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When whumper reaches out to touch a bound and gagged whumpee’s face but they flinch away with a small, muffled sound.

Whumpee is dying, nothing can stop it anymore. Instead of a goodbye - when Whumpee closes their eyes for the last time, when they take their final breaths, when their hand in Caretaker's goes limp - Caretaker whispers "good night."

Weapon Prompt 5

Numbing Drugs

Whumpee fights till the very end, throwing themselves or limbs at the multiple versions of whumper they are seeing until their mind comes to putty

They no longer have to be restrained anymore, in exchange for the lack of body aches, the mind aches instead

Whumper can bathe Whumpee, but they better watch carefully or Whumpee will unintentionally drown themselves.

Whumpee can come upstairs, not on the furniture, but on the floor, on their knees, while Whumper pets their head or hair.

Disobey, why? Everything was so much harder when their mind was clear, why fight the chasing pleasure sensation.

Whumper can do anything to whumpee. Anything....

The drugs are leaving Whumpee's system, and they wake up in Whumper's arms, the panic?

Later Whumper teases them with all the pictures and videos of what they had done over the lost time, Whumpee is more humiliated than ever

Their voice so dizzy and strained, mumbling nonsense, promising things that they would never be able to keep. Just think of the month and months of gaslighting Whumper could do over just one lost day.

Whumpee wants more drugs, they would rather not remember or feel the things Whumper does to them. (Once they want the drugs though, once they stop hating them and fighting them, Whumper will never give them back.)

Withdrawal Symptoms

EEEEEE I would love to make a request!!!

How about a Whumper that sees Whumpee as this fragile little thing that needs to be secured somewhere safe? Dehumanizing them by seeing them as some precious doll rather than a person with choices and freedom.

-the 5 croissant anon

✨️🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐✨️

Happy to answer this for you, Anon! I'm getting gilded cage type vibes :D

Please enjoy!

Warnings: captivity, dehumanization, drugging, cage, gilded cage

"You are such a tiny, lovely, little thing," Whumper cooed as they entered Whumpee's room. Whumper had done everything they could to secure the room such that Whumpee couldn't fall and hurt themself. Couldn't find something to hurt themself with. And couldn't get out because they might get hurt.

"Let me out of here," Whumpee said from the bed. It was all they could manage. Whumper had drugged them hours ago so they stay in bed. Whumper didn't need to restrain them to keep them from trying to escape.

But still, they wanted out.

"You can't leave. This is your home! I'm going to take excellent care of you," Whumper said with a smile. They held up an antique brush. "You are the most beautiful doll I've had yet. And your hair is so lovely."

Whumpee wanted to say something. Wanted to shout and try to hurt Whumper. But they simply didn't have the energy. Whatever drugs Whumper had injected them with were strong. "'m not a doll."

Whumper chuckled. "But of course you are, precious! And the best one in my collection might I add." Whumper sat on the edge of the bed, pushing Whumpee onto their side. Whumper ran their fingers through Whumpee's tangled hair, yanking hard.

"OW!" Whumpee shouted.

"And this is exactly why I need to brush your hair! Dolls' hair gets so easily tangled. I'm going to brush it, curl it, and tie it back. You'll be so pretty."

Whumpee groaned. They hated every moment of this.

"And then after that we can put you in the new outfit I bought. Won't that be nice?"

Whumpee closed their eyes. They didn't want to see Whumper's sick joy. Didn't want to see Whumper brush their hair and dress them. And most of all, Whumpee didn't want Whumper to see them cry.

Forest setting: whump in the woods

(army/scout, fantasy vibes)

Content: mild violence, restraints

Whumpee wakes up to a sword at their throat-- they close their eyes to just imagine this isn't happening for one more second

Getting dragged by the feet over sticks and stones, making gashes up whumpee's back and arms as they squirm and cry out

Whumpee getting tied to a tree and having to stay standing because there's thorns or obstacles at the bottom.

Trying to maintain their dignity by lifting their chin as they rest their head against the tree they're tied to

When that pose forces the bob of their throat as they swallow to be very visible (bonus: looking side to side to keep from crying)

A torch sparking and flickering as it's held a little too close to whumpee's face, whumpee pulling back as far as they can and squinting to protect their eyes

Tied up and bargaining "you look like you're having a little trouble with that fire. Sure would be nice if there was someone around that knew how to do that. Too bad the only ranger here is tied up."

Brigands. Whumpee gets caught, beaten up, manhandled, groped all over for valuables, left stripped and bloody in the woods

Army stuff--scouting and getting CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY (honestly this was my childhood favorite). That sinking feeling as whumpee's face mashes into pine needles under the knee of a soldier

Being up a tree hunting or hiding out, and whumpee's enemy camps below and instead of coming up after them, they start to chop the tree down. Cue a yelling match of "get down!" "Only if you promise my safety!" "Nope!" Chop.

Falling out of a tree and hitting the ground on their back, knocking the wind out of them (especially if then, they open their eyes to see they're surrounded by grinning enemies and just groan)

Whumpuary 2024 Day 8

8. (Jan 15-16) Muffled Screams / Hostage / "You look awful" 

cw captive whumpee, hostage, bound/gagged, defiant whumpee, intimate whumper 

“Your screaming is really starting to get on my nerves.” 

Whumpee’s eyes narrowed into a poisonous glare. It was kind of cute, really—those big doe eyes shooting daggers at Whumper. As if there was anything they could do while tied to the chair. They made another angry, muffled noise behind the gag that sounded like it was supposed to be a sentence. 

“What was that?” Whumper teased, stopping in front of Whumpee and smirking down at them. “I can’t understand you, honey.” 

Their hostage screamed again, pulling uselessly at their restraints. This was fun already; Whumper wondered how much more fun it would be if the little spitfire could talk. 

They circled behind the chair and began untying the gag, shushing Whumpee when they flinched away. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet, anyway.” 

Whumpee jerked their head away as the scarf was pulled from their mouth. “Untie me right the fuck now!” they demanded. 

“Fiesty,” Whumper commented with amusement. They ruffled Whumpee’s hair before walking leisurely back in front of them. “You certainly are brave—or is it reckless, maybe? Don’t you know you’re my hostage?” 

“If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already,” they growled.  

“I don’t want to kill you. But there’s other ways for me to shut you up. Teach you to obey.” 

“I’m not afraid of you.” Still glaring, still struggling, but the poor thing looked exhausted. Whumper could see the tired look in their eyes, and the carefully guarded fear. Their clothes were dirty and rumpled, hair messy, and a bruise was forming on one of their forearms. 

Whumper raised an eyebrow. “You look awful.” 

The comment earned them an annoyed huff this time. “You just kidnapped me, how am I supposed to look?” 

“Listen,” Whumper said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose. “I’m just waiting on your guys to give me the money, okay? And then I'll let you go. So just chill the fuck out until then.” 

“Untie me.” 

“What, do you think I'm crazy?” Whumper asked. “No, you’re staying right there, safely restrained, until I'm done with you.” 

Those big, doe eyes looked up at Whumper, imploring now rather than defiant. “Please?” 

“I’m not falling for that.” 

“Worth a shot,” Whumpee said with a shrug. “Just so you know—as soon as I get free, I’m gonna kill you.” 

Whumper laughed. They placed their hands on Whumpee’s wrists and leaned over them, pressing a gentle kiss to their cheek despite Whumpee’s protest. With a grin, they murmured, “Oh honey, I can’t wait to see you try.” 

i hope u dont mind i go to you for whump ideas !! do u have any ideas/prompts for a living weapon/forced soldier(?) type thing👀

I certainly do not mind! I do love making prompts.

This is basically a whole genre of whump, so this will be long and I'm just getting started honestly.

💥 Living Weapon Whump 💥

Whumpee is forced to kill - this is kind of the heart of the trauma. How do they deal with it? Do they blame themself? Do they hate the ones who did this to them? One way or another, they have to live with terrible memories of what their own two hands have done.

...Or maybe they don't live with the memories. Whumpee dissociates heavily and perhaps even deals with amnesia from things they can't bear to face.

Dissociation overall is important. To act violently and efficiently in a fight, when you don't want to act, requires separating emotions from actions and becoming distant. When whumpee gets hurt, or sees something horrifying, they don't respond. They're calm. Too calm.

Self-hatred. Viewing themself as a weapon, only good for killing and incapable of love or kindness. Unworthy of having basic human needs met.

If the training started young, whumpee was raised in isolation, so they struggle to understand basic social cues, pop culture references, and just how to act normal. They're very nervous around people.

This can also have other effects on how they socialize and on their personality. Maybe it wasn't safe to have empathy for others if everyone around them was getting hurt and killed regularly, so they lost touch with empathy. Maybe any mistake or sign of weakness would lead to punishment, so honor became crucial.

They're probably going to have an unusual relationship to physical touch. They've mostly only been touched in violent ways, so they'll either be touch starved or touch averse. They flinch when someone moves suddenly. It takes a while to learn that touch can be positive. Maybe sparring and playfighting is one of the only ways they feel comfortable touching other people - or maybe it's something they never want to do with people they love, because it's connected to too many bad memories.

Whumpee expects to be hurt and thinks it's normal. They get into bad relationships, difficult jobs, etc. They don't take care of their health. Why? Because their suffering "doesn't matter." They're just a tool.

Maybe whumpee is conditioned to respond to a code word. When they hear that word or phrase, they start killing anyone around them indiscriminately until another code word (or passing out, or something else) snaps them out of it.

If they can't control when they'll become dangerous (either because of a code word like that, or because they get violent during PTSD triggers, or just because they don't trust themself), maybe they try to incapacitate themself or lock themself up. Maybe they get thrown into prison or an institution on purpose, to protect their loved ones. Maybe they run away.

Maybe whumpee has permanent physical alterations because of their training. Maybe they were branded or tattooed. Maybe they have cryogenic implants or embedded tracking devices. Maybe they've sustained injuries that now result in chronic pain.

Whumpee faces trial for things they were forced to do, things beyond their control. But maybe they blame themself completely. Or maybe they don't, and they're enraged to be in this situation.

I could continue this list for days honestly haha, this is one of my favorite tropes. Now I want to do a separate one focused on living weapon comfort...

I would like to highlight this chat response to “Remember Them” cutting out in the livestream

Whumptober Day 3: Impaled

The bloody trail leading up to the whumpee who is curled up against a wall. The line of blood coming from the corner of their mouth, which grows with every painful cough. Their hands slick with blood, pulled in protectively towards their abdomen. The wound that they can barely comprehend through their haze of pain. The metal rod jutting out below their ribs, pushing open muscle and skin. The infections that come with open and unhealed injuries. If only they could stop shaking...

The long awaited pt2 to the pneumonia/intubation Whump post (this one)...

Caretaker's glad Whumpee's so out of it from all the meds they're on. If they were more aware, they'd likely be terrified.

After all, the equipment that the doctors are pulling over on carts, laying out on the sheets, is enough to make Caretaker feel nauseous- they keep eyeing the metal device the doctor checks over, the one that muted whispers have denoted as the 'laryngoscope'.

They sit beside Whumpee's bed (they're allowed to for the time being, until Whumpee's actually asleep and the real procedure has to begin), holding the hand that hasn't been invaded by a cannula site. A nurse is positioned at Whumpee's other side already pumping them full of drugs that have Whumpee drifting, eyes open but barely there. Caretaker strokes their hair, giving them a wobbly smile as yet another dose of something or other is pushed into Whumpee's cannula.

"I'm right here, whumpee. I'm right here with you, sweetheart. Just try to relax."

The latter message is more for themselves than Whumpee, if they're honest. They're the one with a racing heartbeat- Whumpee's is slower now, as indicated by the dull beep-beep of the monitor they're hooked up to. Their breaths are slower too, so shallow that if they weren't already due to be intubated, Caretaker would be slamming on the emergency button.

"Propofol's going in now." One of the doctors says. Caretaker knows enough to understand that this means sleep, for Whumpee, is imminent.

Sure enough, within seconds of the syringe's plunger being pushed down, a glaze enters Whumpee's eyes, the lids becoming heavy. They open their mouth, tongue darting out to wet chapped lips for a moment as if they want to speak, but Caretaker, unshed tears in their eyes, shushes them gently.

"Hey, just sleep now, alright? Everyone's looking after you. Sweet dreams, Whumpee. Night night."

Whumpee's glassy gaze fixes on Caretaker's, narrowing and narrowing as their eyes drift closer to being closed until...

Out.

Caretaker leans forward, lower lip trembling slightly, and kisses Whumpee on the forehead, just as the doctor steps up behind them.

"Alright, we're gonna get started now. it's probably easier for you to wait outside and-"

"No." Caretaker interjects, tears nearly spilling over. "Sorry, no, I- I need to be here. I won't... I won't get in your way, I promise, I just- I need to be here for them."

And so they remain. They remain when the doctors place the mask over Whumpee's face, murmuring to each other about sats and correct timings. They remain when the principle anaesthesiologist brushes a fingertip below Whumpee's eyelashes, checking for movement and finding none. They remain when the same anesthesiologist stands behind Whumpee's head, removes the mask and tilts Whumpee's chin towards them, gently pulling open their mouth and sliding the laryngoscope in.

The blade slips into place too easily, Caretaker thinks. there's too little resistance. Whumpee should be gagging, thrashing about, screaming for help, but instead they lay unconscious and unmoving as it's driven deep into their throat, pushing their tongue out of the way to give the doctors a clear view of their vocal cords.

"Tube." the anesthesiologist says tersely. That long snaking tube, already lubricated, is placed atop a gloved palm.

Caretaker is tempted to look away as it's inserted, but their eyes are fixed. They watch as it's threaded past the laryngoscope, through the opening of the vocal cords that only the doctor can see. They watch as it slots fully into place and the anesthesiologist adjusts it, leaving it to rest against Whumpee's lower lip for only a moment before the cuff is inflated and the ventilator is hooked up to it instead.

And as the circuit is completed, Caretaker would think Whumpee dead- their eyes are closed, everything is so still, and whenever the tube needs a slight adjustment, they're floppy beneath the touch of the adjuster. Only when Caretaker looks closer do they see the continual, regular fogging of the tube with each assisted breath Whumpee takes- a sign that they're living, at least.

The anesthesiologist glances over at the screen, which to Caretaker looks merely like a smattering of numbers and wave forms.

"We've got N tidal CO2. Everything's connected. Secure the tube and continue to monitor."

With that, they step away, their primary task complete, and a nurse steps in instead- already equipped with an ET tube holder. Caretaker watches them gently press one of the sticky pads against Whumpee's cheek, then moving to the other cheek to apply the other pad. Between them, the tube is secured in place, and at last Whumpee is... Whumpee is...

Caretaker doesn't even realise they've moved to the bedside until they shakily lower themselves into the seat there, listening to the wooshing of the ventilator and the beeping of so many monitors.

Whumpee is... sick. really sick.

They've known it for a long time, of course, but seeing Whumpee intubated, sedated in an intensive care unit, their cheeks pale, sweat beading on their brow... it hammers reality home even further.

Home.

Whumpee isn't going to be going home for a long while yet.

Ooh, one of my favorite tropes. Smack your smart characters around until they're so stunned they're temporarily useless.

incapacitation

content warning

drugs that make a character woozy and disoriented. slurring words and falling slack, everything too heavy and confusing and muffled

blown pupils, wandering eyes, breathing too much or too little. sweating, shaking, puking, so limp and pale it’s almost like they’re dead

fevers so high a character's mind just turns to mush. glossy eyes tracking the ceiling, listless and unaware until eventually there's sweat sticking all over the sheets and they start mumbling some vague responses to caretaker's questions

tranquilizer dart that brings a character down all at once. one sudden jerk or look of confusion, not enough time to glance at it much less pull it out before eyes are rolling back and they collapse into the dirt

tranquilizer dart that comes on slowly. pulling it out and running and running until each step becomes too uncoordinated, stumbling or getting dragged along by a teammate until even their begging to stay awake, let's go, becomes hazy and distant

struck so hard that everything rings in one ugly roar. staggering or falling, told to sit down, just stay down. so confused and lost, repeating the same questions and forgetting the answer over and over and over again

character so messed up they struggle to follow any part of the conversation. everything too heavy and confusing and muffled, just useless and incoherent and completely oblivious to the situation

nervous prodding or pleading by caretaker, begging them to just stay awake or focus

jostled around by captor, told to get the fuck up and follow orders, easily manhandled around and restrained

mumbling nonsense and spilling secrets. stoic characters without any masks, so confused and broken and vulnerable, slipping and powerless in every sort of way

"you're okay, i promise you're okay"

“ah, shit. you’re a mess—”

“I guess you won’t remember this anyways…”

gaze drifting and blank, too faraway to track anything caretaker/captor is saying. nudged and prodded and pleaded at to no avail, just incoherent and out of it

too weak to move. beaten absolutely senseless or bleeding all over the place, a character just hurting and spent beyond means and sprawled flat against the ground

getting dragged along or stepped on, pinned down as if they're in any state to go anywhere

hypnotized and stunned into mindlessness. repeated mantras and rewired thoughts, a character made pliable and blank and used like a puppet

paralyzed but fully aware, left slack and useless and desperate with limp muscles and depressed breathing. assumed dead and abandoned, grieved over or dumped aside like a corpse, forced to watch and unable to do anything

poisoned and just getting worse and worse. teammates desperately looking for a cure while character deteriorates, puking and passing out and getting high fevers, hallucinating and begging for relief

characters taken out of commission when they're otherwise the strongest one. exposed to a weakness, given magical restraints or cuffs with neural suppressors to keep them docile, targeted and taken out

vertigo taking a character side to side, brought down and useless

Give me Caretaker bridal carrying a weak Whumpee who is desperately trying to stay conscious…Whumpees arms are around Caretakers neck and their head is bobbing up and down against Caretakers chest.

And then suddenly, all at once, Caretaker notices Whumpee somehow feels heavier. Caretaker looks down at Whumpee just as Whumpee’s arms fall limp and their head flops backwards. And Caretaker has to drop to the ground both out of shock and panic as well as to check that their precious cargo is still breathing and to recollect Whumpees deadweight limbs to their chest before they stand back up

🥺🥹

sooo, I'm literally IN LOVE with Intoxicating Fear, but... more choking whump pretty please??

omg I'm literally so embarrassed to be saying this but I am OBSESSED with that tie scene between Kit and Ambrose, and just anything more like it... omg gimme!!

Thank you so much, your work is so, so appreciated by all of us!! Lots of lovee xoxo

KIDNAPPED

Anon! Thank you for the ask and nice words, it made me smile! But, fret not, You are not alone, I love choking scenes too there is something so - whumpy - about them. It's not Kit and Ambrose again, but I hope you enjoy this drabble :)

TW: choking, restraints, bound whumpee, choking described, gagged whumpee, collared whumpee, blindfolded whumpee, terrified whumpee, creepy whumper, intimate whumper

*~*~*~*~*

Whumpee flinched at the sound of the giant metal door thrumming open. They were shaking, their entire body was shaking and they couldn’t stop it no matter what. At first they tried to tense their muscles, they didn’t want to show their kidnapper(s) weakness, but that only seemed to make it worse.

They couldn’t move from the position they woke up, even if they tried. And they tried. The first thing they noticed when they woke up was that they were blindfolded and gagged. They shook their head, trying to loosen the things from their face but it was no use. They could hear the buckles of the restraints jingle as they moved, leather cutting into their cheeks.

That was enough to terrify them because they couldn’t see, and they couldn’t scream for help. Not that screaming would help them, it would probably only alert their kidnapper(s) that they were awake. Whumpee shuddered to think of their kidnapper(s) returning. They could still feel the needle in their neck, the hands on them. They wanted to be sick. They were going to be sick… but… oh god if they got sick with the gag in their mouth would they choke on it?

The gag was monstrous. It was like there was a ball of air inside their mouth, almost cutting off their air supply from their mouth, forcing them to breathe heavily through their nose. Every time they swallowed around the gag, their air would cut off and they would panic before they regained their composure. They groaned and not a sound came out, just a tiny whine in the back of their throat that threatened to choke them.

They didn’t want to think about that now. They needed to find a way to escape or focus on something else. Their position. Yes, their position. They were on their knees, sitting on their heels. Their shoes had been removed which unnerved them, so they were perched on their sock-clad heels. They knew the minute they woke up their legs were asleep and dead, stifling any chance at being able to get up and run. To take their kidnapper(s) by surprise and lunge at them.

The first thing they did was try to move their feet and get their legs out from under them, to get rid of the pins and needles before their kidnapper(s) came back. They quickly learned that their feet had cuffs locked around the ankles with a short length of chain attaching them to the ground. Whumpee had barely jerked their knee forward before the chain link yanked taut.

Their eyes went wide behind the blindfold once they realised they wouldn’t be able to move an inch away from the position, ensuring they would remain on their knees. Ensuring that their legs would be dead… ensuring they couldn’t get away.

Whumpee felt tears rise behind their eyes but they didn’t let them fall. They refused. It was easy, especially when the emotion clogged their throat and they started freaking out about not being able to breathe rather than cry so you know… perks.

Their hands were cuffed behind their back in the same way. A length of chain leading to a ring? Or a hook of metal that seemed to be embedded into the ground, or was that the wall? Whumpee tried to reach their fingers out but the chain pulled taut even as they reached backwards. Another length of rope was tied above their elbows, keeping them together snd Whumpee’s shoulder blades tensed.

Something heavy rested around their throat, but that was as far as they got in their assessment before they heard the door and they froze. They wished they stayed frozen, but then their traitorous body started to tremble like a baby lamb and they wanted to cry, or scream, or something! Something that was less pathetic than trembling like a nervous puppy.

They couldn’t see their kidnapper(s). They didn’t even know if light was flooding the room or whether it was dark outside. They couldn’t see if there were any windows or, or something, with the blindfold blocking out all traces of light and sight.

Whumpee flinched when they heard footsteps advancing, but it was the dark chuckle that followed which sent cold terror racing through their veins.

“Oh you are just precious,” Whumper said, his voice far closer than Whumpee would’ve liked. Their head turned to the sound, their eyes still trying to see what was happening in front of them. They felt breath on their face and they flinched back, their chains clinking as they moved. “Shush, you’re alright little dove.”

A hand grasped Whumpee’s chin, coarse fingers tilting their head left and right. Whumpee whimpered, trying to pull away from the hand but there was nowhere to go. The hand tightened on Whumpee’s face, the chuckle following Whumpee’s pathetic whine in the back of their throat.

“Oh, yes. You and I are going to get very well acquainted, little one. Kidnapper really knows my taste.” The man’s hand ran over the collar on Whumpee’s throat, squeezing the top of it, making it harder for Whumpee to breathe. They shook their head, trying to pull away, but the hand chased their movements and fuck. Whumpee heaved in breaths but they wouldn’t go down past the hand squeezing their neck, stopping any oxygen from reaching their lungs.

Whumpee screamed around the gag, but the result was a muted cry, punctuated by choking sounds and hitches in their throat.

Whumper pulled his hand back and Whumpee bowed their head forward, their entire body shuddering as they sucked in breaths through their snot ridden nose. Fat, hot tears rolled under the blindfold, down their cheeks as Whumpee sniffled.

Two big hands cupped Whumpee’s cheeks, stroking the tears away. “Oh you poor thing. You probably have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

Whumpee shook their head as best as they could, whimpering around the gag. “That’s okay. You never have to worry about anything again. From now on, I’ll do the thinking for both of us, and you will be my little treasure.”

Whumpee shuddered at the words that the man spoke as if they were comforting. They tried to express their protest but every noise from the back of their throat sounded the same. Helpless and muted. Just how Whumper liked them.

Detective whumpee so deep undercover that their team does not immediately notice when they’re abducted.

Maybe their cover was blown, or maybe the persona they’ve created to infiltrate the enemy group is, accidentally, the exact type of individual they were looking to kidnap and torture/exploit. Detective whumpee kept in a basement and tortured for fun/information while their team waits to hear from them. By the time their superiors start to wonder when they’ll be checking in next, Whumpee has festering wounds and broken bones and understands that the door creaking open at all hours does not signal rescue. Detective Whumpee who tries valiantly to remember faces and nicknames and significant details about their attackers, but becomes so delirious that, when one of their torturers tells them they blew the whole case in exchange for an hour without torture, they can’t remember if it’s true. Detective whumpee trafficked halfway across the country by the time their teammates approach the sergeant with their concerns at Whumpee’s radio silence. Detective whumpee whose blood stains the basement floor, but who is long gone by the time their team get there to save them. Detective whumpee, renowned for their skill in undercover jobs, now longing for someone who knows them. Detective whumpee left alone on the job for so long that they simply vanish. Detective whumpee who is not killed, but who was so skilled in undercover roles that they have now disappeared without a single trace.

day 13: drugging/poisoning/cannibalism

content: noncon drugging, sickfic

“I don’ feel so well…” Whumpee slurred, head lolling to the side. “I don’t— the world… is tilting…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Caretaker tried gently. “It’s gonna be okay, yeah? It seems, um… It seems you’ve been drugged, but don’t freak out— it’s likely nothing horrible. You just have to sleep it off.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened. “D-Drugged?”

“It’s nothing lethal. I know. We checked for that in your system, and it’s nothing lethal. I swear.”

Whumpee tried to wriggle out of Caretaker’s hold, but in their state, that was no small feat. They could barely lift their head. “We need to get it out… We need… We need to get it out…”

“It’ll clear out of your system naturally, don’t worry about it—”

“No!” Whumpee was filled to the brim with artificially induced paranoia and they weren’t backing down. “No, I need it out, now. Make me throw up. Do something.” 

“Whumpee, no.” Caretaker pushed them back down onto the bed, more firm this time. “It’ll be gone by the morning. Just rest.”

Whumpee closed their eyes, but it only served to make the dizziness worse. “I can’t do this all night… Please…” 

Caretaker caressed their cheek gently, shushing them. “I know. I know it’s bad. But it’s all gonna be okay — I’m gonna be here all night, looking after you. It’s gonna be okay.”

Hey, I got 20. More than I thought I was going to get. I want to play Red Dead Redemption so bad but I don't have money lmao

Reblog with your score

The thing neurotypicals tend not to understand about the ADHD brain is that it really only has two gears

I turn to the chalkboard and carefully write out

WORKIN' HARD

HARDLY WORKIN'

👍❤️

Crunch

This little drabble is brought to you by the request of the lovely @lurkingwhump

Warnings: attempted kidnapping, torture, restraints, broken bones, blood, rescue, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Whumpee froze as they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. They whirled around, ready for a fight. "You're so predictable," they said as they tensed.

"And yet you're still here alone. If I'm so predictable, why would you leave yourself vulnerable like this, hmmm?" Whumper sneered as they charged forward.

Whumpee was ready for Whumper. They lashed out at Whumper, but Whumper was faster. Whumpee cried out as Whumper punched them twice in the ribs, hard. Whumpee leaned over to protect their middle, and Whumper used that opportunity to punch their nose.

Whumpee's head rocked back and they stumbled as they felt the bone crunch beneath Whumper's fist. "Fuck you," Whumpee hissed through the pain. They just needed to hold out until Caretaker got here. The truth was they weren't trying to be alone, but Caretaker had gotten delayed.

Whumper was relentless as they grabbed Whumpee's wrists and pinned them behind Whumpee's back. "No thanks," Whumper said as they twisted Whumpee's arm until Whumpee cried out. Whumpee grunted as Whumper kicked the back of their knees, forcing Whumpee to the ground.

Whumper quickly pinned Whumpee and began to cuff Whumpee's wrists. Whumpee knew that if Whumper got them to the car, Caretaker would never find them. Whumpee did the only thing they could think of: they threw their head back with all the force they could muster. Whumpee smirked as they heard Whumper's nose crunch beneath their head.

"You've really done it now," Whumper growled as they released their grip on Whumpee's cuffed arms.

Whumpee opened their mouth to reply, but Whumper silenced them with a kick to the ribs. Whumpee's ribs were already painfully bruised, but Whumper kicked with everything they had. Whumpee screamed as they felt the bone crunch.

Whumper didn't stop. "You. Are. Useless. Piece. Of. Shit. I'll. Teach. You." Each angry word was punctuated by a kick.

Whumpee was too breathless to scream. They could only groan. They couldn't get enough air to breathe properly. This wasn't good. Whumper didn't need to get them to the car. Caretaker was going to be too late.

Whumper stopped kicking. Whumpee would have been relieved if they could get enough air. They coughed, choking as blood spilled from their lips.

"Looks like I've done what I wanted to do here," Whumper snickered.

Whumpee couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe deeply. And they couldn't clear the blood from the back of their throat. This was not good. Caretaker was going to be too late.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker called.

Whumpee couldn't even breathe enough to moan any longer. It was too late for them. Their heart twinged with sadness as they realized Caretaker was going to hold them as they died. They weren't sad to go in Caretaker's arms, but they were sad that Caretaker was going to find them like this.

"OH NO!" Caretaker dropped to their knees beside Whumpee. They pulled Whumpee to them. "No. NO. NONONONONONO!"

Whumpee flopped limply in Caretaker's arms. They couldn't breathe. They were drowning. Everything was on fire. Their world narrowed to Caretaker's face, only inches from their own. Their mouth opened and closed as they gasped for air.

"Please, please, Whumpee. Please. Just hold on. I'm getting you help, hold on, please!"

Whumpee was barely aware as Caretaker lifted them. Barely breathing as Caretaker carefully deposited them in the back of the car. And as their eyes fluttered closed, breath going out in a shallow sigh, they realized dying in Caretaker's car wasn't so terrible after all.

***

"That was so incredibly reckless, Whumpee. You can't ever EVER do that again," Caretaker said a week later as they sat next to Whumpee's hospital bed.

"I know," Whumpee wheezed. They were alive. They were alive and healing. Caretaker had made it in time, but only just.

"I mean it. I can't ever go through that again, Whumpee. You're not allowed to die."

Whumpee reached for Caretaker's hand, hissing with pain as it pulled on their still broken ribs. "I'm sorry."

Caretaker bridged the gap and grabbed Whumpee's fingers. "I'm really glad you're still alive, love."

"Me, too. Me, too."

WHOA!! oh my god that took a TURN JESUS-

Racing Time

(tw: death, mercy kill, suicide mention, torture, illness, bad caretaker)

.

Time is cruel.

No. No, that sounds like it’s the beginning of a sorrowful love story. This story was nothing like that. No love letters or star-crossed drama. No soft cotton sheets dampened with delicate tears.

Caretaker’s story was just blood and pain. Gore and screams. Darkness and terror.

Yet, through it all, time was the worst part by far.

Caretaker and Whumpee had been with Whumper for a month already. Each day, they’d slip into the captives’ cell, latch Caretaker to the wall, then carve out fleshy chunks of Whumpee’s proverbial soul. So many times and in so many ways. Caretaker’s only injury was the bruising of their wrists and the ache that settled into their ears after Whumpee’s screams crashed like a bullet through their skull. 

They didn’t complain. What was there to complain about? And to who? Whumpee? Who was always trembling, sobbing, or comatose on the concrete floor after Whumper left?

Their pain didn’t matter. They just held Whumpee, dressing their wounds and cooing soft songs to fill the silence. To fill the time.

So much worse than the daily tortures was the wait between them. Not knowing what time it was. How long they’d been here. When Whumper would come again.

Whumpee couldn’t do this any more. Caretaker saw first hand time and time again how the cracks in their mind began to form. How their body shattered into illness - which granted them no reprieve or respite from the pain.

Whumper didn’t care. They would keep on going until Whumpee’s agonized body finally gave out. And already, they were so weak. So pathetic when they tried to crawl or thrash or fight.

They didn’t have it in them anymore to scream.

Caretaker nestled Whumpee in their arms - Whumpee’s back against their chest. Caretaker let their soft, flawless form wrap around Whumpee’s shivering and battered one.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right? That I only want the best for you?”

Whumpee twitched a nod against Caretaker’s shoulder, their cold nose pressed into their protector’s neck.

“..do you trust me?”

There was a slight hesitation, but Whumpee didn’t have the mind to think any more than necessary. Again, Caretaker received a nod.

Caretaker’s hand was shaking as it reached up, wrapping softly around Whumpee’s throat. Their thumb and middle finger found the tender veins sluggeshly thunking away on either side of the trachea. With great precision and as much gentleness as they could manage, Caretaker applied pressure, feeling the blood and precious nutrients dam up against their grip.

Whumpee twitched, but the pressure wasn’t painful, so they stayed. At least, that’s what Caretaker assumed was going through their mind.

“..I’m going to put you to sleep, okay? Then you can get away from the pain. Just let yourself black out and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Whumpee tensed slightly - likely the pressure starting to build up in their skull causing discomfort and not at all aiding in the concussion. But they didn’t move. They simply gripped Caretaker’s other arm a bit, letting this happen. Eyes closing against the sensation.

It didn’t take much time. Nor did Caretaker want it to. Time was cruel. Sadistic and unforgiving. Whumpee didn’t deserve to spend so very much of it having nothing to look forward to but pain and death. 

Caretaker’s grip didn’t let up when Whumpee blacked out. They kept the steady but gentle grip, kissing Whumpee’s hair and humming the first wordless melody that came to mind. They kept their fingers in place even when Whumpee's rattling lungs stopped scraping for air.

Whumpee wouldn’t choose to die. At least, they shouldn’t. No one should.

Caretaker would do it for them.

. (I'm sorry, I don't have energy for taglists today)

I'm not normally super into the caretaking side but it's absolutely important for ANGST

And PTSD

so here are my favorite caretaking things

"so it's not normal to _?" *whumpee describes horrible thing that happened to them*

Whumpee being terrified that caretaker is also going to hurt them

Whumpee flinching when they're touched

Stoic, unspeaking whumpee lets something slip about what happened to them, and caretaker is horrified

Oh and then they're like "well it wasn't that bad" or "but I deserved it? I think?"

Caretaker having seen footage or forced to watch (because now they UNDERSTAND and I NEED that)

Whumpee crying or moaning and caretaker whispers "sorry"

"why are you helping me?!" (I think I posted this before?)

Whumpee actually just, letting caretaker help them willingly. (Used to forcing themselves to stay still? Actually have a sense of self-preservation?)

Caretaker being scared of whumpee

Whumpee protecting caretaker from whumper (much to their horror)

Vice versa! Caretaker standing up for whumpee (and having no idea what they're getting themselves into?)

Angst where caretaker wonders "what the hell happened to you to cause all these injuries" and whumpee Won't Talk

Whumpee angst still not trusting caretaker but WANTING TO

I'll Have You Begging

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, physical violence, bruising, defiant whumpee, whipping, blood

Whumpee screamed out their pain. Screamed each time Whumper cracked the whip along their back. Screamed because it was all they could do.

Initially when Whumper had chained them to the post, Whumper had slapped them around a bit, bruising their cheek in the process. Whumpee had cried out in pain at that point.

But they hadn't given Whumper any information.

Incensed, Whumper began to whip Whumpee. Whip them harder and harder. Make them cry louder and louder. Whipped them until their skin split and bled. Whipped them until blood ran down their back in rivulets.

But still, Whumpee didn't give up the information they were protecting.

"You'll break any time now. I'll have you begging for me to stop. Begging me to let you speak. Any moment now," Whumper said as they cracked the whip harder across Whumpee's back.

Whumpee gave a particularly loud scream. They were content to let Whumper think they were on the verge of breaking. Were content to let Whumper think they were winning. Because the reality was, Whumpee could scream and shout as much as they wanted because they were never, ever going to give Whumpee the information. They were never going to give Whumper the satisfaction of breaking them.

Caretaker has finally found Whumpee, but they're in a bad state. There is no time to take care of anything right now, and they have to move quietly to avoid being detected.

The whispered "can you walk?" and "lean on me" as Whumpee tries their best to be helpful, and Caretaker half-dragging them through the dark hallways. Whumpees injuries hurt them as they move, and they can't keep the sounds of pain in.

They hear someone coming, and Caretaker quickly pulls them to the side, hiding in a small closet. Whumpee squeezes their eyes closed as they fight the pain of the sudden movement, and Caretaker pushes their hand over Whumpees mouth, apologetic, but needing them to be quiet.

Whumpee leaning forward and dropping their head on Caretakers shoulder as they muffle their groans in their jacket.

Bonus points if Whumpee is usually stoic or closed-off, and Caretaker's heart breaking to see them like this.

"You should kneel before your master."

- "My what now?!"

- "Sure, but I don't think it will fix you."

- "No <3"

- "If you find him, let me know, would you."

- "oH yEs mAsTeR wHaTEvEr YoU SaY."