I Think Hand Trauma Is So Good In Whump Tho. Like, Burning The Palms Of The Hands, Cutting Them, Going

Some general info:

✔️ Love everything to do with jujutsu kaisen, mahito is my favorite and Nanami can step on me any day

✔️ other top j-faves are Tokyo Ghoul Tokyo Revengers High and Low franchise Death Note

✔️ I consume a lot of asian media. A LOT

✔️ whump faves: I don't get easily triggered so I love it the grosser the darker the NSFW and visceral it is. But I do read and watch fluff too. Tropes: enemies to lovers, mad scientists and labs, fantasy including vampires, dystopian, angst, heavy angst, give it to me !

✔️ other media I enjoy: Star Wars, Marvel/DC

MAY THE WHUMP BE WITH YOU 😈😌

a rather specific prompt for you :)

whumpee is/ was trained and used a a guard dog. during their time with their master they sustained an injury that causes them to not be able to fulfill their job properly anymore. still wounded, they get thrown out, chained in some allay. whumpee expects to die alone and cold, when caretaker comes along and accidentally stumbles across the abandoned whumpee. they (caretaker) think whumpee is just a regular pet and don’t realize they have a still dangerous guard dog at their feet and decide to rescue them and help them recover. whumpee has never experienced anything like this kindness, especially after becoming so useless, so (after having lost their old master) they immediately bond to caretaker as their new master, and would do anything to protect and please them

tw pet whump, amputation, abandonment, past trauma, broken bones, medical setting, caretaker new master, murder, gore, dehumanisation

"Oh, dear..." Caretaker crouched down by the shivering figure, putting the back of their hand against their forehead. They looked... half-dead, honestly, so the feverish warmth eminating from them was almost a relief. "Who did this to you...?"

The poor thing whined, and they reminded Caretaker of a wounded dog; but maybe that was just from how they were chained up. This was all so horrible.

"Okay, don't be scared. I'm gonna get you out of the alley and to a vet, alright? We'll get you all fixed up."

Another whine, and Caretaker suddenly realised there were other issues apart from the visible sickness. The pet's ankle... it was twisted in a way they'd never seen before. It was swollen, a mix of deep red and purple, bent in a way no healthy foot was supposed to.

"Oh... Oh, this is way worse than I thought, isn't it?" They immediately regretted the comment when the thing looked up at them with those wide, fearful eyes, probably expecting them to just give up now and leave them. "That's okay!" they added hastily. "It's okay. Nothing that can't be fixed! I... I hope... I'll call someone for help."

-

So they'd been wrong. Some things were in fact beyond saving, and Whumpee's foot turned out to be one of them. Amputation, prosthetics... Whumpee was handling it badly.

"I know," Caretaker soothed. "I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But it'll be better later on, I promise, the doctors know what they're doing."

Whumpee let out a soft whimper, a scared one, and Caretaker thought their heart was going to shatter even further. The pet hadn't uttered a single word yet, — maybe they couldn't? — but their face was expressive enough to make Caretaker tear up.

"I'll be here," they said gently. "Every step of the way, yeah? I'll be here for you. I'll help. We'll figure it out."

How? Caretaker didn't know. They weren't planning on adopting a pet, but... they couldn't just leave Whumpee alone after all this. They had an obligation, a responsibility.

If anything, Whumpee's awe-filled eyes just made them more determined.

-

"One foot in front of the other. Slowly. There you go."

Physical therapy was a lot, but Whumpee seemed dead set on achieving every goal weeks earlier than planned. The staff had said it would take four to eight weeks for Whumpee to be able to walk again... and many more before they fully got used to their artificial foot. They were out and about within two weeks, much to the dismay of said staff.

"They'll hurt themself," they'd said. "They should be resting."

"They're very eager to come home, I guess," Caretaker had replied awkwardly, but Whumpee had nodded along, completely serious.

So now they were walking along the corridors, Caretaker supporting Whumpee's weight less and less as they learned the ways and limits of their new life.

-

"I know it's not super fancy..." Caretaker opened the door and stood aside, motioning Whumpee inside. "But I guess it's... homey."

The pet surveyed their surroundings curiously, then turned back towards Caretaker with a bright smile. If they'd had a tail, Caretaker wagered they would've been wagging it.

It made them smile, too. "You like it?"

Whumpee nodded enthusiastically, walking over to the new pet bed Caretaker had bought just a week prior. They carefully set their belongings down next to it, — a shirt, a pair of pants, a pair of socks, and a collar — then made themself comfortable. Testing it out.

"I think we'll get along nicely," Caretaker commented absently. "I mean, I like you a lot. And you seem to like me. I don't see how this could go wrong."

-

Caretaker couldn't believe their eyes.

This couldn't be real.

Was that blood? Was that blood on Whumpee's clothes, and hands, and... face?

When the pet spotted them they immediately fell to their knees, whimpering in terror. They tried to wipe their hands on their victim's shirt, to no avail.

"Whumpee, what– what's– what's going on...?"

Whumpee was crying now, getting more and more desperate about ridding themself of the blood, as though that was the only evidence as to what they'd done. As though they could erase it all, if only they managed to erase the stains.

Caretaker walked closer, eyes wide with shock and horror. So much blood. So much gore.

Their sweet pet had done this?

"Why...?"

Whumpee scrambled to pick up some sort of equipment, struggling to hold it between bloody fingers. A lockpick, Caretaker noted distantly. They put it down on the floor in front of their feet, then quickly grabbed something else: a knife, this time. They put it next to the lockpick. Then they crawled back, flattening themself against the floor like a dog who knew it'd done something bad, whining as they waited for the verdict.

The stranger had been a burglar. Was it... self-defence? No, this had been a brutal murder.

"You're– you're a guard dog," Caretaker said softly, because they didn't think their voice could handle anything more. They got but a whimper in response. "This... Oh, dear. This is not... This is not good."

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty

More Parental Whumper Prompts

Whumper, having just finished beating Whumpee so badly they can barely move, pulling them into a hug and gently stroking their hair, knowing Whumpee is too exhausted and scared and in too much pain to fight it.

Whumpee, in pain or with a high fever or under the influence of painkillers or sedatives, instinctively grabbing for Whumper's hand as they're about the leave, the word mom/dad slipping out of their mouth before they can stop themselves.

Whumpee pleading for Whumper's help as they're tortured by an even worse whumper.

Whumper arranging for Whumpee to fall into the hands of someone worse so they'll realize just how much better Whumper is by comparison.

Whumper gently brushing and braiding Whumpee's hair, their fingers occasionally touching the bruises they left on Whumpee's neck.

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

Love the oldschool scenario of whumpee being suspended by their wrists, their feet don't reach the ground. For three days straight.

Taunted by their captors and entirely sleep deprived the entire time.

Insanely tired but still defiant.

LULLABY 3/3

Again, mention/implication of SA. Nothing graphic, as usual. Last episode! Hope you like it.

The day he was brought in, he made the whole block go silent for a minute. A murderer– that was what he was in for. Which he quietly but sternly denied every time someone questioned him. It was hard to believe him though, as he looked built to kill. Six feet tall, at least, a mountain of muscle, and a look that silenced even the worst convicts. He never needed to use his fists to gain respect from all. And fear.

For Lull, it was the latter. A dull, resigned fear. It was just another shoe in his ribs, another hand fisting his hair, another voice laughing at him.

His name was Garrett. Not that it mattered. But the name stuck with the dreamwalker, after one particular day.

Lull was limping back from to the cellblock, his hair damp from the shower. Cold water, as always, since he had found that inmates would leave him alone if he was late enough. The water left was freezing, but the situation was still much better than the alternative. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, desperately staggering forward. He had to reach his bunk before the lockdown bell, or else the guards would kill him. Not literally, that would be too merciful. But he could feel his muscles turning to cotton, his head pounding with the overwhelming need to sleep. Before he knew it, he was falling.

Hands grabbed his shoulders, his head hitting a soft surface instead of the floor. Lull flinched away, his movements sluggish, but someone held him back. He froze, meeting the other man's eyes, and immediately abandoned the fight. It was that new inmate, Garrett, towering three feet over him.

Lull sagged in his grip, going limp in anticipation. He knew how to be away, when it would happen. Hurt less this way.

But this time, the man held him up instead of letting him crumple. The former villain risked an eye contact, and met a frowning face. Bad. Bad. It was always worse when they were in a bad mood.

"Hey. You can't stand or what ?"

Lull's face did something complicated, before settling on confusion. What ? His knees were weak, but he managed to stay on his feet. Garrett's hands were still tight on his arms.

"Are you gonna collapse again? Coz the late shift guards are gonna kill you if you don't make it to the block."

As if he didn't already knew that. Still trying to catch his breath, and to keep his eyes from closing, he reluctantly accepted Garrett's help, leaning on his shoulder for balance. The corridor seemed to be moving, even though he was the one swaying unsteadily on his feet. It was only after a few steps, when the bigger man's hands stayed where they were supposed to be, that Lull started to relax. For some reason, it seemed that the other inmate was genuinely helping. However, the dreamwalker knew better than to hope. Eventually, everything always had a price.

With Garrett's help, he stumbled and collapsed on his bunk bed. The other man didn't comment, taking a few steps away, toward his own cell. Through the bars, Lull could see a group of familiar faces, hovering nearby. Their gazes were aimed right at him, their smiles sharp. Full of unwanted promises. But he was already slipping, unable to resist the tug of sleep. Once again, he would be helpless. Once again, he would wake up covered in bruises. Humiliated, broken.

The mattress bent under someone else's weight. Garrett, still there. He had noticed the other inmates too.

"Hope you don't mind, I think I'll sit here for a little while. The mattress is comfortable."

It took a few seconds for the words to register in Lull's sleep deprived brain. But when it did, his eyes widened slightly in surprise –and wariness. But in his state, there wasn't much he could do but pray, and he quickly fell into oblivion.

It was his first peaceful night in months.

When he woke up, he was alone. As usual, he checked himself up, his surprise growing. No new bruises, no sore points or body aches. Garrett had... Had actually protected him. But why ?

Throughout the day, Lull noticed that Garrett was watching him. Not the creepy kind, when someone would follow him until he couldn't stay awake anymore. Just... Watching. The others must've noticed as well, since no one made a move to approach him. That man was not someone you'd want to cross.

Lull fell asleep during unlock time, in the courtyard. One second he was awake, swaying on his feet, and the second, he was collapsing to the concrete floor. Before anyone could take advantage of it, Garrett sat down on the bench nearby. The others took the hint. Although a lot of them glared at him, muttering curses. Hovering. Waiting. They wouldn't let go of their favourite toy so easily.

It happened during work detail; Lull was sorting clothes for laundry, and Garrett was working in the workshop. Too far. Three men pushed him in a corner. They didn't bother with gentleness. When they finally left, Lull was barely conscious, his breathing hoarse and painful from the new bruises etched on his chest. He was surprised to find that's he was crying. He couldn't feel anything, numb to the world, but tears ran down his face nonetheless. His body remembered what his mind refused to.

The guards found him like this, and didn't bother with questions. They hauled him up, his legs too weak to hold him. And when they dropped him on the floor of his cell, Garrett was there. Waiting. His arms were crossed and his expression blank, but Lull could see the anger in his eyes. As soon as they were alone, he approached, and let out a sigh.

"How did you survive that long in here ?"

Lull eyed him warily, pushing himself up on shaky hands. His vision was going in and out, as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Why did you help me? What do you want from me ?"

"Nothing."

The former villain didn't believe him. But it didn't mattered. What did were the hands pulling him up with surprising gentleness, and taking him to the bunk bed. It was the last thing he felt before passing out cold.

Things changed quietly. None of them was very talkative, and it was often in silence that Lull would fall asleep without fear. Garrett didn't need any warning to catch him before the fall. At night, they'd huddle together. Then, they could speak. Just a few words, whispered.

"I'm innocent. Never killed that guy."

Lull had sleepily hummed, and nodded.

"I know."

It was all they needed. And if the former villain sometimes flinched away from his touch, Garrett never commented on it.

They knew their relationship was fragile, and could shatter at any moment. But for the moment, they were together. And that was the closest thing to happiness Lull had ever experienced. He would never dream again, but maybe he could live.

Taglist : @sausages-things @jumpywhumpywriter @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thataquaticwhumper @alyscat

@whatamidoingherehelpme @fleur-a-whump @ratsupremacy88 @whatiswhump @scoundrelwithboba

@phoenixpromptsandstuff @bacillusinfection @artfulbok @melpomenelamusa

Injury Prompts #952

Needle to the neck

Your whump word(s) of the day

"You're in the hospital. Remember?"

Aesthetic: Bear Trap

The slightest shift of pressure, a brief moment to think ‘oh shit’, before steel jaws slam shut against skin and bone and muscle and sinew.

A flash of unbearable agony as the excruciating pain starts, as they stumble and fall to one knee, as fingers hover over razor-sharp edges and breathing grows shallow.

Maybe they’re running from something, from whatever the trap was meant for.

Maybe they’re running from someone, a glinting smirk as footsteps slow to a casual saunter.

Fingers yanking fruitlessly at spring-coiled metal, low sobs, frequent glances over their shoulder to track their enemy getting closer and closer and closer.

Trapped like prey.

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four