbed 2. "Let me see" 3. Recapture 4. Forced to watch 5. Headache 6. Gagged 7. "Do you trust me?" 8. Blood Loss

#whumpuary #whumpuary2024 #whumpuary prompts #prompts #whump #whump community #whumplr #whumpuary2024 prompts

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumpuary Day 9-10

Prompt: “Stay. Please.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries

A/N: This one is just a drabble. I was not in a great mood when I wrote it and it probably reflects that. I’m sorry for the subpar work. I hope you still love me.😭

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“Daryl, she needs you.” Carol implored, blocking the infirmary exit. The archer tried to side-step but the woman just knew him too well and moved with him. 

“Damnit, move!” Daryl all but roared at his best friend. He knew she meant well, he did. But he had to stop them. He couldn’t let them hurt anyone else. He’d failed enough by allowing them to get to you. It was eating him alive. He didn’t know how else to deal with the guilt. It was fueling his rage like gasoline on a fire. 

“You’re not thinking straight!”

“M’thinkin’ jus’ fine! Move, Carol!”

“You can’t go out there like this!”

“I can’ believe this! Ya saw wha’ they did ta ‘er!”

“And that’s why you need to stay!”

“Nah, tha’s why I gotta—”

“Daryl.” Your voice was low, strained. It was weak. But he heard it. Of course he heard it. The archer didn’t give Carol a second glance when he crossed the space to you in two long strides. The silver-haired woman walked behind him with her arms crossed, eyes rolled. She knew all it would take was your specific persuasion to calm Daryl down. She was only hoping to hold him off long enough for you to awaken. 

“Hey, m’right here.” He sat down on the edge of your bed in the infirmary, his hip pressed against yours. You looked so small, fragile in the large bed. Pale and bruised with stitched lacerations and butterfly sutures. “Yer gon’ be okay, ya hear me?”

Your smile was tired and small but it was genuine. “I know I am.” You opened your hand and he took it immediately, pressing his lips to your busted knuckles. “I know I am because you’ll be here to protect me, won’t you?” You blinked slowly and watched his expression fall. 

“Ya know I gotta—”

“You don’t gotta do anything.” He looked like he might start to argue so you began to sit up, wincing with an arm around your middle to brace your broken ribs. Daryl was all don’ do that and stay still but you showed him what it felt like for your pleas to be ignored. Finally upright, you panted while Carol rushed to lift the head of the bed for you. You could breathe easier sitting up. You could also look your husband in the eye properly. “All you need to do is be here with me until a plan can be made.”

Carol smirked, seeing the very moment Daryl’s resolve began to crumble. When he glanced at her, most likely for backup he knew he’d never get, she was quick to turn her head, her smile hidden behind her hand. 

He sighed, deeply but not yet resigned. “I can’ jus’—”

“Stay.” You whispered, bringing the hand that was still holding yours to your cheek. “Stay. Please.” 

And that was that. 

Carol closed the door behind her just as Daryl situated himself on the bed with you so you could settle against his chest. When it came to Daryl Dixon, there was nothing anyone could say or do once he had set his mind on something. Except she now had a secret weapon. 

You. 

Taglist:

@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno5 #“stay. please.” #injuries #the walking dead #fic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x wife!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon walking dead #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl drabbles #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #daryl twd #daryl x y/n #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #daryl x you #daryl x female reader

[cyberwhumper]

Imran had already known, going in, that the conditions of the breeding facility where he now found himself standing would be less than ideal when compared to his old employer. He knew the smaller budget would reflect on the conditions the animals were kept, how the entire process was executed, and what the odds of the transaction working out were. Yet he is still shocked when the cages are small, cramped, filthy. His heart aches for each and every single one of the biopets kept within, but he knows he realistically can't possibly save them all.

Just one. Just the one. That would be enough.

With every step further into the facility, the mental image of Horus degrades in his mind. Guilt gnaws at the forefront of his conscience, and it comes crashing down heavily once he sees with his own eyes what had become of the once powerful animal he had met all those years ago.

Tied to the center of the tiny room, the creature barely had any slack to move. Its body is covered in a litany of sores and bruises, and the emaciated skin clings to bone like a tight-fitting suit. As soon as its gaze meets the handler's, a shrill noise leaves its mouth. Terror, it seems, was all that remained. The knot in Imran's stomach feels so tight it's nauseating.

He hopes to appease the animal despite the handler's amused comments over the pointlessness of the effort. Horus doesn't look at him. Doesn't even seem to recognize him. It pulls away from Imran as best as it can, tail pinned between its exhausted legs, tears streaming down its face, body shaking so hard it makes the chains holding it in place clink. Talking to it has no effect. Even touching it, an act that would have always promptly elicited a bite response, does nothing.

Imran barely remembers the rest of the transaction.

At some point money had exchanged hands, the biopet was sedated, and he now found himself clutching the battered creature tight to his body as if it could possibly flee. The walk back to his vehicle feels shameful.

What have I done? No. I couldn't possibly have known this would happen. But it only happened because of me, didn't it?

The device on the back of its skull has been removed. Vandermeer leaves no loose ends. Imran doesn't want to think of what the withdrawals must have been like for the animal to go through. Death would have been a kinder choice than this.

The disgraced doctor swallows his guilt, and gently lays the biopet on the backseat. The drive would be long, but the worst, he hoped, was already over.

I'm so sorry, Horus. I promise I'll take care of you this time.

[OC INDEX]

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @lambofmine // @maracujatangerine // @pinkraindropsfell // @writereleaserepeat // @blood-and-regrets // @littlespacecastle // @snakebites-and-ink // @unforgiven235 // @lonesome--hunter // @atomicsandwichprince // @writereleaserepeat // @whatamidoingherehelpme // @skittles-the-whumpee // @the-blind-one-speaks // @i-eat-worlds // @devourerofcheesecake // @theauthorintraining // @otterfrost // @mommymarichatfurever // @whumpifi // @catnykit // @bitchaknso // @softmutt444 // @yet-another-heathen //

If you’re interested in being added to the tag list, please let me know!

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno12 #Rescue #oc #art #whump #bruises #whump art #original character #pet whumpee #pet whump #original story #whumpblr #whumpee #tokimeki art #caretaker #bridal carry #Horus #Imran

[whumpy-angsty]

Whumper forces whumpee to cuddle with them after each session of torture.

Makes whumpee sit on the sofa with them and cuddle them, tells them that whumpee made them do this, guilt trip and shame them for Their behavior. Tells whumpee if only they listened to them then this wouldn’t have happened. Tells whumpee they will forgive them because they love them and they are kind.

With repetitive sessions whumpee started to believe whumper.

Even after being saved they would still say that whumper wasn’t that bad.

This dynamic would work with family members tbh. Not necessarily torture it can be mentally too.

#whumper #whumpee #family #angst #whump #whumpuary2024 #whump community #whump scenario #whump writing #whump tropes

[serickswrites]

"I'm Fine."

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, bloody nose, bruises, rescue

Caretaker quickly made their way through the abandoned warehouse. Whumper had said that they taken Whumpee here. That they tortured Whumpee here. And that they left Whumpee to die here.

Caretaker prayed they weren't too late.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker called, hoping beyond hope that Whumpee could hear them. No sound came. "Come on, Whumpee. I'm here. I'm here. Please, say something."

Caretaker rounded the corner and gave a gasp. "Whumpee!"

Whumpee was slumped over in the chair they were bound to. Blood coated their shirt, parts of the chair, and had dripped onto the floor in places. Whumpee moaned at the sound of Caretaker rushing forward.

"Whumpee! Say something. Talk to me, Whumpee."

"Caretakerrrr," Whumpee croaked. They lifted their head weakly and blinked up at Caretaker. Their face was swollen and bruised, blood dripping in a steady stream from their nose. "'m finnnnnne."

"You are definitely not fine. But I'm here. I've got you. Let's get you out of here."

Whumpee nodded and let their head drop. "'ump'r?"

"Handled." Caretaker quickly began to saw through the thick coils of rope at Whumpee's ankles. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you, Whumpee."

"'s'kay," Whumpee's voice was barely audible.

Caretaker looked up at Whumpee. Whumpee's face was ghostly pale, and they blinked slowly, their eyes beginning to roll back as they stared down at Caretaker. "None of that, Whumpee," Caretaker tapped Whumpee's cheek as they rose up and began to saw at the ropes on Whumpee's wrists. "None of that. You stay awake and with me, you here? Whumpee!"

"'m 'wakkkkke," Whumpee hissed as they gritted their teeth, fighting unconsciousness. "So.....so tireddddd."

"I know you are, Whumpee. But you have to stay awake. You have to stay awake until I can get you to help. Ok?"

Whumpee nodded, as they swallowed hard. "Stay'ng."

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw torture #tw blood #tw bloody nose #tw bruises #rescue #whumpuary #whumpuary2024 #day 25/26 #prompt: barely conscious #prompt: left for dead #prompt: “I'm fine” #queue

[tabbytabbytabby]

A Buddie aesthetic for @whumpuary No.15: You’re safe / Touch starved

#buddie #buck x eddie #buddie aesthetic #911 abc #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno15 #you're safe #touch starved #buddie fanart #911 fanart #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 6

6. (Jan 11-12) Exhaustion / Blindfolded / Old Injuries  

cw reluctant whumper, exhaustion, blood loss, vampire whumper, human whumpee, scars, intimate whumper 

Whumpee stood in front of the mirror, head tilted to the side as their fingers traced the bite marks going down their neck. They were in various stages of healing—some had faded to white scars, others were bruised and scabbing, and the most recent one was still an aggravated red. If Whumpee scratched at it, it would start bleeding again easily. 

“You okay?” 

They glanced up quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

Whumper shrugged, eyes locking with theirs in the mirror. “Perks of being a creature of the night, I suppose. Very sneaky.” 

“Right,” Whumpee said with a chuckle. 

A moment of silence passed, with both of their gazes drifting to Whumpee’s neck. Most of the marks were concentrated there, but others were hidden by Whumpee’s clothes. Their wrists, the inside of their elbow, their thighs. 

“You look tired,” Whumper pointed out. 

“I’m fine.” The constant blood loss left them exhausted and perpetually dizzy, but it really was fine. Whumper worried too much. 

They frowned, closing the distance between them and Whumpee. Whumper kissed their neck gently, lips fitting over one of the older bites. “I wish they didn’t scar so much.” 

“I don’t mind,” Whumpee muttered. “I like the reminders of you. Knowing that I can give you what you need, instead of letting you worry about where your next meal is coming from. Or hurting someone who doesn’t want this.” 

Whumper nodded slightly, eyes meeting theirs in the mirror. “We can’t keep doing this forever, though. Someday I'm gonna take too much, and then I don’t know what I'd do with myself.” 

Whumpee took in their own reflection—the pallid skin, distant eyes and dark circles, thin frame—and wondered if that day was very far in the future.  

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno6 #exhaustion #old injuries #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #intimate whumper #nonhuman whumper #exhaustion whump #injury whump #bloodbag whumpee #vampire whumper #vampire x human #reluctant whumper #snippet

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whumpuary 2024 No. 15

"You're safe" | Aftermath | Touch Starved

Whumpuary Prompts List

TW: touch starved, mentioned capture

“Are you okay?”

Whumpee jumped, Caretaker's presence startling them. “Uh… yeah.”

“You’re shaking.” Caretaker dropped down onto the ground to sit next to them. Their closeness to Whumpee was… Whumpee didn’t know how to describe the emotion.

“I… uh…” They registered Caretaker’s words. They had a point. The adrenaline coursing through Whumpee’s veins had probably been the only reason they’d managed to stay upright during the rescue. Whumpee held up their hand. It trembled violently. “I guess I am.”

Caretaker smiled softly and reached out, taking Whumpee’s outstretched hand into their own. “It’s okay now,” they said. “You’re safe.”

Whumpee was barely listening as they stared at their hand, the fingers intertwined with Caretaker’s. How long had it been since they’d experienced human touch? Not since being captured by Whumper.

“...I have to ask again, are you okay?”

Whumpee glanced up at Caretaker, whose expression had changed to one of concern. They thought for a moment before scooting closer so their shoulder was against Caretaker’s. “I dunno…” they mumbled. “I guess… I guess I missed you.”

Caretaker stiffened slightly at Whumpee’s touch, but they did not pull away. They squeezed Whumpee’s hand.  “I missed you too.”

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno15 #you're safe #aftermath #touch starved #whump writing #whump #my writing #whumpee #caretaker #whumpee x caretaker #whump scenario #touch starved whump

[suspensefulpen]

Whumpuary Day 21: “Just Get It Over With”

TW: Implied Torture, Punishments, Knife 

@whumpuary

“Whumpee,” Whumper scolded softly. “I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me, didn’t I?” In spite of the softness in his voice, his expression was grave. 

“Yeah…” Whumpee grimaced, turning their gaze elsewhere. 

“And what did you do Whumpee?” 

“I…disobeyed you.” They lowered their head. They didn’t know if it was in shame or to avoid eye contact even more. Regardless, they kept their gaze to the floor. They did not want this. They felt they had enough scars and cuts and bruises. 

“And do you know what that means?” 

“I get punished…” 

“Punished for what?” 

“For disobeying you…” 

Whumper hummed, the slightest smile on his face. “It’s good you’re aware.” He pulled out his knife and stepped closer when Whumpee tightly shut their eyes, hissing. 

“Just get it over with.” 

With raised brows, Whumper leaned away. “What was that?” 

Whumpee quickly opened their eyes as panic rose in their chest. “I-I said I–” 

“You want to just get it over with?” 

“No, no, no! That’s not what I said! I said–” 

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.” Whumper nodded even as Whumpee shook their head. “Yes, yes.” They smiled more visibly as it turned into a wicked smirk. “I’ll go as slow as I possibly can.”

#whumpuary #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno21 #just get it over with #whump #whump writing #implied torture #knife tw #whumpee #whumper #suspense #creative writing #writeblr #writer things #writers on tumblr

[dresden-syndrome]

29/VII-1963. Class IV detention unit, State Security department No. 138, Středočeský region, People's Union Republic of Czechoslovakia, EESU.

After a prisoner confesses in their political crimes, the second stage of detention begins. From there class II-IV convicts are subjected to several examinations by detention unit's medical teams.

While those of class II-III are mainly examined to determine their ability to work, class IV ones are in the designation process. Class IV detention unit administration maintains close contact with departments and facilities in need of human subjects; numerous Advanced State Research labs provide them with requests on certain amounts or types of subjects to supply. After all the needed medical data is collected, it's up to unit administration and medical team to put the irredeemable state enemies to proper use.

This particular subject - SB-7067 - has been already pre-designated for "personal use" by the head of State Security himself. In his case, the medical checks are conducted with great precision to provide all the needed health info for the future owner. These long, extensive procedures often require restraining and muzzling to ensure cooperation. Numerous reports state that SB-7067 is prone to defiant behavior, often swearing and fighting any approaching personnel; as expected, he tried to fight his way out on the medical exam. He may resist just as aggressively the next time, yet class IV medical team is highly trained to work with difficult subjects and their offices are fully equipped with restraints for every kind of procedure. They can handle him.

@whumpuary day 5: Gagged (alternative prompt) (no tag because tumblr is a jerk again)

Art taglist: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @whumpedydump @whumpthefifth (if you'd like to be tagged too, please let me know!)

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno5 #altprompt #whump #whump community #whumpblr #historical whump #totalitarian whump #medical whump #med whump #whump art #whumpee #whump oc #whump ideas #defiant whumpee #pet whump

[whumpuary]

Whumpuary 2024 - Prompt Submissions

Two months until Whumpuary 2024! It's time to submit your prompt ideas :D

In this form you can submit prompts you'd like to see/create for in Whumpuary 2024. You can write in just one or however many you want, as vague, generic or specific as you want. (Only one prompt per space). No longer than a few words please (e.g shot, came back from the dead, natural disaster, stranded, "you shouldn't have done that", ...). Feel free to submit more than one form if you have more ideas :)

This form will be open until Nov. 14, and then there will be another one the next day to vote for your favorites.

My inbox is open for any questions!

#whumpuary #whump #whump community #whumplr #whumpuary2024 #whumpuary 2024

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumpuary Day 15-16 & 25-26

Prompt: “You look awful.” | “I’m fine.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Depictions of illness; vomiting; allusions to symptoms of stomach virus

A/N: Daryl’s human so humans with stomach bugs experience icky symptoms. There are allusions to those but nothing gross.

You were bouncing on the balls of your feet, your lip securely tucked between your teeth in anticipation. Carol chuckled behind you and patted a hand between your shoulder blades. 

“I think you’re actually vibrating, Y/N.” She laughed a little louder when you beamed at her before it softened into something a bit gentler. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone other than Judith so excited to see Daryl come back. Well, and me but that’s a given.”

“It’s been two weeks. I’ve been going out of my mind!” You made a crazy gesture with your hands and then clasped them together again and continued bouncing. 

“How does he do around all this…energy?” You went still and blinked at her, a great many questions swirling in your gaze. “No, no. It’s not a bad thing! You’re good for him. Great for him. I just wanted to make sure he’s not being a total grump and raining on your parade.”

Pursing your lips, you tilted your head. “No, not really. I mean, at first it was like he didn’t know what to do when I would do a cartwheel through the living room. He just stared a lot. But he smiled!” Daryl always smiled for you. In the beginning, it was only in private. All of it was. He was wary of you. 

You had lived in Alexandria since the beginning. Knowing now what you didn’t know then, he was justified in holding back, keeping secrets. When you had proven to be just the average person trying to survive, it was like a switch had flipped. He’d show up at your house unexpectedly. Sometimes you’d find him just sitting on the porch steps, having a cigarette. Other times, he’d actually knock and ask you to go for a walk. He even taught you how to defend yourself with and without weapons. He wouldn’t teach you to hunt though. Always said you’d scare off the game. 

Things evolved from there. It started small. Daryl wasn’t the type of man who enjoyed public displays of affection. Well, he wasn’t before you came along. He would still blush and duck his head if you kissed him in public. You were always the one to grab his hand but he never pulled away. Hugs were okay but he’d yelp (in a very manly way of course) when you’d grab or swat at his ass. 

It had been nearly two years and you couldn’t imagine life without the grumpy, quiet bowman. 

“I’m glad he found you.” Carol wrapped her arm around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head when you laid it against her. You were about to say something else when the shout came to open the gates. 

You jumped up and down, jostling the woman beside you but even as she laughed, you paid her no mind. Your eyes followed the man on the motorcycle. He rode through faster than he should have, something you always scolded him for but he’d only scoff at you. 

“You’re back!” You leapt on him, wrapping your legs around his waist, just as his boot touched the ground after dismounting the bike. “I missed you!”

“Ain’t been tha’ long.” He spoke into your shoulder. His arms held you steady but if he had let go, he would have found you securely latched to his front. 

“It’s been two weeks! That’s the equivalent of forever!” You pulled back and pouted at him, your lip jutting out further when he lowered you. “You hurt? Bring back all your parts?”

“Nah, M’good.” He answered tiredly. Your eyes narrowed when you realized how exhausted he actually looked; something off by the way he was even just standing still. 

“I think we should get you to bed and not for the fun stuff. Not yet anyway.” You stepped around him and retrieved his bag and crossbow, smacking his hand when he reached to take them from you. “I got it. Come on.” He was grumbling something about stubborn woman as he walked just beside you. 

You watched him from the corner of your eye, making certain to be discrete. Daryl would never openly show vulnerability, especially outside your home. He rarely let it be seen inside your home. At the very moment though, you weren’t sure if he realized he was doing it. His hand was clutching his stomach over his vest, fingers digging into the leather until his knuckles were white. His face was neutral but the pallor to his skin wasn’t something he could hide. 

You balanced his bag on your shoulder and opened the door for him, smiling cheerfully when he scowled at your special treatment. “Go on upstairs. You want a shower?”

“S’tha’ yer way’a tellin’ me I stink?”

“Yes, sir.” You noticed his hand had left his abdomen, but was flexing at his side. “You want something to eat? There’s some leftover venison stew that I could—”

The archer blanched, any color that was left present drained from his face while his throat visibly worked to swallow convulsively. Oh shit. Before you could even put down your burden, he dashed from your sight and into the downstairs bathroom, the sounds of his retching painful to hear. 

You placed his bag on the floor and the crossbow against the wall, walking quietly to the bathroom door. When you peeked around the doorframe, Daryl was on his knees, arms draped around the toilet seat with his forehead resting on his hands. He was no longer heaving but still spitting into the water below. 

You knew what his reaction would probably be but you couldn’t act like you didn’t care. “You okay?” The archer didn’t look up. He stretched out a leg and kicked the door shut. You had the good sense to not be in the way of the wooden barrier. 

You were expecting wounds and bruises, not stomach ailments. The medical supplies you had set up in the en-suite bathroom would remain there. You hadn’t seen much of him before he was sick and he could still have injuries that needed care. Now, you needed to add some fresh towels, clothes, and a basin of water with a cloth to put by the bed. You had some Tylenol from the infirmary, just in case he needed it for pain, not anticipating he’d probably need it for fever. 

There were a few cans of chicken noodle soup that you could drain the broth from later, but for now, until the nausea passed, you went downstairs for a few bottles of water. You doubted there was any ginger ale in the pantry but if you were able to see Carol or she came for a visit, you could ask. There was no way you were leaving him for it. 

Everything was set up, including the shower. You were hoping you could coax him in just to get him clean and comfortable. With a gentle knock on the door, you placed your forehead against it, wincing at the sounds coming from inside. Seemed like the toilet and sink were receiving his attention. 

Definitely a stomach virus, but you’d have to ask about what he’d eaten the past few days to rule out food poisoning and other gastric ailments. 

“Daryl? Are you okay?”

“Go ‘way.” The reply was gravelly and weak. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” You replied softly, promptly walking away from the door. He was going to be ultra embarrassed after that, so you had to handle things carefully. The last thing you or he needed was for him to try and run because he was ashamed of things he had no control over. 

You set about cleaning up the kitchen, though it barely needed it. You kept everything spotless most of the time. Daryl was always out doing physical jobs while you helped with inventory or delivered meals to the elderly residents. He didn’t need to worry about the state of your home when he was able to be there. 

It was about half an hour before you heard the toilet flush and the tap turn on. It ran for longer than usual. You assumed he was washing his hands and rinsing his mouth. His toothbrush was upstairs but you made a mental note to ask for two more to keep downstairs. 

You were leaning on the kitchen island when he finally emerged. He was drenched with sweat, his face flushed from embarrassment or fever. Maybe both. His belt was still undone but his pants were zipped and buttoned. Poor guy looked like a wreck. 

“Hey.” You called softly, earning his attention. “You look awful. Are you okay?”

He nodded, the movement jerky. “Thank christ fer indoor plumbin’.” He rasped, joining you on the other side of the island. He leaned forward and placed his forehead on the cool surface of the countertop with a sigh. 

“Did you eat anything weird while you were out?” You circled the structure to stand by him and rub his back in slow, soothing circles. 

The bowman rolled his head back and forth against the countertop. “Nah. Jus’ the regular expired canned shit we could find.” It made you sad to think that this was the norm now. Relying on food that was far past the date of recommended consumption. 

“When did you eat last?” You rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles stiff and knotted. 

“Yesterday afternoon. Wanted ta get back. Didn’ go lookin’ fer anythin’ today.”

Still could be food poisoning. You’d have to ask if anyone else was sick. “Let’s get you upstairs. Think you can shower?” Daryl straightened with a grimace before nodding. You met his gaze with a gentle smile, bringing up a hand to sweep the damp hair away from his eyes. “Come on then.” A hand on the small of his back gently urged him forward, his shuffling steps and unsteady gait giving him the appearance of a living walker. 

You trailed behind him up the stairs, braced and ready in case he lost his balance, but the ascent was successful without any tumbling. The archer was shedding clothing before even reaching the bathroom, down to his jeans and socks by the time he was standing in front of the shower. 

“Do you need me to stay?” It was a reluctant question. Daryl hated it when you hovered but he was sick and exhausted so it was an offer you had to give him. 

“Nah. M’fine.” He was unzipping his jeans when you pulled the bathroom door closed behind you. 

The shower began running moments later, so you busied yourself with grabbing your own pajamas, turning down the bed, and pulling a chair over to his side. As an afterthought, you placed the room’s small wastebasket there as well. The shower was still running when you heard the unmistakable sounds of another round of vomiting, your heart clenching at the painful noises. 

“Daryl?” You called loudly enough for him to hear through the door and over the spray of water. 

“M’…m’okay.” A low, strained answer from the other side. 

With nothing else to do, you sat down on the end of the mattress to wait for him. The toilet flushed but the shower continued for several more minutes. There was a brief silence followed by a shuffle of clothing, and the sounds of him brushing his teeth. 

When the door finally opened, he looked clean in his sweats and t-shirt but no less miserable. His hair was still damp, beads of water dripping from the ends. Even as undesirable as the situation was, it was hard not to take note of how normal he looked dressed like that. It was as if you were a couple before the end of the world, spending an evening at home in comfort and without fear. But the reality was that fear was always lingering. Always. 

“Bedtime for you, mister.” 

He couldn’t even manage to scowl at you properly, ending up with a tired frown dripping with resignation. He was slow to lower onto the bed and said nothing when you pulled the blankets over him. 

“Anything need stitched or bandaged?” You asked, brushing his hair away from his face. There was always a warmth that crept into your chest when he didn’t flinch away from your loving touches. 

“Jus’ a few bruises. Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.” When you fixed him with a skeptical stare, he sighed. “Promise.” Daryl didn’t take that word lightly and never used it carelessly. 

“Okay, try to sleep.” You perched yourself on the chair, noticing he couldn’t be bothered to care. He turned onto his side, facing you with his legs drawn up slightly. His stomach was surely angry and cramping, muscles tired from heaving on top of feeling nauseous. There was no hesitation in your hand resting just below his knee, rubbing the area in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. 

He was asleep within moments. 

Watching him grimace and tense without waking, you let your mind build scenarios and how you would handle them. If Rick came knocking with requests of the archer, you’d kindly tell him to get bent. If Carol came over, you could get her to fetch some things for you that would help keep him comfortable while he recovered. If he continued vomiting and couldn’t keep down the water at the very least, you’d need to leave long enough to grab Denise. 

Daryl woke suddenly, lurching over the side of the bed to retch into the wastebasket you had been smart enough to grab earlier. There was nothing left but acidic bile to bring up but it sounded no less brutal. You could do nothing but keep his hair out of the way and rub his back. There was a moment of consideration. Maybe if you could alert Denise, she would have something for the nausea. 

That train of thought was interrupted by the hunter shakily pushing himself back up only to sag back against his pillow. 

“Sucks.” He mumbled, eyes closed.  “Ain’t been sick since…S’been a long time.”

You were gently rubbing his stomach which he either didn’t notice or it felt nice so he allowed it to continue. 

“It won’t last forever.” You whispered, watching as he dozed off again. 

He was still resting comfortably when the knock came on the front door downstairs. Reluctantly, you rose from the chair, taking just another second to brush Daryl’s hair away from his eyes. He mumbled something, turning his head away, but remained asleep. You wanted to be quick.You just weren’t willing to leave him alone for long. 

“Hey!” Carol greeted with that gentle smile of hers. After all she’d been through, even with her apprehension about settling there in Alexandria, she was able to keep that kindness. Especially when it came to Daryl. 

“Hey.” You said, turning to look anxiously at the stairs. 

“What’s wrong? Where’s Daryl?” When you turned back to her, the smile was gone, replaced with growing concern. 

“He’s asleep. I need a favor. He’s sick. Could you grab a few things for him? Anything he might be able to keep down.” The other woman was already nodding. “Maybe put a bug in Denise’s ear in case she has anything for nausea.”

“Is he alright? Really?” Carol was leaning closer toward the doorway. It was obvious she wanted to go to him. 

“Yeah, he’s okay for now. He hasn’t thrown up in an hour or so but when he first got back…” You trailed off, looking back at the stairs again. “Could you please do all that for me? Then maybe come upstairs and see him? I know he won’t want anyone else seeing him like this. But you and me? We don’t count.” You smiled, knowing it was true. Carol and yourself were the only people Daryl was fully comfortable relaxing around. 

“You got it. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.” You watched her swiftly descend the porch steps before closing the door and nearly sprinting up the stairs. The bowman was still sound asleep when you returned to the bedroom. He still looked pale but there was no fever, no signs of dehydration just yet. 

You made yourself comfortable in the chair, drawing up one knee to rest your chin on it. You’d be his silent sentinel until he was better. 

Whether he liked it or not. 

@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47 

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[cyberwhumper]

The animal is quite skittish. Despite being alone in the quiet room, able to do whatever it pleases, the creature chooses to spend days pressed up against the corner, terrified of imaginary punishments that don't seem to come. Even as Imran steps into the room to swap old food for a fresh serving, the biopet still doesn't move much from its spot despite being so obviously terrified of him. Every step makes Horus flinch in fear.

He had been so patient with it up to this point, giving the injured creature plenty of space and a consistent environment to help soothe its nerves, yet Imran still couldn't help but feel concern. It hasn't eaten in almost a week, it barely moves from the corner of the room, it whimpers if the man so much as looks it in the eyes. At night it cries itself to sleep, the soft sobbing carried through the house tugging painfully at Imran's heartstrings.

The bruises and cuts which littered its body blossomed into horrifying shades of crimson and purple, areas where he hadn't even noticed the animal was hurt seeming to be bruised as well. In fairness, his eagerness to remove the creature out of that squalid situation likely played a part. He should have inspected Horus better, assessed the damage more calmly, actually planned what to do once he got home. Not that it seemed to mind.

Imran doesn't know whether or not it's even intelligent enough to understand what's happening around it. In the eyes of an animal, the constant change in environments, owners, even down to the rules it's supposed to follow, must be extremely stressful. In a way, he almost hopes Horus doesn't understand, so that it may be spared the burden of knowing the full extent of what it has gone through.

It takes almost another entire week before Imran catches the faintest glimpse of progress, the slightest sliver of hope. The animal, hungry and desperate, had slowly dragged itself to the food bowl. He caught it passed out right on top, so exhausted it didn't seem to have had the energy to drag itself back. Food, he hoped, could be the way to coax the biopet out of its shell. To get confirmation that his strategy was working made Imran elated.

Perhaps one day he could live to see a situation in which Horus would truly be happy and healthy.

Perhaps then, and only then, he could feel like he atoned.

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[whumpy-angsty]

Whumper ties whumpee on uncomfortable operating cold dirty table. Stretched out uncomfortably.

Whumper whips whumpee palms and feets till its painfully bleeding and whumpee begging Whumper to stop.

Whumper just continues till whumpee faint.

And once whumpee wakes up they force whumpee to stand on their whipped feet’s. Every time whumpee falls they force them to stand up again.

#whump writing #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump community #whump #whumpee #whumper #whumpuary2024 #was this too much angst? #first post for whump

[serickswrites]

You're Awake

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, unconsciousness, blood, blood loss, rescue, caretaker and whumpee

Whumpee clawed their way back to consciousness. They were exhausted. Days and days of torture at Whumper's hand had taken its toll on their body. Between the pain and blood loss, Whumpee had passed out while Whumper worked on them.

But now was time to wake up. They needed to be awake. Need to be alert enough to figure out a plan to get away. To escape. They had to wake up.

The dimly room was musty and freezing. Wherever Whumper had been keeping Whumpee, it hadn't been used in a long time. A scraping sound had Whumpee wrenching their eyes open.

"Oh good, you're awake," a familiar voice came from the far side of the room.

"C-C-Caretaker," Whumpee croaked. Their throat was raw from all their screaming over the last several days.

"I'm here, Whumpee, I'm here." Caretaker came into Whumpee's field of vision. They cupped Whumpee's cheek with their warm hand. Whumpee leaned into their soft, tender touch. "I am sorry it took me so long to get here."

"You're here," Whumpee said as they gave a sigh of relief. Caretaker was here. They were saved.

"Let's get you out of these cuffs."

"Whumper?" Whumpee dared to hope that Whumper was gone.

"Taken care of, love. Don't worry. They can't hurt you anymore."

Whumpee sighed. Whumper was gone. Caretaker was here. They were safe. Suddenly everything seemed lighter and softer. They began to close their eyes once more.

"Ah, ah, none of that, Whumpee. Keep your eyes open." Caretaker's voice was urgent. So urgent. But Whumpee couldn't bring themself to care.

"Mmmmm," was all they could manage.

"Shit. Whumpee. Whumpee! Love, look at me. Open your eyes. Where's all this blood from? Whumpee!"

Whumpee wanted to tell Caretaker where Whumper had sliced through layers and layers of skin. Wanted to tell Caretaker where they had been stabbed. Wanted to tell Caretaker about all their aches and pains. But they were so cold. And tired. And most of all, they were safe. Whumpee sank back into the darkness, knowing that Caretaker had them, and they would be safe. No matter what.

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw torture #tw blood #tw unconsciousness #tw blood loss #rescue #caretaker and whumpee #whumpuary #whumpuary2024 #day 23/24 #prompt: “you're awake” #prompt: rescue #queue

[its-my-whump]

Whumpuary2024

Jan 17-18

"Make it stop"

@whumpuary

"Please, m...k it...ssst...oppp."

Whumpee could hardly breathe. He was sitting pressed into the tiny spot between the couch and the wall, shivering like a leaf. His left knee bend, his arms wrapped around, burrying his head as deep as possible behind it. His right leg, spread out, stiff as it was. His tight jumping up and down on the floor in little frantic motions. Only his muscles reacting to the stress in his system, his leg would hardly move on its own in any other situation.

Little sobs slipped through, muffed from his own body shielding him from the world. There was the desperate try to surpress his whimpers.

Caretaker had left him for only 20 minutes, he needed to get some groceries. Whumpee had been asleep. Finally.

He had been looking dead tired again, for almost a week by now. But finally his body yielded, at least for a short while.

The blanket was on the floor. It was crumpled, the all so clear sign of whumpees struggle with himself, when his flasbacks, nightmares or just memories caught up to him.

Caretaker approached only slowly, he bend down without any hectic and stayed on his hunches, when his hand went for the blanket.

He knew better, than to touch whumpee in this fragil state.

Very gently he lowered the blanket onto his leg, so if whumpee couldn't take it, any slight motion would show Caretaker to stop what he was doing.

It was okay.

Strainful, whumpee pulled his arms from his head, as if they weight a ton.

He entangled them, but his hands stayed at the top of his head, when he looked up frightened. His eyes were bloodshot, red and puffy. It seemed the weight of the world was leaking out of them.

Whumpees face was locked in a pale expressionless mask. It was even more shocking, as the times everything in his mimik derailed, when he usually fell apart.

Big tears had trailed down his cheeks, but his expression almost seemed like the one of a ghost. He had seen too much, he had to endure too much, he had survived too much for his age.

His eyes pierced through Caretaker, as his fingers turned white, while he pressed them against his own skulp.

"Make it stop." Whumpees voice was cold, but slightly shaking. It was a plea, more than an accusation, but it was bloodcurling even more so.

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#whumpuary2024 #make it stop #whumpuary #whump #writing #whump writing #whumpuaryno9