Whumptober 15th:"Dice Roll: Remembering"

Whumptober 15th: "Dice Roll: Remembering"

(The sampler platter of whump.)

Again, so sorry illness whump isn't my thing! Here's a random dice roll from the squick alternate list. Enojy!

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[Prompts: Forgotten | Losing Controll | Near-Death Experience]

(tw: wow sorry this is a lot - suffocation/constriction, drowning, car accident, trapped, broken bones(hammer), nightmares, amnesia/memory repression, electrocution, needles, dislocated joints, knocked out, claustrophobia, slinking car, near-death experience, panic attack, restraints, strangulation, aggressive caretakeing, manhandling, relapse(?), therapy) .

Whumpee left Therapist's office, pissed as always. This was supposed to help - to make them remember - but all they ever did was re-live useless nightmares and ridiculous fears.

"It's all important," Therapist had said. "All those little pieces help to create the puzzle. One day, one of those pieces will bring something back."

They never did. The nightmares were just fear - falling or running. Screaming with no apparent reason. No real source, only pure, unbridled terror.

"Something happened to you. You just have to remember."

Well maybe they didn't want to remember. Maybe their brain had a good fucking reason for repressing the years when they had been missing. Maybe it was just amnesia. Did it really matter?

They were fine. It didn't matter what happened.

Except…it did.

Curiosity scratched at the back of their brain constantly, picking at a locked door they knew they didn't want to open. One they couldn't help but open.

They liked to think they spent those years off traveling the world. Meeting and falling in love with breathtaking people. Scanning the horizon every morning from the back of a fishing scow, sketching the sunrise. Maybe working in a sleepy coffee shop along the river in Italy. Running marathons and writing romance novels from a cabin in Maine. Maybe even doing some high-class spy work, fighting bad guys. That one made them smile.

They wanted to pick one of those realities. They wanted them to be true, but a voice from behind the locked door whispered they were wrong. It whispered that they should forget. Move on.

Instead, Whumpee picked at it like a festering scab. Ripping back layer after layer weekly with the useless therapist who did nothing but analyze what foods they ate or how much they slept.

They slid into their car, pulling out onto the road.

Maybe they should just chose one of the fantasies. Write it down. Draw it. Make it real. That was better, right? So what if they were missing years of memories? They could make more. Write more. Manifest more. They could write about sunsets and lattes. Long walks and notebooks. Morning fog and breathtaking adventures.

That was better, right?

That would be better.

The door in their mind scratched back, and they couldn't ignore it. They flicked off the radio, pondering. Who knows? Maybe they had just gotten lost, hit their head, and spent a few years hitchhiking back home. Making strange wonderful new friends and trying strange wonderful new foods.

But that couldn't be what was behind the door.

The doctor said they had experienced trauma. Whumpee had spaced out, letting the charts and words blur as the Doctor showed them photographs and x-rays, point at random places with their pen.

It didn't matter. It wasn't polaroid cameras and hot coffee. Those stories told nothing about adventure or peace. They didn't want those stories. They didn't want to hear the doctor's clues and guesses.

The door in their mind whispered back at them, raspy and echoing. It begged them to turn away. To write the stories and keep the door pinned shut. To forget about it and-

Whumpee's thoughts were cut off as a car horn blared. Their head whipped to the side, looking for the source of the commotion. They were in the middle of a bridge. A semi rolling toward them.

Whumpee gripped the wheel, frozen as the truck crunched against their car, breaking the barrier and sending them spiraling down toward the river. They screamed.

Whumpee's head snapped back against the headrest as the nose of their car crashed into the water.

"No no no no no..."

They instinctively put the car in reverse and stomped on the gas. No response.

Obviously. So fucking stupid.

The engine sputtered out. Panic started to wash over them.

Water lapped up the windows, splashing higher and higher as they sunk down...down...down.

Whumpee pulled against the seatbelt as the car tipped forward. Their hands fumbled for the lock, shaking and pulling at the buttons. It wouldn't give.

The belt constricted impossibly tighter around them as white-hot memories seared into their vision.

Whumpee's breaths came fast and shallow. Each one bruising more against the straps. Whumper chuckled. "You're so lovely when you're breathless. Not quite there yet, though". They had pulled and pushed at the ratchet straps so they pressed further yet into Whumpee’s rips.

Panic flooded through their body as their lungs pushed hard against the straps. They kicked their feet and flexed their fingers, but nothing came close to pushing the straps away. Their lungs burned, screaming for air that wouldn't come. Their diaphragm convulsed, trying to force it in, but their lungs were cemented together, unmoving.

They tried to scream. To beg. To cry. Nothing. Their vision slowly slipped away, spinning off with the rest of the world.

Whumpee gasped against the memory.

What…What was that?? What in th-

Ice-cold water tickled at their dangling toes.

No time to think. They needed to get out NOW. Whumpee found that, for a moment, they were grateful for the seatbelt - they could still breathe even if they could feel it bruising against their ribs.

But they could only feel the ratchet straps.

No longer grateful. They need it OFF. Now.

Whumpee pushed their feet against anything they could find, heaving themselves further back against the driver's seat. Their shaking hands found the buckle again. This time, it gave away.

Relief was short-lived as Whumpee slid forward, flopping down onto the steering wheel. The water was up to their calves now.

They turned toward the window. All they could see out it was murky water. It snuffed out the light, leaving a dim, grey haze. They glanced frantically to the back seat. Those windows were almost completely covered as well.

Whumpee pulled at the door handle, shoving as hard as they could.

The water was rising faster, but the door wouldn't budge.

"Come ON!" They shoved their body against it, kicking against the console to get more leverage.

Their wrist twisted painfully against the door handle, but they didn't let up, pushing hard and harder, trying to keep their breaths steady as the world spiraled out of control. Their wet hair plastered itself to their sides of their face. They shoved again, feeling a crunch in their arm. Their wrist screamed in pain as it snapped back.

"You think you're so tough? Think you can hit back? Let's see how well you can fight when these little bones are shattered." Whumpee pulled against the ropes uselessly as Whumper brought the hammer down again and again against the back of their hand. "Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of disfiguring those pretty little fingers. Those can stay."

They screamed as fire ripped up thorough their blood. The thud of the hammer. The tiny muffled cracks of bone. Screaming. Whumper's laugh. "One down, one to go."

What the hell!? Thick air puffed in and hour of their throat. It felt thin. Was the air getting thin? Were they running out already??

No. Stop freaking out. Push.

They shoved again against the door as water pooled up to their chest, splashing against their face. The door wouldn't move. It was suctioned back. They weren't going anywhere.

Whumpee panicked in full when the water moved up above their mouth.

Move. They needed to move NOW.

Whumpee scrambled, half stepping, half swimming up into the backseat. Their trembling fingers pulled up the lock and pushed against that door. It wouldn't move. Of course it wouldn't.

Their gasping breaths echoed against the windows and the water. The car was getting smaller by the second as the waterline rose. They crouched on the back of the driver's seat as the car tipped further down.

They shoved their face up into the back window, clinging to the pod of air there. They held themselves up, grip latched into the backseat headrest, feet planted firmly on the drivers seat. Even like this, they could hardly breathe. The air wasn't enough. Too thin. Too cold.

Their body shivered against the water. What seemed cool at first now set into their bones, ice and unrelenting.

Their legs kicked involuntarily, demanding action as the water crawled up their neck. Over their mouth. They forced their face against the window as the last of the air was ripped away.

Whumpee gasped, choking up water onto the floor as icy air burned their tender, shaking lungs.

"I think you're getting better with practice. Let's try for another minute. Take a deep breath."

"N-no!" Whumper cut them off, twisting them back down into the tub by their hair. Whumpee clawed and shook. Soap burned their eyes and they thrashed, inhaling it again and again until their vision started to slide.

Whumper ripped them up, letting them splatter onto the tile this time. "I'm disappointed in you. I know you can do better."

The scene was interrupted as a muffled crack echoed through the water. Whumpee felt a hand on their shoulder, yanking them toward the now-open door. They thrashed lightly against it, trying to move back to their small bubble. The hand yanked them back by the shoulder, down into the icy water.

Whumpee screamed at they heard the sickening pop. They writhed on the ground, gripping their arm. It was wrong. So wrong. They sucked in another breath and screamed again, the pain of it ripping up their throat, forgotten against the agonizing wrongness of their shoulder. "So dramatic. I can put it right back. No need to make such a fuss."

Phantom pain lingered in the socket as they twisted away from the car, towards the hand. Whumpee floated out, barely starting to kick upward towards the light before inhaling the murky brown water. They choked on it as it filled their lungs. They gripped the other person tight, trying to scramble up them towards the air. The world went black.

...

Whumpee sputtered to life on the bank, water bubbling out their nose and mouth. They rolled over and choked and coughed, expelling the burning liquid.

"Oh thank goodness," Rescuer said. They were kneeling over Whumpee, hand still on their chest.

Whumper's hands squeezed against their throat, shoving them harder down into the concrete. "Don't fight me now, you deserve this." Their head spun as they clawed at the hands.

Whumpee rolled over, away from Rescuer. They vomited over and over onto the wet grass. Choking and gasping as sweet, sharp air filled their lungs.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Their limbs were shaking, spasming.

Whumpee shifted, trying to stand. They managed to get to their hands and knees, sitting back on their heels.

"Go on, stand back up."

The remnants of electricity seemed to dance in their shivering muscles. They tried to force their shaking muscles straight, but their knees buckled underneath them. "Fine. Crawl like a dog for all I care." Electric fire ripped through them again as their screams echoed against the concrete walls.

"Geez, are you okay?" Rescuer asked. They reached out a gentle hand. Whumpee jerked away from it.

"No. Don't flinch. Never pull away from me." Whumper's palm cracked against their cheek, leaving a tingling burn.

Rescuer pulled their hand back, tentative. Their face was soft. Their eyes were full of concern.

"Are - are you okay?" Their face morphed into Whumper's. The voices echoing in Whumpee's head.

"Doing alright, there?" Whumper chuckled, fingertips brushed gently down their cheek. "Catch your breath, I'm nowhere close to done with you."

Whumpee scrambled to their feet, skittering away from Rescuer. They turned and started running up the bank, forcing their trembling legs to move. Shoving sharp, painful air into their raw lungs.

"Wait! The ambulance is that way! Where are you going?"

"Just where do you think you're going?"

Whumpee scrambled up the hill towards the road, voices spiraling in their head. Hands gripped their arms as they tried to sprint past the crumpled vehicles on the bridge. EMTs wrestled them back away from the screams and smoke.

"Hey! Stop-stop fighting me - you're going to get yourself killed. Just take a breath and calm down."

"Shhhh...calm down. Hold still and this will hurt less."

Whumpee thrashed against them, screaming.

"I'm trying to help you!"

"This will help you learn."

"Sedate them!"

"Lights out, sweetheart."

"No!!" They screamed, thrashing as something stabbed into their skin. Whumpee pulled and scratched against the hands as their vision slipped away with the rest of the world.

They tumbled into darkness, falling headfirst into Whumper's arms.

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[My Whumptober Masterlist]

(tags: @prisonerwhump, @whumpawink, @mabledonut, @heathenwhump, @jadeocean46910, @distinctlywhumpthing, @paleassprince, @kesskirata)

Elevator whump

Still a firm believer and here’s why:

Essence of elevator whump: Trapped in a box with your worst nightmare!

The potential for public whump

Angst and fear all the way up (or down)

To elaborate, here’s some brain juice:

- Whumpee being coaxed by their arm to the back of the elevator, Whumper standing in silence next to them as more people get in.

- Shushing them, maybe a gun or knife pressed into their back.

- “Make a sound and everyone in this box is dead.” whispered just as the doors close.

- A possessive hand on their shoulder and Whumpee having to hide the fear in their eyes and fake a smile as people they know get in and greet them.

- Or Whumpee gets in, oblivious. Maybe too preoccupied with their phone or thoughts to take a look at the people in the elevator. They turn to face the doors and suddenly they feel something sharp press into their side.

- “So good to see you again, my love.”

- Whumpee getting into the elevator alone, maybe on the run, letting out a sigh as the doors close but just then, a hand or foot is jammed between the doors and Whumpee can only watch as the doors slowly reopen and they stare right in the face of Whumper.

- Also, did you mean: Whumpee frantically slamming the buttons to be able to close the doors in time. They fail, of course.

- When they want to get out on the first available floor the elevator stops, but a hand to their shoulder, or around their arm holds them back and Whumpee has to watch in despair as other people get out. All of them. Leaving them alone with…

- Or the Whumpee is riding the elevator, perhaps with friends even. And the doors open and Whumper steps in.

- He grins, stands behind them, and Whumpee has to struggle to put on a happy face, offering forced smiles at their friends’ jokes.

- If they’re completely alone, they back away, against the wall, and Whumper with a predatory grin presses in on them.

- Better yet: they absentmindedly step out of the elevator (nearly) bump into someone. And when they look up, they completely freeze.

- Sparing Whumper the trouble of having to push them back into the elevator because they’re already backing away in complete disbelief <3

- Or, other way around, they are waiting for the elevator, it dings, the doors open, and who steps out? =3 =3

Prompt I

Whumper brushed softly over whumpees bruised and scraped shoulders, studying the size, the shape, the depth of the wounds.

“Did you know that a large, widespread, superficial wound on your skin hurts a lot more than a deep, small wound as significantly more nerves are injured.”, he murmured as he examined one particularly deep spot, pressing his finger inside it, eliciting a suppressed gasp from the bound figure beneath him. Looking at the trace of blood on his index finger and rubbing over it with his thumb, he let off the wounds and started to circle the chair with slow, deliberate steps, folding his hands behind his back.

“However, the former are much safer. If you start to not have pain anymore, then you have a real problem. So when I hear you scream I know that you are fine. And of course I only want the best for you. Surely you do too.” He stopped in front of the whumpee, stepping closer, too close, bent down and stared at whumpee with cold, unyielding eyes.

„but it excites me, it teases me, you know? what happens when you have a real problem.”

Man, I’m a sucker for any whump involving a belt. It’s one of my favourite object in a whump context.

Whumper bringing a belt down across whumpee’s back, hands, legs, feet, or what have you.

If they’re feeling particularly brutal, whumper hitting whumpee with the buckle as well.

A belt being wrapped around whumpee’s neck and pulled tight, choking them.

Alternatively, belt wrapped around whumpee’s neck and used like a leash.

Belts used to bind whumpee’s wrists and ankles.

Whumpee breaking down and starting to apologize or beg whenever someone takes off their belt (be it caretaker or whumper) because they think they’re going to be hit.

Overlapping bruises in the shape of a belt buckle.

Swollen red welts in a criss-cross pattern.

A belt being put in whumpee’s mouth as a gag.

Alternatively, a belt being put in whumpee’s mouth for them to bite down on as their wounds are treated.

Belts being used as tourniquets or to hold a splint in place.

Belts used to strap whumpee to a table, chair, etc.

A belt pulled ever tighter around any body part, bruising, bursting blood vessels, maybe even cracking bone at some point.

Whumpee who ends up hating the feel of leather and the sound of jangling metal.

This hatred extending as far as anything with a strap and buckle, such as a watch, bag, saddle, etc.

Feel free to add any others y’all can think of!

Looks like you´re screwed

let’s talk about nails

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i’ve read this piece from @painsandconfusion and my evil walnut sized brain was like: idea

cw: nails, screws, needles inside body, broken ribs, broken kneecaps, blood, nail gun, begging, impalement, mild gore

• whumper taking a hammer and hammering nails (or needles) into whumpees thighs, or taking one nail and hammering it into whumpees ribs, taking it out after each rib, breaking them one by one, whumpee can’t take one breath without their whole chest hurting, the blood running over their torso (and maybe into their lungs if they take a long nail, coughing up blood?), the screams with every nail

• alternatively hammering nails into whumpees kneecaps or just smashing them without nails

• alternatively whumper taking a screwdriver and driving screws into whumpees thighs, each more painful than the last

• nail guns, shoots nails inside body parts, easy concept, much hurt, less work, also no blood because the nails are stuck very tightly into the skin, but after pulling them out, the blood would be oozing out of the wounds

• hammering nails through their hands, to pin them to the wall or to the floor

• restrained whumpee begging whumper to please take the nails out, whumper leaving them in, with every move whumpee feels the nails painfully shift

• whumper doing acupuncture with a hammer and needles, relishing in whumpees pain saying “i’ve seen people doing it in movies. are you relaxed yet, whumpee?”

• maybe infection if unclean, rusty nails are used

please add more if you have more ideas in mind, anyhoo, nails = good, i always like to see it.

@whumblr you might be into this

Introduction post

hello!

my name is A! i’m 20 and i’ve been lurking in the shadows of this wonderful community for 2 years. i’ve finally gathered the confidence to make an own account and write some stuff! i stumbled upon whump when i was 18 and since i’ve loved it. i hope my writing will be a fine addition to the absolute amazing works i’ve seen on here!

this has a special place in my heart:

• manhandling/beating

yes, please, beat them. show me some bruises. sadistic whumpers *chefs kiss

• captivity/restrains/bound

• choking/strangulation

• fainting/unconsciousness

• anticipation

yes. yes. yes! this pain will come. and there isn’t anything you can do to stop it. im a sucker for power dynamics.

nsfw is ok, gore/amputation isn’t really doing it for me. i’m here to have a fun time and escape my life beating me into the ground. if i don’t come online for some time, i’m not dead, just really busy.

~ make them suffer