Whump Prompts/Ideas
Give your whumpee a raging fever that Caretaker can't seem to keep down, they just keep getting warmer whilst shivering harder
Make the whumpee someone special in whumpees life. A trusted friend turned yandere or a parent or a sibling who was bought out by the enemy. Make the hurt personal
The whumpee is hiding a bullet wound, it's non fatal and for the most part they've been able to walk it off. But they've lost a lot of blood and they are starting to go pale. And no one is noticing
The whumpee was the sidekick of the hero, and they expect the hero to come for them eventually. But one day turns into to two and two turns into a week and they stop expecting the hero to save them
Drop a building on your whumpee
In addition have the person who save them become their whumper
Project your own fears onto your whumpee, if you are afraid of heights put the whumpee on the top of a building. If you are afraid of snakes, bite whumpee with something venemous
Have the whumper act out of spite. They aren't gaining anything by hurting the whumpee they just want to, they don't get any satisfaction out of it either, they just want to hurt something
Have the whumper and the caretaker know eachother, caretaker finally comes in to take whumpee away and they find themselves face to face to someone they thought they parted ways with long ago
Make the caretaker a yandere, turn them into a care whumper. They do care about the whumpee, but obsessively so.
Give whumpee a hobby the requires their hands or eyes or ears. And have the whumper threated to damage those things if they don't co-operate. The whumper will facilitate the hobby but if whumpee steps out of line they lose the ability to do said hobby. They don't loose the hobby itself, the whumper does this so that they still can have the hobby but they can't do it
Have your caretaker trade places with the whumpee. The whumper didn't want to whumpee anyway, it was all to get to caretaker and now they have them
Take whumpees most prized posession and put it just out of reach, put it on a shelf they can't reach, put it in a box they cannot open or break, put it on the other end of a chain that every time whumpee tries to go closer the object is pulled away
Restrict whumpees movement, so much so that even the whumper struggles to interact with them despite having put them in those bindings
*points to the college i got into* is it really that surprising tho
for some reason ive had to viciously fight the overwhelming urge to add “dawg” to my every day vocabulary for like, the entire past month. No one i know says it. where did it come from? why is it here?? how do i get it to stop??? no but seriously i think ive heard it like, twice my entire life how did it get into my brain and why wont it leave.
Writing is just aggressively whispering “Suffer.” at fictional people and then crying about it like it wasn’t your fault.
These are the kind of secrets, that keep your character up at night. The kind that twist their decisions, poison their relationships, and build a wall between who they are and who they pretend to be.
» They think they ruined someone’s life, and no one knows.
It wasn’t murder. It wasn’t obvious. But maybe they said the wrong thing. Maybe they didn’t show up when it mattered. Maybe they walked away and something irreversible happened. No one connects the dots. But they do. Every day.
They smile like everything’s fine. They help people. But underneath? They’re trying to atone for something they never confessed.
» They don’t believe they’re capable of being truly loved.
They might flirt. They might date. They might even say “I love you” like it’s nothing. But they don’t believe it when it’s said back. They think people are just being kind. Or delusional. Or lying. It doesn’t matter how good they are—it never feels like enough. So they self-sabotage. Quietly. Strategically. Like clockwork.
» They’re living a life that’s not theirs.
Maybe they took someone’s spot, figuratively or literally. Maybe they’re fulfilling someone else’s dream, wearing someone else’s name, carrying someone else’s story. They were supposed to say no. Walk away. Be honest. But now it’s too late. Too deep. Too tangled. So they pretend this version of their life is real. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.
» They’ve buried a part of their identity because it was safer.
Their queerness. Their culture. Their belief system. Their softness. Their rage. At some point, they decided—this part of me makes people leave. So they buried it. Cut it off. And now they move through life like a shadow of who they were supposed to be. They blend. They perform. But deep down, something sacred is starving.
» They still love the person they say they hate.
They’ll deny it. They’ll joke. They’ll talk sh*t with a smile. But the truth? They never really let go. And they never will. It’s in the way their voice shakes. The way they remember the smallest detail. The way they get weirdly quiet when that person’s name comes up. Love laced with bitterness is still love. That’s what makes it so hard.
» They’ve hurt someone on purpose—and never apologized.
It was calculated. Or maybe impulsive. But they knew what they were doing. And they did it anyway. Now they pretend it didn’t matter. They laugh it off. “We all make mistakes,” right? But in the quiet moments, it haunts them. They remember the look in that person’s eyes. They remember the moment they chose cruelty. And they hate themselves for it.
» They think they’re a bad person deep down.
They might be kind. Loyal. Brave. But they’re convinced it’s a performance. A mask. That underneath all the good, they’re something rotten. Unforgivable. Wrong. So they wait. For the slip-up. For the fallout. For someone to finally say it out loud: “I knew you were never really good.”
» They’re still shaped by something they pretend didn’t happen.
That thing? The trauma? The grief? The shame? They’ve never talked about it. Maybe they’ve blocked it out. Maybe they minimize it. But it’s everywhere—in the way they react to conflict, touch, silence, love. They don’t think it matters anymore. But it does. It always has.
» They dream of leaving. But never will.
Every day, they imagine packing a bag. Burning it all down. Starting over. But they stay. Because of guilt. Obligation. Fear. They smile while doing the right thing. But in the back of their mind, they’re screaming. They’ve built a prison out of choices that looked noble on paper.
» They’ve built a whole personality around keeping people from seeing who they really are.
The loud one. The chill one. The one who always makes the plans or always fixes the mess or always has a snarky comeback. It’s not fake. But it’s not all there is. They’ve decided that the real them? The soft, scared, selfish, angry, insecure them? Can’t be loved. So they keep the performance airtight. But some part of them still hopes someone will see through it anyway.
They all turned off their lights for dark skies week ☺️. I bet the sky looks lovely.
Buildings as far as the eye can see, and barely a light is on. It's not dark enough to feel eerie. Not yet.
heir to the throne x commoner dialogue and prompts
@celestialwrites for more!!
♡ "believe it or not you are worth more to me than any throne." "but you've spent your life preparing for this?" "exactly."
♡ the heir bowing to their s/o, for everyone to witness.
♡ "you should not be seen with me." "really? now why is that?"
♡ just days after their meeting, the heir already has a plan set for a second throne.
♡ "my love and loyalty to you will never falter." "what about your crown? your people?" "it. will. not. falter."
♡ the commoner ending their affair because the only way the heir can sit on the throne is when betrothed to a person of noble blood.
♡ both of them fake their deaths to ensure that they are never found out, yet they resurface to claim the throne together years later when the country is on the brink of war.
♡ there is a colour only the queen/king can wear at court (and/or) ball. so naturally, the heir sends their s/o an outfit, made from the fabric of that colour.
♡ "oh, you asshole!" "careful love, i wouldn't want to throw you in the dungeons."
♡ "i want to be the monarch i was raised to be, but it grows harder with each second i spend thinking about you."
♡ writing secret letters that they both hide around the palace.
♡ the heir gifting their s/o a key to the secret royal library that hasn’t been touched by a non-royal in centuries.
♡ “take my crown, take my title, take my heart, it has always been yours to begin with.”
♡ “for the first time in my life i was just (name), no duties, and no responsibilities. you gave me that gift.”
REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3
“write what you know” is boring. i write what haunts me at 3am.
Well obviously I can’t have chronic fatigue, that’s a real problem for real disabled people that’s diagnosed by doctors probably. Clearly I just have some sort of perpetual exhaustion issue, that is also almost certainly my fault somehow
Something I made while dealing with my own stuff and hoping drawing this would pick me up somehow. Maybe it worked.
FT my cat. His name is Mischief
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