I Doubt Anyone Will Really See This But I Need To Post It So Yall Can Understand The Stuff Ive Got Planned

I doubt anyone will really see this but I need to post it so y’all can understand the stuff I’ve got planned for Whumptober

“If you don’t mind, I’d really rather you let him go.”

He’d never been happier to see his new partner.  Her curly blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, she dressed in her normal uniform of dark green and black, her quiver hanging loosely from her belt, her face masked.

“You Heroes.”  Dark Arrow sneered.  “Always acting like you’re so high and mighty.  I see you’re not above torture.  Luckily, neither am I.”

She threw another knife, hitting her target once more.  This time, Endeavor dropped to one knee after Arrow’s knife found itself tearing through his patellar tendon.

Arrow ran forward to Michael’s chains, slashing through them with unparalleled accuracy.  He all but collapsed into her arms, his body unable to support him anymore.  She surveyed the damage and frowned in disgust.

“Were you trying to lose the other one?”  Arrow scoffed.  “I know I caused you to lose the first one but seriously, losing the other to spite me is going too far.”

“Oh really?”  Michael smirked.  “I thought it just landed on the edge of tasteful.”

Dark Arrow snickered.

“How touching.”  Endeavor grunted, trying to heal the wound in his knee.  “The traitor comes to the rescue of a second-rate thief.”

“I’d rather come to his rescue that yours, jackass.”  Arrow shot back, sweeping Michael off his feet.  He was so tired that he didn’t protest Arrow carrying him bridal style.

As she ran, Michael’s consciousness fluttered, missing Arrow’s nigh frightened looks at him.  But Dark Arrow was good at her job, always had been, and easily evaded capture until they were outside again.

“Where- where are we?”  Michael gasped out, as if he had been running with her.

“Middle of buttfuck nowhere.”  Arrow set him down, gently, against what he thought to be a rock wall.  “Technically, that place isn’t even on a map.  Went to three different Hero Hideouts looking for you.  You just seem to be a rare commodity to them.”

“And Endeavor called me second-rate.”  Michael proudly smiled, then doubled over coughing.

“Easy, there Nyx.  You took a hard beating.”  Arrow said, gently helping him up.

“Definitely at least four-star torture.”  Michael groaned.  “Would’ve given it five but the repetitiveness of the knives and punches got old after a while.”

Arrow forced a small smile, though Michael knew it was fake.  She was still unused to how brutal their world could truly be.

“Are we safe here?”  He asked.

“For the moment.”  Arrow replied.  “This is the best I can do.  I’ll put up a couple reflector shields but I don’t have many.  I didn’t want to carry too much and not be able to carry you.  My quiver may not hold arrows anymore but the shit it does gets heavy after a while.  I don’t have super strength, you know.”

“Then take off your mask.”  He said.  “If we’re safe here, then you don’t need to be masked around me.  We’re supposed to be partners.  We have to trust each other.”

Arrow bit her lip, as if internally debating, looked away and didn’t answer.

“Fayelin.”

Her real name caught her by surprise.

“Please.”

Fayelin’s shoulders slumped as she gently tugged the black material down her face.  With a jolt, he was reminded of just how young she was.  Without her either of her masks on, she looked her actual age of nineteen.

“You’re staring at me again.”  Fayelin scolded, blushing.  For someone who had all but grown up in the limelight, she hated being the center of attention for too long.

“Sorry.”  He said, his voice no louder than a whisper.  It seems that simple argument had sapped his entire strength.

“I’ll start treating those.  I’m no doc, but I know enough field healing in order to kickstart the process.”

“Shields first.”  He reminded her.

Fayelin cursed under her breath.  “Okay, shields first, then I’ll start on the lacerations.”

He meant to nod, to give her some words of encouragement, but the pull of unconsciousness became too strong and sleep descended like an axe.

(Don’t know how to insert line break so assume it’s there)

The cave she and her mentor used to camp out in hadn’t changed in the years since she last visited it.  It was still pretty dark, smelled damp even though there was no water, and had a very small opening.  It had been the best way he could spend time with her while still staying close to his work.  She had just been a kid then.  She wasn’t one now.

Setting up reflector shields was second nature to her, that being one of the first lessons she ever learned as a Hero.  Normally, she put them on herself so she could blend in with her surroundings, but they could easily be used to reflect the area around them.  This way, unless someone was specifically looking for the edge where the reflection ended, no one would notice that the landscape around them was simply a reflection of the world around them.  Killian had told her that no one else knew of this cave, that he had discovered it by himself, and that he had kept it secret to share it only with her.  She didn’t know if that was entirely true, but she had trusted her former mentor so she hoped she had answered Nyx’s question honestly.

She returned to find Nyx asleep, curled up against the wall, his dark hair nigh matted to his skin with blood and sweat, a frown etched into his face.  He must be in terrible pain, she thought.  So she pulled the first aid kit out of her trusty quiver and got to work.

@winedark-whump

Whumptober Day #1 “Shaky Hands”

Hey guys!!! I’m so excited for this month!  I’m gonna dedicate this one to @the-wandering-whumper because without darling Marie’s encouragement I never would’ve started this blog nor had the courage to do Whumptober.  So thanks hon, I appreciate you lots.  So enjoy some Lucifer and some shaky hands y’all.

Link to ao3 if ya wanna read it there!- https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856719

The first time he’d done this, he’d had Maze do it.  Not that he hadn’t wanted to do it, but that he didn’t think he could finish it once he started.  The physical pain had its own point to be said, but he didn’t think he could truly cut off his own wings.  He flew with them, wrapped himself up in them, he took care of them, they meant a lot to him.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to let go of the only thing he had left of his family and home, no that wasn’t a thought at all.  It most certainly not that he cared about how his angelic nature affected him, or how sometimes his wings were the only thing that ever proved to Lucifer that his father once loved him before the Rebellion.  Simply that losing his divinity was going to be painful, both on his mental state and physicality.  That was all.

He had been holding Maze’s knife in his hands for who knows how long.  His hands shook under the weight of the knife.  He could do this.  He could do this alone.  He hated his Father will unparalleled fury, he could spite him again.  Last time he did this, he had collapsed to the beach, laughing, crying and cursing his Father with every choking gasp.  So he did make sure to have plenty of his pillows available for this time.  Wings meant nothing to him, especially wings that his Father was using to try and manipulate him.  His Father couldn’t have forgiven him, as Lucifer did not ask, nor want, his forgiveness.  Especially after everything that happened with his mother.  If He couldn’t forgive His own wife, He certainly wouldn’t forgive His most rebellious son.  His Father wasn’t capable of that kind of love.

So back to the dagger.  He had to fumble a bit, but eventually he got at the top of his new wing.  The blade rested on top of his right wing.  He could do this.  He could definitely do this.  His hands weren’t shaking, they weren’t.  He wasn’t scared to cut them off himself.  He wasn’t scared to cut them off at all.  He simply knew it was going to hurt.  He hated causing himself pain, except when he knew he was getting something from it.  Maze could always spice up their bedroom activities with her knives.  It always gave him a bit more thrill.

This was not thrilling. His feathers ruffled, as if sensing what he was going to do.  He had to do this now before he psyched himself out of it.  There was no other choice.  He couldn’t keep the bloody things!  He wouldn’t allow himself to be put under his Father’s manipulations again.  He was Lucifer Mornignstar, the Lightbringer, the Adversary, the Devil himself.  He won free will.  His Father could not control him.  If Maze wouldn’t do it, if Amenadiel wouldn’t do it, if none of his humans would do it, he would.

The first strike was honestly the easiest.  His body hadn’t quite registered the pain yet, so he pulled the knife down once more.  Then the pain hit him all at once.  He couldn’t keep the scream inside him, and he dropped to his knees, sending shockwaves of pain up and down his back.  He forced himself to rip through more muscles, tendons, bones and flesh, he could feel he was almost done with his right wing.  One more ought to do it.  With the taste of blood in his mouth, his tongue in between his teeth, he brought the knife down, slicing off the right wing.  Thankfully, Lux was a club, and screams were not something that anyone could hear over the music. The knife clattered to the ground as Lucifer’s hands could no longer bear it.  The stump screamed with him, and his left wing hurt, hurt, hurt, screaming out for its twin.  Unable to take the pain, Lucifer grabbed wildly at the knife, cutting his palm open by doing so and in one long, agonizing drag, he freed himself of the curse his Father put on him.  He fell headfirst into the pillows he had arranged, and screamed.  Eventually, his tears of pain started to become tears of laughter as he felt the freedom of being without wings.  For a moment, or a week, he wasn’t sure of the time, pain and rebellion blurred together.  He was sure he spoke but he didn’t know what he said, he was sure he laughed but he didn’t know what at, he was sure he cried but whether it was pain or spite or freedom or grief he wasn’t sure.

When he did eventually come back to himself, he found Amenadiel standing over him, looking horrified.

“Brother, what have you done to yourself?”  Amenadiel whispered, as if trying not to spook his brother, his hands hovering over his back and torn wings.

“I told you.”  Lucifer hissed, unable to contain the tremors now all over his body and out of his hands.  “I wasn’t going to let him control me.”

“Lucifer you’re-” Amenadiel stopped, realizing the pain Lucifer must be in now that he was wingless.  “Come in, let me help you to your bed.”

“Brother, that’s ridiculous coming from you.”  Lucifer laughed.  He wasn’t entirely sure what Amenadiel said was funny but he was laughing all the same.

Amenadiel rolled his eyes, and gently touched his brother’s back.  When Lucifer didn’t scream, he was able to get his arms around his brother to half-walk half-carry Lucifer to his bedroom, setting Lucifer down on the bed as gently as he could.

“Get some sleep, Luci.”  Amenadiel whispered, then added as if he couldn’t help it, “Why?”

“Because,” Lucifer was just conscious of his answer before he succumbed to unconsciousness, “God has a lot to answer for and my rebellion will continue until he does so.”

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT

I’M BACK BABY!  I’M SO EXCITED!

It seems I am finally off explicit status, and get ready for some shitposting, whump posting and writing postings! Thank you to every single person who supported me, especially @captivity-whump and @justtorturewhump, for helping staff and support to recognize I am a humble whump blog.  I’ve missed you all so much, but I’ve got some good news.  I am determined to finish Whumptober this year, it’s my first year, and I don’t know exactly if I will but I’ve got some great stories lined up.  @jo-castle Every time I would want to stop and give up, I would look at your messages and keep going.  You’re amazing and I can’t thank you enough!

If anyone’s got any questions, or you decided we’re going to be friends now, hit me up!  I’m always down for someone to talk whump too!  I love you all!

New Writblr Game

Ask someone a question about their oc and the writer has to answer from the POV of the oc

Happy International Whump Day!

Once upon a time, on a whump discord server far, far away, a handful of whump community members got together and came up with an idea.

What if we had an International Day of Whump? I mean, if donuts can have one, why can’t we, right??

And thus September 12th was chosen as it was on this day in 1997 that the Stargate: SG1 character of Daniel Jackson had his first on air death. Why is this relevant, you might ask? Well it’s because fanlore tells us the term “whump” was first coined by fans of Daniel h/c stories. Since the term has its origins with this character, why not celebrate it on the day when the first of his many deaths occurred!?

I had planned a lot more fanfare for today, a whole week of celebration, actually, but real life and my health have unfortunately forced me to condense it down into one post on the day. Next year we’ll do it right, but for today I was hoping you all might take a moment to reblog this post, maybe add the day to your calendar, and then tell me a little bit about how you first discovered whump and what it, and this community, means to you. You can add a comment, reblog, or send me an ask. I’ll tag all things related to the day with “International Whump Day” if you want to avoid spam.

Whump unites us all and it’s only fitting we should have a day to celebrate it. I hope you’ll join me.

me, with a vague plot idea, 1 (one) character name, and an outline that consists of mostly question marks: