#whumpy writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

villainousauthor · 3 months

Text

The hero wrinkles their nose at smell of antiseptic wipes, at the cold feel against their skin, as the villain prepares to draw more blood. They've lost count how many vials Villain has taken at this point.

Hero winces, trying to flinch away at the inevitable sharp pinch, and Villain digs their fingers into their arm some more. They press hard, cold hands keeping them still. "If I mess up, I'll have to stick you again." They warn, voice level. Paper crinkles under where Hero sits, the soft sound filling the silence.

Hero keeps their gaze downward, the bright florescent lights over head giving them a headache. You think with how long they've been here, they would have gotten used to the ugly, artificial glare, but they miss the sun.

They look up at Villain through their lashes, who's currently too focused on their current task to notice, eyebrows pinched together as they seem deep in thought.

"I doubt you're even certified to be drawing blood in the first place." Hero ribs, voice quiet, the words light but the humor just quite not there.

Villain snorts, as they finish and pull the IV out gently. "I've seemed to be able to do it fine all these weeks." They apply the cotton bandage to the area, securing it in place, though it's honestly not necessary, the small wound already likely healed.

Hero knows they shouldn't be trying to make Villain laugh, or trying to lighten the tense air that surrounds their every interaction. They should be attempting to escape, should be fighting tooth and nail against the strange experiments their arch nemesis insists on trying, but so many failed escapes and so many weeks without the presence of any other person has them weak for any human contact they can get.

They've almost begun to mistake the way Villain grabs their arm when taking blood, the way Villain's cold hand holds their face still when swabbing their mouth, the way they stand close when checking their vitals, as misplaced forms of affection.

It's pure delusion, Hero knows this, but they crave another persons touch so much they can almost believe it. Thinking about it too much makes their head hurt more than even the obnoxious overhead lights do.

Villain takes their silence as a sign to continue speaking. "Soon enough, I'll find the secret behind how your regenerative abilities work and then I'll be unstoppable." They say cleaning up, and placing the three tubes of blood they took on the tray to their left. Hero's head swirls as they watch the swishing of the dark red liquid.

Facing them again, still standing close, Villain's eyes finally meet Hero's and their voice softens slightly when they say this next part. "I won't have to poke and prod you so much when I do." Their voice is gentle enough that Hero wants to believe them, to trust them.

Hero licks their dry lips, voice cracking slightly. "Will...will you finally let me go once you do?" The question Hero has been avoiding asking this whole time.

The question gives Villain pause, as they seem to consider it for a moment. They step closer, placing their hands on either side of where Hero sits, bracketing them in. "I could...I probably should.." Villain's voice is whisper quiet as they stand inches away, breath fanning over Hero's ear.

"But I think prefer keeping you for myself."

#hero x villain #villain x hero #villain #dialogue prompt #writing prompt #hero #original writing #hero prompt #prompts #villain prompt #superhero #whump #sorta? i consider this to be somewhat whumpy #whump prompt #writing #villains and heroes #heroes and villains

495 notes · View notes

save-the-villainous-cat · 29 days

Text

"Gimme...just one second, okay?" the villain asked. They coughed up blood, felt it trickle down their throat. It was warm and thick and the villain truly believed they could never get used to that feeling, even if that wasn't the case. They couldn't get rid of the hope either. The hope, the desperate and dumb hope that all of this could end one day.

"You're awake..." the hero said, their voice not even above a whisper. It was sort of comical how their lips curled into a sweet smile. Their relief warmed the villain's totally failing heart. They kneeled beside them and their hand found the villain's dislocated shoulder. "I really thought this was it."

"You're way too optimistic," the villain said. They were choking on their own blood, drowning in it. It was madness.

"You're way too dramatic," the hero answered. They pushed some hair out of the villain's face. Soft fingers touched bruises and cuts. The villain couldn't tell if it was a gift or another cruelty from the universe. Seeing the hero, feeling their touch. The villain had hated them for years.

Had loathed their perfect teeth, their bright smile. Their dumb comments.

"If I asked you..."

"Yes," the hero said. "I would say no."

The villain let out a long and laboured breath. But the hero had broken into their heart of concrete, had managed to make the villain smile even on bad days.

"It would put my mind at ease."

"You would suffer," the hero said. "And I like to avoid that."

Something popped in the villain's torso and the familiar feeling of a rib snapping back into place overwhelmed them a little. They could never get rid of this curse.

"But what if I never die?" they asked. They squeezed the hero's hand as the cut on their arm healed. It was painful and even more annoying than being sliced open.

"Why won't you see this as a blessing? Think about all the things you can accomplish. All the subjects you can study. All the people you'll get to know."

Again, the hero's hand touched their cheek gently, as if the villain could break any second.

"And what about the people I will lose? What about you?" The villain spit out some blood and sat up, their body slowly getting all its functions back. "What if you grow old alone and I have to watch? Has it ever occurred to you that I want to do that with you?"

"Believe it or not but life expectancy among heroes is pretty low," the hero said, smiling sadly.

"God, then please just try it. Shoot me, cut my head off, whatever..."

"I am not going to do that," the hero said. They kissed the villain's forehead. "It isn't easy for me either. I want a long life. You don't want eternity. We don't get what we want."

"I have to protect you, then," the villain decided. "And find a way to heal like a normal person. I need to do experiments, I need to-"

"My love."

"-find a way to injure myself without healing within seconds. I need to find my weakness, I need to find something, anything-"

"My love." The villain stopped and stared at their hero. "It's alright."

"No. But I will make it alright."

That was also some sort of madness.

#get your filthy fingers OUT OF MY PIE #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #an answer for an ask #immortal villain #whumpy

250 notes · View notes

generic-whumperz · 8 months

Text

Babe, stop bothering me, can’t you see that I’m busy daydreaming about putting pretty fictional men though hell?

#I really be spacing out when he’s trying to talk to me about the housing market #like bro I don’t care about mortgage rate percentages rn #we aren’t even looking at buying a house #let me whump in peace #whump #whump stuff #whump drabble #just whumpy tings #whump blog #just whumpy thoughts #writing thoughts #daydreaming about ✨him✨#obsessive daydreaming

665 notes · View notes

a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 months

Text

I love the trope of the badass character who can face impossible odds time and time again and still walk away. The ones who can take on an entire room of guards or a league of assassins by themselves through their fighting skills, marksmanship, or intellect.

However, nothing bores me more than when this character does this and walks away without a scratch. It just shows there are no real stakes and the character is never in any real danger so what's the point?

Instead, give me a hero outnumbered 30 to 1 and who still wins, but they are shot up, bloody, bruised, and broken. Let them barely make it back to their safe house before collapsing in pain and exhaustion. Let them have to be patched up or out of commission for a while so they can heal. THEN I will believe there are actual stakes to future conflicts and there is a chance that character might not make it out the next time. Doing this will leave me on the edge of my seat the next time they find themselves in a similar situation instead of just sighing as they once again avoid hundreds of bullets without a scratch.

Without showing that they are human who aren't perfect and can actually be hurt, you lose so much empathy and emotional attachment to the character.

So, let them bleed. Let them be in pain. Let them struggle. Then let them get back up and continue on despite all of that.

That's the badass I want to see.

#this is vee #just a thought #it's one reason i enjoy whump so much #the perseverance even after being brought down is so great #i'm sure this is nothing shocking if you look at who i write for #bucky barnes #takeshi kovacs #rick flag #batman #jason todd #frank castle #matt murdock #din djarin #whump #whump thoughts #whumpy thoughts #whump tropes #whump scenario

310 notes · View notes

flowercrowngods · 1 year

Text

✨🤍 some steddie softness for @thefreakandthehair's birthday, i hope it's the very best so far! 🤍✨(please please your day comes first, read this whenever you have time and space to breathe 🤍)

Eddie is not a religious man — far from it, actually. But there are a few things that make him believe in higher powers. In angels. In destiny and luck and a love so strong it could conquer everything.

This very moment is one of them.

Stevie, soft and sleepy beside him in the back of the car as Nancy is driving, the dim light of the passing street lamps painting his face in hues of gold like the light itself favours Steve Harrington, caressing his features with the softest of shadows.

He’s beautiful. Ethereal. Perfectly angelic with his eyes closed, his whole body turned towards Eddie in the warmth of the car.

It takes Eddie’s breath away, his heart taking up space where before there were his lungs and ribcage, growing in size until he feels like he is about to burst. And even then he keeps looking, staring at that pretty face that looks so at peace with the whole world right now. Eddie has never seen Steve like this, but now he understands why people start wars. Why people defy gods and death itself to be with their one true love. Why Orpheus looked back.

He understands. Because Steve, his Stevie, warm and safe and perfectly fine in the backseat of a car? That is everything. He doesn’t even need to kiss or touch so long as he just gets to look. And be. Oh, to be at the same time that Steve is.

That might just be life’s greatest gift to him.

A tiny sigh falls from Steve’s lips and Eddie really, really might be about to burst.

“Hey, angel,” he whispers, because moments like this aren’t made for anything but hushed words, their truths too heavy, too sincere for the world to hear and keep on spinning. He doesn’t need the world to spin as long as there is Steve.

“Hi,” Steve whispers back, his eyes still closed but the smile lighting up, luring Eddie in like he is but a moth drawn to the flame.

Eddie leans in and rests his forehead against Steve’s, his hand coming up to cradle a light-kissed cheek. Steve leans into it, following Eddie’s hand like maybe they are twin stars pulling each other closer until there will be an explosion of light and creation. Steve nuzzles against his palm and leans further into Eddie’s body until they share the same breath — but still it’s not enough.

Eddie wants to say so many things now that their hands are entangled, their soft exhales mixing. But after a while he notices that Steve is humming before gently singing along to the song coming quietly from the speakers.

“Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze. Take your time, make it slow. Andante, Andante. Just let the feeling grow.”

Eddie knows the song, recognises it instantly, and his breath gets stuck in his throat once more. Because he has a secret. He loves it. He has imagined for the longest time that one day, someone would make it his song. Sing it for him, to him.

He’s never told anyone because he has a reputation to uphold and more than enough metal music to listen to, but of course Steve wouldn’t care about his secrets being secret, and just oh so casually make his deepest, most private of dreams come true.

He’s an angel, that one. A hero. Myths and fairy tales should be woven around that heart of his, folklore speaking of his name until history itself wouldn’t dare to forget. No one can convince Eddie otherwise. Not in that moment, not with Steve singing so quietly, so gently, so adoringly.

I think I love you. I think I can’t ever stop, not when I’ve seen you like this. Not when you’ve just shown me what life can be about, what it should be about. Gods, I love you and love you and love you.

That’s what he wants to say.

But all that comes out is a marvelled, “Shit, Stevie.”

It has the desired effect of a huffed breath, an even wider smile, and Steve cuddling further into Eddie’s side, eyes still closed. Eddie brushes a kiss to Steve’s forehead and feels like maybe his love can make it into the fairy tale, too.

It will. Oh, it will, when Steve finally lifts his head from Eddie’s shoulder and looks at him through hooded eyes, all soft and sleepy and safe. A moment passes like this and Eddie can’t breathe, maybe he can never breathe again — but it only lasts until Steve slowly, so very slowly begins to lean in to claim Eddie’s lips with a kiss so gentle it could bring him back from the dead.

Eddie kisses Steve back just as slowly, because in moments like this there is no rush, no hurry. There’s only them, there’s only this. Only a kiss until there is another.

And with Steve, there is always another.

Nancy smiles as she is taking the long way to Steve’s house, rounding Loch Nora twice because she knows how comfy Steve gets in cars at night when he doesn’t have to drive and there is soft music playing.

Eddie kisses her goodbye on the forehead, fully aware of what she’s done. He doesn't tell her about the sun and the myths and all the wars he would start for Steve.

Nights like this are not meant for telling anyone about them. They can hardly be believed as it is. They can only be lived, hand in loving hand.

#steddie fic #steddie #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #dio words #hi lex happy birthday i hope you like this bit of incoherent softness i hope you like the sleepy feeling in the back of a car at night #when all the lights go whoosh you know?? with some music? idkidk but writing this was fun anyway :D #also because sincerity is for tumblr tags let me just say thanks again for being in my dms sometimes and listening to my whumpy rambles #here you have some fluff to make up for it :D no but seriously you deserve nice things so i'm happy to see you getting some today 🤍

1K notes · View notes

the-forsaken-princess · 19 days

Text

#whump #whump community #whumpee #whumper #whump writing #whump idea #whump things #whump poll #tumblr polls #whump stuff #blunt weapons #blunt trauma #whumpy things #whumpy stuff #whumpy thoughts #random polls #polls #tumblr poll

144 notes · View notes

whumblr · 26 days

Text

Sometimes, all you need is one full-grown man, backing another full-grown man against a wall...

#in whatever context you like #i like my context whumpy :3 #whump #whump tropes #cornered whumpee #angst #whump community #not at all related to the upcoming zayne drabble no no #my writing

97 notes · View notes

artwhumpersanonymous · 23 days

Text

Welcome to Art Whumpers Anonymous!

AWA is an 18+ discord server intended to be a space for artists of all levels, styles and mediums to come and share art, seek critique, share OCs and talk about whump in a community setting! We also run weekly and yearly events.

Additionally, we welcome those who are writers/hobbyists/lurkers/just testing the waters with art, as well as offer a space for OC threads, writer's talk, sfw/nsfw roleplay seeking/playing, commission/trade seeking and sprinting, among others.

The server is 18+, and has adult channels and discussions. Sorry kiddos, but unfortunately any minors will get banned!

INVITE:

DM FOR A LINK. Blog MUST have age in bio.

FAQ below the cut:

Who are the mods?

@coyotehusk @demondamage @sunshiline-writes and Ev (no tumblr)

Can I join if I don't have an active whump blog?

By all means!

What if I don't make art but still would like to be able to check out the art there?

Though AWA is focused on being an artist community, we do encourage anyone to join.

I want to get better at art. Can this server help with that?

The AWA offers a crit space!

Why is the server 18+?

The AWA mods wanted to create an adult space where adult topics could be engaged with without worrying about censoring for the sake of minors. We do ask that explicit content stay within their respective channels, but otherwise try to cultivate a nonjudgemental environment.

What events do you do?

AWA currently is running an OC Trade Event, as well as a weekly member spotlight DTIYS. Anyone in the server is free to participate.

I have another question you haven't answered here?

Feel free to drop us an ask or DM.

#whump #whump art #whump community #whump discord #whump art discord #whump artists #whumpblr #whumpy stuff #whump server #whump rp #whump writing

87 notes · View notes

blackrosesandwhump · 7 months

Text

How to Whump Your Hero (or Villain)!

For those times when you have the perfect whumpable hero or villain and don't know what to do with them. Use this generator to get ideas!

You have your character. What do you use to whump them?

Axe

Bandages

Barbed wire

Blindfold

Branding iron

Cage

Chains

Club

Coffin

Collar

Dagger

Drugs

Duct tape

Fishing line

Gag

Garrote

Gibbet

Handcuffs

Hatchet

Knife

Manacles

Operating Table

Oxygen mask

Pistol

Pitchfork

Plastic

Poison

Rapier

Rope

Scalpel

Scythe

Spear

Straightjacket

Stitches

Sword

Syringe

Taser

Whip

Using this random number generator, for example I get #5 Branding iron. Time for some painful branding for my poor villain!

Happy writing!

217 notes · View notes

jamiesfootball · 17 days

Note

i would LOVE to see what you do with “when will you learn?” for the prompt drabbles MWAH

All Rebecca had texted her mother that morning was, "Hope things are well [heart emoji]."

And then this shit.

"Again?! Mother, that's the third time this month."

"You know your father. He just gets a bit whimsical when things are going well."

"No. He's trying to buy you back. That's what he's doing."

"Well, they've all been lovely gifts!"

"Of course they are, mother. Because he's a miserable, shriveled up cock who thinks he can buy your affections because you let him get away with it."

"I'm not naive, Rebecca. I know exactly what kind of man your father is. You're the one who seems to need the reminder. Honestly, Sausage, when will you learn?"

"Argh!" Rebecca smashed at the middle finger emoji, the frustration only growing when she hit a pink heart instead and her handbag slipped out of her arms. "Shit!"

"Um. Everything alright?"

Rebecca swiveled on her heels; her coat slipped off, fluttering to the ground to join her handbag.

Standing next to his car, Jamie Tartt watched wide-eyed as his boss made a silly little fool of herself.

Perfect.

"Here, I can get that for you," he offered, already jogging towards her before she could respond.

Rebecca closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Thank you, Jamie. Sorry, this whole morning has been a disaster."

"Not a problem," he insisted. He picked up her coat and, in an oddly solicitous gesture, gave it a little shake before holding it and her handbag out towards her with a formal, "Here you go, Ms. Welton."

"Rebecca, please," Rebecca corrected out of habit. She shuffled the items in her arm, trying to figure out how to free a hand. She had her keys, her scarf, a briefcase-styled handbag that she hadn't had the time to swap out that morning but that didn't work with the outfit she had on, her gym bag because Keeley insisted they move Pilates to after lunch this week, a to-go cup she'd impulsively asked the driver to stop for-

Her phone dinged. She jumped, nearly dropping the whole lot of it on the ground. "Shit."

"Do you need to get that?" asked Jamie. As if anticipating standing in for her coatrack, he carefully clutched her coat and the handbag that did work with her outfit against his chest. It did not match his iconography at all.

Rebecca waved him off. Flicking her phone over to silent, she complained, "No, no. My mother's just lost her fucking mind this morning."

She attempted to juggle everything again. Eventually, she noticed the silence. When she looked up, she found him staring at her uncomprehendingly.

The thing was that between Keeley's love of girl talk and the promotional materials Jamie regularly did for the club, Rebecca had an entire encyclopedia of knowledge about him stored in her head that she'd never even asked for. Jamie Tartt. Richmond's newly returned striker. Debuted at eighteen. Preferred whites over reds, evening showers, and knew a surprising amount about high-end cars. He also, somehow, regretted none of his tattoos.

It just felt like she already knew him.

Meanwhile back in reality, they'd only spoken a handful of times, and most of that had been contract negotiations and welcome schmoozing.

Probably not a good icebreaker then- maligning one's own mother at half-eight in the morning.

"Not that I speak to her like that," said Rebecca, the need to defend herself overriding any foot-to-mouth filters. "She's just been going through a rough patch with my father, and I think she's being stupid."

Well done, Stinky.

"Right. Um." He opened his mouth. Closed it. Held his arms out and asked, "Do you want help carrying all this in then?"

Gratitude filled her chest at the change of subject.

"Yes. That would be lovely, thank you."

Jamie smiled, lips and opinions kept tightly to himself. He popped off ahead of her to grab the door. With one more glance down at her phone, Rebecca found that at least one heart had flung free, sailing itself into her mother's waiting arms.

Her mum had sent one back in return.

The walk up to her office passed in relatively painless silence. She'd always assumed -- from the everything she knew about him -- that Jamie would be more of a talker. But then in the handful of months since he'd returned to Richmond on a permanent basis, he'd made himself eager to please and keen not to make waves with anyone whose name wasn't Roy Kent.

This was bad news for Rebecca, who personally could have used a small wake to clear the embarrassment lingering in the air. Where was Ted when you needed him?

Driven by mad compulsion and lack of Lasso, she found herself volunteering, "Really, I normally get on with my mother."

"It's alright, Ms. Welton. You don't have to explain anything to me," he answered. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Then with a small grin, his eyes flicked towards her. "Besides, I wouldn't want to be judged on how I talk to my parents either. Doesn't make sense to judge anybody else on how they talk to theirs, you know?"

"Ooh, I like that. That's practically wisdom." She offered him her own commiserating smile. "I take it you don't get on with yours?"

Jamie shifted like he was about to put his hands in his pockets, only to remember at the last moment that he was actively carrying stuff. He settled for a half-hearted shrug. "I do with my mum, yeah. When I see her, that is."

"Does she live in Manchester?"

Jamie snorted. His eyes lit up. "Always. She'll never move either. Won't even let me buy her a new house or nothing. I tried to surprise her with a new car a while ago, and she asked me how I thought I'd be getting back to London with two cars."

"She sounds like a firecracker."

A fond smile broke out across his face, only to be reeled back in, dulled down into something wistful. "Yeah. She- yeah, she's great."

Without any flourish, he stepped ahead to open a door for her. She could see what Keeley meant when she described him as 'thoughtlessly sweet.' When he wasn't trying to push people's buttons, he was easy to like.

Not that he'd ever tried to push hers. Oh, no- she just hadn't liked him because Rupert had liked him.

Her heart stirred. That kind of behaviour she wasn't proud of anymore.

Pushing down the emotion knotting in her throat, she asked, "Does she have any plans to come see you play at any of our upcoming matches?"

"Nah," Jamie huffed. "No plans for any upcoming matches, no."

"Well then perhaps you should invite her." When he turned towards her with a question written in his furrowed, handsome face, she elaborated, "You know we always have spare tickets set aside for friends and family."

"I do know that, yeah." His eyes darted away from her. Some of the excitement faded from his expression. "Really, I appreciate the offer, but she doesn't come out to my games in Manchester either. She's good with catching me on TV when she can."

All signs indicated that she had hit a sore spot. She shouldn't interfere. Really, that would be the height of hypocrisy- her telling anyone what they should or shouldn't do about their parents. But with her hand gripped tight around the heart in her phone-

She was trying to do better.

Her mother had chosen gladly to stay in the ivory tower her father built. Rebecca might not be able to talk her into coming down, but perhaps she could convince Jamie not to leave closed a door that served him better open.

So she pressed, "How about you invite her to our semifinal match at Wembley?"

He froze up next to her.

"I know that we're playing against your old club, but really, it's a huge accomplishment for the team to have made it this far, and we wouldn't have done it without you," she told him bluntly. His ears caught pink. Emboldened, she continued, "And even if she doesn't care for football, I'm sure she'd love to see you. You can make a special occasion of it. Treat her to a night in London. I know two weeks is rather short notice, but I'm sure Higgins can help arrange some wonderful accommodations-"

"That's not going to happen," he cut her off sharply.

No. No, it wasn't a door at all. Rebecca knew that icy chill. For more than five years, she'd wake to find it haunting the cracks of her reflection in the mirror. Attention focused his straight ahead, not from awkwardness at the situation but in pure dismissal. Every one of Jamie's expressive features was schooled in position of bland indifference, a perfectly sculpted shell made out of a person.

Tower or not, he dawned his armour all the same.

"My apologies," she spoke softly. "I shouldn't have pushed."

They continued their walk up the stairs in silence.

When they arrived, he held up her coat and bag and asked in a nonchalant tone that bordered on boredom, "So where do you want these, then?"

It was exactly the attitude she'd expected from him at the start. Disappointment crawled into her chest and made a home.

"Right there on the tree by the door is fine," she sighed.

His brow furrowed. "Right there by the what- woah." He took a step back, eyeing her coat rack tree up and down appraisingly. "Nice. That's fucking mint, that is. You've got good taste."

A sharp laugh escaped her. "Why thank you. I happen to think so as well."

He hung her bag up. Then, gingerly, he arranged her coat on the other, smoothing out any wrinkles.

Guilt and care made for a strong mix at half eight in the morning. It would take a crueler person than her to leave things on such a sour note when he'd been nothing but darling company before she opened her mouth.

Willing to make a fool of herself one more time, Rebecca called out before he could leave- "Jamie."

He halted, already halfway out the door.

"I- apologise, if my earlier remark made you uncomfortable. I truly didn't mean for it. I only meant to say that-"

She took a step towards him. He stepped back, one foot out of the office.

Her heart felt positively chilled.

"The door is always open," she finished, defeat numbing her ears to her own pitch. Nonetheless, she perserved, determined to say her part even if the wind stole it away. "If you ever do change your mind, talk to Higgins. He'll see to it that she's treated like a VIP. Anyone important to you is important to this club."

A shadow crossed over his face; some dark presence moving in the tower just out of sight.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said cautiously. Then, as simple as snapping his fingers, he closed back up. The armour latched shut, and in it's place was the usual cocky arrogance -- the one she found herself growing reluctantly fond towards. He gave her a wave. "Thanks, Ms. Welton. You've been a help."

She frowned. Gathering the only name she'd never shared with disappointment to her chest, she shouted after him, "It's Rebecca!"

He was already gone, the sound of his footsteps on the stairs the only response.

#please someone take this away from me #I started this before I got sick and since then I don't know if I've recovered enough to word correctly #anyways #here's wonderwall #and by wonderwall I mean #Rebecca and Jamie have a brief discussion about mums #(while dads linger in the shadows)#rebecca welton #jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #writing prompt #technically #whump prompt #thought nothing super whumpy came from it #whoops

55 notes · View notes