Becoming A Writer Is Great Because Now You Have A Hobby That Haunts You Whenever You Don’t Have Time

I never really thought about it until I noticed it as a common theme in my work, but I consistently find myself drawn to wet hair as a whump detail. It’s such a small thing, but the aesthetic of a character soaked in sweat as their hair hangs in damp strands over their eyes, or a character drenched to the bone with wet hair clinging to the sides of their face? Unmatched. I can’t quite explain what’s so compelling about it, but I will be using it everywhere…

I’m a sucker for whumpees with scarred backs.

The criss-crossing lines, evidence of torn flesh and burns, layer upon layer of scar tissue built up until the original skin is essentially gone. The reveal when they take their shirt off. How it stands as a testament to their suffering. Mmmm.

Why do we say “slept like a baby” when babies literally wake up screaming every two hours?

I want to sleep like a middle-aged dad who “rests his eyes” during a Marvel movie and wakes up refreshed, confused, and ready to barbecue.

"Stop! Stop it! Get AWAY from them!" The Caretaker thrashed wildly in their binds, ropes cutting into their wrists.

The whumper didn't spare them a glance.

They only had eyes for the trembling figure in front of them.

The whumpee's knees were pulled up to their chest, eyes wide with fear.

"Get away, don't touch them! Don't fucking touch-"

"It would be better for your friend if you kept your mouth shut from now on."

I'm sorry but you are 'open minded' about cutting and not smoking or drinking? That's just another double standard! Cutting is just as therapeutic as smoking and drinking so should I get environmentally conscious and people-around-me conscious over either one WHEN I AM IN SO MUCH FUCKING PAIN

Why do people react so strongly toward cutting? To me it's an equivalent of smoking or drinking so it's just another coping mechanism. It's not that serious. Chill the hell out

yeah impaling a character to pin them to the wall is good but you know what makes it better? having to pull out the thing impaling them to save them

let’s hear it for the boy!

zander belongs to @spookyboywhump

🥺🥺

This is a writing I love from my old blog, please enjoy :)

"Whumpee! Whumpee oh thank god, are you ok?!"

The caretaker's heart broke as they saw the whumpee flinch at their voice, they looked up, their eyes stayed locked on the doorway even as the caretaker rushed to the whumpee's side, pulling them into a gentle hug.

The whumpee melted in the caretaker's embrace, "I... c-caretaker please take it off I c-can't, please," the whumpee's voice shook.

"What do you..." the caretaker looked for any restraints, but couldn't see what the whumpee was talking about, "What do you want me to take off?"

The whumpee looked panicked, their eyes were vacant, "please I can't, I can't s-see please take it off," tears began to drip down the whumpee's face.

The caretaker's eyes widened, their throat felt tight.

The whumpee wasn't wearing a blindfold.

"Whumpee, take a breath ok, it's all going to be ok."

"Please, please I- I want to see you, I want to k-know it's over- please," the whumpee took in hitched gasps between words.

"Shushhh, it's ok, I know," the caretaker pulled the whumpee back into their arms, cradling their head against their shoulder, "I'm here, even if you can't see me, I'm here. It's over."

"Please take it off," the whumpee's voice was a weak whisper.

"Whumpee, I- I'm so sorry-"

"please."

"You're," the caretaker hesitated, "whumpee there's nothing over your eyes, nothing to take off. I- I'm so sorry."

A sob escaped the whumpee's lips, "I c-can't caretaker, please. Please I can't see."

The caretaker's heart felt like it would break in half, "I know, I know I'm so sorry,"

"I- I can't," the whumpee pulled back, freeing their hands to rub at their eyes, "I can't- no, no no, please! Please they, they can't take another thing, I- I want to see you, please," the whumpee let out another broken sob.

"Come here, don't," the caretaker gently pushed the whumpee's hands away from their face, "you'll hurt yourself."

The whumpee let their hands be moved, tears streaming down their face.

"p-please."

There was nothing the caretaker could do.

they don’t tell you this, but loneliness is a knife that keeps finding you in the form of watching a father spend time with his kid, your friend laughing louder with someone else and standing in front of a grave that you should be the one in.